#if you ignore all the blood and injuries and zombie stuff

[anothershorthuman]

Stay Alive Pt. 7

pairings: nct dream x platonic!reader, afab!reader (you wear a skirt, but they/them pronouns are used), ??? x reader x ???

genre: zombie apocalypse au, high school au, angst, fluff, humor, not really horror but it's zombies ya'know

word count: 6.25k

series warnings: blood, injuries & fighting, suicide, character death, swearing, again... zombies.

chpt warnings: sexual assault, swearing, grief, dead parents, mentions sex and periods, guns and violence

summary: nobody was ready for a zombie apocalypse. you were definitely not ready for a zombie apocalypse. while contemplating just giving up and accepting your fate, you meet a group of boys. life may seem pointless now, but at the very least, you now have a reason to stay alive.

previous: masterlist: next

…

Your shift with Jaemin ends when the sun rises; he wakes you up first before waking the other boys by banging two pots together. They complain at the idea of getting up while the sun is still rising but comply once Jaemin promises them breakfast before they go back to walking. 

The boy's eagerness to eat is overwhelming for you, so you stand near the doorway to the kitchen, watching all of them stuff their faces with bacon and eggs as if they hadn’t eaten for days. You're watching Chenle and Jisung fight over a piece of bacon, eyebrows scrunching in disgust, when you feel someone nudging you with their elbow. You nod at Jeno in acknowledgement but say nothing as he hands you a plate with breakfast.  

“You should eat.” You nod in what Jeno assumes is appreciation, before he walks away. He watches from afar as you ignore the utensils he left you and eat the scrambled eggs with your hand. His eyes smile when he sees you immediately go for a second bite.

…

The seven of you walked in silence for maybe 20 minutes before Haechan had started complaining about how bored he was. You’re a little surprised when he decides to focus on annoying you rather than any of the boys. He had been trying to hold your hand for a while now, but you were slapping it away. Eventually he gives up on holding your hand but hooks his arm with yours, and is pleased when you don’t shove him away. Despite your weariness, the physical affection isn’t awful, and it reminds you of Jungwoo a little.

“There’s the corner store!” Haechan exclaims before running over, pulling you with him. 

Haechans fast pace doesn’t give you enough time to look at your surroundings and Haechan is too excited with the idea of seeing his family that he doesn’t notice the worried glances between Mark, Jeno, and Renjun.

You want to scold Haechan after you stumble into the store but become speechless after finally getting a good look at the inside of the store. The products of the store were completely scattered, on the floor and on the counter. The glass from the door and the freezers was shattered, with drinks and food scattered on the floor. The cash register was broken, as was the stool that was typically behind it. 

Haechan disconnects from you and begins to wander the store. He calls out for his mom, and then his sister, not being able to control the growing waver in his voice. 

You too are wandering the store when the rest of the boys finally enter the store. Walking past an aisle, you freeze. There’s a puddle of blood coming from behind a door, presumably a break room for the workers. You peak your head over an aisle, checking where the boys are. Haechan is the closest, but Renjun and Chenle are quickly approaching him and you hope they’ll keep him away from the blood, at least until you can figure out who it belongs to. You glance at Jeno and Mark who are standing by the cash register and consider grabbing one of them just in case things go wrong. 

You step around the blood and reach with a shaking hand to grip the door handle. The sounds of the boys around you fade for a second as you gather your courage to open the door. You whip it open with a surprising amount of strength and scramble to catch it before it hits the wall, not wanting to alert the others of what you're doing. Once you are confident the door won't give you away, you take a look around the room. If not for the stream of blood leading to the back of the room, behind another tall shelf, you might have been pleased to see there was more supplies that would be useful for your group, like toilet paper and hand sanitizer. But alas, the sight of that much blood would spook anyone. 

Peering around the corner of the bookshelf, you take a few deep breaths only to gag when you realize that you're standing in a pungent stench. There's a body behind the bookshelf. You cover your nose and mouth with your hand. The body is face down, but it’s a middle aged woman with long black hair. You had been preparing to see a dead body, it was inevitable given the circumstances, but the possibility of your first being someone Haechan might know, might be his mother, makes this moment a lot harder to cope with than you anticipated. You look around the room, looking for something to cover the body with. You use an abandoned sweater before quickly leaving the room. 

All of the boys are gathered around the door, seemingly processing the same shock you felt when you first spotted the blood. You can’t help but to look into Haechans watery eyes, even though he instantly looks away from you.

“There’s a body in there,” you say, “a woman, not sure what happened, not sure I want to find out.”

Nobody replies for a second, knowing that there is a possibility of it being Haechans mother.

“I can check.” Renjun offers.

Haechan shakes his head strongly, “If it’s my mom then it should be me.”

“They’re faced down, so we would need to flip them over first.” 

Jeno steps forward with Haechan and reassures him that he’ll help him with that much. You watch as the two go inside and stand quietly with the rest. The six of you hear Jeno count them down to presumably flip the body over. And then you hear Haechan start to wail. 

Deciding to give him some space, you start to walk toward the entrance of the store, the rest of the boys following. It’s only until you all settle outside that you realize some of the other boys are crying too. Renjun has tears quietly streaming down his face and Jisung is straight up crying. 

Jaemin tells you about how all of the sophomores would meet up at Haechans house to play games together. They would often stay for dinner, his mom made the best kimchi. She was kind, going to Jeno’s games when his parents were busy or gifting Renjun paint or packing an extra lunch for Haechan to give to Jaemin when she found out he would never eat at school.

And then he tells you that Jisung was just an empath, he had never met her.

While you had never met the woman or felt particularly close to your own mother, feeling helpless was not a foreign concept for you and you can’t help but pity Haechan. You sit outside for maybe 20 minutes before Mark is standing up and dusting off his pants. He says you should leave soon and that he was going to go get Haechan and Jeno. The three of them walk out and you all start to walk away without a destination in mind.

…

You didn’t mind walking aimlessly, but due to the literal zombie apocalypse, you think that it probably wouldn’t be wise to wander around for the entire day. Your entire group is clearly not in the right headspace. Anytime you hear a noise that could be other people or a zombie, they get spooked and switch directions. You had yet to run into other people.

You had been walking for an hour before Jisung started whining about wanting to take a break. Jaemin suggests breaking into another house but Renjun disagrees, saying that it feels oddly intimate being in a stranger's house without them in it. Mark offers his house, but quickly backtracks when he realizes that he has no idea how to get there, they are lost. 

This of course causes all of them to focus on what's happening, trying to identify where they are. Chenle is trying to retrace their steps when you speak up, “I, uh, I think I know where we are.”

Their necks snap in your direction and they swarm you. And suddenly they’re bombarding you with questions. Their faces feel too close, you can feel their hot breaths on your skin and the way it makes the hair on your arms stand. 

“I live near here!” You blurt out. Your sudden outburst has them backing away. “It’s a really small place, but we’re tired and there’s food there. We can spend the night there and figure out our next move.”

…

Jisung still has no idea where they are. He lived on the other side of school and even looking at the map on his phone, he didn’t really know how to get anywhere. So, he really was relieved when you said you recognized the area. 

Part of him is confused, this is a pretty run down part of town, even before the apocalypse, he can recall his parents telling him to avoid this area. You lead them down a steep street and he finally seems to notice how eerily quiet everything is. All he can hear is the huffing coming from the boys breathing and their shoes scraping against the concrete.

They enter an apartment complex with flickering lights at its entrance. Jisung finds himself instinctively shuffling closer to Chenle as they go up three flights of stairs. The hallway smells of smoke and the yellowish tint of the walls prove that smokers lived here. He wonders if you smoke. 

You open the door and he peeks over everybody's heads into the apartment. It's a studio, with a lofted bed and the eight of you struggle to fit into the… living room? Kitchen? Whatever you called it. Mark, Renjun, and Chenle squish themselves onto the couch and Jisung finds himself standing awkwardly next to them. 

You scratch your neck uncomfortably, “It’s usually just me in here, so I forget how small it is. Sorry. We can look for someplace else if you guys want.”

Jisung watches Haechan walk in, make a beeline for the ladder that leads him up to your bed before promptly face planting on it. 

Jaemin is the only one still standing near the entrance with you and Jisung can't help but be annoyed by him, leaning over you, a hand placed on the wall next to you. 

“I like your place.” He says, “small, but cozy.”

You snort in amusement. When did you two get so friendly? Jisung thinks to himself.

…

“So, this is where you live?” Jungwoo looks around the small studio apartment. You can’t help but feel a bit self conscious and you cave into yourself, your arms crossing and shoulders hunched a little. 

“Uh, no! Not like that,” Jungwoo tries to reassure you, “I guess part of me didn’t believe it when you said you lived by yourself.” He plops down on the small couch (which takes up a majority of the apartment. 

“It’s okay.” You say. “...you're the first person I've brought over.” 

“Really?”

You nod.

Jungwoo opens his backpack and starts going through his stuff. He pulls out a white polaroid camera and pulls you over by your sleeve so that you’re sitting next to each other. “We should take a photo then! This is a pretty big deal.”

He snaps the picture of you two and shakes it so that it’ll develop faster. He grins as he looks at the picture before handing it to you.

“Thanks for letting me come over.”

“It’s not like the place is impressive or anything”

“It doesn’t have to be impressive. I’m just glad you were comfortable enough hanging out outside of school.”

“...Yea, I am kind of sick of you.” You snicker as he lets out a gasp and hits you. “That was rude!” You say.

“That’s it, I'm leaving.”

…

You peer up into Jaemin’s eyes as he continues to loom over you. He’s still talking, but you stopped paying attention to him a while ago. You’re not sure if he hasn’t realized that you're not listening or if he just doesn’t care. Your eyes flicker around the room, up to Haechan, who is now sleeping in your bed. 

Jaemin follows your gaze, “Don’t worry about him.”

Your eyes snap back to him, a bit dumbfounded, “What?”

“I mean don’t worry about him too much.”

“How can I not?” you ask him pointedly, “His mom died, Jaemin”

He moves so that he’s leaning against the wall next to you rather than standing in front of you.

“I think we all know that anyone could die in a zombie apocalypse.”

You sigh, “I know, but this makes it feel more real, ya’know? How am I suddenly the sympathetic one? Aren’t you guys friends?”

Jaemin picks at the skin around his fingernails. His movement makes you uncomfortable but you can’t bring yourself to stop him. “Of course I am. But I know Haechan, he doesn’t like being coddled, even though he could probably use the support right now. He doesn’t want it from me.”

“And I thought you were the bad boy.”

He shakes his head, “I might have the image, but he definitely has the emotional constipation that goes with it.” 

You're silent for a little while before he leaves to join the guys. You sit on the floor, a little further from the group but close enough to listen to their antics. You catch Jisung and Renjun glancing at you every once in a while, but they don't ask you to come closer and you don’t bother to move. 

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, being in your apartment makes it easy to ignore how the world is ending outside. Except for Haechan, of course, who has not left the comfort of your bed.

You make them some ramen and you all watch cartoon reruns on your shitty tv, changing the channel everytime some sort of news starts. You watch them grow tired and fall asleep, one by one. Eventually, you get up from your spot on the floor and climb the ladder up to your bed. 

Haechan shifts when you settle next to him. The bed is big enough that you aren’t pressed against each other, but if one of you were to roll over you’d end up laying on top of the other person. 

Jaemin might know Haechan well enough to leave him alone for a while, but you don’t. Hesitantly, you lift your hand and place it on his arm. You can feel him tense under your touch and you retract your hand, worried that Jaemin had been right and you shouldn’t have overstepped. You even think about leaving the bed so that he can continue to have a little bit of privacy, but he’s turning around to face you. His movement is slow and calculated, you can tell that he’s trying to not crush you. When he stops moving, the first thing you notice are his eyes. You might not have known this boy for very long, but the warmth and liveliness that was in them when you first met was gone, now bloodshot and sunken from all the crying he’s been doing. The darkness of the room makes the contours of his face look darker and he resembles the characters of a Tim Burton movie.

Haechan is avoiding your gaze and you wait for him to say something. When he does, it’s in a whisper, “Will you hold me?”

You nod at him and slip an arm under his head. He shoved his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder. You don’t say anything when you feel his tears hit your skin and you don't say anything when he tightens his grip around you. 

Haechans breath eventually evens out and you realize that he’s asleep. You aren't used to having anyone pressed up against you, and despite the way you squirm, it isn’t uncomfortable. You’re about to fall asleep when you hear someone climbing up the ladder. You quickly close your eyes and pretend to be asleep until the person goes down the steps. You peek an eye open just to see the top of Jeno’s head disappear. Was he just checking in on Haechan? You think about possibly asking him, but you’re much too tired to even try to get up. 

It’s the best night's sleep you’ve gotten in months.

…

Everyone is surprised when Haechan is the one suggesting you all get moving the next morning, but no one fights him on this. Instead, they pack their bags before deciding to walk further north. Renjun had woken up early and watched the news without any sound while everyone else was still asleep. Apparently, there were some camps set up across the country in order to help people, maybe some of their families ended up there.

Nobody says anything when Haechan holds your hand when you start walking. You can tell that they’re surprised that you’re letting him, except for Jaemin, who sends you an annoying wink when your gaze meets. 

Despite being the one to suggest leaving your apartment, Haechan is barely trailing after you. At times, it feels like you’re dragging him behind you. Yet, he never complains about the continuous walking or comment on the looks he receives when he wipes tears from his eyes.

You spend several hours walking. At one point, you came across a couple of bikes and rode them (two to a bike) until one of the tires popped, leaving Chenle with a nasty scrape on his knee after Jisung landed on top of him. You ditched the bikes after that. All the phones you guys had ran out of battery and you spent the night in an abandoned building. 

Without your phones, the eight of you were truly lost. Time and distance feel insignificant even when zombies appear. Your group had developed a routine, with Jeno, Mark, and Jaemin as the first lines of defense, all swinging bats at any zombie that got too close. With no other weapons, you are the second line of defense, clutching the knife that Mark returned to you. Looking back, you were stupid not to take more knives from your apartment, but everyone was too frazzled to think about potentially fighting zombies. 

Rarely do zombies get past the boys with bats, but there have been a few close calls when Haechan just doesn’t react to a zombie lunging at him and you end up shoving him out of the way. Jisungs instinct is always to run away and sometimes that means leaving the rest of you behind. Chenle will chase after him if he sees him run away, but once, when his knee injury was recent, his knee gave out trying to run and Jisung had gotten lost. Yelling would only attract more zombies, so you ended up going in circles in the area for maybe an hour, looking for him. You find him hiding behind a car, having a panic attack. 

After four days of walking, Mark and Renjun are talking about finding a place to shower in. You’re currently taking a break from walking, all of the boys are munching on protein bars and you’re taking a nap, head on Haechans lap. 

He isn’t talking much, but the two of you have become a clingy duo. Mark thought that you were just tolerating Haechan because you felt bad for him, but now, it seems like you reach out for him just as much as he reaches for you. Some of the other boys have taken it as a sign to be more comfortable with you too. Jaemin will often have an arm over your shoulder if you’re sitting next to each other. There's a look of longing in your eyes when you look at him that Mark just can’t figure out where it’s coming from, but he’s not that surprised that you like Jaemin, if anyone at all. Chenle and you have a habit of teasing Jisung, often about girls and his lack of knowledge about them.

The only one of the boys that still keeps his distance from you is Jeno. Mark hasn’t seen Jeno be so cold to anyone before. Sure, your first time meeting the boys was pretty rocky, but Jeno is supposed to be the nice one of the second years. Regardless, he keeps his distance and deals with you since the rest of the boys seem to like you. 

When he asks Jeno why he hasn’t grown to like you, Jeno only shrugs and says, “they’re your guys’ friend, not mine.”

“They let us into their apartment and they take care of Haechan.” 

“I don’t have to like everyone, Mark.”

Except Mark knows that that's bullshit and Jeno does like everyone… or at least everyone that the boys are friends with. There has to be something else, and Mark swears he’ll get to the bottom of it.

…

A day later, the eight of you stood on the side of a street. This street was elevated and overlooked a good part of the city. If you looked closely enough, you could see a zombie or two wandering. It turns out that zombies are mostly solitary beings, you don’t usually run into more than three of them at a time unless a loud noise attracts them. The view would be a lot nicer if you had seen it at sunset and Renjun suggests staying there until you get to see it. He found some color pencils in the house you all showered in the day before and took them with him. He had been sketching and drawing the entire day. Nobody disagrees with his idea to sit there for a while and let him draw. 

The sun is only starting to set and he pulls out his warmer colored pencils. He notices a dark spot of red that he tries to smudge, but it doesn’t budge.

“What the-” he mutters, gaining the attention of Jeno, who is sat beside him. The dot seems to be a light, similar to one of those cat laser pointers. The two boys follow where it comes from, just down the road.

Jeno, quicker than Renjun at realizing what it is, yells “Fuck!” and throws himself at Renjun, getting them both out of the way quick enough before a bullet is now where Renjun was sitting.

The noise makes all of you jump, and for Jisung and Chenle to wake up. Jisungs flight instinct kicks in and he moves to get up, although a bit sluggish compared to his usual reflexes.

“No!” Jeno yells, flinging himself to grab onto Jisungs ankle to keep him from running directly into open fire. Jisung falls on his face instead. 

Everyone is quiet for a second, trying to process that the first group of humans you’ll have to interact with since the apocalypse started just shot at you. Next thing you know, you're being swarmed.

Their lights are blinding and you all squint. You're all being yelled at to lay face down on the floor and you do. You're outnumbered, not that it matters considering they're all holding M4’s to all of your heads. The soldiers surrounding you haven’t stopped yelling and the whole situation makes you dizzy, your hands won’t stop shaking. 

From your spot on the ground, it’s hard to see the boys. There seems to be a soldier standing next to each of you, except for Jeno, who’s got three of them standing next to him, but that’s about as much as you can figure out by looking at a bunch of shoes. They’re spilling the contents from your backpacks on the floor and one of them confiscates the knife that you had left on the floor next to you. 

You yell out in alarm when the soldier next to you presses their knee to your back and pulls your arms behind you. The boys protest at your distress but shut up when Mark gets kicked in the gut. Your hands are tied behind your back with a zip tie and you think about how it might break open your skin with how tight the zip tie is. 

“This one had a knife,” he announced to the rest of the soldiers. The soldier that you assume is in charge is eying the bats that are sitting a little further from you guys, covered in blood and dirt. He yells at the soldiers to sit us all up.

“I am Sergeant Park. Congratulations on having survived this long,” he gestures to the bats, “I see you have found ways to stay alive. Now, you will all be taken to a survivors camp close to this location. Cooperate, and we will get you there in no time.” He turns to a soldier, “Search them, start with their fighter and end with the one with the knife.”

The soldiers surrounding Jeno drag him into a standing position, his hands are also tied with zip ties. There's a soldier holding onto each of his arms and he is roughly patted down. The rest of the boys' pat downs go by smoothly for the most part. Jisung flinches everytime the soldier places their hands on him and the soldier seems to have fun with this. Mark doubles over in pain when the soldier puts pressure on his abdomen where he was kicked.

Finally, you’re stood up and are getting patted down. There's a man behind you, holding your arms despite you already being restrained. You try your best to keep still and not say anything, even when the soldier unnecessarily squeezes your breasts. The soldier smiles sleazily at you and watches your face for discomfort as he moves on to your next breast. You don’t protest until his hands go more south, lifting up your skirt. You cross your legs in defense and try to move away only to cry out at the way that the soldier holding your arms twists them and the ziptie cuts open the skin on your wrist. 

“Get the fuck off them, man” you hear Jaemin protest. The soldier only laughs at him, “Little darling had a knife, kid. Gotta make sure they aren’t hiding anything else on them.”

Jeno struggles in their hold as well but is kicked onto his knees. 

Jaemin’s frustration only grows, “I said get the fuck off of them!” He’s able to shove off the soldier that was only loosely holding him and punch the soldier that had touched you before he’s jumped by another two soldiers and put on his back and also ziptied. They kick him a couple of times before you protest, “Okay! Finish your pat down or whatever. Just leave him alone.”

The soldier smiles smugly at Jaemin before standing in front of you again. You can’t help trying to squirm away when he lifts up your skirt again and you look away from the shitty man in front of you.

Later, when you get to talk about this moment, Chenle tells you that all of the boys looked away. It had been a traumatizing moment for you and perhaps selfishly, the boys didn’t want to watch that.

The soldier grabs your crotch tightly and he leans in close to you before whispering, “See, it isn’t so bad.” He leaves after that. 

The boys are allowed to stand up. Renjun helps Mark up. Jeno and Jaemin are being held by soldiers. Jaemin is visibly the most banged up by the encounter, but he holds himself well after having been in many fights. 

A truck driven by more soldiers approaches and the soldiers holding all of you push you in their direction. One of them orders Jisung to pick up your bats and he scrambles to do so. Renjun returns all of your dumped items into the backpack, only for it to be snatched from him. When the truck stops in front of you, the soldiers shove the boys on first before climbing in themselves. With no space left for you to sit, one of the soldiers beckons for you to sit on their lap. You don’t protest. 

The truck continues to go down the road, silently. It’s night now, so you can hear crickets and the crunching of the tire. Your group becomes alarmed when the truck takes a sudden turn, you would have fallen off the truck if not for the soldier's stiff grip. You’re now being driven away from the city, down a dirt path. The road is bumpy and you're sure the soldier under you is sporting a boner. You try to focus on controlling your breathing, closing your eyes so you can ignore the burning gaze of everyone on the truck. A hand falls on your thigh, radiating warmth as it presses against your skin. For a moment, you think you’re going to throw up. You feel a kick at your shoe and you open your eyes to see Chenle across from you. He smiles and winks at you and you can’t help but chuckle at his stupidity. 

The truck abruptly stops and the eight of you are pulled out of the truck and ushered into the camp. A clearing has been made for the camp, that much is clear with how its in the middle of the forest, with trees surrounding it in every direction except for the small dirt road you came in from. The camp is surrounded by two sets of tall wired gates. From what you can see, there is only one entrance and it is heavily guarded, even if there are military personnel throughout the entire perimeter.You pass through the first gate quickly after the sergeant gives the order to let you in, but the second gate is a bit trickier. There's a table with two medical professionals, fully covered head to toe. Here, they do simple check-ups on each of you, using lights to look into your eyes, ears, and mouth. Chenle gets his scraped knee disinfected and bandaged, but when they hand you all identification cards with your names on them, his comes with an extra symbol. From here, there are three entrances to the camp, a small gate opening behind the table where military and medical staff come in and out of, and two identical buildings on either side of the building. You are informed that the one on the right is for men and the one on the left is for women. Soon, you’re being pulled away from the boys, you follow the staff without much of a fight when you see the soldiers watching you intently. Once inside, you give the staff the card they hand just given you as you are led down the hall and into an office. 

You look around, trying to discern what sort of place this is. There are no windows and the walls are made of concrete. You can’t help feeling like you’re in jail. Despite this, the office is decently sized and well decorated, with a fancy looking desk and pc. You are directed to sit down and wait for the doctor before the staff closes the door. You sit in silence for a moment, listening to their footsteps fade away before you are out of your seat and trying to open the door; it’s locked. Defeated, you make your way back to your seat and look around the office. There's a plaque that reads Dr. Kang. You wonder if the boys are going through the same thing, locked into an office with an unpresent doctor. Your thoughts are interrupted when the door swings open and a woman walks in. She is young, maybe in her early thirties, with long dark hair and sharp eyes. She is wearing a sleek navy suit that accentuates the length of her legs. Her appearance would lead you to believe that nothing out of the ordinary was occurring and you can’t help but wonder how she has managed to find the time to keep her manicure looking nice. 

She doesn’t say anything when she walks in or sits down on the other side of the desk from you. Her eyes flicker to you for a second before returning to her computer screen, not wasting a second in acknowledging her. Still, you keep your eyes on her, not wanting her to think that she has the upperhand in making you uncomfortable. A couple of minutes go by of her clicking on her mouse and keyboard and you staring at her. Finally she seems to stop and look up to you. A smile graces her features and she makes eye contact with you, “I am Dr. Kang, nice to meet you. What’s your name?”

Her smile makes you uncomfortable rather than feeling reassured and you decide at this moment not to trust her. “I’m sure you already know that. I arrived here with seven boys, when will I be able to see them?”

She laughs at this, “I do know your name, but it is respectful to introduce yourself when meeting someone new. Nonetheless, I can see those boys mean a great deal to you, so let's try to do this quickly and get you back to them.” She watches you with the same cold smile until you nod in agreement. She asks you questions about your family, if you've contacted them and the sorts. You give her vague answers which she types quickly into her files. The questionnaire is quite boring, similar to what your physician may ask you at your yearly check up. She asks you about where you were when the outbreak happened and if you had lost anyone, if you were with the boys when it happened. You think about lying, telling her that yes, you had been with the boys the entire time, they had been your school friends that were together when misfortune struck, but you worry about being caught lying. Would it even matter? Still, you keep most of the truth to yourself, skipping over the part with Jungwoo and tell her that you met up with the boys a couple of days after the outbreak first happened. You hope they say the same thing. 

“When was your last period? Are you sexually active?” You know what she’s insinuating, of course. Her smug smile makes the question more telling as well. Although, you're not sure what reason she would have to feel smugly about knowing that you’re potentially having sex with one or multiple of the boys you were found with. 

Still you smile at her rather sarcastically, “Celibate, actually.” Your smile grows when you see her fake smile falter slightly.

“And your period?”

“Haven’t gotten it in a couple months.”

She hums, “Well, if you're sure you're not pregnant, then you were probably under a lot of stress, or something else could be potentially wrong. We’ll check in with you about that occasionally.”

You give her a curt nod. She types away at her computer for a while longer. She talks to you without lifting her gaze from her screen, “We’re done here. You’ll be getting your blood tested to make sure there aren’t any mutations in your DNA or are in the middle of turning.”

You’re taken from that room into another with medical equipment. A younger nurse approaches you and explains how she’s going to draw some blood from your arm. Her attitude is just as unsettling as Dr. Kang’s due to how preppy she is, but it seems more authentic and you haven’t decided if that's more or less concerning.

You flinch when the needle is inserted into your arm and she makes a comment about not liking needles. You watch her flip through a file that you assume belongs to you. There's a page that she spends significantly longer looking through and you can’t help but wonder what is written on it.

“You arrived here with other people?” You nod. 

“Are you all close?”

“We’re friends. Does it matter?” 

She laughs at your stiffness, “Just trying to make conversation. Usually the women's evaluation process takes longer than the men’s, so they’re probably about done, they could be entering the camp now.”

You can imagine them looking for you, walking through all of the bunk beds filled with people. Chenle and Jaemin might even be yelling for you, with Jisung following behind them, covering his face in embarrassment. She takes your fingerprint and a strand of your hair while tests are being run on your blood. You want to ask her why they need them but refrain from asking questions you know you won’t be given answers to. The machine she’s standing by dings when your tests are done and she scrolls through them. Her smile seems to die and is replaced by a frown. 

Your worry grows as she walks toward you and you sit up. She stops you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, watching her pull open a drawer next to you. 

“I hope those boys care about you” she says before sticking a needle into your chest. 

You want to scream but realize you don’t have the energy to. You try lifting your hand to remove the syringe but your arm flops over before you can get a proper grip on it.  The nurse is laying you down as you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

What– what did she do to me?

You’re unconscious before you can come up with an answer.

...

tagging! @staysstrays, @caspervoid, @alyselenai, @lethephin, @leechipp, @kodzukena, @kikookii, @rkiveruinz, @shley-chan, @butterfliesinthenightsky, @olxviaaaa

wanna be tagged? click here:)

a/n: hi! sorry for being gone for so long. I can't promise consistency, but I had a lot of fun working on this chapter and already have a decent part of the next one written. This chapter is pretty long too! Enjoy :3

#nct dream x reader #nct dream x platonic!reader #mark x reader #renjun x reader #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #chenle x reader #jisung x reader #stay alive

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Killjoys Never Die 4/15 - Back Home

Chapter Summary: After having been reunited with Fun Ghoul, you settle back into the old Diner. (eventual) Pairing: Fun Ghoul x fem!Reader Chapter Word Count: 5 724 Series Warnings:  mentions of drugs; poor mental health; suicidal tendencies; insecurities; throwing up;  jealousy; slavery (?); experiments on living humans; mentions of eating disorder; graphic descriptions of: violence, injuries, torture, death A/N: I have about as much a sore throat as your dear reader in this chapter. only that i didn’t get it from almost getting strangled to death my the man i love. No, i just have a boring, ordinary cold. Also this is probably the only truely fluffy chapter in the whole series, so you better enjoy the moment while it lasts.

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist

Recap: After having been reunited with Jet Star, you got attacked by a Zombie DRAC and the man who had been controlled by the mask turned out to be nobody but Fun Ghoul.

The hideout Jet had decided to lead Fun and you to was the same you had brought him to right after finding him. Just like him back then, Fun got out of his BLI clothes, and dressed in some of the old stuff you had collected, before you patched up the small laceration at the back of his head, which the mask had caused. Just like with Jet, you also looked at the scar he had gotten in the last clash with BLI before they had gone to Battery City. While Jet had lost his eye, Fun had ended up with a deep cut across his cheek, ending right in the corner of his mouth. You still remembered having woken up in the desert, seeing him lying in the dirt next to you.

Blood had run down the side of his face, stuck in his hair and dried as a small pool on the ground. Everything was blurry, his green Frankenstein’s-monster-mask, his dark jacket, his yellow shirt, the blood. A hand landed on your shoulder, and you flinched, coming face to face with Kobra. He had taken his helmet of, and big brown eyes were looking down on you with worry.

“Are you okay,” he asked, dirt smeared over his face, and dust clinging to his bleached hair.

You nodded.

“Jet and Fun are badly injured,” he continued, his eyes flickering to his still unconscious friend by your side. “Party is taking care of Jet. Looks like he’ll be blind on one eye.”

You felt sick at the news. Life as a Killjoy was dangerous enough as it was. But losing a body part, be it eye, finger or worse, made the whole affair even more risky.

“I need your help with Fun, he hasn’t woken up yet,” Kobra kept talking.

Not a lot of people knew what his voice sounded like, since he preferred to stay quiet most of the time. With his friends, with you, he was different. He loved chatting, retelling stories, laughing. He was the one that made everyone smile when it felt like the weight of the world was crashing in on you; and you appreciated that now he was the one who took charge, told you what to do.

Without another word you sat up properly, and crawled over to Fun. His arm had been stretched out, as if he had tried to reach for you. You pushed the thought aside; inappropriate moment.

A deep cut had split Fun’s face open from his mouth over his cheek, almost all the way up to his ear. It was no clean cut either. It had rigid edges that would leave a permanent and ugly looking scar. Fun probably thought it would look cool, once the pain had subsided.

Now the former wound had healed, smooth white scar tissue covering it. Just like you had predicted: a prominent, ugly scar. You tried to ignore how warm Fun’s skin was under your fingers as you tilted his head in order to take a closer look. You also ignored how he was watching your face from the corner of his eyes.

Now, it was strange seeing him sitting on the ground opposite you, digging into a can of PowerPup, while Jet and you were watching him, both of you still in slight disbelief that he really was there with you.

As soon as Fun had finished his food, he began asking questions. How was it he was still alive? What had happened to the others? How had Jet ended up with you? What was the mystery of the masks?

For what felt like hours you explained everything to him. The Zombie Masks, the hideouts, what you had found out through your frowned-upon-experiments, the little information Jet had remembered.

You could see how hard Fun was trying to remember the list Jet told him about, the one with the DRAC numbers and the patrol-routes, but he could recall nothing from the time he had been a DRAC. He promised to keep trying, but you were almost certain he would not remember the numbers in time for them to still be relevant. But you kept that thought to yourself.

After everything had been talked about, you offered to take the watch, so Jet and Fun could rest until morning, but Fun insisted you needed the sleep more than him, his eyes flickering to the dark bruises at your throat repeatedly.

The next day was spend driving between hideouts and taking the most necessary things from each of them, so the following day you could settle back into the Diner. Fun insisted on partnering up with Jet, which left you skipping from hideout to hideout, collecting notes you had left behind, water, and most of the blankets.

It was a weird feeling, like moving houses. You took everything you had created for yourself over the past three – soon four – years, just to run back to the place you had tried escaping from. But you were not alone anymore. At least that was what you told yourself. It was hard to believe, when you were riding through the desert all alone, nothing but sand and dust and radiation all around.

Over noon, while the sun was the most brutal, the radiation strong enough to melt your skin off within just a few minutes, you hid in one of the smallest caves you had inhabited. You had brought Jet here only a once, never overnight, since the space was barely big enough to fit one person, let alone two.

When you returned to the designated hideout in the evening, Fun was already sitting at the entrance. The sun was low, painting everything in orange and gold. He looked more like himself, now, that he wore an old white and black striped shirt, some jeans and a jacket with countless colourful patches and pins. When he saw you approach he got up from the ground, and dusted himself off.

“You’re back,” he welcomed you, a small grin on his lips.

“So are you,” you nodded. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yes,” he mumbled, looking around hesitantly. “Just- thanks for saving me last night. I didn’t- I still don’t really know anything about what happened but- thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled, and, thinking the conversation was over, tried to step past him to the trapdoor, but he grabbed your wrist.

“And I’m sorry. For-” he gestured to his own throat, reminding you of the aching and scratching you still felt there, not to mention the slight swelling. “-you know.”

“’s fine,” you shrugged. “Wasn’t you.”

You had a feeling Fun was not entirely happy with your response, but he let go of your wrist before following you down through the trapdoor into the cave.

After sharing dinner, you decided to keep watch one last night. Back at the Diner, you could use Kobra’s security systems, but out here BLI might turn up any moment, just as they had the previous night. Jet offered to take the first watch, and Ghoul the second, which meant you were left with the last. Hoping to catch as much sleep as possible, you soon laid down, cramped in a corner of the cave, while Jet and Fun were still talking a little longer.

It made you giddy, knowing you would get to sleep next to Fun for at least a few hours, preventing you to fall asleep until Jet had climbed up the ladder, and left Fun and you alone. The black haired Killjoy seemed to assume you had already fallen asleep, because he moved around quietly, dragging a blanket out, and laying down next to you, as safe distance away.

You wondered if you should say something, should ask if he was okay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to talk. It felt strange having him back, especially since you had never been really close, no matter how much you had liked him. Party and Kobra had been like your brothers, Jet your best friend and the Girl like a little sister. But Fun… he had always kept his distance, and you yours.

Until the last weeks before everything went to shit. Whether he remembered these weeks though was a totally different matter, one you did not dare bringing up yet. And so you decided to keep quiet, and not long after you fell asleep.

You were woken up by a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake gently. Blinking, you found the first beams of sunlight falling into the cave. It was Jet who had woken you. For a moment you were confused. You had been supposed to take the last watch, and it had been Fun who should have woken you! If it was Jet… where was Fun? Had something happened to him before he had been able to call for help? Had he run away?

“Where’s Fun?”

Jet almost grinned at your question.

“Said he couldn’t sleep so he took your watch as well,” Jet answered, making you groan, as you laid back down, your heart still racing painfully fast in your chest. “He wasn’t asleep when I came in to wake him for his shift,” Jet continued more quietly. “I don’t think he slept tonight. Or last night, for that matter.”

You turned your head to look at Jet, the worry written clearly all over his face. Sleep was precious and absolutely necessary. Killjoys who kept themselves awake for too long quickly ended up underneath a DRAC Mask or in a BLI fashioned body bag. Nodding to Jet, signalling him you had understood you needed to keep an eye out for Fun, you sat up, just as the third Killjoy climbed down into the cave to join you for breakfast.

~*~

It had been difficult, packing all the things you had collected from the two dozen hideouts all over the desert. Big bags and backpacks hung on either side of the two motorbikes. Once again you rode on the same bike as Fun, your arms wrapped around his middle, his black hair whipping into your face. Jet was riding ahead, leading the way. Even though the Diner was not far away from the hideout you had spent the night in, it took you hours to get there, in order to stay clear of all the patrols you knew about.

When the building did eventually come into sight, you felt Fun tense underneath your embrace. All of you were dizzy from the radiation by now, and aching to finally get into the shadow, but you could only imagine how Fun felt seeing the Diner again, the last time having been when they had set out for Battery City to get the Girl back.

Fun and Jet parked the bikes in the small shed behind the Diner, next to the other two bikes that had once belonged to the Fabulous Killjoys. Back then you had never had your own bike, since you had all been riding together in the TransAM anyway.

The door to the Diner itself was locked with a heavy chain and a big lock, which you opened with a key you always kept in the inside pocket of your jacket. The doors swung open to a smell that even years later brought back memories of all the conversations you had had in these rooms. There was the smell of leather from the old seats, and that of dust and burnt PowerPup, which was somehow the worst smell in the world, worse than anything you had ever smelled before. It reminded you of how Jet and you had tried finding ways to make it taste better, of the nights you had spent with Kobra and Party talking about Destroya and the Phoenix Witch, of the meals over which Fun had thrown you short glances which you had never known how to interpret.

You were the first one stepping over the threshold, Jet following you carefully, still not used to the emptiness of the room he had only ever known as sparkling with life and rebellion. Behind him followed Fun, hesitantly, as if a ghost were about to attack him at any moment.

While you headed straight for the kitchen, checking the water- and gas tabs, Fun looked around the room that had once been familiar to him. You watched him through the open door, as he ran his fingertips over dusty tables and leather, picking up the map of Battery City, which almost four years later was still spread out over one of the tables, and wipe dust away from the window to be able to look outside.

“We definitely need to clean up here,” he stated, just as you were sure water and gas were still working as they were supposed to.

“I’m not gonna stop you,” you called out to him, before heading to the bathroom, checking the water there.

And that’s how the day passed a lot quicker than you had anticipated. Jet and you made an effort to make your old rooms inhabitable again, which mainly meant dusting and changing blankets on the beds. Fun seemed to avoid his room, doing only the bare minimum there, and focused instead on cleaning the kitchen and the main room of sand and fine dust, which had settled over everything.

By the time Jet and you had checked all four bikes to be functional, Fun had almost finished with his self-assigned cleaning duty, and the sun was already sinking behind the horizon again. Like all these years ago, Jet was the one who offered to fry some PowerPup for the three off you, while Fun went showering, and you hung around in the front, tired and wrapped in awkward silence. Frying PowerPup was a narrow line between heating up PowerPup, making the horrible taste worse, the small point of actually getting some aroma through the frying into the awful food, and burning it, which made it stink worse than anything you could imagine.

Soon after you all had eaten your fill of PowerPup, Fun declared he was off to bed, and disappeared into his room. The way he avoided looking at the doors that had once led to Party’s and Kobra’s rooms escaped neither Jet nor you. Concerned you exchanged glances, knowing you were wondering the same thing. Was Fun going to be alright? But you knew neither of you could tell.

Jet was friendly enough to let you use the bathroom first. Fun had showered after he had finished cleaning, because his black hair had stuck to his forehead, and his shirt had been drenched in sweat from the physical work. The bathroom still smelled of the soap he had used, doubtlessly the same old soap bar he had left in the bath four years ago, expecting to return to it soon.

Showering was strange. After you had learnt of your friends’ fate, you had almost immediately left the Diner, and therefore the possibility to shower. Even when you had returned here to check that everything was in place, you never did. It felt like you did not deserve the feeling of the water cleaning off the dust and sweat and blood. Instead you had used the poisoned water from BLI’s bottles to wash yourself with an old piece of cloth.

Now you watched as the water streamed down from the old showerhead and disappeared as a small brook in the drain, while you waited for the water to get to temperature.

Honestly you had no idea how it was possible for you to have running water and electricity out here, but the question of where it came from had never bothered you. If BLI had known about the Diner, they would have taken it off the net long ago, or would have poisoned the water as they did in the city.

After you had showered, rinsed off what felt like years’ worth of dirt, and washed your hair for the first time since forever, you felt a lot better already.

The bathroom did not smell like Fun’s soap anymore and like yours instead, and after you had dried off, you glanced in the mirror over the sink. The bruises on your throat, where Fun had tried strangling you, were still quite visible, having turned from a dark purple to an equally dark blue by now.

You looked tired, you realised, tired and defeated. Losing your friends and running around in the desert did that to people. But you had Jet back, and Fun. You had gotten back more than you had ever thought you would have again. Momentarily you wondered if there was a way to get the other two back as well, but you pushed the thought aside. You had no idea if either of the brothers was still alive, so it would have been stupid to risk anything for that. Perhaps Fun would gain back some memories that would proof that they were, then you could think about making a plan, but until then you had to properly realise just how damn lucky you were to have two of your friends back.

Friends… you wondered if Fun remembered how things had been before, how tense and distant you had been with one another. He had never had problems with getting to know people, but he always seemed to stay away from you. Back then you had told yourself it was your work, the experiments, but now you were not so sure anymore.

He had been different these past two days, initiating little touches here and there, tapping your shoulder when he wanted your attention, grabbing your wrist when he wanted to stop you from walking away from a conversation, no matter how unimportant it was what he had wanted to say. You wondered whether that meant anything to him, whether it meant as much to him as it did to you.

Sighing, you glanced back up at the mirror. Pathetic, you thought. The same stupid ideas and the same useless overthinking as four years ago. Nothing would ever come of Fun and you, no matter how much you wanted it. So you better should use your thoughts on something that could help you survive, or find your two missing friends, should there ever be a hint at them still being alive.

You threw on a shirt that was lying on top of the pile of clean clothes next to the washing machine. Fun had started it sometime in the afternoon, and it was still running, but next to it were heaps of clothes you had washed before the others had left for Battery City. There were clothes that specifically belonged to someone and everyone knew better than to pick those for themselves, but most of the time everyone had just grabbed whatever clothes had appealed to them in that moment.

Now you pulled out some underwear that was definitely yours, some short that had probably originally belonged to you too, and a shirt that must have been Party’s at some point, but had lost all smell of him a long time ago. The shirt was long enough to reach down to the hem of your shorts, but since it was your sleeping attire you didn’t much care for it. Nobody would see you in it anyway.

Leaving the bathroom, you called for Jet, letting him know it was his turn in the bathroom, before disappearing in your room at the end of the short hallway.

You had spent a good while here over the day, cleaning and tidying, throwing away old stuff that you really had no use for anymore, dusting and sweeping, and getting new sheets on the bed. The air outside had cooled down enough for you to open the window a tiny gap, so cool air could stream into the hot room. Throwing the clothes you had worn over the day onto a chair in a corner in the room, you climbed into your bed, sunk back into your up pillow, and pulled the blanket up under your chin.

It had been years, literally years since you had last taken such a thorough shower, since you last had been so clean of dust and sand. And it had been just as long since you had last rested your head on a real pillow. The rolled up jackets you had used in your hideouts could hardly qualify as pillows. But now soft fabric, freshly puffed out, engulfed the back of your head, and involuntarily a sigh escaped your lips, while your eyes dropped closed.

It was only moments later, that a soft knock against your door startled you. You sighed again, and called the person in. For some reason you expected it to be Jet, mostly because Fun had never sought you out before, but now it was him, standing in the door. His dark hair was as fluffy as you had never seen it before, and in his hands he held a cup.

“I thought you were already asleep,” you blurted out, not meaning to sound as accusatory as you did.

"I just wanted to check up on you," he shrugged, but something in his voice gave away, that that was not all. It seemed like in reality it was him, who needed checking up on.

Even though your eyes burnt from tiredness, and your throat still hurt from Fun's unsuccessful attempt at strangling you, you sat up in bed, and waved him into your room. He followed the invitation swiftly, and closed the door behind his back.

"How's your throat," he asked, stepping closer to your bed. It was strange hearing him talk so softly where usually you were used to his serious voice, his gleeful giggles or his shouts. But now his voice was gentle.

"Still sore," you answered, sending him a small smile.

"I'm sorry-" Fun babbled out. "For trying to kill you and all."

"It's okay," you shrugged it off. "Nothing happened. And it wasn't you anyways. That was BLI."

Fun cast his eyes downwards towards now exposed hands, where dark ink drew patterns, pictures and letter onto his skin.

"But they used me to hurt you, my hands..."

His fingers flexed around the porcelain of the cup before he seemed to remember he held it.

"Here," he offered it to you. "I made you tea for your throat."

You were not sure if tea really would help with the soreness that came with getting strangled halfway to death, but the gesture made your heart beat faster, and Fun's teas were always delicious, brewed with roots and leaves of the few plants he had found out here in the desert. He must have raided his old stack to find them.

You took the cup from his hands, and gestured him to sit down on the mattress beside you, and even though he hesitated shortly, the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down next to you. So close that his back was brushing against your leg through the thin blanket.

Taking a first sip off the tea you were surprised at how sweet it was, and indeed it seemed to sooth the scratch in your throat a little. Fun was watching you closely, and when you smiled at him, he quickly averted his eyes. After taking a second sip, you decided to speak up.

“So… how are you?”

Fun looked at you again, his eyes wide as if he had not expected you to ask, but then he answered slowly.

“I guess I‘m irritated,” he replied. “It feels like yesterday that BLI bested us and abducted the Girl. And then I find out my friends and I have been dead for almost four years, and you turned into the nightmare of every Killjoy alive.”

“You’ve heard the rumours then,” you asked, suddenly anxious about what he would end up thinking.

“Yesterday on the supply run with Jet. Nobody knew who we were, certainly wouldn’t have guessed that we are the ones they made into legends. But yes, I heard. The daughter of the Phoenix Witch, the Mad Killjoy, The Creator, those are all names they called you. Talked about how sometimes Killjoys turn up, which you created. Freed from underneath those masks, I suppose. Some of them turn mad, you know. Can’t keep up with the fact that they died, or how rough the desert is.” Fun paused, fiddling with a string from his long sleeved shirt. “They are literally so scared of this diner, it’s almost funny. They think it’s cursed.”

“Killjoys can be a superstitious bunch, you know,” you shrugged. “I wanted to keep people away from here, so I spread some rumours.”

“Well, it seems to have worked, I guess,” Fun grinned, looking around. Most of your shelves were empty, save for some weapons, some paper, and a few pieces of tech. The only thing that was neither was an old Polaroid picture of the Fabulous Killjoys. Fun stood right at the edge of the picture, his arm thrown over your shoulder. At your other side, Party had an arm wrapped around your waist, the other around his brother. In front of you, Jet and the Girl were kneeling in the sand, doing a silly pose. In the background the roof of the Diner was visible.

Both Fun and you stared at the small picture through the dim light, thinking back to that day, when you had felt invincible. Oh, how things had changed since then.

“I remember what happened in Battery City,” Fun suddenly blurted out, making you look at him surprised.

You had not wanted to push it, but you were curious what had happened from his perspective. When Jet had talked about it all these months ago, it had driven tears to your eyes, but now your sadness and anger was dry, just gritted teeth and furrowed brows.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you told him, but Fun shook his head.

“I saw my friends die,” he argued, “It’s not something you just- forget.”

You nodded silently, watching him. He was still fiddling with the string, twisting it, wrapping it around his tattooed fingers, pulling it off again.

“They killed Party, and then Kobra,” he mumbled, his words hard to make out. “Jet grabbed the Girl, and when he made it through the door, I realised that… I realised we wouldn't make it. Maybe a part of me had given up after Party and Kobra just- So I did the only thing I could think of, buy Jet and the Girl some time. I closed the door, and fired at anything that moved. She wanted to go back for me, you know, the Girl...” Fun took a moment to breath. “They hit me in the shoulder first, I think. I knew there was no going back. I just thought that I needed to buy Jet enough time to get out of there, to get back to you. You need someone to pay you company, I thought, or you’d go mad.”

“Well, I did, a little,” you smiled sadly, when Fun didn’t continue talking. The thought that you were one of the last things he had thought about, popped up and tore at your heart.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” Fun answered, still fiddling with the string. “But honestly you held yourself together a lot better than I was afraid you would.”

For a while you sat in silence, you occasionally sipping on the tea Fun had made you, him not daring to look anywhere but his fingers.

“There was blood,” he suddenly spoke up. “I could see them, Party and Kobra. There was blood, so much blood. I always thought the blasters would burn the flesh more, so you wouldn't lose so much blood, but… there were pools of it. It’s weird, looking at your dead friends, and realising you’ll end up just like them in a few seconds. It twists your stomach, and it makes you angry and scared and sad. I remember that I felt my knees give out and all I could think was that I wouldn't see you again.”

The last sentence hung in the space between you, made your heart stutter, but you did not know what to say. And you did not have to say anything, because Fun continued.

“It was the one thing I couldn't get out of my head in that moment. That I wouldn't see you again. I just wanted to see you laugh one more time. I kept thinking ‘You can’t die here, she’ll be sad, she’ll cry. You don’t want her to cry, do you?’, but I just couldn't get back up.”

You had known any retelling of the events at Battery City would make you emotional, but not emotional enough to cry. Obviously you had been wrong, and annoyed you wiped a tear away from your cheek with the back of your hand.

“It’s stupid, I guess, but the last thing I thought of was how much I was going to miss you.”

“I missed you too,” you answered, your voice wet with tears. Quickly you took the last sips of tea, before you placed the cup on the floor by your bed.

When you looked up, it was just in time to see Fun swaying a little.

“Hey, are you okay,” you asked, reaching a hand out, and gently touching his shoulder.

“Hmhmm, just tired,” he hummed in response.

"When was the last time you properly slept?"

He just shrugged. "I don't know. Some four years ago, I guess."

"What about the past two nights?"

Your question was met with silence, making you sigh.

"You need to sleep, Fun," you pointed out. "Your brain needs sleep to function."

Again there was no response from him, only his attempt to avoid your eyes.

"Maybe you should go to bed and catch some sleep finally. You're safe here."

"I'm scared."

Surprised you blinked. His voice was thin, and he was still not meeting your eyes.

"Scared," you echoed confused.

"Scared that if I close my eyes, I find out all this-" he looked around the room, "was just a dream, and I'll wake up underneath that fucking mask again."

You could feel your heart ache in your chest. It made sense, you guessed. Most people who had come out from underneath the Zombie masks described their memories from that time like a half forgotten dream. Fun had lived like that for almost four years. It shouldn't be surprising that he now struggled to adjust to real life again. But that did not change the fact that he needed to sleep.

Pressing your lips together, you grabbed his shoulder and carefully pulled him backwards. To your surprise, he let you, until he was lying on his back next to you.

"What are you doing," he asked as you lay down next to him, both of you turning to your sides, so you were facing one another.

"You need to sleep, Fun," you repeated. "I promise: This is no dream. You'll wake up and you'll be right here, with me."

"But how can you know this isn't just a dream," Fun asked, his eyes skipping over your face as if he tried to commit it to memory.

"You've said so much weird shit in the past five minutes, this can't be a dream," you argued.

He smiled faintly, and rolled his eyes. "You're so helpful."

"Thanks. And now close your eyes."

"What if I do, and you're gone?"

You watched him for a moment, the fear evident in his eyes, making you want to hug him, delete the last years from his memory, and tell him the stupid lie that everything would be alright.

You didn't, but instead you reached for one of his hands that was resting as a fist in the little space between you. At your touch his fingers immediately loosened, and he opened his hand, allowing you to slot your palm against his. Almost immediately his warm fingers closed around yours.

"I'm right here," you promised. "Do you trust me?"

Instead of answering, he looked at you for a moment longer, before he took a deep breath, as if he were about to dive into a deep, dark lake full of monsters, and closed his eyes.

In your mind you began counting, almost expecting his eyes to snap open before you would reach four. At five he suddenly tightened his grip around your fingers, squeezing them tightly, and you squeezed back. At ten he opened his eyes again, looking at you resting your head on the pillow next to him in awe.

"You're still here," he mumbled surprised.

"I promised you I would," you reminded him. "Wanna try again?"

He nodded, but hesitated to close his eyes again.

“Come on, you can have some blanket,” you encouraged, and after he had wiggled around a bit, refusing to let go of your joined hands, you managed to pull the blanket out from underneath him, and threw it over him.

“Okay, once more,” you encouraged.

Instead of closing his eyes again, he reached his free hand out, and placed it at your waist. You felt your cheeks heat up as the warmth of his skin seeped through the thin fabric if your clean shirt, and your breath hitched in your throat as he pulled you closer to himself, all while keeping his other hand tightly around yours. He smelled like pine trees and motor oil. Only when you were lying so close that you could feel his breath fan over your cheek, his hair brush against your forehead, did he seem content.

Again he took a deep breath, and this time he closed his eyes, his features soon relaxing. He was almost asleep, when you reached out and brushed a strand of his black hair out of his face. He hummed quietly, and leant forward so his forehead was resting against yours. You smiled at his reaction to the close proximity, which you had dreamt of for years, and always been convinced would forever stay nothing but a fantasy.

Over Fun's breath evening out as he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, you too were lulled asleep, securely wrapped in his warm embrace, deeply inhaling his familiar, so comforting scent which you had once though you had lost forever.

Next Chapter - Fate Had Left Its Scars

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[jayjaymorgan]

The Death Cure - Prologue

Author’s Note : A big thank you to my Discord server mutuals, who helped me a ton with this story. Please remember that English isn't my native language, so there might be some mistakes and stuff. I hope you all like it, have a great day/night!

TW : dead bodies, zombies, *vague* description of an injury

Broken glass crunched under his shoes as he walked through the empty streets of the deserted city, his only companions being the sound of his own footsteps and the young teenager he was carrying on his back. The stench of death followed his every step, making it hard to breathe, even with the scarf tied tightly around his nose and mouth. The smoke stung his eyes, but he ignored the uncomfortable feeling and pressed on, regardless of the stray tears that forced their way out of his irritated eyes, leaving a bright trail on his ash-covered face. He came to a stop as he reached a crossroad, which was littered with wrecked cars, knocked over trashcans, a few fallen streetlights and countless other things that were destroyed when the horde attacked. He looked around, checking for any signs of danger before moving on, carefully navigating his way in the wreckage. He saw dead bodies in some of the cars, which looked like they were there since the first wave of infected. Some of them still had their seatbelts on, with their hands clasped on the steering wheels, their bodies forever locked in this position. He could see a few familiar faces, but he kept going, trying to ignore the corpses of his dead friends and neighbors. The sky was slowly growing dark, so the man sped up, not wanting to be outside at night, especially in a city full of infected. This caused the teenager to wake up, looking around with fear in her eyes before realizing that everything was fine. “Anakin...?” “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” the man said, getting a quiet hum in response. “How’s your leg?” “Still hurts.” her voice was tired and hoarse. “But it’s much better.” “Can you walk? My back needs a break.” “I think so.” He stopped and bent down to let her climb off of his back, letting out a sigh of relief as the weigh was lifted from his tired spine. He then stretched out, groaning loudly, before adjusting his backpack and looking around, searching for a place to stay the night at. “There.” The girl pointed at a small, one story house, that looked to be somewhat intact. There were no signs of break-ins by infected or looters. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find something useful, on top of having a roof over our heads.” As the words left her mouth, a few droplets of water landed on their clothes and faces, which caused them to look up. Dark, stormy clouds starter gathering overheads, indicating that a storm was coming. “Okay, let’s go.” the man said, leading the way. “But stay close, we don’t know what we’re walking into.” The two cautiously approached the building, the man wielding a rusty pipe like a bat, ready to attack if needed. They got to the front door, which was open and creaked loudly as he pushed it with his shoulder, cursing quietly at the sound. “Wait here, Ahsoka.” he whispered, taking off and placing his backpack and bags on the ground next to her. “I’ll check for any infected.” She wanted to protest, to say that it was a bad idea, but he already disappeared in the dark hallway with a flashlight, leaving her alone. She looked around, panic settling in as the shadows elongated, looking like dark silhouettes. Her leg was still hurt, so if something happened she wouldn’t be able to run or climb, not to mention walking. She could hear quiet footsteps and the sound of opening doors as her brother explored the empty house, his feet shuffling on the wooden floor. She waited in anticipation, expecting a loud, blood curdling shriek to tear through the silence, expecting for an infected to leap out from its hiding spot with an animalistic roar, but the house remained silent.

When the figure of her older brother appeared in the door, she let out a sigh of relief. “It’s safe.” he said, picking up his backpack and shining the way. “We’ll cover the windows in the living room and sleep there.” She limped after him, using the wall as support, her shoes leaving footprints in the dust that covered the entire floor. She could smell rot and decay, the source of it being the food left in the kitchen. The power was out and the air inside was stale and musty, but all of that was still much better than outside, where death lurked around every corner. “Search the cabinets, I’ll take care of the windows.” Anakin said, a lit match in his fingers. “I found some candles, might be of some use.” She nodded and took one of the candles, going her best not to spill the hot wax onto her hands. Then, she started rummaging through the furniture, looking for anything of use : clothes, food, first aid kits, anything, meanwhile the man closed all the blinds and locked the windows, so no light would be visible from the streets. Then, he took out the sleeping bags from his backpack and rolled them onto the ground, rising a cloud of dust. “Did you find anything?” he asked once he stopped coughing and sneezing, walking over to his sister, who was in the kitchen. “Barely.” Ahsoka responded, pointing at the small pile of items. “Few shirts, a pair of unmatched socks... an old weeding photo...” Her voice quivered slightly as she listed the last item, before clearing her throat and continuing. “I found some batteries in the pantry and uncooked rice... We still have that camping stove and cookers, right?” “Yeah, everything’s in the bag.” She looked at the luggage, a feeling of guilt washing over her : Anakin was carrying all this way by himself, not to mention her. A big, hiking backpack filled to the brim with clothes, bandages and rope, and two smaller bags with food and kitchen utensil they needed to make food. Swallowing the uneasy feeling, she focused on looking through the last few items that were still edible. The fridge and freezer was overrun with mold, but not everything was lost. “Dried pasta : we can make rice with pasta. Oh, bouillon! Scratch the rice soup, we can have normal soup. Spices, herbs, salt...” she trailed off, handing the items one by one to her brother, who double checked the expiration date. “And... 2,3... 5 packages of instant ramen.” “Great! Today, we’ll feast!”

…

Anakin looked at his sister, who was soundly asleep on the floor, wrapped in her sleeping bag and snoring softly. He felt a feeling of accomplishment as he looked at the dirty dishes, happy that Ahsoka went to sleep with a warm meal beforehand. But at the same time, he felt guilty. So incredibly guilty, he had this nagging thought in the back of his mind that he has failed her. In every possible way. He looked down at his hands, that were covered in scratches and dried blood, before looking away.

It wasn’t fair.

Her teenage years shouldn’t look like this. She should be going to school, going out with friends, not fighting for her life in a fucking zombie apocalypse. She was barely 14 years old and the world as they know it around her was falling apart, most of the people she knew were either dead, infected or missing. She had to witness horrible things, so much death and violence in the last four weeks, and he failed to protect her from that. He let out a defeated sigh before changing positions on the hard, cold floor, hissing in pain as he stretched out his stiff legs. He had his sleeping bag wrapped around his shoulders, the sturdy metal pipe resting on his knees as he kept an eye out for both the door and windows. Most of the horde was much deeper in the city, where they could find more people, but a portion of them stayed in the suburbs, hunting and scavenging for animals and trash. He didn’t want to risk, not when they were so close to exiting the city and, possibly, so close to finding help. If the map he was using was correct and the emergency alert on the radio was true, there was a military base where they would be given food, medication and shelter. The only two problems were that the base was over 100 miles away from the city and that the radio went silent a couple of days ago. The first wasn’t really a problem, they could just hijack a car and drive there, but the second... He rubbed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He knew what the silence could mean, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. Getting there with Ahsoka was the only purpose he had for the moment, aside from keeping her alive of course. He didn’t know what they would do if the base was overrun with infected or unable to take in new people, but it was something to think of later, much later. He didn’t even realize that he was drifting off until a loud bang woke him. The pipe fell out of his limp hands, hitting the floor and making an awful lot of noise, startling him. He cursed and grabbed the weapon, glancing back at his sister, who was still sound asleep. He let out a sigh of relief, placing a hand over his racing heart and wrapping the sleeping bag tightly around his shoulders. He gripped the metal item, finding its weight reassuring, calming even. It was a very primitive tool, it didn’t do much damage and was awkward to hold, but it was still better than nothing.

He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when something scratched at the door.

He froze, breath caught in his throat as he listened to the quiet coughing and sniffing like sounds right outside the door. The doorknob clattered as something tried to turn it, but the lock held, aided by the cabinet that was used to barricade the door. A raspy groan could be heard, followed by intense, desperate scratching. Anakin sat there, in the dark, with only a small candle illuminating the room, paralyzed with fear as the infected circled the house, groaning and mumbling incoherently. He could see their shadows through the closed blinds, when they swiftly scattered, their nails scratching against the wood. He made extra sure that each and every entrance was secured, but despite that he was still scared. He wanted to get up and check, just to be safe, but he knew that he would only make the situation worse. All he could do was wait and hope that they leave, try his best to make them think that the house was empty. “It’s gonna be a long night.” he whispered to himself.

And right as those words left his lips, the last candle went out, plunging him in complete darkness.

#rexwalker #the clone wars #my writing #The Death Cure

[seijorhi]

Finders Keepers

the long awaited (sorry!) zombie au. hope y’all enjoy

Seijoh 4 x female reader & Miya twins x female reader 

TW Blood, gore, angst, um... toxic relationships?

“Let me see.”

It’s little more than a murmur, but in the quiet stillness of the night your voice carries. It hardly matters; Oikawa has you close, tucked under his arm with his injured leg stretched out between the two of you. He could stop you if he really wanted, but he only watches, those tired, wary eyes fixed on your face as you reach for his pants. 

“It’s fine,” he grunts out, yet he can barely get the words out before he’s hissing through his teeth – a knee jerk reaction to the scrape of rough fabric against his wound. His fingers are digging painfully into your arm, and it doesn’t make a difference how gentle you try to be, how many stammered apologies fall from your lips, your fingers are stiff and clumsy and his pants are caked with dried blood and grime, hindering the process.

Pursing your lips, you glance up. “This would go easier if you took these off, you know.”

He cracks a smile at that, strained and tense, but your chest still flutters at the sight of it. “If you wanna get my pants off so badly, cutie, all you had to do was ask.”

“Tooru,” you begin, but he sighs heavily and that brief flicker of mirth glimmering in his eyes fades. Reaching over he picks up his hunting knife, pressing the handle into your palm and letting his fingers slowly curl around yours. The weight of it feels unwieldy and foreign in your hand, and you can’t quite say for sure if the way your breath picks up and hitches is due to your nerves or the way Oikawa’s watching you, his warm hand still wrapped around yours.

“Cut it, then.”

The knife helps, shearing through his pants like butter, but the wound itself is messy – torn threads plastered to congealed blood and dirt – and blunt fingernails sink into your skin and Oikawa grits out a curse when you try to gently ease them free. 

It’s worse than you’d thought. A lot worse. Raked over his right knee, five gouges, jagged and gruesome, raw flesh and muscle exposed beneath. Your stomach roils at the sight of it, bile creeping up your throat, and for a moment you’re astounded by how calm he is, sitting there beside you. 

If it were you, you’re fairly sure you’d be rolling on the ground howling by now, but the only hint of pain Oikawa’s face betrays is the tightness of his jaw, teeth clenched even as he looses a shuddering breath.

“I-I’ll go see if I can find something to…” to what? Clean the wound? Stitch it? You’re not an idiot, unless this little cottage has an incredibly well stocked first aid kit, you know you’re in trouble. And even if it does, beyond the very basics of clean, disinfect and bandage, you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to fix this.

Iwaizumi was always the one to stitch up their wounds, muttering obscenities under his breath and glaring at them the whole time. It was their own idiot faults for putting themselves in a position where they could get hurt in the first place, he’d say, they could deal with a little pain while he fixed them up. But as you stare at the grisly mess of Oikawa’s knee, there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that this might be beyond even Iwa’s level of expertise. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, because Iwa isn’t here. 

Makki and Mattsun aren’t either.

And strangely enough, it’s not the fear of the creatures lurking in the woods that’s gnawing at your gut. It’s Oikawa’s injury, the blood and mangled mess that you can’t even begin to fix, the thought of the trap that’s awaiting the others back at the sanctuary. It’s that feeling of helplessness that’s tightening around your neck like a noose.

“Hey,” Oikawa calls, snagging at your wrist when you try to pull away. “They’ll find us, have a little faith.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you nod. “I know.”

You don’t have the guts to tell him that that’s only half the problem.

Making do with vodka and some old bandages you’d scrounged up from a first aid kit under the sink, you do what you can for Tooru’s knee. Working by the light of a few flickering candles, your hands shaking like a leaf, it's a job easier said than done, and you can’t help but wince at every pained hiss and grunt that escapes him. 

It’s a hack job, a bandaid over a gaping wound, but he thanks you for it anyway, pressing an affectionate kiss to your temple as he drags you closer once more. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he murmurs, and the words hang heavy over the both of you; a promise and a sobering reminder in one.

Tucked up in his embrace, you shut your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep. 

Yet the moment you do, you’re right back there again: the hallway doors bursting open and the undead pouring through. Rotting and snarling, the sound of panicked shrieks tearing through the sanctuary in their wake.

Tooru’s hand in yours, yanking you along as he ran. Your heartbeat, pounding in your ears as you gasped for breath, your chest burning. And the fear, the horror that threatened to choke you as the others fell behind, their frantic pleas turning into agonised screams.

Everybody else first. The words spoken before any one of them left the safety of the sanctuary; you’d always assumed it was a grim kind of joke between the boys, a good luck charm. How many times had you heard Mattsun laugh it, clapping Iwa on the shoulder, or Makki for that matter, or Oikawa?

‘Come home safe’, you’d thought it meant, not ‘rip the guns out of other survivors’ hands and throw them back into the path of the oncoming undead’.

And then you’d stumbled, tripping over your own two feet. You remember Oikawa cursing, the pain that radiated up your knees and the palms of your hands as you hit the floor hard, and the absolute, bone chilling terror that surged through you when you looked up and saw one of the undead creatures lunge for you; jaw hanging loose, more ripped flesh and gristle than an actual mouth–

Oikawa was too far away, too slow, and even if he wasn’t, you’d just witnessed the lengths he’d go to for self preservation. You’d screamed for him anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and praying you’d go quickly when those fingers and yellowing teeth dug into your flesh and ripped you apart.

And in the space of a single petrified heartbeat, three shots had rung through the air, a warm wetness splattering against your cheek. Tooru was there, kicking the rotting corpse away from you and hauling you back to your feet, back safely against his side.

But the next one was quicker, leaping over the husk of its fallen friend, snarling and bloody and savage, and then it was Tooru who was screaming, undead fingers sinking into the flesh of his leg, ripping as it tried to claw him back.

Heart pounding viciously, your eyes shoot open in the darkness.

Even with the reassurance of Oikawa’s frame pressed up behind you, his breath warm against your skin, sleep doesn’t come easy, and the dawn brings little reprieve.

Stupidly, you’d hoped – prayed – that somehow through the night he might’ve gotten better. It was early in the morning when you’d felt him start to shiver against you. You’d tried to roll away, to give him space so you wouldn’t accidentally knock his leg, but Tooru was having none of it, burrowing in closer, his grip tightening.

And when you’d felt him start to sweat, his arms becoming sticky and clammy, his shirt dampening at your back, that slow, cloying sense of dread took root inside of your stomach.

Under the first rays of morning light, the true extent of Oikawa’s condition is unignorable. Without the luxury of being able to properly close the wound, blood’s seeped through the bandages overnight, leaving them a mottled, macabre red. His face is pale, a thin sheen of sweat dotting at his brow and with every shallow, rattling breath he takes, his body trembles.

It’s more than just simple blood loss.

You think for a moment that he’s unconscious, long lashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, but the moment you reach for the bandages, his eyes snap open. “Don’t,” he rasps.

You frown, “Tooru–”

“No,” he says. “It’s fine. Leave it alone.”

Between him and Iwaizumi, and to a certain extent, Makki and Mattsun, you’ve never had much of a say in how things are run. You’ve never questioned that they’re the ones in charge, Oikawa most of all. They’re the ones who’ve kept you safe, kept you alive all this time, and all they’ve ever asked of you is that you do what they say.

And you have. Always. Because without them, you’d be dead. You don’t have to pick up a gun and fight, because they do it for you. You don’t have to go on supply runs because they take care of it, they take care of you. And it’s never mattered whether it’s just been the five of you out there alone, or if you were banding together with other survivors; that’s never changed – no matter how many dirty looks it earned you from the others.

You are their responsibility, but in return, you do what they tell you without question.

But this–

This isn’t like that. This isn’t you begging Iwaizumi to take you with him on perimeter patrol because you’ve been cooped up for what feels like weeks, or pouting because they’re deliberately keeping things from you again. 

And maybe they have kept you in the dark, but you’re not blind and you’re not stupid. The reality of this situation hasn’t escaped you. 

The sanctuary’s overrun, and if – when – Iwa, Makki and Mattsun make it back, they’ll be walking into an ambush. Even if by some miracle they do manage to all make it out unscathed and somehow figure out a way to pick up your trail, there’s no telling how long it’ll take for them to find their way back to you.

(You can’t bear to think about the possibility of them not coming home; you won’t.)

Right now, it’s just you and Oikawa, stuck in some abandoned cottage in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a rifle and a baseball bat between you. You have no food, no supplies and he’s getting weaker by the minute.

You’re terrified.

And you don’t have the luxury of sitting back and letting somebody else take care of you anymore. You don’t stand a chance of survival without Oikawa, and right now he doesn’t stand a chance without you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head. “Okay, I won’t touch it, but I’m not just going to sit here and watch you get worse.” Smoothing your palms over your lap, you take a deep breath in through your nose. “There’s a prison–”

“No.”

“Tooru–”

“I said no,” he snaps.

Biting back a sigh, you try again, “Tooru, there might be supplies there,” you plead. “Painkillers, antibiotics, something that might help–”

“I don’t need antibiotics and you’re not leaving. We need to stay here where it’s safe until the others find us,” he grits out, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Normally, this would be the point that you’d back off, running off to lick your wounds before he decided to get mean, but even as some part of you cowers at the mere thought of upsetting him, this time you don’t back down.

He watches warily as you lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, gently smoothing damp brown locks back from his sweat slicked forehead. “I don’t know when Iwa’s coming back,” you murmur. “But until he does, the prison’s our best chance, if I can just–”

“No!” he snarls, cutting you off once again.

His eyes are manic now, blown wide and glazed over, he’s shivering, his breath a faint rattle – but his grip is iron, long fingers clutching at you desperately when you jerk back with a gasp.

“You don’t leave me.”

You don’t want to. 

It’d be easy not to, to sit and stay with him and pretend that your world isn’t falling apart and he isn’t dying. You’ve never been a fighter, always too soft, too weak, too naive to survive out there on your own. The thought of setting one foot outside of that door without him by your side fills you with absolute terror, but what other options do you have?

He might not like it, but you’re out of time – this decision isn’t his to make anymore.

“Tooru, I-I have to, you know–”

“No!” he snaps, dragging you closer. “You’re not leaving me, I won’t fucking let you!”

Your hand trembles when you reach up to take his, easing it from your shirt and bringing it to your lips. Tears spill from your lashes, falling in heavy droplets against the back of his hand as Oikawa makes a pained sound.

“Please don’t go.”

You both know he can’t stop you.

“Keep the gun,” you tell him, mustering up a tight, watery smile. “Anything but Iwa and our boys comes through that door, shoot it.”

—

It seems a cruel, twisted joke that you find a perfectly good truck sitting a little ways up the driveway, just begging to be used – with no way of getting it started.

Mattsun always made hot wiring look so easy, tossing you a wink when the engine rumbled to life, as if it was a neat little party trick he’d pulled out just to impress you. He did it so quickly, so smoothly, ripping the wires out and sparking them like it was second nature, but he’d never bothered to actually explain what he was doing to you.

And why would he? Between the four of them, there’d always be somebody else to take care of it for you. It’s the same reason they never taught you how to shoot, never taught you how to fight beyond the very basics of self defence.

Now, trudging along the side of the barren road with nothing but your baseball bat and a canteen of water slung over your hip, you find yourself wishing you’d paid a little more attention. Ten miles hadn’t seemed that far on paper – it was less than the trek back into town and you’d figured a safer bet, but walking around in broad daylight without any kind of real protection feels like you’re begging to be preyed upon. Yet by some stroke of luck (and despite that persistent nagging sense that you’re being watched) you manage to make it to the perimeter gates without coming across another soul, dead or alive.

The towering brick walls topped with spirals of barbed wire that line the prison complex are as imposing as they are unbreachable, and for a moment, standing there staring up at them, you feel a crushing sense of disappointment. You’ve walked over two hours, left Tooru in pain and alone for nothing. There’s no way in hell you’re gonna be able to scale those walls, and without any kind of bolt cutters or firepower, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to get past the front gates. 

Iwa would’ve known that. Iwa would’ve been better prepared. 

But as you draw closer to the guardhouse, you’re pleasantly surprised to find that it’s not a problem. The heavy wrought iron gate’s already unlocked and open, creaking in the breeze. And really, that should have been the first warning sign, but you’re too busy thanking your lucky stars as you slide on through to pay attention to things like that.

The courtyard is just as deserted. The crunch of gravel underfoot echoes too loud, setting your nerves on edge as you make your way towards the imposing structure. It’s quiet, eerily so – even the birds seem to have disappeared. Is this how all raids feel, you wonder as you climb the steps towards the door. This sense of foreboding dread that settles in your stomach, the goosebumps that prickle down your arms? 

Your grip tightens around the handle of your bat and you press gingerly against the door – just like the guardhouse gate, it gives under your touch, swinging open wide. It’s dark inside; you hadn’t thought to bring a torch and with the absence of any windows lining the corridor it’s near pitch black. Your heart hammers inside your chest, every cell in your body screaming at you to turn around and run back to Tooru, but you’ve come this far already. 

The undead flock to fresh, living meat. It’s been months since the outbreak began; anyone unfortunate enough to have found themselves trapped inside when it happened is probably long dead, and any of the undead likely long gone.

It’s just a little darkness. 

Steeling your nerves you creep through the black, clutching tightly at your bat, toeing your way down the corridor waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dim. Every breath you draw in feels too loud, every step too obnoxious. Deserted or not, the sooner you can find the med-bay, get what you need for Oikawa and get out, the better.

The layout’s simple enough – five looming multi-storied wings breaking off like fingers from the central watch-tower, but you don’t have a clue which one holds what you’re seeking. Your only option is to search them one by one and hope for the best. 

You’d expected steel bars and heavy locks, but the prison reminds you strangely of a school instead; long hallways lined with doors, each with a tiny window to peek through. They’re all open now of course, whatever locking mechanism keeping them shut having failed when the generators ran out. The first few are empty, barren and stripped of everything but soiled mattresses – it should be a relief. 

There’s nothing waiting for you in the darkness but empty halls and emptier rooms. If the others were here, they’d be teasing you for sure. Or Makki and Mattsun would, at least. You always were such a scared little baby – their scared little baby – you’d jump at your own shadow if you didn’t have them around. 

And it’s easier to keep going imagining them there by your side, the jokes they’d crack, the warmth of Iwa’s hand in yours, or Makki’s arm slung over your shoulder. You’d feel safe with them. You wouldn’t need to feel afraid.

But no amount of pretend comfort is enough to allay the heavy sense of dread that’s sitting in your stomach, growing harder and harder to ignore with every passing minute. And the problem, you realise, with the prison being so deadly quiet is that every noise, no matter how quiet, echoes.

Climbing the stairs in the dark, you don’t notice the slickness on the walls either side of you, the red handprints smeared messily over white paint. You don’t see the broken, bloody fingernails littering the steps beneath you. 

You hear it though, when you reach the landing. It’s soft. A quiet, wet squelching, ripping–

There’s no screams accompanying it like there were back when the sanctuary was overrun, but it’s not a sound you’re gonna be able to forget any time soon. In the dark you freeze, not daring to so much as breathe as you peer down the endless corridor, trying to pinpoint which of the cells it’s coming from. 

In the end, you decide that it doesn’t matter. 

They’re quicker when they’ve fed, stronger too, and there’s not a chance in hell that you’re going to be able to fumble past in the dark without drawing that thing’s attention. The wooden bat in your hands feels heavy, your palms already slick with sweat. You weren’t quick enough back at the sanctuary; without Tooru, that thing would’ve eaten you. And suddenly it seems laughable that you came out here, that you genuinely thought you could handle this – fight one of them off if it came down to it.

Tooru needs those meds, you know that, and you might be useless and weak and absolutely paralysed with fear, but you’re not stupid. You can’t help him at all if you’re torn apart by one of those creatures.

Your pulse racing, a potent mix of adrenaline and sheer, unrelenting terror coursing through your veins, you draw in a quiet breath, slowly lifting your foot to back away. It hasn’t heard you yet, and so long as it’s distracted–

“Oi, hurry up! I know what I saw, she came in this way.”

“Jesus, just shut up for a sec, wouldja! Ya don’t need to keep yellin’ at me, I’m comin’!”

Through the grate at your feet, you see two beams of light break through the darkness, the sound of loud, heavy footsteps echoing down the wing. Icy claws tighten like a vice around your heart and you still once more, squeezing your eyes shut as you listen, praying…

The squelching’s stopped.

Grip tight around the handle of your bat, your entire body quaking with fear, you watch with wide, stricken eyes as one of the doors halfway down the block slowly creaks outwards. 

For a heartbeat, there’s nothing, and you try and convince yourself it’s just the wind, that you’re imagining things and your mind is playing mean tricks on you–

A feral snarl rips through the air, and before you can so much as scream it’s crashing through the open doorway, head swivelling as it searches for the source of the disturbance. In the dark you can’t make out much, only that it’s huge, half its flesh torn and decaying, smeared with blood and filth – but you see it when those white, cloudy eyes fix on you, its rotting mouth bared and salivating.

And this time you do scream. You scream for Oikawa, for Iwa, for Makki and Mattsun and the faceless strangers on the floor below as you cast your bat aside and run. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you take the stairs two, three at a time, slipping and slamming into the stairwell wall, a sharp burst of pain radiating down your shoulder – you can hear it giving chase, the rabid growls and snarls too close for comfort.

Tears flood your eyes, your chest heaving with every desperate breath as your feet hit solid ground once more and you take off.

“Please!” you sob as you run, blinded by the brightness of the torch beam as it’s shone in your direction. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

You can’t outrun it forever. Even now, you hear it gaining on you, its hot, foul breath puffing against your back – it’s just like back at the sanctuary. It’s gonna catch you, rip into you and feast while you choke to death on your own blood and screams, and this time you won’t have Oikawa here to save you. You’re going to die in agony, torn apart and devoured, and it’s all your own stupid fault.

Your throat tightens, more tears springing free. You can’t see anything beyond those two blinding lights, moving now, dancing across the field of your vision. “PLEASE!” you shriek, desperate and hoarse as the undead creature behind you readies itself to pounce.

Please don’t leave me here to die.

And for one heart wrenching second, you think back to your boys, and the words they’d said before kissing you goodbye. Everybody else first. Maybe this is some kind of divine retribution, you think. Maybe when the world went to hell people became cold and selfish and you deserve this for sitting back and letting others die in your place.

“Get down!” the voice yells, and you don’t even stop to think before you drop, sliding across the floor. There’s another blinding flash, a shot fired into the dark and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and hug your knees to your chest as the creature snarls in anger and jerks backwards, a gruesome spurt of blood spraying over you.

“Ya fucking missed! How could ya fucking miss?!”

The gun cocks and reloads, another deafening shot ringing out above you and you flinch, your nails biting into the soft skin of your palm–

But this time the bullet hits its mark. The creature crashes to the floor with a loud thump and doesn’t move again. 

You don’t waste a second scrambling to your feet, launching yourself into the arms of your saviour. You don’t care that you’re crying, that you’re covered in blood and filth and god knows what else, you cling to him like he’s a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder. And instead of pushing you away like he probably should, he lets out a short huff that sounds almost like a laugh, his arm curling around your waist.

“I’m the one who shot the damn thing,” the other mutters sourly.

The man holding you snorts, “Nah, yer the idiot who missed.” Belatedly, you realise that he’s still gripping his gun, the brightness you’d assumed to have come from a torch actually from a light mounted to the barrel. He slings the rifle carelessly over his shoulder, drawing back slightly to appraise you. “Now, wanna tell me what a sweet thing like you’s doin’ all alone in a place like this?”

With your eyes now adjusting to the light, you can see that the two of them can’t be much older than you. They’re both tall, broad shouldered and handsome, the same jawline, the same slope to their nose, nearly identical hooded eyes – brothers you decide, maybe even twins. And they’re both smirking at you, not with the relief of just barely escaping a brush with a particularly gruesome death, but with an odd sort of lackadaisical amusement, as if this – skulking through dark, abandoned places, killing the undead – is nothing out of the ordinary for them. 

And from the ease with which they carry their weapons, maybe it isn’t.

Oikawa warned you about men like them. Men in general, really. Even the ones who smiled at you back at the sanctuary, the ones who offered to help you move heavy supplies when they saw you struggling – at least, until Iwa or one of the others stepped in with a poisonous glare. Anyone who wasn’t them was dangerous, a threat, just waiting in the wings to take advantage of a pretty, dumb little thing like you.

And maybe he’s right, but when the one holding you instead drags you closer, wraps an arm around your shoulders and begins to lead you back towards the guard tower as his brother falls into step on your other side, you don’t shrug him off. 

Oikawa isn’t here, and they have just saved your life. That has to count for something, right?

“I-I thought it’d be safe,” you confess breathlessly, trying not to focus on the thumb sweeping over the curve of your shoulder. “Well, empty at least. I didn’t have a choice.” And they listen, sharing glances in the dark as you tell them about what’d happened at the sanctuary, about Oikawa and the desperation that’d led you to leave him and walk miles alone to try and find some kind of medicine–

Until a snicker interrupts you. “Sorry,” the blonde mutters, though he doesn’t look all that sincere when your eyes flash to his. “It’s just…”

“Anythin’ worth taking woulda been snatched up months ago,” the darker haired one interjects.

“There ain’t nothin’ here but the occasional idiot tryna set up camp an’… Well, ya saw how well that turned out.”

It hits you like a gut punch, forcing the air from your lungs in a harsh, gasping breath. There was never anything here, everything… all of it was a waste. You came all this way, left him feverish and screaming himself hoarse for you, risked your life, almost died and–

It was all for nothing.

Fresh tears sting at your eyes, they’re still talking but it’s just white noise washing over you. You don’t even realise they’re leading you back outside until you’re walking through the doors, the sudden burst of sunlight making you flinch. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.

You’re an idiot.

A naive, dumb little girl who was stupid enough to think this half cocked plan was gonna work. That you would make it back to Tooru in one piece, medicine in hand to save the day and prove you weren’t the helpless damsel they’d pegged you for. 

You’ve wasted so much time, for nothing. 

There’s no drugs, no food, nothing that’s gonna help either one of you make it through the next few days and suddenly you’re drowning under a wave of hopelessness and bitter disappointment. You fall to your knees in the dirt, taking both your saviours by surprise, and let out a painful, heart wrenching sob. And once you start, you can’t seem to stop. It’s overwhelming, every emotion you’ve bottled up and shoved aside over the last two days suddenly forced into the light. You cry for yourself, for Tooru – for Iwa and Makki and Mattsun. You cry until it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, and then there’s rough calloused fingers brushing your tears away.

You look up through wet lashes to find the dark-haired man crouching before you, his expression sober. “Ya don’t need to cry, sweetheart, we’re not monsters y’know.”

His brother chuckles behind you, “We’re not about to leave some pretty little thing all alone out here to starve to death.” His hand’s resting atop your head now, smoothing down the hair at your crown. It’s soft and soothing, and you’re so attuned to seeking comfort that you can’t help but lean into it, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. “We’ve got some friends nearby, a nice little hideaway stocked full of all kinds of shit. Everything ya could possibly need.”

“Y-you mean it?” you ask, wide eyes flickering to the dark haired one, who smiles at last. “You’ll share them with me?”

“‘Course we do. Meds, food, weapons. Whatever ya want, it’s yours.”

You take the hand he offers to help you stand, your limbs trembling once more – but this time it’s not from fear or exhaustion, but the overwhelming rush of sheer relief. You could kiss him, kiss them both, but you don’t.

Instead you settle for throwing your arms around them once more, breathless thanks falling from your lips faster than they can catch as you hug them tight. They don’t seem to mind though, sharing almost identical smirks as the three of you head out to an old, beat up camaro parked out by the entrance to the prison. While the blonde slides in the driver’s seat and his brother takes the passenger’s side, you climb up into the back seat. 

“Is it far?” you ask as he kicks the car into gear and peels out onto the deserted road. Hopefully it’s not, the sooner you can get back to help Tooru the better. 

“Nah, not too far. We’ll be home before ya know it.”

Of course, they’re driving you to their friends, but they haven’t promised anything about driving you back to the cottage and Oikawa–

Which is perfectly fine! You’re not going to push your luck, they’re already doing plenty for you. More than they really have to. You don’t even need that much – just some medicine for Tooru and enough food for the two of you to get through the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Whatever you can carry, which, admittedly isn’t much. There’s still a few hours of daylight left, if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it back to him before nightfall.

Things are gonna be fine. You’ll bring the medicine and once he’s better, the two you can head out to find the others. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’ll be better when you’re all back together, the way things were meant to be. 

You need them, if anything this little venture’s proven that much at least. 

They’d promised that it wasn’t far, and maybe it’s just the exhaustion of the last few days creeping in, or the gentle hum of the engine as the car drives along the long, narrow stretch of road, but your eyelids start to droop, your breath evening out as sleep beckons.

And you’re just dancing on the edge of consciousness when a hushed voice breaks through the comfortable silence, dark eyes flickering up to watch your slumbering form in the rearview mirror. “Ya think Kita’ll be pissed?”

There’s a snort, “Nah. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, ‘specially the pretty ones.” He’s quiet for a moment, almost contemplative before he opens his mouth to add, “‘Sides, we’re gonna take real good care of her, ain’t we, Samu?”

The only reply he gives is a soft grunt of acknowledgement. 

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere osamu x reader #yandere iwaizumi x reader #yandere matsukawa x reader #yandere hanamaki x reader #tw blood #tw gore #angst #toxic relationships #i honestly do not know how to tag this #at this point it's practically sfw #if you ignore all the blood and injuries and zombie stuff

[mikanotes]

— lose your cool

su-hyeok x gn!reader | 718 words

genre: horror, established relationship, action?

warnings: swearing, canon-divergence, gore, blood, fighting, injuries, blood in the gif, and that’s all i think! just reader smacking a bitch, basic stuff /s

synopsis: you’re a pretty calm person, when unprovoked. the problem is, zombies keep provoking you.

author’s note: there’s a cyclone and the rain is super loud and i listened to a song that made me want to fight people so have this! this might be messy because i’m . a bit stressed while writing this but i hope it makes sense!!!

You ran up the stairs, trying your best to ignore the uncomfortable groaning of the zombies that were hot on your trail. You were getting tired. Tired of this. Your blood felt like it was boiling. Your adrenaline was at an all time high.

You’re so calm, [name]! How do you do it? How have you not cried once, [name]? [name], are you okay, you don’t show any emotions? Well, fuck if you will! Seems people couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept of keeping calm to refrain from breaking down entirely.

You suddenly stopped in your tracks and turned around, realizing that Suhyeok was missing from the group. You ran to the railing of the stairs and leaned down to check. He was fighting Yoon Gwinam. This fucker. You turned around and kicked a zombie that was running towards you down the stairs, before jumping over it and running down.

“Hey!” you yelled, “You zombie fuck!”

You grabbed the guy’s hair and yanked his head down to your hip, looking down at him with wide eyes. “Can you fucking die already?”

Suhyeok froze in his movements, blinking at your change in attitude. He knew you had it in you, but still. He chuckled to himself, before spinning around to defend himself.

You prevented Gwinam from moving in any way to hurt you, holding him down, before swinging his head up and forward into the closest wall. You stepped back about three times, leaving him the time to turn around before you kicked his face with the bottom of your shoe the very second he faced you. He only spat some blood, but managed to grab your ankle. You laughed loudly, twisting around in an impressive jump and putting him to the ground. “Gravel under my fucking feet you piece of trash.”

“You fucker— Your damn superiority complex is starting to piss me off!” he yelled as he managed to push your foot off his throat. He grabbed your collar and punched you, sending your head lolling sideways. The pain got your eyes tearing up and the speed made you dizzy, but you quickly overcame it and pushed yourself off his grasp. You stood in front of each other, unsteady on your feet and murder in your eyes, before Suhyeok came in charging and pushing the other boy through the window.

You froze, silent, then scoffed, walking towards him. Suhyeok left you no time to be baffled and pulled your wrist so you’d run up and join the others. He turned around as you ran. “Hey, deadpan.”

You raised your eyebrows in response, clearly annoyed. He grinned. “That was pretty hot.”

“Do you wanna die?”

And laughter was all you got in response. You boyfriend knew just was to say or do to break your facade, it seemed.

Once everything calmed down and you sat down in the room you’d been trying to get to, you were calm again. No one tried to question the blood everywhere on your clothes, nor the yelling they’d heard from the floor above, but they were clearly all curious. Suhyeok, as usual, didn’t pay attention to the overall atmosphere in the room and sat next to you.

“Hey, deadpan.”

“Suhyeok.”

You turned to look at him and raised your eyebrows. He smiled. You scoffed and turned back towards the window.

“You could’ve let me finish him off.” — “No way.”

You and Suhyeok weren’t just classmates, contrary to popular belief. You’d been dating for over a year, now. And if anyone knew you weren’t just naturally calm in your personality, it was him. You’d trained to fight together. You’d even fought him, at some point. He knew your calm attitude was simply a means to keep that side of you in check, and not punch every single person that pissed you off (there were a lot). So seeing you lose your cool was actually… Pretty satisfying to watch, for him. He liked that side of you more than he let on. Or at least, more than he thought he let on. This idiot.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Thinking about me?”

“What?” he teased, smirking, “You don’t like the idea of me thinking about you?”

“I despise you.” you nodded.

“Sure, say what you want.” he laughed.

He pissed you off. You loved him.

#suhyeok x reader #lee suhyeok x reader #su hyeok x reader #lee su hyeok x reader #suhyeok all of us are dead x reader #su hyeok all of us are dead x reader #all of us are dead x reader #aouad x reader #x reader

[iceprincessviviane]

Eyes in the darkness

Paring: Yandere!C!Technoblade x BookwormEnchanter!Female!Reader

Type: Romantic (Technoblade is yandere). Trilogy - part one. Next part.

Warnings: swearing, possessivness, yandere, angst, injury, sugestive content, threats, blood, silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Technoblade was watching Y/N for some time, trying to stay in the shadows. Unfortunately voices and thoughts won against the logic and he want her now on his side forever.

Author's note: Inspiration from a lot of things, but especially: Hades and Persephone, Beauty and the Beast. This used to be oneshot, but I changed my mind, ut will be trilogy. English isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.

Words in red colour are Technoblade's voices.

Words in blue colour are Y/N thoughts.

Y/N didn’t know when was the last time she ran for her life. Probably during one of the pillagers attack on the village or maybe in the Nether. But none of them was that type. Now she was being chased by something way much more dangerous than besties. At the moment, she’s being followed by the Blood God himself. Despite the aching and pain of her muscles and her throat feeling dry from gasping for air, Y/N was still asking herself how did on earth this happen?

~*~

Y/N always loved books and reading, she came to Smp two weeks after Foolish arrival. Actually her friendship with him leaded her here. They exchanged the letters and she was interested in staying somewhere for a while. After some time, she decided to come. Her divine friend already started to build his summer home and had few buildings done. She stayed there for few couple of days, they decided to build something for herself. She already have met most of Smp members including Dream Team, Bench Trio and rest, but owning home, place for stay was good idea. Sometimes Y/N liked to be alone. Eret allowed her to build something behind his castle, it was always nice to have someone close.

It took time before she ended house, it was cozy one with big field in front, farms, cellars and most important - library with enchanting place. It was huge, biggest part of the house with plenty of regals and reading spots. Y/N loved to spend there time and collectin more books or texts. Foolish had a lot of ancient scrolls or manuscripts and liked to share them with her. They could spend hours discussing about their favourite ones.

Books caused that Y/N met Phil, because he was the second person on the Smp, which had great collection from centauries. Shark god took her at trip to Tundra. Y/N was excited to meet such person and nervous too. Happily, everything went all right, Technoblade wasn't that time in home, so they had chilling conversation. Winged man was very curious about her skills and enchants. Of course during his travells and lifespan he met enchanters, but didn't paid much attention to them. Now, he could meet one in chill ocassion. Their three had a lot of talking, giggling and being wholesome. Phil promised to borrow more interesting books and Y/N said, that she can give some enchantments.

When Technoblade came back he immediately felt, that Foolish was there with... someone else... someone new. It smelled like pine and old paper, very nice. Phil told him about visitors and Y/N, he ignored it a little bit, but voices... voices liked this smell a lot.

'So strange.' 'Which woman can smell like that?' 'Where is she living?'

}*{

Y/N was peaceful person with no intention to harm anybody, staying in her place. She stayed in positive relations with almost everyone, providing needed enchantments and helping caused, that a lot of members were friendly to her. Y/N liked to hanging out with Bench Trio, although they were sometimes so chaotic. Usually she went mining with Ranboo, when it was needed, cutting trees with Tommy for his buildings and staying in Snowchester with Tubbo. That is why she came with almost everyone, when Tommy and Tubbo were in Dream bunkier fighting with him. Discs were just items, but... Dream's obsession, it was dangerous and teenagers were her friends. After that a lot of things changed. Putting him into Pandora's Vault was meant to protect them, but she was getting cold shivers each time she looked at black walls of prison. Knowing that everyone could be locked there...

After Egg's influence grew stronger she tried to find some infromations about it and how could ghe possible defeat it, but that took time. Foolish and Phil were so helpful handing their ancient texts, to make research. Suddenly with crimson vines everywhere, Smp became less safer, at least she felt it that way. More members were busy with their business and stuff, they finally could do them, when Dream was locked. For example Foolish agreed to build big mansion for Tubbo and Ranboo, which got platonical marriage and Tommy started his hotel. Meeting Michael was so wholesome and funny, little zombie piglin started to like her and at each visit she read him fairy tales and stories.

Y/N decided to not think about bad sides of Smp, just being busy and tried to help, if someone needed it. Before Doomsday wandering around could be dangerous, especially for La'Manburg citizens, because Dream and Technoblade were unpleasant for them. Now she enjoyed visiting almost everyone everywhere. After a few visits, she could tell that something was wrong, Y/N couldn't tell what, but it was almost like being watched, blaming Egg and vines was her answer for that, but actually why? Why did it do that? She would never joined their side. Never ever. Sometimes she spotted the Phil's corws, but that wasn't a s surprise, birds were telling him a lot of informations around the Smp. Easy way to know almost everything.

}*{

Y/N was heading to her house, stepping at Prime Path. In opposite direction she spotted Quackity, slowly walking by from prison direction, which was surprise. She smiled softly to him and he smiled back.

"What's up?" Big Q asked when got closer to her.

"It's good I am coming back home, need to eat and get some nap, and you?"

"I... ended some buisness." His face stiffened and his look became more serious.

Y/N nodded little unsure about his changed emotions. Suddenly she spotted that his sleeve is covered in fresh blood.

"Are you hurt?" She asked worried.

Quckity looked at his shirt as surprised as she and frowned, he checked axe which hanged down from his belt.

"I guess so then, but I don't know where did that come from."

"Let me take care of this." Y/N suggested with warm smile. "My home is closer than Las Nevadas."

After a few moments he nodded in agreement. They together headed to her place. Weather started to become stormy, dark cloud covered the sun, threating to start raining.

Then went inside, but when she was closing door, feeling of being watched hit her with dubled strength. House was in the spine forest, but fenced and had a gate. In filed were some farms, trees and small garden, but everything seemed to look normal. Big Q sat on the couch in living room and Y/N brought bandages, water in bowl and even healing potion. He rose sleeve, wound wasn't long, but deep, something cut his arm, probably weapon.

"It doesn't look good, but you will be okay." She said after looking at cut.

"Good." He sighed with relief.

"What did make it? Do you have an idea?"

Big Q looked dead in her eyes and remained silence. Of course he knew what, but he didn't even noticed the wound before leaving the prison. Well, someone will pay for this.

"Maybe working at Las Nevadas, you know... I am still building there." He spoke after a while.

"Oh... ye you have right, but be careful next time." Y/N suggested and started to work on cut carefuly. Starting on cleaning, then gently bandaged it.

"Thank you." Big Q said after seeing the results.

"No problem, just don't walk around with untreated wound." Y/N giggled softly.

He stood up and moved his eyes on windows. Black clouds didn't go away, even became worse.

"I will go now, weather is getting worse, I want to be in home before storm." Big Q said with soft smile.

"Of course, see you next time."

After he left, big storm came, darkness fell upon the Smp, rain and wind were too strong, for coming outside. Y/N decieded to take a chance and nap. She baked some cookies and sit down on a couch with another book, which Phil borrowed her. Only the torches gave light, sometimes thunderbolt stroke and filled room with unatural blue light. Drops hit hardly, making loud sounds, but Y/N was too much into a book. Two hours has passed and slowly night was coming. She moved eyes to meet clock, yep that was supper time, put the book away and up, Gods thr storm didn't let go. Y/N watched for a while outside, then go to kitched. She grabbed blanket and wrapped it around her posture, damn there were cold.

Again feeling of being watched kicked in. She was alone at home, that was sure thing. Outside was deep dark and behind the windows was the wall of the water. Y/N bite her lip and shook head, it was just her imagination, a feeling which stayed for no reason after putting Dream into Pandora's Vault. She took an kettle and suddenly was seeing something in the corner of the eye, something red and unusual in the spine forest. Her figure frozen when she moved back eyes. Deep in the dark, around sprouce trees in the line of forest, Y/N spotted pair of shinning, red eyes, high above the ground. They were locked at her figure.

'This has to be spider... or something else...'

Right after this thought, ceature turned back and disappeard in the darkness, cold shiver went down at Y/N spine. What was that? And why it was here? At least she was safe in home...

}*{

'More.' 'Training is boring, let's find someone to fight.' 'We demand blood.'

Technoblade sighed and stopped, voices today were very, very loud. That was why he decided to train, but during it, they became even worse. He hid sword and walked into home. Phil wasn't here today, he had to do something, but didn't bother to tell him what it was. Blade went back to home by his old path through the forest. His training place was near the cottage, but still hidden from common people. All members of Syndicate knew where it was. First of all he need to take shower. When cold water touched his skin, he felt like even his bloodlust became less, quiet hiss left his lips. He earned some chafings this week. Next, he changed his clothes to common and made a cup of tea, then sit in the kitchen. Immediately his thoughts went to Y/N.

Somehow voices were acting diffrent around her and he even found himself acting that way. They were focused around Y/N and he was more calm, like just her pressence was comforting him. Technoblade remembered their first meeting, it was common day, when someone knocked on the door. He opened it and rose his eyebrows in surprise, outside was standing fragile woman, without any armor and only with trident on her back. They shared awkward eye contact, when suddenly she introduced herself as Y/N. Of course he saw her couple of times, but it wasn't officialy. Y/N has known who was he for sure, she swallowed hard and looked down with shyness. Phil yelled across the room, that she could come in. Ah yes... she loved to read books and his old friend was borrowing her them a lot. Technoblade again felt the spine and old papers smell, for him, it could stay here forever. After short visit, Y/N took books, gave back book of enchantment and left.

Techno's curiosity has increased, when he heard about her more. She was peaceful, friendly soul, completly opposite of him, maybe that was, why he felt so... diffrent around her and voices too. Piglin hybrid enjoyed watching her from the distance, in the shadows, but lately... lately it wasn't enough. Now he wanted to breathe at Y/N scent, holding her close and pressed soft kisses at forehead. He was under voices pressure so long and now his salvation was so close. But what would he make it? As longer he has thought of that, a diffrent ideas came to his head. She was delicate creature, he had to get plan at all. Techno knew almost everything about her: hobbies, traditions, friends and fighting skills. Phil told him a lot about enchanters, they could make enchanting books after years of studying and had magic talent sometimes. As they knew, Y/N could enchant books at any spell, so she had to studied a lot. Technoblade sighed and grabbed his cloak, time to keep an eye on few things.

'Let's not go quietly!' 'Let's go quiet as grave...' 'Blood for the Blood God!'

}*{

That was busy week, Y/N could only one time saw Foolish and Phil, but whole Smp seemed a little bit diffrent... luckily she was able to go on mining trip with Ranboo and Eret visited her with a couple of books, which were about Smp. Now was afternoon and sun slowly started to set, she was heading to her house, where waited for her snow fox, which she found in Snowchester. Cute, little ball of fur stole Y/N heart immediately. When she finally stepped inside, Snowflake - that how she named it, ran into her squeaking high.

"What happend my little one?" She knelt down and pet it's head.

Fox looked at her with big brown eyes and squeaked once more, then jump into her arms.

"Oh oh oh... are you afraid of something?" Y/N hugged Snowflake and looked around. Everything in home seemed normal, door was closed, in a field same, animals were quite nervous, but everything was good. She frowned and stepped inside, then put fox into basket with small blanket.

"I will bring you some berries, you will like it for sure." Y/N smiled gently.

Unfortunately, she didn't have any at this moment in home, Snowflake was there only for three days, so she couldn't make berries farm so fast, because she had to set up a space. Luckily, she lived around coniferous forest, so didn't even hesiatate, Y/N just grabbed backpack and went outside. Sun was lower in the sky, but still it was warm and brightly. Birds were humming quietly and around was quite quiet. Berries bush weren't so far, she founed some, but in order to make supplies, decided to find more, then plant them around the house. It would spared the time and work.

"Y/N." She heard deep, lazy voice and immediately turned at it's direction.

The Blade was standing under big sprouce tree with satisfied grinn on his lips. Eyes locked on Y/N figure, which completly froze at the sight of him. She have never been with him alone, in tundra always Phil or Ranboo were around, now it felt... strange and risky, she still remembered what happend to La'Manburg citizens.

"Technoblade." Y/N spoke softly, being careful to not crack her voice, despite building feeling of fear. She noticed, that piglin hybrid under his royal, crimson cloak was wearing armor, probably not his best one, but still enough to win fight. Part of hair made into bun, rest were freely in his back and shoulders. From his belt was hanging netherite sword and netherite axe was sticking out from behind. She spotted, that his weapons were a little covered in blood, same as his sleeves and parts of shirt. He was killing monsters right? Or just hunting? Uncomfortable, awkward silence reminded between them, only forest noises distrubed it from time to time.

Voices were too loud today, too agressive, too greedy, killing monsters and pillagers wasn't enough, Quackity has already tasted his steel, well he deserved that after showing up in Y/N home. He had so much fun with him, but after that he needed some rest, comfort and calm. That is why without even thinking too much Technoblade went straight to Y/N house. He hoped, that everything will change, that he finally will has some break from voices, violence and killing. Of course he liked his way to be... but yes sometimes, you have to make a nap.

"Are you wounded?" Y/N asked quietly breaking the silence. After all, if he needed help, she would help him, without hesitation.

Technoblade's grinn became more sinister, he put hand on sword hilt and slowly tilted his head on right side.

"This isn't my blood." He said without caring at all.

"Oh, that's good then..." Y/N whispered, but he could hear that.

Piglin hybrid studied her posture, she had only trident at her back, backpack in left hand, no armor, no more weapons. Poor little girl, that's not how you are going outside your home, she was literally unarmed in his eyes.

"So... what are you doing here? Alone? In the forest?" Technoblade asked and moved closer to her.

The way he spoke these words, made Y/N shiver inside, outside, she grabbed her backpack harder. Surely there was nothing to worry about, she has never done something wrong to him or Philza, she wasn't dangerous or wanted to has any power. Techno is probably just passing by. Suddenly he was so close, now she could for real see the height diffrence, for the gods sake, her head reached around his breastbone. Y/N looked up only to meet piglin hybrid's burning gaze.

"I... I was collecting berries for my snow fox. Something scared her, so I thought that she will calm down after getting some and I ran out of them..." she suttered and swallow hard.

"How sweet." Technoblade commented and his smile widened.

"So... you are just passing by?"

"Not really."

Sudden grip on her chin caught Y/N off guard. Technoblade forced her to look straight into his eyes. His face stiffened a little bit, she hissed quietly, when claws touched harder gentle skin. Then she realised... Blade's eyes were red and she heard, that it could glow in darkness. Her skin became pale and pupils widened. It was him, that time during a storm, he was watching her...

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked quietly, without any clue, what was going on.

'She is so innocent.' 'We love her scent.' 'Let her know.'

"I have something to tell you." He leaned and immediately her scent hit him harder, resisting to take deep breath wasn't that easy.

"What excatly?"

"I was watching you for a while Y/N. Belive me or not I found that interesting, because your pressence is calming for me, I can fall asleep while listening your voice and push away my violence behaviour, when you are around." He stroked her cheek by his thumb and smiled haughty. "I am always getting , what I want and I want that so badly, you can't even imagine."

Y/N shook head and made few steps back, leaving his grip, couldn't belive what she just heard. That's impossible.

"I don't know what to say... I can admit, that I had strange feeling of being watching but... I blamed the Egg..." She looked deep into his eyes, trying to put everything together. "What do you mean, you are always getting, what are you want? How am I suppose to understand that?"

"Listen sweetheart, we can do this in two diffrent ways: good or bad. If you choose first one, fine politely you will go with me. Second way? Well I can be very convincing, when I want to." Technoblade frowned.

None of this options was good for her. Y/N sighed and her shoulders dropped. She couldn't do anything literally...

"Come on princess. I can take care of you, I promise, you will be happy." He gave her his hand, but gripped sword hilt harder.

Y/N always avoided the conflicts and argues, never has started any, that was easier and better way to live. She could take care of her interests, powers anf friends by being supportive or neutral. Technoblade's behaviour made her shiver and feel sick, there was no guarantee that he will keep his words, even if it were sweet and promising. Y/N knew that fighting him was pointlees, he were ten thousand better than her, she didn't even have armor or second weapon. But surrender just like that? Without any resistance? She always was determinated, miss 'you can always find a way, solution'. Not a chance.

"I think I have better option, which lay in the middle." Y/N smiled gently.

"Well, tell me then." Technoblade rose his eyebrows with curiosity.

With one smooth move, she put backpack on and immediately started to run. The Blade's pupils widened, he burst out laughing.

"It will be funny."

She has known, that she needed to lose him in forest. Going to home wouldn't help, because door or gate couldn't stop Blood God. Lost him and then ran away from Smp, at least her current living location. Y/N realized that she couldn't even ask for help anyone. Probably Technoblade would come after her friends, helpers, so that was it. Y/N versus The Blade, she was on her own.

'How did she dare to run away from us?!' 'Chase her, catch her.' 'Faster, faster, faster!'

It seemed like running away from Tommy for fun, came in handy and long trips with Ranboo caused her to move fast through forest. Y/N nimbly jumped over obstacles and avoid rocks or roots. Her pace wasn't the fastes, but she could hold it for pretty long time. She wasn't thinking a lot, just tried to run away as far as she could.

'Don't look back, don't look back, it will make you slower.'

Hiding could be good idea, but not now. As long as he was close, she couldn't stop at all. Breaking through the forest was only hearing noise, soon, she heard her heavy breathing. Heading to unknown direction wasn't so wisely, but Y/N had no choice. After a few minutes, she stopped to catch breath. Around was sudden so quiet, cold shiver went down at her spine. Too quiet.

"Already tired?" Technoblade's voice surprised her from left side.

She turned head, just to see him leaning against the tree. In his right hand he held sword, didn't even look like he was running.

"You can't outrun me little one. A lot of people tried, now they are dead." He aimed sword at her. "We can end this farce here. I am not mad, honestly, you made me smile a little bit."

"You will have to catch me, if you want me going with you." Y/N said and then continue to run away.

"Oh I will princess, that's what predator does to the prey."

Y/N started to feel really tired, muscles aching, throat dry from gasping for air, hair dispelled and cheeks red. She ran for a while, but now had to stop. Technoblade immediately appeared in her field of vision. He was walking carefuly, but still looked intimidating.

"Don't come closer!" She released a cry.

Piglin hybrid stopped about eight meters away. He leaned sword against the ground and looked at her with curious gaze.

'Here she is, our reward.' 'Let's finally take her with us.' 'We like that sound.'

"I think, I just caught you." A little grinn appeared on his lips.

She looked straight into his eyes. Her gaze full of fear met a calm and determination. Y/N didn't even want to think what would happend, if he fulfilled his desires. Gods sake, she was free human being, none could take her freedom, she didn't ask for this. In an act of desperation, with the last of her strength, she used her powers. Feeling of warm through fingers and energy drained from her veins, but then burning light. In Technoblade's towards direction flew literally fireball, but he was too skilled for this. He made a dodge and looked at Y/N with mix of proud and shock. She dropped to her knees, struggling to stay conscious, despite the pain at her whole body and tired mind and unclear vision. Technoblade immediately was with her, he knelt down and support her, by putting arm around her waist. Y/N leaned back against his chest, fatigue prevailed over reason.

"Enough for today princess. You run out, if you will keep resisting." He whispered calmly.

"Please, please... please I don't want this, I want to go home." Her voice was cracking, tears strimming down at her cheeks.

"Hush darling, everything will be all right."

Technoblade's body radiated warm, his tone suddenly was so calming and sleepy. She wanted to close eyes so badly, but still fear was too big.

"You are safe, nothing can hurt you I promise."

After this words Y/N gave up and lost consciousness. Sun went down and shadows became longer and darker.

}*{

Phil careful closed the doors, then walked quietly down. Technoblade sat in kitchen with cup of hot tea, he immediately looked at his old friend, his eyes were worrying.

"Y/N is good, she lost consciousness, because was too tired. You said that, she used her powers."

"It was literally fireball, but I dodge that easy."

"Well, now we know about her powers at least... interesting, what you are going to do, when she wake up?" Phil asked and sat in opposite site.

"I know, that you are not glad about this, but I will figure this out. She won't cause any troubles." Techno's voice became deeper.

Winged man sighed and looked at his friend. He knew what he was going through, when voices became louder and demanded blood, each moment of silence or when they were quiet, Technoblade cherished and tried to make it worth. Phil couldn't be angry or mad for his friend about that deed, but... he was torn.

"Come on spit it out. I can see that you want to tell something important." Piglin hybrid said slowly.

"We were through a lot of shit, we know each other for almost ages and we blew up the nation for gods sake, kidnapping isn't the worst thing you have done, but..." Phil started and looked at Techno. "I wish you best and everything good, but I don't know how will I act around. Y/N has come to me for books, we were talking about stuff, I gave her cookies and tea. How will I explain, that I am supporting your decision? And I am always on your side." Phil said aloud his worries.

"I will give her time to get used to. After certain amount of time Y/N will understand." The Blade was lost in his thoughts.

He was so greatful of his friend statement, but still a little bit unsure. This case shloudn't affect on their relationship or Phil's life. Honestly Technoblade belived that his pressence will comfort Y/N at least, as he said they were close and enjoyed each other company.

"Someone will notice her disappering. What then? And Ranboo is visiting us a lot." Phil sighed a little.

"I've got this, trust me."

"I trust you with my own life." Winged man nodded.

}*{

Sunlight kissed her skin gently, when it showed up on window. Y/N felt softness under herself and on her back. Quiet sigh left her lips, when she opened eyes. In the room was very bright, but for sure it wasn't her room. Immediately cold shiver went down at her spine. Still weak, she tried to lift herself, because she was lying on stomach. Bed was big, with good beddings and pillows.

"Don't move, you are still weak." Technoblade's voice was soft, but loud.

Y/N bite her lip and then lifted head. He was standing near the bed and observing curiously, looking completly diffrent. White, linen shirt and high waisted, leather trousers, hair braided tighly. In this version he was... more open and accessible, not so scary.

"Where am I?" She asked slowly and rolled at her back with quiet hiss. Muscles still hurt and throat was dry.

"In my house, in tundra safe and..." He cut off, while noticed that Y/N is trying to get up. "What did I say?" He stepped closer and sat on bed.

She sat unsure on mattress, just to met Technoblade here, he gripped again her chin, as in the forest and forced her to look at him. This time it was more gently.

"Darling please..."

"You can't take my freedom!"

His eyes darkened immediately and Y/N regreted her words. She swallowed hard, when Blade looked deep into her eyes.

"Of course I can and I will, if you don't behave good. If you didn't notice, you aren't chained or tied, but pretty comfy in my bed." He said slowly with threat in his voice. "Think about it."

Technoblade released her and got up. She looked down thinking about situation, yes he didn't tied her, but still it wasn't good case. Y/N just wanted to be free, do stuff which she want and meet friends. Maybe Smp wasn't perfect, but still now it was her home, there were a lot of wars or argues, but she still had house and persons which she cared about and this was mutual, now everything was unsure.

"I am just afraid... " Y/N whispered quietly.

"As I said earlier you are safe here, you are safe with me. Nothing can hurt you." Techno grabbed bowl with soup and came back. "Here, eat, you need to recover."

"Thanks." She smiled weakly to him, took bowl and started to eat slowly.

'Good girl.' 'She will behave for sure.' 'We can teach her a lesson.'

Y/N was napping for the rest of the day, Technoblade gave her one of their books, so she wasn't bored. Probably tomorrow or next day she will stand up.

The sound of closing doors, caused her to closed book and put it away. Piglin smiled gently and took off his shirt suddenly. Y/N eyes became big.

"Wait wait wait..."

"Calm down princess, I am just going to sleep, nothing else." Technoblade smirked for her panic.

"So... where shloud I move?" Y/N asked looking around the room.

"Nowhere. You are staying here with me."

Immediately her cheeks went slighty red. She looked at him curiously. His pink skin seemed gentle from the distance, a lot of scars marked his chest and arms. Some of them little, some of them large, the biggest one was through both sides of chest. Technoblade released his hair and came closer. Y/N moved to make him some space. He laid down, she followed his steps but remain distance.

"Goodnight." She said and turned back from him.

"Goodnight sweetheart."

He blow up torches near the bed and silence fell upon them. Not even a five minutes passed, when Y/N felt sudden grip on her waist. She froze, Technoblade hugged her and pressed kiss on her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Quiet whisper left her lips.

"Snuggling and cuddling." He whispered softly.

Y/N couldn't help, she giggled quietly. Techno took this as premission, her back touched his chest and second hand slowly stroked her hair.

#c!techno x you #dsmp fandom #dream smp #philza #c!technoblade x you #c!technoblade x reader #c!techno #yandere dream smp x reader #yandere dream smp x you #yandere #c!yandere!technoblade #yandere technoblade x reader

[shdwwlkrsblog]

Techno x reader

Woohoo we hit 100! pogchamp!

Summonary(?):Y/n always loved taking risks doesn't matter how low the chance of surviving was , when it wasn't below 1% it's gonna be fine is what she always said and all the smp members thought other as the dumb girl/boy who can't wait to die but no one saw whats beneath the risk loving facade...

Warning: injuries , not being carefully with their life. , Angstttttt , near death

Masterlist

You walked to technos house because he said he wanted to talk about something if it was something good or bad , you didn't know. All you knew was that in this area are too many skeletons , it'll trigger the want to fight them all just because you love the risk to die . You stopped your movements and counted the skeletons around you , still keeping in mind to dodge the arrows ofc

9, 10 , 11 , 12! An arrow shot near your ear from behind and you turned around "no 13 I can take their bones to techno as an excuse.... no need to tell him I took them all at once tho" you whispered to yourself getting out an axe

Timeskip because it's just murdering skellos

You pulled out the arrow wich stuck in your shoulder and picked up the bones from the last one , while you were walking to technos house your wound on the shoulder started bleeding again and again when you started fighting zombies that wanted your brain

"looks like I'm keeping it , idiot" you said as you stabbed the zombie again and ignored the pain from your shoulder and then you saw ranbos brother , or at least you thought it was? They all look the same so if it is his brother . He'll have enough other endermans to replace him . You thought and started hitting the enderman who immediately teleportated to the left of you and ran towards you trying to attack you wich you blocked and landed two hits with an axe on him " one last hit" you mumbled and concentrated on the enderman who was coming from left again and you landed the hit directly to where it's heart is and smoke popped up. After the smoke left 2 enderpearls rolled from where the enemy stood . After picking both up you threw the first one direction being pretty sure it would bring you directly infront of his house

And you were right because now you were standing in front of the piglins house and walked to its door right before you wanted to knock it swung open "your enderpearl was clearly visible try avoiding that next time s- " the piglin man sighed "haven't we talked about you getting here without wounds?" "Sry couldn't heal i-" "you didn't want to , am I right? Com'on let's go inside and let me see it" techno stepped aside giving you room to walk in . You knew the Roman he's about to tell you now too well , but it surprised you when he didn't even started it . Maybe he'll tell me about that boring stuff later , you thought and sat in the seat . Techno pulled another seat in front of you and sat down his eyes starred into yours

"why ?" Techno asked while he freed your shoulder "u really thought you can let that wound leave untreated? Thought I wouldn't see the blood on your clothes wich is your blood i can smell that" oh i forgot piglins have a good nose , you wanted to facepalm yourself for being so stupid but decided not to . "Anyways that's not what I wanted to talk about " he put a healing potion on your wound and sighed while you where distracted by the painting hanging over his fireplace " yk how painful it is to know someone you love doesn't care about their life and could die anytime when they're outside?" You overheard the word love and you attention was on him again "huh? Can you repeat that ? I was distracted" technos face went blass . He just teller you that he loves you in a ' you need to solve the puzzle' way and you didn't even listen?! Techno shoved that thought and pain to the side and repeated it but not what he really said " it hurts knowing you could die out there because you care like 0% about your life" you sighed " that isn't what you said" his face showed a bit of shock behind the pigskull mask (he's human form rn but still can use the abilitys like better smell) "you said something with love before what was it?" Techno sighed and stood up walking to the swords on the wall staring at them hands locked behind his back " i said" he hesitated . Was it really the right moment? What if you would say no? Techno sighed again " i said it's hard to go to war with Steve when I love him so much and know he might die " he really hoped you believed that and you did . Why would he lie to you?

"nawww you got attached to him that's so adorable" you chuckled it's adorable seeing techno being attached to his animals . You stood up and walked up next to him looking up to him he starred back down at you

Silence

Still silence

" how's the weather up there?" Techno broke out in laughter and you followed. god how much I love this man's laugh , you thought but your good mood was interrupted by a arrow shooting through an window near you and the class shattering .Techno instinctively pulled you to him and held a shield infront of both of you looking to the window "techn- " "shhh" a invisibility potion splashed down outside and after some seconds you both heard the class break beneath the invisble person's foot steps and after that silence followed but it didn't held forever . You slowly backed away from techno but it was a terrible idea ... Soon enough a sword stabbed through your stomach but you were quick enough to equip your axe and sliced the person's throat because soon enough the sword slipped out of you and a thud was heard telling the person is now on the floor and so are your holding the wound and trying to stop the bleeding you heard yelling outside . Your vision got blurry and you screamed his name " techno!" Nothing he was gone "techno!" The scream was more quieter and sadder did he really leave you? The man you love? Love? Do i really love him? Your thoughts weren't able to function anymore and you passed out after saying his name the last time

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

"y/n! I'm here ! Wake up! " Your eyes shot open and techno pulled you towards him in a hug "was it all just a dream?" Tears began to roll down your cheeks as you remembered it " Yes , please calm down i was scared something happened .... What was the dream about?" You hesitated " you left me... And i died." " You know i would never leave you i love you too much" it slipped out of him and he regretted it " y/n I'm s-" "i love you too" "wha- really? IM THE HAPPIEST HYBRID ALIVE" techno hugged you even tighter and you wanted to hug him too but moved the wrong arm and hissed in pain as your shoulder hurted" oh yeah that , you passed out after you sat in the chair you lost too much blood "

"Oh welp it's fine I got you"

≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠≠

Ask box open lol

#techno x y/n #techno x you #techno mcyt #techno x reader #c: techno #mcyt x reader #mcyt #mcyt x you #x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

The Last of Us: Part II

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader / Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader 

Warnings: Language, threats of violence, guns, blood and injury, a post-zombie apocalypse world ripped straight out of The Last of Us, first aid medical stuff (kind of?)

Word Count: 1,644

Author’s Note: The Triple Frontier Zombie Apocalypse AU no one asked for.  

Summary: After Frankie is injured, the boys find themselves in need of your help. 

Part I - Taglist Form - Masterlist - Part III

The gunshots outside your window set heart racing. Not an entirely uncommon sound in the world you lived in now, but the quiet of the last few days had given you the illusion of peace. 

That fantasy was promptly shattered when a large blonde man kicked your door in, covered in blood and carrying a metal pipe as a weapon. 

“Get him inside!” He ordered, speaking to someone you could not yet see. You’d been hiding behind the counter of the bar since the shots rang out, but it wouldn’t be long before these strangers discovered you there. Careful not to move too suddenly and make the old wooden floors creak under the shift of your weight, you craned your neck to peek around the corner. 

You watched two more men follow behind the first, carrying an unconscious man through the doorway. The metallic scent of blood hit you immediately. Someone had been injured. 

“Goddamnit,” The youngest blonde swore. “Where the hell did they come from?”

“Must have been following us,” One of the men reasoned. “Caught Fish in the back.” 

“You thinkin’ they were hunters?”

“Nah,” The first man shook his head. “That was amateur. Probably just desperate for some supplies.” 

“Right, and we aren’t?” The young blonde snorted. “This whole fuckin’ plan was stupid. Never should have come this far into the city.” 

“C’mon, Benny, quit complaining and help me move that jukebox in the corner. We’ve gotta barricade this door.” 

“With noise like that, we’ll be lucky if a damn horde ain’t at our doorstep in a few minutes,” The man, Benny, you presumed, grumbled as he began pushing the heavy machine across the floor. “Fuckin’ scavengers.” 

The third man was knelt on the ground, assessing the unconscious man’s wounds. 

“How bad is it?” The first man called. 

“I’ve seen worse,” He replied, placing his hands against the wound and applying pressure as best he could. He looked around the room in search of supplies, his gaze landing on the bar top. You shrank back, but you knew it was useless. He was on his feet and heading towards the place where you hid in the blink of an eye. 

When he came around the counter, he spotted you immediately, still crouched down on the floor. He was shorter than the rest of the group, with tan skin and greying curls. There was a fierceness in his eyes that told you he meant business. 

“Looks like we’ve got company, boys,” He called. 

You were ill-prepared for the confrontation, clutching the neck of a broken bottle as a makeshift weapon. If it came down to it, you doubted it would do you any good. You weren’t much of a fighter. 

“You know anything about this?” He demanded, unholstering his weapon and training it on you. He pointed to the injured man with his free hand. 

“What? No, I– I don’t know anything,” You shook your head, fumbling for a defense, caught off guard by how absurd the accusation seemed to you. “You broke into my bar, remember?” 

“Could be a trap. You sure you don’t have a buddy in the back that’s about to come shoot at us?” He countered evenly, the gun in his hands lowering slightly so that it was no longer pointed between your eyes. 

“If I was planning a robbery, don’t you think I’d be armed with something a little better than,” You paused, looking at the label of the bottle in your hand, “Peppermint schnapps?” 

At this, the man raised an eyebrow and looked towards his companions, seeming to ask for their assessment of the situation. The two men flanked him, watching you carefully. 

“She ain’t gonna hurt anybody,” The young blonde spoke up. Benny, you remembered. “Look at her, Pope. Poor thing’s scared to death.” 

You glared at him, clearly indignant at his observation. The man with the gun nodded finally, holstering the weapon before retreating towards the injured man to check on him once more.

The older blonde stepped in, holding out a hand to help you up off of the floor. You accepted it, pulling yourself to your feet. “Hey there,” He said with a calmness in his voice as he introduced himself, “I’m Will, and that’s my brother, Benny. Over there, that’s Pope– He’s a little spooked right now, so you’ll have to forgive his manners.” 

He pointed towards the man they’d dragged into the building, currently sitting on the floor with his back against one of the booths by the front wall. Pope was beside him, pressing a bloodied shirt against the wound at his friend’s shoulder. “And that’s Catfish. Look, we aren’t here to cause any trouble, but we could really use your help.” 

You gave him your name in a voice just above a whisper, your attention held by the wounded man. He wore a hat that shadowed his face, but something about his slumped figure tugged at your heart. His friends clearly cared about him deeply. That wasn’t something you came by often in this world, not anymore. These days, it was every man for himself. 

Your grip on the bottle loosened, and you put it away. “I have a first aid kit upstairs,” You informed them, turning back to Will and Benny. “I’ll go get it for you. There’s some clean dish rags under the sink to help stop the bleeding.” 

Relief washed over Will’s face. “Thank you,” He told you, his sincerity clear in his tone.

“Mind if we take this?” Benny asked you, holding up a bottle of whiskey. “I think it’s going to take a little more than those tiny antiseptic wipes to get that thing good and clean.”

“Go ahead,” You confirmed, heading towards the store room to grab the first aid kit off the shelf. Back in the bar, you could hear muffled groans of pain as the men poured the liquor to sterilize the wound. The agonizing sound went straight to your heart, making your stomach twist painfully. It’s been months, but you didn’t think you’d ever acclimate to the suffering you’d witnessed since the beginning of the outbreak.

“Thanks,” Pope murmured when you returned, handing the first aid kit to him. Benny and Will had taken up arms by the door, watching through the cracks in the boarded up windows for any signs of oncoming hordes. 

“Mind putting pressure on that for me?” He requested, taking his hands off of the wound to sift through your meager medical supplies. Your hands replaced his, pressing down on Catfish’s shoulder. His breath was coming out in short, even puffs. The bleeding seemed to be slowing, and a thin layer of sweat covered his face, dampening the hair that curled against his forehead. If the situation were different, you might have found him handsome. 

You looked back to Pope, watching him work. His eyes were focused on threading the needle to begin stitching, and you discovered that his fingers were trembling. It surprised you; these didn’t seem like the type of men who cracked under pressure. This Catfish fellow must have meant a lot to them. 

“Is he going to be okay?” You inquired softly. Pope swallowed hard, nodding slowly. 

“I think so. The bullet went straight through. If we can stitch it up, it’ll be fine, as long as there’s no infection. We should probably think about getting some food in him soon.” 

“That’s good,” You replied, trying to keep your tone optimistic. Infection was as big of a threat as anything these days, but you thought you thought he stood a good chance. A bottle of whiskey and some clean bandages were still miles better than the field medicine most people received. 

When Pope failed to thread the needle for the third time, you held out your hand to him expectantly. “Let me take over. I used to do a lot of sewing with my grandmother. Steady hands.” 

You offered him a reassuring smile, and he reluctantly relinquished the needle and thread to you. 

“Have you been here long?” He asked absentmindedly, sitting back on his heels as you worked. Your eyebrows drew together in concentration. 

“A while. The bar is pretty well stocked, all things considered.” You got the thread through the eye easily, carefully securing it before nudging Pope’s hands aside. You removed the dish rag and took out one of the antiseptic wipes, clearing away some of the remaining blood before you set to work on stitching the wound closed.

“Riding out the apocalypse at the bar,” Pope snorted softly. “Sounds like a nice plan. Wish I would have thought of that one.” 

“I used to live in the apartment upstairs, actually, before everything…” You trailed off, not eager to rehash the beginning of the end. “Well, you know what happened. When the QZ fell apart a few months later, I didn’t really know where else to go, so I ended up back here. I guess the owners of this place didn’t make it, but it seemed safe enough and there are plenty of supplies, if you don't mind beer nuts and pretzels. I’ve been hiding out here ever since.”

“Really? All by yourself?” He frowned. You seem to hesitate, swallowing a lump in your throat before answering. 

“Believe it or not, you and your friends are the first people I’ve spoken to in about two months.” 

“No kidding?”

You shook your head. It was a lonely existence you led these days, so different to the one you had when the city was full of life. 

“That’s too bad,” Pope told you, unable to ignore the pit that formed in his stomach when he noticed the sadness in your eyes. “I don’t think we made the best first impression. 

“That’s okay. It’s nice to meet you, Pope,” You said softly, trying off the final stitch. “Even under the circumstances.”

General Taglist: @theravenreads​​ @marshmallowtraver​​ @computeringturtle​​ @pascalisthepunkest​​ @supernaturalcat7​​ @maythxthirstbxwithyou​​ @artsymaddie​​

Pedro Characters Taglist: @coldlilheart​​ @fuck-goes-on​​

Frankie Morales Taglist: @freeshavocadoooo​​ @fangirl-of-randomness​​ @darnitdraco​

#frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales x reader #frankie morales #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #frankie morales x you #santiago garcia x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #francisco catfish morales

[shoutaaizawas]

Oh good, if you don’t mine I would like to request a zombie apocalypses au with the “Go with me?” “As long as you hold my hand.” And “I think I’m in love with you.” Prompt With dabi you don’t have to if you don’t want to 😅 I mean you can if you want 👀

i love dabi so so much and these prompts together were 👌

↳ dabi x reader → ❝never❞

event: au event prompts summary: you and dabi scavenge for supplies at a hospital but things take a turn for the worse word count: 2,243 tags/warnings: zombie!au, fluff, minor injuries

It hadn’t been that long since everything fell apart yet it felt like forever. You could hardly remember your life before all this. A virus spread turning people into monsters and you had been on the run since. You had been alone, the people close to you had died in the initial chaos of it all. The people you had run into had been nothing but hostile only looking for their own interests.

Then you met Dabi. You suspected that wasn’t his real name but you didn’t push it. He had helped you when you were in danger, saving your life. You knew that you shouldn’t trust a stranger but you figured he would have betrayed you already if that was what he wanted to do.

Dabi was odd, he had scars and piercings that made him look far different than any normal person. He was sarcastic and dry but he looked out for you and was charming and kind in his own way.

You supposed that given the circumstances of being in an actual Apocalypse, losing all your loved ones, and meeting a handsome stranger, it wasn’t shocking that you fell for him.

It didn’t stop you from judging yourself thought.

Survival was key, you spent your days scavenging for supplies and staying on the move to avoid any danger. It wasn’t glamorous but it kept you both alive and being with him made it enjoyable. You couldn’t imagine how miserable you’d be alone. Well, you’d probably be dead by now.

What were the dating standards for the apocalypse? You hardly knew what they were before. You were hopeless so you took the company you had and enjoyed it while you could. Tomorrow was never promised.

“I don’t want to go in there.” You said staring at the decrepit hospital. It always amazed you how quickly things deteriorated.

“I don’t want to either but it could have good supplies.” He answered.

“Well, we both don’t want to go.” You sighed. “Go with me?”

“As long as you hold my hand.” He teased. You rolled your eyes but your heart fluttered at the thought.

Suddenly you felt brave reached your hand out and claiming his scarred hand in yours before walking forward. You thought he’d laugh and pull away but he held on as you headed towards the building.

It wasn’t much better on the inside than it was the out. It was dark, natural light barely streaming in. The main lobby was trashed furniture tossed everywhere.

“Certainly looks promising.” You said sarcastically.

“C’mon you know you gotta dig a little deeper for the good stuff.” He said pulling you upstairs. Walking through the hallways you were both on guard, Dabi had an ax in his free hand while you had your baseball bat in yours.

Opening doors most of the rooms were lacking anything of worth. That was until you reached a locked door. You and Dabi gave each other a look before Dabi used his leg to break the door down. You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t weirdly attractive.

“Ladies first.” He said with a smirk.

Flashlight in hand you entered the room, the shelves were full of different supplies. Certainly, more than you could take with you. Looking over everything you picked out what would be of most use, bandages, disinfectant, painkillers. Oh how you missed pain killers, you hated toughing out the headaches that you got from time to time.

“Not bad, you were right. There’s more than we can even take.” You said holding up the items in your hands.

“I’m always right.” He teased. You scoffed at his comment as you grabbed everything useful you could carry.

“Let’s head out and find shelter for the night before it gets dark.” He said nodding his head to the exit.

“We could stay here.” You suggested.

“It’s too big of a building, we don’t know what else is here or who else.” He said. You nodded that was fair. Dabi was far better when it came to thinking things through. It seemed you were still adjusting to the new lifestyle.

Making your way back to the lobby that you entered through you spotted zombies there. Stopping you silently held your hand up to let Dabi know there was trouble. You looked back at him and he gestured in the direction you came from. Following his lead, you returned to the second floor.

“There’s got to be another exit.” He said in a low voice, eyes searching your surroundings.

“Better than getting through them.” You said following him.

Finding another exit sounded easier than it was. Anything signs that had been a directory before were unreadable at this point. It felt like forever that you spent walking around the hospital. At least there weren’t many zombies up here. Well, at least that’s what you thought before everything fell apart.

You had been walking ahead of Dabi, you didn’t see the part of the floor that had rotted. Before you knew it you were falling, Dabi yelling out to you.

Hitting the ground with a painful thud you thought that had been the worst of it. Your head felt dizzy as you tried to take in your surroundings. The groan of something next to you told you things were about to get worse.

Just in time, you pulled back as the zombie lunged for you. Grabbing your baseball bat that had rolled away from you in the fall you hit it with all your strength, which wasn’t much at this point.

More noise surrounded you and you realized that it wasn’t just one zombie. Fear welled inside you as you realized the danger you were in. You scrambled back but you were surrounded. Using your bat you tried your best to keep them away but you doubted it was enough.

A loud thud caught your attention beside you, looking over you saw Dabi getting on his feet. Had he jumped down here? Was he stupid? How many times had you agreed that if one of you were in a bad enough situation that you would leave to keep yourself safe? Of course, you didn’t think you could do it but you always assumed he wouldn’t struggle looking back.

You stared in awe as Dabi made quick work of the zombies. They had been half asleep, or whatever you called what they did when you had fallen. Dabi may have been outnumbered but that gave him a strong advantage. It never ceased to amaze you how quickly he dispatched the monsters.

He was a sight to behold, standing over you looking down at you with fear and adrenaline running through him, blood splattered across his features. His blue eyes pierced into yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“D-Dabi-” You said, still in shock at everything that had happened.

“C’mon, doll. Let’s get somewhere safe.” He said. Doll, it was something that he said in jest to you often but right now it felt different. Was it because he's usually sarcastic tone sounded a little too raw, too real?

Dabi didn’t hesitate and you couldn’t protest fast enough as he scooped you up in his arms carrying you out of the room, leaving the place that you had thought for a moment would be the last place you ever saw.

Your head throbbed almost making you sick to your stomach. You had hit your head pretty hard in your unexpected fall. You couldn’t stop yourself from resting your head against his chest. Why was he so warm? It made you want to drift asleep, your eyes sliding closed.

“Hey, no sleeping not until we see how to hurt you are.” He said jostling you in his arms. Your eyes shot open.

“I wasn’t going to sleep, I was just resting my eyes.” You argued.

“Likely story.” He said with a small smirk looking down at you.

Eventually, you made your way back to the supply room you had originally found yourselves in. He gently set you down on the floor against the wall.

“Don’t fall asleep, I’ll be back in one second.” He said pointing at you sternly.

“M’kay Dad.” You teased leaning your head against the wall only to touch the spot that had hit the floor. You let out a hiss of pain.

Dabi returned a few moments later with some hospital pillows in hand. No doubt they reeked of the dust and debris that almost everything did these days but it would be nice to not be on the hard tile floor.

“Here,” He said placing the pillows behind you. Kneeling in front of you he held up a flashlight. “Don’t close your eyes.” He said before shining the light into your eyes.

“Ow.” You said closing your eyes instinctually.

“I said don’t close your eyes.” He huffed.

“You shined a light in my eyes, what am I supposed to do?” You complained opening your eyes.

“I’m trying to see if you have a concussion.” He sighed. “Keep them open.” He said in a firm tone.

This time you did your best not to flinch at the bright light.

“You don’t have a concussion but I still need to check you for other injuries.” He said putting the light down.

“Are you a doctor or something?” It wasn’t unusual to get hurt but it was usually small scrapes and bruises. You hadn’t seen this sight of him. It took him so long to answer that you almost thought he was ignoring the question.

“My brother was going to medical school before all this. He would always tell me how important it was to know this kind of stuff.” He said in a quiet voice. “I didn’t realize how right he was.”

“Did he…?” You didn’t want to say it.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to any of my family.” He said.

“I’m sorry.” You said. You were truly sorry. You knew how hard it was losing your loved ones but not know somehow felt worse. “At least when you know their dead, you don’t wonder if they’re out there still. What they’re doing. That uncertainty hurts.”

It was rare to have any deep conversations with him, your agreement to help each other survive but leave if the other was in too much danger made it feel wrong to get too attached not that it stopped you from developing feelings for him.

Dabi didn’t say anything as he examined your injuries. Your ankle was sore but not entirely sprained and other than the scrapes on your elbows and bruising on the back of your head you would be okay.

After he was done he sat down next to you.

“We can stay here for the night. It’s not ideal but it’s getting late and I don’t want to try and leave with you roughed up.” He said.

“Why did you save me?” You asked looking up at him.

“Would you prefer that I didn’t?” He deflected.

“That’s not what I asked.” You said refusing to let him get away without an answer. “We always say if it’s too dangerous, just go. It’s not worth both of us dying.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t think it was that dangerous.” He said.

“Dabi you jumped through a hole in the ground into a pit of zombies, stop dodging the question!” You raised your voice getting annoyed at his antics.

“Because maybe I care too much!” His voice was irritated now, sitting up from his slouched position from a moment ago. “Because watching you fall was the worst thing I’ve ever watched happen and I’ve seen some terrible stuff. Because the thought of you down there for even a moment without me made me sick! Because the thought of you being hurt tore me apart much less the thought of walking away and leaving you for dead!”

You sat there in shock. You had always assumed that Dabi was as indifferent as he portrayed himself.

“D-Dabi-” You stuttered out.

“I think I love you.” He said. His blue eyes bore into yours, his gaze took away your breath. Or maybe it was a residual effect from the fall but you wouldn’t question it.

“I feel the same way.” You said. “Every since we met I just felt this connection to you. I didn’t think you would feel the same way-”

You didn’t have a chance to finish your sentence as Dabi’s lips crashed against yours. His hands gripping intensely yet gently on the sides of your face. For a moment you floundered so taken off guard that you couldn’t react but as you grasped your barrings your hands wound around his neck pulling him close.

“I won’t ever leave your side,” Dabi said as he pulled back. “Nothing could make me leave you.”

“I don’t ever want you to leave my side.” You smiled before going back in for another kiss.

In that dark, dingy hospital you leaned your head against Dabi’s shoulder. His arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, his warmth surrounding you. You never felt safer despite all the danger around the two of you.

“You know, there are pillows you could use instead of my shoulder.” He said in his usual sarcastic tone.

“Hmm.” You hummed nuzzling into his side. “I prefer this.”

Dabi smirked before pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. He would never leave your side. No matter what.

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh  @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia

#dabi x reader #dabi #touya todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha #mha #touya todoroki #dasanixwater

[the-witty-pen-name]

Rest Pt. 1

Mando x F!Morellian! Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: 3rd person; When the Mandolorian is searching for parts on Arvala-7, he encounters someone who may be able to help him on his journey. 

Warnings: none/mentions of injury and brief mention of character death; 18+ in later chapters

A/N: This was meant to be a one shot but this probably going to be 3 parts. I also ignored canon for this one. I tried my best to research Morellians for this fic to make sure its accurate, but it may not be perfectly accurate to canon. I just wrote this up cause I wanted to write today, but take a break from Deadbeat, even though you can expect Part 7 very soon!

If I miss something that I should include as a warning, please let me know!

This is also unedited! 

Tags and Requests are OPEN

He was so tired, all the time. It was such a constant feeling that he had forgotten what it felt like getting a good night’s rest. He’d allow himself to sleep a few hours here and there, but his normal was pushing his body constantly until he was exhausted and then some.

It was caused by many things- the nature of his job, his own paranoia, and even just the sheer uncomfortableness of his small bunk on the Crest. Now, there was the Child. The little green creature taking his free moments of rest more and more. In his mind, it was never a debate- the kid always came first. He didn’t give a second thought to how he was sacrificing his own wellness, and frankly if he did ever think about it, he’d come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t care.

His ability to sleep had gotten worse, with his inability to stop worrying about the Child. He would now force himself to stay awake for several days on end, too worried about if something would happen while he was asleep and his guard was down. The Child would sleep through the night, and Mando would sit up on his bunk, just watching the little creature’s breaths rise and fall, and he would have his eyes glued to the closed door of his bunk prepared for a threat that never came.

When the pair reached Arvala-7, he was in a zombie like state from lack of sleep. His body was on autopilot as his feet dragged across the planet’s surface, the Child securely following behind in his floating pram. The Mandolorian was very hyperaware of the heaviness of his armor, and the way the helmet irritated his skin more than normal. From his outward appearance, no one would know just how close he was to falling over from exhaustion. For the sake of the Child, he kept pushing himself forward, always making false promises of rest if he could just make it to the next location.

“You need rest,” Kuiil declared as he observed the Mandolorian walk towards him.

“I’m fine,” Mando deflected, a little annoyed at how well the Ugnaught could read him, even hidden under his armor.

“I have spoken.” Mando sighed, the exhale of air distorted by the modulator of his helmet. He walks past his friend and walks into his small domicile, with the baby not far behind him.

“I shall watch the Child,” Kuiil states affirmatively before Mando can object. Mando nods, defeated, finally realizing he will rest whether he wants to or not. “I will feed him and wake you when it is time,” he continues.

Mando doesn’t even remember falling asleep. He didn’t dream and he wakes up with a terrible crick in his neck. He doesn’t feel rested, just stressed and his body is still tense. He stirs from his spot and walks back out. He’s panicked because Kuiil and the Child are no where in sight. He only relaxes when he sees the two of them outside, Kuiil tinkering on a project and the Child playing with some parts Kuiil had discarded on the ground.

“You must rest,” Kuiil reiterated. Mando shook his head. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep for but he imagined it was long enough. “It hasn’t been even twenty minutes.”

“I just needed a power nap,” Mando says, not letting his friend talk him into another nap. He was fine. He just needed to work on the ship and he’d rest when they were back on course. “I need to work on the ship, I need to go get some parts,” he states. “Please watch him, I will be back tonight.”

Kuiil doesn’t say anything, just nods, knowing that no matter what he says the Mandolorian was too stubborn for his own good. He borrows Kuiil’s land speeder, and heads to the very small almost abandoned town that’s a decent trek away from Kuiil’s moisture farm. The air is very heavy, and the heat was weighing heavy on his eyelids. He felt like there was a pressure around him that was pushing him to sleep, but he was successful in avoiding it.

He looks over and sees there’s one establishment that looks like its open. He decides to wander in and see if anyone knows where he can buy the parts he needs. As the door to the establishment slides open, he realizes that it is some sort of cantina, with low lights and low music playing from a live band in the corner of the room.

There’s a circular bar in the center of the space, and he approaches the bartender. His mind his hazy, and he almost forgets why he’s there in the first place. Fortunately, his outer appearance makes him look more menacing than he feels in this moment. Customers at the bar speak in hushed tones as he approaches. He doesn’t even notice, the fogginess caused by his lack of sleep is affecting his power of observation.

“Where can I go to get ship parts?” he asks.

“Jawas,” the man chuckles sarcastically, like the question itself was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“There’s no where else?” He asks, frustrated.

“Not anywhere you can travel to in a day,” the man replies. Mando sighs, realizing he’d have to return to the ship empty handed. He can’t let it go another day. He needed to get off this planet.

“Give me directions.”

“There’s no where besides here that can offer you lodging, you can’t make it there on a speeder without stopping.”

“Directions.”

The man sighs and reluctantly gives the Mandolorian the coordinates he needs. With a gruff thank you, the Mandolorian leaves the bar, and gets back to the speeder. Kuiil would understand. Kuiil probably already knew the journey ahead of him and Mando was too stubborn to take his friend’s advice before leaving.

If he didn’t stop to rest, Mando figured he could get to the location by the next day if he drove fast. It seemed like a good idea to him at the time. It was the most time effective option he had. It was entirely different in practice, driving alone in the dark and his eyes becoming more and more heavy. He also never anticipated the wear it would cause the speeder, and he cursed as the thing was gradually slowing down until it came to a complete stop.

It was too dark to try to work on fixing it, even though he tried anyways. Even with his visor aiding his vision in the darkness, it was fruitless. He’d have to wait it out. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep. What if he was found by Jawas and they’d strip the speeder, or maybe they would steal his armor. It wasn’t something that he was willing to risk. So, he stupidly decided to work on the speeder without being able to see properly and assess his surroundings.

His thoughts were only on the Child and returning to him as quickly as possible. It made his actions irrational and careless. Which is why he scraps his arm on the metal of the speeder as he tinkered. The cut is deep, and it stings. He curses at his own stupidity and desperately tries to just apply pressure to his arm with his other hand. The material was old, dirty and rusted and it caused a deep wound.

He sits down on the ground, trying to make himself a tourniquet by ripping at his underclothes. He’s breathing heavy, and he knows that he is losing blood and he had no way to clean out the wound. He’s stranded and he can only think about the Child. Needing to just stay conscious long enough to think himself a plan out of this situation, and that’s the last thing he remembers.

He thrashes when he awakes, taking in his new unknown surroundings. It was a similar abode to Kuiil’s but it was obviously not the farm he was familiar with. He looks down at his arm, seeing the wound has been bandaged and treated, and his glove, and other pieces of his armor that needed to be removed to treat the injury sat on the floor waiting for him. He felt lighter, and more aware. Hell, he felt awake for the first time in a while. He felt rested. If it weren’t for the worry of waking up in a strange place, he’d feel good.

Before he was able to decide if he wanted to venture out of this bedroom, his thoughts were interrupted when another figure walked in. They were moving quietly, and Mando knew they were moving so that they wouldn’t disturb him. He sat up, letting them know he was awake and then he turned to look at them.

The young woman was standing holding a tray of food. She was nervous, but not scared of him, Mando was able to observe. It had also been a long time since he was in the presence of someone so easy on the eyes, and it made him nervous as well. She was very pretty, and easily one of the best things he’s got to see in a long time. He wasn’t sure what to say, not wanting to scare her off, so he waited for her to speak first.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she said apologizing. “But I wanted to bring you this.” She leaves the tray on a small table next to the bed.

“T-thanks,” he stuttered, not sure what questions he could think to ask first.

“You were passed out next to your speeder,” she explained. “I found you early this morning. Your speeder is outside. You’ve been asleep here for about twelve hours… I don’t know how long you were outside before that.”

He nods, trying to still wrap his head around the situation.

“I’m sorry for taking off the armor,” she continues, “I didn’t take off your helmet! I know Mandolorians keep those on, I wasn’t sure if it was okay that I took off the pieces I needed to get to your cut.”

“That’s fine,” he said softly, “Thank you. It is really just the helmet that I can’t take off.”

“All of your stuff is there,” she points to where his bag and pieces of armor sit on the floor in a neat pile. He nods.

“Um, that’s pretty much it,” she says awkwardly trying to remember if there was something else that she needed to tell him. “You’re wound is fine, once it was cleaned up it wasn’t as bad as I thought. You really were just exhausted over anything else; I think. I’ll let you eat, I promise I won’t come back in until you tell me, so you can take off your helmet… There’s no one else here but me so you’re safe- you can even lock yourself in if you want. I don’t mind.”

“You’re being really accommodating,” he says suspiciously, not use to the hospitality. It worried him.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, his words reminding her of what she forgot, “I had contacted by Kuiil- told me to look out for you, that a friend of his- a Mandolorian would be coming my way in need of lodging. When you never came, that’s when I went looking for you.”

“You know Kuiil?” he asks, relieved he wasn’t completely with a stranger. He was, obviously, but he was at ease knowing he was with someone Kuiil trusted.

She nodded. “You can stay as long as you need. He said your son can stay with him as long as you need. I’ll let you eat,” she said, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

He was taken aback at how kind she was towards him. She was so trusting and just let him into her home and helped him. Granted, it was because he was vouched for by Kuiil, but still. He also was flushed at how attractive she was. It made him nervous, he was so used to being along that he didn’t know how to handle himself around a woman- especially one that he thought was just so- so nice to look at. He felt foolish, and he was so confused at how easily that girl flustered him. It was just that she was kind, he tries to reason with himself. He’s just not use to the hospitality. He wasn’t flustered cause she was pretty, no absolutely not.

He took a moment and then resolved it was safe to take off his helmet so he could eat. He usually rushed through meals, just so he could get the helmet secured back on his head. But he felt comfortable here, and he allowed himself the luxury of taking his time, enjoying the unfiltered air. He looked around the room, and it was mostly bare, which isn’t surprising. The bed was comfortable, much better than his bunk on the Crest and better than the little spot in Kuiil’s dwelling.

He just felt guilty. He shouldn’t be resting when the Child is waiting for his return, and he still hasn’t retrieved parts for the ship. And here he was getting comfortable like was on some vacation. He quickly finished his food and put on his armor, ignoring the sting putting it on affected the cut under the bandages. He placed his helmet on and then left the bedroom.

“They’ll be here soon,” she announces when he emerges from the room. It stops him dead in his tracks. He didn’t know what you meant.

“Who?”

“Kuiil and your son,” she explains, “I just reached out to Kuiil, letting you know you were awake. He insisted he’d bring the kid to you. He thought you’d leave and strain yourself trying to get back too early. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

He chuckles, and is astonished at how well his friend seems to be able to anticipate his every move. “He’s right,” he sighed, sitting down across from her at the small dining table.

“He’s very wise,” she agrees. There are a few minutes of silence that cause an awkward tension to arise between the two of them.

“I’m (y/n),” she says. “Just realized I never introduced myself,” she says sheepishly.

“You can call me Mando,” he replies. She nods. There’s a mutual understanding between the two that says there’s no need for small talk.

“Is your child also a Mandolorian?” she asks curiously.

“No, he’s not,” he responds. He’s used to people pestering him with questions but he usually gets annoyed. He actually this time was happy that she wanted to know about him, and he was asking about the kid. For some reason, it felt different. There was no judgement or fear, just her genuine curiosity. She doesn’t press him to elaborate, which puts his mind at ease, and he’s relaxed.

“Are you married?” she asks next.

“No- no,” he says hurriedly. He feels foolish for how the question flusters him. It’s a perfectly reasonable question. It was just the natural assumption when she knows he has a kid, but not the context of how he’s a father. He also feels embarrassed at the desire to let her know he’s single. It’s stupid, he chastises himself. He was being ridiculous.

“He’s a foundling,” he explains simply. “He’s not actually mine. I’m not married.”

“Can Mandolorians get married?” she follows up.

“Yes, of course,” he says. She nods, and gets up from her seat.

“I have to check on the vaporators,” she announces. “I suggest you try to get more rest, but if you want to follow, you’re more than welcome to.”

When she moves, he notices the odd, cylindrical weapon fixed on the side of her hip. He trusts her, so it doesn’t worry him, but it is something he wants to ask her about.

“What is that?” he asks, following her out of her house and out into the dry air. She looks to where the gaze of his visor is fixated.

“It’s my light saber,” she says simply, not expanding on her answer much like how he did.

“Are- are you a Jedi?” he asks, his head tilting.

“I’m a moisture farmer,” she chuckles.  

“I thought all the Jedi were gone,” he says, his eyes following her.

“They are,” you explained simply, “I’m not a Jedi anymore.”

“Did you fight in the war?” he asks. She looked young, and he was incredibly puzzled. Maybe her species was humanoid, but she aged slowly, like the Child.

“Clone Wars,” she states, confirming his suspicion. She was older than him, but she looked younger. “I’m Morellian. We don’t age the same as humans.”

“How old are you?”

“Forties? I don’t know. I haven’t really done the math in a while,” she shrugs. He chuckles, he felt the same way about his own age. He hadn’t thought about it in a long time, but he was fairly certain that they were roughly the same age, even though his signs of aging showed on his skin more than her.

“How long have you been here?” He asks.

“How long has it been since the end of the Clone Wars?”

“That long?”

“All the Jedi needed to go into hiding,” she states.

“Are you the only one?”

“I don’t know. The only man I knew I heard died, killed by Vadar,” she says solemnly. “Supposedly, he took on a new apprentice, but I don’t know where I could find him if I wanted to.”

“Can you use the Force?” he asks, thinking now about his own task that lays before him with the Child.

“Yes,” she replies simply, holding back a smile and a sarcastic comment.

“The Child- my son,” he says, a little overwhelmed how easily he stumbled upon you. “I’m supposed to bring him to a Jedi- bring him back to his people.”

“You need to bring him to a Jedi?” she asks skeptically. He nods.

“He has- these, um, powers,” he tries to explain, “Moving things that are physically impossible, healing- it’s nothing I have ever seen.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You said you aren’t a Jedi.”

“But I’m probably the closest you’ll find.”

Part Two

#mando x reader #the mandolorian #mandolorian imagine #mando x you #mando x y/n #mandolorian one shot #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal characters #x reader #star wars imagine #star wars one shot

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Turn to Loathed Sours || Morgan & Deirdre

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathduty @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: The sweets we wish for turn to loathed sours, even in the moment that we call them ours.

Morgan’s senses aren’t the only thing about her body that’s changing, and she can’t avoid facing it any longer.

CONTAINS: medical blood: references to first aid, stitches (not described)

Morgan’s arm healed from her injuries at the coffee shop eventually. But the ones she had collected that evening (a tiny burn from the pan and cat scratches from playing too roughly with Anya) hadn’t yet. That was over a day ago. And now she had new injuries. Serious injuries she couldn’t hide or brush off. A stupid fenodyree who’d gotten comfortable under the stairs at the bookshop pulled her ankle and bit the side of her foot. When Morgan prised it off (it hadn’t liked the taste of her after all), it bit a chunk off her forearm out of spite.

She sat in her car on the driveway, still trembling with fright and pain. She wasn’t sure how she’d managed to get home. It probably had something to do with urgency, and not looking at the damage done. Underneath her torn sweater, her skin was whiter, deader than she’d ever seen it before. There were fresh, sickly looking waves of green and yellow marbling along her blue and purple tones. The skin around the injury felt thin and dry, and what flesh she could see under the surface looked...wrong. Or at least wrong for her. She’d eaten enough animal corpses to know what rotting tissue looked like.

Maybe she needed to switch to a human brain to get herself back into shape. Those were more filling anyway, right? Maybe she could call Erin, tell her it was an emergency, and she’d do the hard stuff, she just needed a point of contact, a name, something. Or maybe she could try eating a supernatural brain, that might do something different. She hadn’t tried bies before. Maybe they were more...fortifying, somehow. And if her body was getting a little less magical, maybe some mundane treatments could help. A little Advil, a little neosporin, and a heavy duty band-aid could go a long way. Plus, stitches, if she really needed them. No one she passed during the day would think much of her sporting fresh stitches.

But as Morgan tried to bargain out a solution with her body, a small, tired voice inside her asked, What if there’s nothing? What if this is how you have to pay? What if it doesn’t stop?

No. There was a way to fix this. She just had to find it.

Bracing herself, Morgan limped out of the car and came inside her house. She dropped her keys in the bowl and made a beeline for the kitchen. She would stop being a baby about losing her zombie pain tolerance, patch up her injuries, eat, and figure this out. Everything would be fine. In fact, everything was already fine, she just didn’t know it yet. But it was. It was.

Neglected under her journey to New Zealand, Deirdre’s garden was repairing itself nicely. Her lilies had come into bloom along with her wine-coloured dahlias. Carefully, she cut herself a bouquet, eager to show Morgan her work and ease whatever guilt she might’ve felt for letting the garden fall into disrepair in the first place. The cats, lazing by her feet in the garden, rose first to signal Morgan’s arrival. Deirdre followed them with a smile, dirt under her nails and more on her overalls. Sweet floral notes lifted from her bouquet, intertwined with her scent of earth and sweat. When she greeted Morgan, she did so with a running kiss, pressed gentle and eager to her cheek. Then with a large step backwards, extending her bouquet. “You should take a smell--” Her delight was simple, clear. In the moments that followed, it withered.

“My love,” Deirdre urged, eyes drawn first to her torn sweater, then back up to her face--paler than it ought to be. She was bluer in the lips, more purple around the eyes. She considered where they were--the kitchen--and concluded that Morgan had come for a meal. Sometimes she forgot to eat, it wasn’t often, but in her new state of feeling, perhaps the joy of coffee and pastries had overwhelmed reminders to feed as a zombie ought. Deirdre decided she should worry. She smiled again, wider, thinner, nowhere near her eyes. The flowers were set down on the kitchen island. “Are you…” Okay? The word wouldn’t leave her lips. Okay? The word was a gurgle in her throat. Okay? A twitch in her lip.

Her eyes fell back to the sweater; the strange way Morgan moved, like her foot was asleep. Her gaze dropped to the floor. “...okay?” She said finally, knowing there was no way to avoid the question.  

Morgan hadn’t meant for Deirdre to see her like this. Of course it would look bad. In the instant her love approached and kissed her cheek, Morgan tried to hold onto her, murmuring, “Hey, how’s my farmgirl? Your flowers look beautiful, and the--” the smell was lovely. Earthy and powdery and fragrant in a way people only called floral because there was nothing else like it in the world. But before she could try to put any of that into words, because if she just held onto this moment, everything would be fine and Dierdre would know it was fine and she could figure things out as she went, listening to her love talk about her day. But she could only hold onto Deirdre so much with one arm, and before she’d even pulled back Deirdre saw everything.

“Yes!” Morgan said, shrill and too quickly. “I just, um…” She searched for the words but she struggled to find words that didn’t imply VERY NOT OKAY. “There was one of those staircase fae, at the bookstore? The little furry guys that like to yank you down and eat your feet? And so I took a little tumble and he took a bite out of my foot, and he didn’t like how I tasted, but he didn’t like being pulled off either, so he took a little more when I pulled him off, but he’s fine! Totally, completely fine! I was startled, so I threw him kind of roughly, more than I meant to, but he definitely got up and scrambled back safely on his own!” If she focused on the stairs and the fae, she wouldn’t have to talk about what was much more obvious: that she had lost whole pieces of her at the two story bookstore, a half hour drive away, and her wounds were still fresh.

Morgan shuffled away, intending to make a very normal stroll to the fridge and see if feeding herself everything they had in there would make a difference, but as soon as she put pressure on her foot, she went rigid and gasped with pain. “It’s fine!” She said, struggling to get her air circulation back in her lungs. “Definitely nothing serious. I didn’t even lose my toes! I just, uh...haven’t finished healing yet.”

Why was it always fae? Deirdre frowned, she wished there was some way to tell all of them not to hurt this one person (the times she did try, she was met with a lot of “well, all humans look the same”). She wanted to fixate on the faeness of the attack; she wanted to apologize for her people and explain that she really was trying to tell as many fae as possible not to eat her girlfriend. She wanted the words that left her mouth to agree, she wanted the smile to remain. “The bookstore?” Instead, she said this. “...which one?” Instead she frowned, she shifted, her fingers twitched at her side, desperate to reach for Morgan and soothe a problem that didn’t exist. The closest bookstore was a comfortable ten minute walk; a small place with an adequate selection of new releases and classic novels. It didn’t have stairs. Morgan took her car, Deirdre knew this because the beeping lock was what had perked Moira’s ears up first. There was another, about a five minute drive, smaller than the first. It sold mostly board games and housed a small case of used books. There was one stone step to get inside; gapless. The big one with two floors was half an hour away. It had the kind of wooden staircase with the empty space underneath and the big gaps between the steps.

Deirdre didn’t care much about what happened to the fae that bit Morgan, but forced herself to smile and nod anyway. Really, it could’ve been a ten minute drive if traffic and law were ignored. Which Morgan must’ve done, feeling famished from all the missed meals in favor of coffee and pastries. Though, hadn’t she just seen Morgan eat some brains yesterday? No, no, must’ve been another meat. How could she know? She wasn’t paying attention. Maybe it was just a nibble; nibbles didn’t count. Morgan stumbled and Deirdre rushed to her side, quick to loop her arms around her love. “Of course,” Deirdre smiled, “but let’s just...let’s just have you lean on me a little, okay? I think there’s some leftover brains in the fridge from...whatever you were cooking, right? And there’s more in the freezer! I found a moose, so that’s there. And it’ll be cold and unseasoned but it’ll be…” Deirdre’s voice cracked and she swallowed the nervous tic away. “Come on, my love,” Deirdre assured softly, opening the fridge with her free hand. “We’ll get your food, and I’ll take you over to sit and...well, maybe you just need a bandage and some rest. You had to drive all the way over here, and that--maybe that’s why--you should eat, right?”  

Morgan hated that she’d promised herself not to blatantly lie to Deirdre. It made answering direct questions she didn’t want to a special kind of painful. “The...big one.” She squeaked after a silence. The big chain bookstore with fancy staircases with little gaps that were just fae-tastic, a half hour away if she took the interstate. Morgan didn’t look at Deirdre as she answered. She didn’t want to know what it looked like as she put the timeline together. She didn’t want to see Deirdre grow worried. If she did, she’d want to comfort her. And she could only comfort her so much without lying.

She leaned on Deirdre as she was asked and gave her a little squeeze, and thumbed the flannel shirt she’d appropriated from Morgan’s own closet. Her overalls were a little damp and cold, there were grainy flecks of earth from the garden work she’d been doing. She was as soft all around as she was within, and all Morgan wanted was to rest there until everything stopped hurting and her body snapped back to being its old self. But Deirdre’s voice was growing thin. Morgan thought she could almost hear cracks of distress spreading over her heart.

“Yes! Yes, that’s perfect, my love,” she said. “Just get me to the great room with the first aid tub, and I can patch myself up from the couch, okay? And you can heat up the leftovers we have and everything else in a bowl. It’s too cold to have them raw. And then--” Then there wouldn’t be anything left in their power to do tonight. Then the future would keep going, smooth as ever, or it wouldn’t. Morgan’s lips trembled as she searched for the certainty she so desperately wanted. She stilled them with a kiss to Deirdre’s cheek. “Then you’ll sit with me, and tell me how the garden is doing, and let me smell those flowers. Just one thing at a time, okay?”

The big one. Deirdre wore worry in her eyes, smile pulled thin. The big one, she kept repeating it in her head hoping it would become less true. “That’s…that one is quite a drive away, isn’t it?” There had to be something said about asking questions she already knew the answers to. She didn’t say anything more about it, and simply nodded as she helped Morgan into the great room. When she was safe on the couch, she fished free their first aid supplies and placed them on the coffee table, then she pushed the table closer to Morgan. “You shouldn’t do it yourself, my love,” Deirdre said softly, “it hurts more when you do it yourself.” That wasn’t a claim founded by any science, but it was all Deirdre could do to keep from running around and spewing question and worry and question. “Just…” she sighed, leaning down to press a quick kiss against her girlfriend’s forehead. “…if you need stitches, let me do that. You must be in so much pain and…” Deirdre trailed off. She marked her exit with another kiss and said nothing more.

The kitchen was silent except for the whirring of the microwave and the sizzling of brains in a pan. Occasionally the sizzling would change in pitch and tone as Deirdre moved the meat around, trying to get it cooked all the way through. It seemed absurd—to be cooking the brains—but it was all Deirdre could do to keep from pacing around with questions and fears and worries and questions and running and crying and questions. The microwave beeped like an alarm. Deirdre was burning the meat. She shut the heat off and fished the leftovers from the screaming kitchen appliance with little mind for how her fingers scorched under the hot ceramic bowl. She topped it with her extra too-brown cooked brains and carried it to Morgan in a tray with a few of the flowers arranged nicely to one side, as if she were bringing Morgan breakfast in bed. “Here, my love,” she smiled as she set it all down. She offered Morgan the bowl, and a fork, and sat down next to her. “The garden is coming along nicely.” Deirdre was wringing her hands. “You should see the hydrangeas. The snow really confused them, for a bit, but I’ve got everything covered and heated and I was thinking of getting a greenhouse built. We have that space there, and as much as I like the outdoor garden, the weather can be so sporadic here and…” Deirdre rambled on, her story of little consequence about the state of their garden went on with stutters and stops. Skips and repeats. When Deirdre forgot which part she was at, she went back and told it all from the beginning, starting with the hydrangeas, which Morgan really should see. When the sound of her own voice began to sicken her, she picked at the dirt under her nails and said nothing for a moment. “I can still see where Anya scratched you.” Deirdre was looking at the floor; it was all she could do.

While Deirdre cooked, Morgan rushed to cover her injuries. She shimmied out of her sweater and bit down on it to cover her little screams when she doused her skin with disinfectant. She dabbed at everything as much as she could but there wasn’t much to wipe without any blood circulation to make a mess. But there was plenty to see: her arm looked like a kid had attacked it with squiggly scissors and her foot wasn’t much better. Morgan laid gauze patches over her foot and taped the whole thing up in a hurry, but it couldn’t completely hide the altered shape. As for her arm, she really did need more help than she knew how to manage with one hand and the pain every time she touched it was starting to make her head feel funny. Morgan laid her hanging bits of skin over the injury in an approximation of where it should go and gave herself a headache trying to will her body to heal itself. But there was nothing. Maybe even less than nothing.

Then Deirdre was back and Morgan had to drape her sweater over her chest so the extent of her discoloration didn’t look worse than it really was and eat her crispy food and listen to Deirdre’s story. It made her whimper with pain, but Morgan stretched her injured arm so she could take Deirdre’s hand into her own and thumb patterns onto the back of her hand. She tried to help her along soothingly, “A greenhouse sounds lovely. We could turn the back porch into a sunroom and attach it there. We could sit out in the rain with our tea and never get wet. Yes, the hydrangeas, my love, I want to see them. Soon, alright, soon…” But the only thing that came soon was the end of Morgan’s desperate meal and Deirdre’s last fatal observation.

“Oh, that.” Morgan tried very hard to sound dismissive. “I see it too, but I think it’s starting to scar over, don’t you?” But it wasn’t. And even though she had faithfully eaten everything on her plate, she was still hurt and in pieces and unmistakably dead. “It’s—“ Nothing to worry about, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t lie. She’d promised herself. “I’m—” Fine? Still? Really?

Morgan set her plate aside on the end table and reached for her love with her strong arm, rotting flesh and all. She stroked her soft hair and the side of her cheek. “I’m here,” she said plaintively. “I’m right here, babe.” Her voice choked and snagged and she had to swallow several times before she could speak again. “You still feel like a miracle. Like a chilly peach, only you never get wrinkled. It’s gonna be at least a hundred years before someone thinks you’re older than me, huh?” She forced a laugh and a smile. “Will you, um,” She inhaled stiffly as she upset her arm. She could hear how desperate she sounded, how frightened. She was fine, she was really fine right now in spite of everything wrong. But fine was a burning thread; it would finish without her and the fear of what would be left in its wake made Morgan tremble. “…Will you sit a little closer? W-will you hold me?”

Deirdre maintained her gaze away from Morgan, even as it hurt. There were many lies about how interesting the floor was swirling in her head. She burned to look at her, she desired to. Still, her eyes remained locked on the cracks in their hardwood. “A sunroom sounds nice. Are you sure you’re okay with covering the porch up?” She nearly sighed with relief as it seemed she was offered an excuse to look some place beyond the floor; she turned to stare at their porch. Soon, Morgan said. A lump formed in her throat. Soon. She turned back to the floor, blinking rapidly. Soon. Soon.

She didn’t say anything because she didn’t want to. If their conversation could’ve carried itself to magical completion, she would’ve let it. Was it so wrong to want the okay and none of the in-between? Then she was in Morgan’s arms, and it was very, very, hard not to look at Morgan. Like refusing light; opening blinds just to shut them again. The sun sat beyond the curtains, she just had to pull them back. So, she did. Deirdre relaxed, relented, and turned to Morgan, wrapping her arms slowly around her love. Morgan’s futile sweater-cover-up was squished between them. Deirdre didn’t look at Morgan’s arm, but her gaze did drift to the misshapen lump of her ankle. Then up, to the bowl of brains, all finished. Deirdre pulled back, pressing her palm to Morgan’s bicep. Morgan was paler than her; banshees were always meant to look and feel corpses. Zombies were the living dead for a reason, the dead living were not meant to be paler than her. Deirdre’s hand fell. Soon. Morgan sounded more frightened than she was. Soon. It would be something like a century before Deirdre started to show any effects of aging. Soon. Soon. Deirdre chased a kiss, pressing herself gently to Morgan. “We’re going to get married sometime, you and me. And we’re going to have a family, even if that family is mostly feline. And it would be a special kind of cruelty if you never got to see my hair turn white, so you are. You are going to. All of this.”

Deirdre’s shoulders slackened, her arms snaked lazily around Morgan. “Will you let me look at your arm now, please?” One note shy of begging her love, Deirdre leaned in for another kiss—soft, slow, lingering. Almost as if she wasn’t worried about losing them one day.

Morgan closed her eyes as Deirdre settled against her chest. It was so rare to be gifted with having her like this, and even rarer to feel it, that for several moments she let the bubble of their world shrink down to the size of this one moment. Deirdre smelled like flowers, oncoming rain, the forest, and cherrywood. She was soft, almost plush, with her hair bunched in a ponytail and Morgan’s own flannel shirt ticking her skin. Morgan pressed her gently and kissed her head.

“Yeah, we can cover the porch. Maybe we’ll put in a glass wall there, and a skylight, so we can still watch the stars from there if we want. In the summer we can make s’mores right before the rains come and run inside to eat them and still feel like we’re half outside. And I know you like to nap on the window seat in the cat room, but we can put in a bigger one, just your size so you don’t have to curl up your legs.” Morgan gave her love another chaste kiss and laughed. Her voice was bright with false hope as she spoke and it was almost enough to convince her body that she was really okay. This was just another soft moment in the week, an ordinary gift of time, abundant as the flowers Deirdre tended so lovingly.

But there was nothing ordinary about getting married or making another family. Morgan tensed with longing. She could see them so clearly: curled up on a couch in a dark cottage somewhere, a baby in her arms, making light of the child’s screams for attention, and being interrupted by three new cats or one absurdly happy dog. She wanted it. She wanted it as badly as she wanted to get better. Much as she cherished her life with the girls, she knew how fleeting it was, and there were days she felt more than eager to leave White Crest behind. As Deirdre kissed her, she was sure she could taste it. But what if you don’t? What if you die here without doing any of this.

“Hey,” she sniffled. “Hold on, we can’t talk about marriage stuff too much when I haven’t even proposed. Or you haven’t. Or maybe we both should, because I want the whole thing: an engagement ring to shove in everyone’s face, a pretty dress too impractical to wear any other day, cheesy music, and the chance to do a grand romantic gesture since you got the last one.” Her voice snagged on her longing again and she hid her face against Deirdre’s. She couldn’t imagine doing any of that in her state. She couldn’t imagine having the time. White Crest would claim her body for its own before she had the chance, wouldn’t it?

“You can go ahead and look if you want. But it’s—” Bad. It’s bad and I don’t want you to know just how bad. I can carry this myself. I can figure this out. “You don’t have to. I didn’t get around to taking care of it, but I can.” She nosed Deirdre’s cheek and kissed her again. “I love you. Have I said that since coming home yet?”

A covered porch. A skylight. S’mores. Marriage. Family. The reel of future domestic delight played in Deirdre’s head; each piece of film, one after the other. A fancy engagement ring. A daughter. Their library finally fleshed out. A sunroom with a skylight. A big telescope. Tea surrounded by flowers and plants that she tended. Five hundred years; would the world deny them this? “Maybe we both should…” she repeated. She could imagine it; one big gesture each; two rings; Deirdre wanted to show hers off too. “But…that future…” Deirdre pulled away again, wanting to look into Morgan’s eyes and find answers in their shimmering blue. She raised her hand to Morgan’s cheek and held her tenderly there. “We can’t have it if we don’t accept reality as it is; if we can’t work through things together. My love, nothing is ever so bleak if you’re still with me…and you are. You are.” The question of how long hung in the air, but Deirdre didn’t ask it. It would have to be long enough. It would have to be five hundred years, at least. It had to.

When given permission to look at her girlfriend’s arm, Deirdre nodded and then laughed. “You might’ve,” she turned her head and kissed her again. “Sometimes saying it is just like breathing, I think it happens all the time and sometimes without a sound. I love you too, of course. So much.” When she leaned back, she pulled the sweater-shield away with her, gently placing it on the table in silent thanks for its service to Morgan.

Morgan didn’t have to say it was bad, though Deirdre wished she had. “Bad” was a kind understatement to the torn up decaying flesh that she was looking at. Her cold fingers pressed softly around the wounded area, as if trying to coax out some secret remedy. There was no blood to stop from gushing free; no sense that Morgan’s body remembered how to repair itself at all. She looked as she was: dead, and no different from any corpse Deirdre might otherwise gleefully stumble across. The kind of wound a medical examiner would find redundant to try and patch up. She supposed it was a good thing she wasn’t Regan. “Stitches?” Deirdre looked up at Morgan. “I don’t know if painkillers will help you, but I don’t imagine trying them would harm you. We could maybe try numbing the area with ice—or I suppose my hands might work—first; it’ll hurt very badly, trying to close it up. But I think we should try.” Her eyes moved to the scratch Anya left; just the same as Deirdre saw it yesterday. She looked at her own hand, Anya’s work from an hour ago—when she wanted to be fed earlier than her usual time and Deirdre tried to distract her with play—had vanished as though it was never there. Her gaze moved down to Morgan’s ankle. “How’s that?” Deirdre asked. “Is there anything that needs to be done there, do you think? A bone to be popped into place?”

Deirdre looked over at her girlfriend again—future fiancée, future-future wife. Two rings. Maybe they’d try a cottage for a decade or two, a proper mansion for some other ones. If they got lazy one lifetime, maybe they’d get a chic condo in a bustling city’s downtown. Maybe they’d get several and hop around. One daughter. A son. Grandchildren. Wasn’t it novel to be able to live to see generations of their own family? Their kindness passed on. Cats. Dogs. Cows. Chickens. Neighbours that wondered how they stayed so young-looking. People who thought Morgan married for money, a nice fur coat and a wink to make them think they were right. Friends who’d known them a century ago. People to make jealous of their ever-lasting love. A wedding. Two rings. Maybe she’d wear a dress, maybe a suit. Why not both? “Don’t do it by yourself, Morgan,” Deirdre said, finally giving way to tears that once remained politely inside. “I love you. I love you so much that I don’t want that. I don’t care how scary it is, it’s worse if we’re not…”

Morgan didn’t want to look at reality as it was. Not this one; not with Deirdre. She could hold two worlds in her head just fine, and if the true one was just her secret, a little wrinkle she could iron out herself, then it hadn’t really been so dire in the first place. And wasn’t this what she had been conditioned for? To carry suffering and pretend like she wasn’t? She exhaled stiffly as Deirdre shifted and examined her arm. When she kept it still, the throbbing was dull and steady enough to be ignored. But, much like reality, the gash burned fresh with even a little close attention.

“I don’t know what to say about how things really are,” Morgan said quietly, stiff with restraint. “I haven’t found anyone else this is happening to. I haven’t read of anything like this being possible.” Technically, that meant that whatever magic was running its course could be merciful, for all they knew. Maybe the undead really could get sick, and this was just an awful zombie flu that would run its course and leave her alone. And maybe this would end her, or make her so vulnerable that something else would all too easily.

She couldn’t watch Deirdre do her examination. It felt too much like failure, even if it had been the fae’s fault more than hers. “We can try to close it some, yeah. Maybe just bandage the rest. I can put it in a sling if moving it still makes things worse,” she mumbled. “I wrapped up my foot without any problems, but you can double check me. We’ll do whatever you think is best. Although I…” It took Morgan a few seconds to find her nerve. Things were bad enough already, adding to the pile seemed cruel. But Deirdre would find out on her own, and it would only be worse if she realized Morgan had been sitting on more information than she’d given. “After what happened at the coffee shop, I tried some ibuprofen. It didn’t take. I healed in a couple of hours, but it still…” she shook her head. “We don’t have to waste any pain-killers on me, okay? I’ll numb the spot with an ice pack and I’ll be okay.”

But Deirdre didn’t want her to do it herself. Try as Morgan might, she had already failed in keeping this contained to herself alone. It was happening to Deirdre, too, and her banshee, who already carried so much suffering, was left helpless by everything Morgan tried to do to make things better. Morgan brushed away her love’s tears with her strong hand. Usually, that helped. It was like wiping something clean. No more sticky sadness, only comfort. But in this moment, it felt like peeling away her last bit of protection. If Deirdre was already hurt, then she already knew. If she already knew, then there weren’t two worlds to hold at all. Just the one, frightening and miserable and shrinking around her existence until it crushed her. There was nowhere to turn her gaze with distraction. No place to hide. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her own tears starting to flood her lids too. “I’m sorry. I was trying to make it better, I’m sorry. I love you, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be hurt, or disappointed…” She buried her face in her shoulder. “I didn’t want you to be scared too.” She swallowed down a sob, sniffled, and kissed Deirdre’s cheek. “Don’t worry about hurting me. Just patch me up as best you know how. Whatever you think is right. I’ll deal. I’ve already had a few days to build up my tolerance again. Okay?”

Once, Deirdre was sure she knew everything about Death; it was her birthright, her gift. By extension, her knowledge of the undead was extensive—similarly once considered whole. She stopped thinking she was right the moment she realized humans were quite loveable, the rest of her inaccuracies piling up. But she wished it all back; all that arrogance of knowledge. This was unlike any drug she knew of, any common disease. If it was a spell or a curse, she had no way of knowing. If this had something to do with the out-of-season winter, she didn’t know. She couldn’t know. The only thing she did understand was that none of this was normal, and that she should be worried. “It’s like you’re fading away,” she said. “You were pale yesterday, and all sorts of discoloured, but I know you ate. And you ate again just now. And you’re even worse today. And that’s just besides the whole…” Deirdre gestured to her arm. She pointed frantically at her foot. “If I let fear talk, it feels like you’re dying again. Or being more dead. Or—Fates, who knows what it’s like? But it is scary, my love. It is even without an injury. What does hiding it from me do? I can see you. I can see it. I should’ve said something sooner, but I thought I was being paranoid. I’ve been waiting and worrying and watching ever since you woke up that day. If you start doing this all alone, then I’m going to worry all alone. And that’s what it’ll be for us. And if this is some end—which it’s not, it can’t be—but if it was, then it’ll happen alone. And I don’t want…” Deirdre’s voice cracked; she sniffled. “I don’t want us to be alone anymore, my love.”

In silence, Deirdre worked the wound; icing with the cold of her hands, stitching and trying not to wince or cry and wrapping everything up tight, but not too tight. She’d only ever been used to doing this sort of thing on herself, but she didn’t tell Morgan that; Morgan already knew. She wanted to work fast, so the pain wouldn’t last, but not so fast that the pain was unfair. She wanted to worry, but not so much that Morgan cried along with her. She wanted to love, and this alone she could do without fear or limitation--no matter what, pretending she loved less, cared less, would not make the pain of loss any worse. So why bother? When she was done, she pressed a kiss to Morgan’s bandaged arm and looked at her with a smile. She had done her best to be gentle and where Morgan ached, she ached. Where Morgan was pained, she was pained enough to find a way to be more gentle. They existed in a see-saw, striving to find balance upon the fulcrum. “You don’t have to ‘deal’,” she said, noting the hypocrisy in saying it. “My love, with anything...whatever pain...I wish you’d let me carry it too. I wish you’d think of yourself not as one person--not as one damaged vessel taking in water--but as two people. Two boats. And then one--one big one. Both of us. I care about you more than I know how to say, and I love you just the same. As much as it might be convenient to pretend we are two people devoid of each other's pain, we are not. In your hands--” Deirdre took them in hers. “You carry not just yourself, but the chronology of us, and my heart. What I mean is: I love you, and inevitably, where you ache, I ache. And one day, though I won’t mention it much, when we’re married, everyone will understand that you’re the woman I love most--that I would spend eternity with, if only I lived that long. And that day, I hope that’s a truth that comes like breathing to you. I’d promise it. If you’d let me, I’d promise so many things to you.”

It took everything Morgan had not to scream as Deirdre stitched her arm together. She hissed, gasped, whimpered, and strained her hand gripping the throw pillow she’d bitten down on earlier. But this was her world, her life, and the cost of feeling like a whole, connected person again. She would not scream like some hysterical kid in the face of it. Especially not with Deirdre, who had suffered so much worse for reasons far more terrible. There were tears in her eyes by the time Deirdre finished. Her love’s hands weren’t cold enough to take out the sting completely and the skin around her arm was strained trying to make up for what was missing. But she returned her smile with relief, mouthing, Okay, okay, okay, when her voice proved too frail to speak. She took Deirdre’s hands and brought them to her lips. She let her cheek rest on them, and kissed them a few times more: one for apology, one for affection, one for adoration, one to appeal for absolution, one for abundant gratitude.

“I am yours, as you are mine,” she whispered. “And you don’t have to promise, not out loud. I feel it. Even more so now.” She hiccuped a laugh and released Deirdre’s hands, nodding that it was alright for her to carry on with the rest.

With a smile, affection and praise unspoken except for where they shone through her eyes, Deirdre turned to Morgan’s foot. “Thank you for wanting to protect me,” she said, unwrapping the haphazard bandaging. “I wish you wouldn't be sorry about it; I would’ve done the same thing and I understand what it means.” Her ankle wasn’t as bad as her arm, which prompted a sigh of relief in Deirdre. Good things were possible, perhaps. But the ankle was still swollen, giving it the appearance of a foot bent wrong. To the bite mark, which she surmised didn’t need stitching, she cleaned delicately and wrapped everything up as her mother had taught her was appropriate. She’d watched Morgan heal greater wounds in half the time. “I love you, you incredibly strong woman.” Deirdre leaned up to kiss her girlfriend, peppering her first aid with affection rewards and whispers of how good Morgan was being. When it was all over, all that was left was Morgan’s good behaviour to claim. She could only guess at how badly it hurt, and was eager now to replace pain with comfort. “Are you worried?”

Morgan tried to relax as Deirdre finished with her foot. It helped that her hands were soft and careful, that her lips were tender, and she assured her that she was being good, so good. Somehow with all her stupid deceptions, Morgan had managed to face this and be good. “I know you understand because you have done the same thing before. And it hurt. It hurt so awful that you wouldn’t let me in, it felt like you didn’t really trust me, like I hadn’t done enough for you. If I’d thought more about you and less about my own stupid fear, maybe I would’ve figured that out.” She tugged on Deirdre’s sleeve and overalls, silently asking to be held over her lap. “I should have known not to, but I wasn’t thinking about it right. I don’t want to make you feel the way I did. I trust you more than anyone else. You’re the only person I’ve been able to bear telling so far. It was just...as soon as I told you, I couldn’t hide from it. Not even a little bit. It wouldn’t be some little thing I can solve on my own before you get home and turn into a story with a happy ending.” She breathed carefully, shuddering through a rising sob. “I love you too, and I admire you, and you are so good to me…” She nuzzled her way into the crook of her neck.

She owed it to Deirdre to be as honest as she knew how to be. But worried barely brushed the surface of what she felt. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I mean, I know I’m decaying in spite of doing everything I’m supposed to. I know that makes me more fragile. And I feel all of it, everything. But I don’t know why or how. None of this should be possible, and I have begged the universe so many times to let me feel like I’m a part of life again, even just one day more so I would know not to take anything for granted. But that was just grief. I never thought it would happen. Because it shouldn’t. I’m dead and it shouldn’t. And now…” She shivered and kissed Deirdre where she was closest for strength. “It just seems so cruel. I feel like I’m being punished and I can’t tell if I deserve it or not.” She shivered again, harder, as she stared down the heart of the dark inside her. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t have a plan. I don't know how I should even make a plan for the plan. I don’t know anything except that whoever’s done this to me is powerful enough to break the laws of magic I thought I understood. And when does this stop? Do I get to keep my mind whenever it does? Is that something I should even want? Is that something we’re going to be able to bear? I don’t know. I don’t know anything, or how to learn better. That’s what scares me most of all, not knowing.” She squeezed her love and took comfort in all of her.

“You smell like outside. And cherries, but an orchard of them, and the sandalwood candles my dad burned to cleanse the rooms after a fight or an outburst,” she mumbled. “Now you. Tell me where you’re at. If we’re three ships in a storm you can’t carry your pain by yourself either. Let me at least be good at listening. Please?”

Once tugged, Deirdre obeyed, scooping Morgan into her arms. “My love,” she mumbled softly as her girlfriend spoke. She kissed her where she could; the top of her head, the side of her face, all careful not to interrupt the delicate flow of her words. “Don’t say that,” Deirdre scolded softly as Morgan found peace buried in her shoulder. “You deserve more credit than that. The desire to hide pain away isn’t a bad one, and it isn’t even one so easily disregarded. I understand, Morgan. I understood. Don’t blame yourself for wanting that. You didn’t break a vase and then try to sweep it under the rug, and even if you had that’s…Hey…” Deirdre shifted, pulling Morgan’s face up to meet hers. “I love you so much, my Morgue. No matter what.” And then she kissed her, hoping to seal that chapter away and move them on to the next page.

The next page being, of course, the bigger problem to tackle. “You feel yourself decaying?” Deirdre frowned, even as someone who enjoyed the feeling, she recognized well how unnerving it must’ve been to feel it; for Morgan to feel herself dying and fading, slowly and without pause. Deirdre whined at the thought. “Is it fair to say this is magic, then?” Deirdre tried, “if you pick an angle, and then chase one set of answers…even if the conclusion is that it’s not magic, it’s more than either of us knew before. So, what I mean is, would it be helpful if we looked into this? We could split it up? You could try the magic thing and I can…see if there’s some undead disease that does this? I think I’ve ruled any kind of drug out; I asked around and it doesn’t sound like anything in the market here. But if it turns out it’s not magic, or disease, then we’ll have to revisit that. Would this make you feel better? Would this feel like a plan?” It certainly made Deirdre feel better—she enjoyed being actionable—but it mattered more what Morgan was comfortable with; what she wanted. “I know you’ve had to research enough magic used against you for one eternal lifetime but…at least so we don’t have to dance around each other with library trips and…journeys to dark alleys and damp basements trying to look at someone’s collection of drugs. Sometimes they don’t let you leave without buying something. I have so many magic mushrooms; I don’t even like them that much.” Deirdre tried to laugh, the sound pittering off quickly. It felt funny in the moment, with the sneaking around and the stuffing mushrooms away where no one would look. It was a little less funny when some fae accused her of hoarding the substance. Not so funny when a spriggan tried to fight her until she relented and gave mushrooms away. Really unfunny when a group of fae congregated outside their house, demanding mushrooms. And finally, horribly inconvenient to constantly pretend as though she were filling up a glass of water when in actuality drugs were being dealt and high pixies had to be swept off their porch. All of it meant a lot of glasses of water, a lot of peeing, and naked leprechauns passed out in their bushes. And that none of it was really funny in the end. Morgan could be dying, and some fae thought their backyard was the hot new party spot.

With a pause, a sigh and a kiss, she explained all of that to Morgan. “And every morning I wake up at four just to shoo the fae away and tell the brownies—which are fighting, by the way—that we’re uninterested in letting one stay in our house. Which then starts up this whole thing about how our house is so big, we should let more fae inside. And then the pixies get on this thing about ‘are the mushrooms ethically sourced’ and I don’t know! I know I should’ve asked but I wasn’t thinking about asking, I was thinking about saving your life! And now I might also have mushrooms that were stolen from pixies and I’ve inadvertently supported the trade of unethical magic mushrooms.” Deirdre groaned, pressing the palm of her hands to her eyes. “And you’re fading away, and you might be gone for good. And the best I can do is deal drugs from our porch and get glasses of water which I feel so bad lying about that I do drink them all. Every glass. And then the constant toilet trips are just…” Deirdre sighed, throwing her head back against the couch and then turning to look at Morgan. She laughed again, longer and louder and true. “None of this is fair to you, my love,” she reached out for Morgan. “That dying meant you lost feeling. That having it back means this. Just one nice thing, without cost, that stays…it would be nice to have that. Mostly I’ve been worried about you; only so much cherry and sandalwood smell can make everything else okay. Watching the delight and wonder you have tasting and feeling and smelling things…Fates, I wish I knew how to tell you how good it is to see you happy. And this specifically, this thing I’ve seen you grieve over. I want that feeling for you forever, that kind of happiness. But no matter how badly I want something, it just…” Deirdre tapped her finger against Morgan’s forearm, observing again how pale she was and where decay bloomed. “I just want you to be happy, for a long time. A proper long time. Five hundred years, at least. And I want the shape of that happiness to be exactly as you dream it.” Deirdre looked up at Morgan and shook her head. “What’s been the best part so far? With everything to feel and taste and smell…”

Morgan listened rapt as Deirdre spoke. Her blue eyes were murkier than they had been before, but they sparked with an intensity that went beyond the simple spectrum of life and death. She laughed when she couldn’t help it, and tenderly brushed her love with her fingertips. The game was the same: how lightly could she touch without losing feeling? But it was more fun when she knew her fingers sometimes tickled and sometimes ‘accidentally’ found a spot that made Deirdre shiver or pause in her telling.

“I might be partially to blame for the newfound interest in ethically sourcing.” She cut in softly. “It’s one of their newest vocab words, along with organic, fair trade, and Willowbud and Appleseed may or may not have spoiled everything at Took’s that didn’t have one of those kinds of labels on it recently.”

She peeled Deirdre’s hand from her forehead and thumbed the little worry crease forming between her eyebrows as she went on until the desperate absurdity of the whole thing overwhelmed them both into laughter. Morgan smothered hers with little kisses. She didn’t need another reason to cherish her love, but she was happy to have one nonetheless. “First of all, no more fake-real glasses of water. If we can’t find a nice leprechaun cave or pixie hovel to donate your stash to so they can deal with the others, we’ll have to have regular business hours so you can get some sleep.” She arched a brow, beaming with her usual bright determination.

“Secondly, none of this has been fair for you either. You’ve sacrificed and suffered so much, and nothing I’ve planted for your happiness has grown without weeds and thorns. And I want ease for you, so much. I want a whole garden of joy for you, joy and love and nothing else. But the world we live in is too complicated for that. We live on a wheel, and it always turns. If it stopped completely, it wouldn’t be life at all.” Morgan draped her arms around her love’s shoulders. “So, we can’t always be happy so long as we’re in the thick of the world and we can’t make the wheel turn at our pace. But we can be in love. And I would take that any day, if I really had to choose.” She kissed her, soft and lingering to emphasize the point. It was easy to be confident and wise in the service of comforting Deirdre. Maybe that was why sharing the load was always better. The strength they saved for each other was so much more resilient than what they could summon for themselves.

Morgan kissed the tip of Deirdre’s nose. “Lucky for me, at least fifty percent of the shape of my happiness looks a lot like you. You are a wonder of a person and you do so much for me. I never know how to tell you or show you what it means.” Slowly, she brought their foreheads together and let them linger like that for a while before speaking again. “I like being soft again. That’s my favorite. Our pillows, our sheets, snow on my skin, the cats, your hair, your body, all my sweaters, and the wind when it’s gentle. And frozen yogurt, pudding, cream pastries, and pomegranate juice. I can feel everything that’s gentle, and I can give gentle back. I’m a part of it. I understand it. There’s no adapting or thinking or concentrating. I just connect like I’ve always belonged. Wonderful doesn’t begin to describe it.” She teased her lips around Deirdre’s skin to prove her point. “And there’s getting to try everyone’s favorite everything. And being able to hug the girls and know what they really feel like for the first time. Then there’s laying with you and not thinking about anything, and not having to ask you to do anything but be. And all the little in between touches and pressures I’ve half forgotten. Your teeth, cat claws, leather, the Subaru, hard candies. And the sun. It’s a shame it’s been so cloudy, because the few times I’ve run out in time, the sun’s warmth is so…magical? It’s so unreal I don’t really know what to call it.” Morgan kissed her love again and smiled against her lips.

“What’s happening to us right now isn’t balanced or fair. But we have a plan. And if I am fading away, for now, for a while, maybe—” Or maybe for good. The thought hooked through her voice and she stopped before persisting. “I want to steal as much life and as much good from this as I can. Whatever this is already wins if I don’t.”

With the truth spoken so clearly, so simply, the brambles in Morgan’s mind cleared and Deirdre’s plan materialized like guideposts on a path. The way out shimmered just out of sight, any day now the right turn would take them there and it would be funny to look back on how long it took to figure everything out.

“I know time is screwing us over again, but I want to take an hour from it. The house is empty, you’re already holding me, and we don’t know how many more good days we have. So be with me, right here. Take me. We can hole up in the library after, and I’ll make soup for dinner when you’re hungry, and we’ll stay up reading as long as we can. But after. I want you first. I want to feel alive with you. And I promise, I promise, we will do whatever it takes to fix this and make it to our wedding.”

Deirdre’s eyes remained far, staring forward. Her gaze narrowed on the wall. “Is that why the pixies suddenly have such great vocabulary?” She turned to Morgan. “You know I had an actual discussion with Willowbud about commercial farming; I didn’t think she knew anything about it. You should know the concern is with freeing all the cows and trampling the humans and that…” Deirdre continued in her best imitation of the high-pitched dialogue of the pixies. “Like ten pixies can ride a cow at once, so much better than a cat AND cows are herbivores—also a word you must’ve taught them.” And then she laughed again, because it was absurd, but mostly because she loved Morgan. And she was happy being kissed by her love, touched by her love, held and listened to. Her body felt light, as if in their laughter, they’d lifted up from the couch and away for all that pulled and pushed on them; abducted by happy aliens who only knew paradise and utopia. A nice beach, Deirdre figured.

If Morgan said there would be no more glasses of water, then Deirdre could believe it--she saw them replaced with piña coladas sipped through colorful straws. The memory of fae clamoring for free mushrooms was eaten by the waves, crashing harmlessly against the shore. But life existed on a wheel, and just as soon as the vision of a beach lived by Morgan’s words, it too was washed away. It was just them and their house now, trying to live in a world that would turn and turn and turn and never spare a thought to who it crushed. The beach didn’t possess the nuances of their life but this terrible, spinning reality did. Anyday, Deirdre would also choose being in love over uncomplicated happiness, but she didn’t understand why there had to be a choice at all. Morgan made her uncomplicatedly happy all on her own, it was the world that spun and pricked with its thorns. Was it so wrong to hope for the beach?

She could believe that Morgan was happy. She could believe that the two of them together would always find a way to be. But as long as the world was spinning, something would get left behind--that was the inevitable truth. Deirdre smiled, she wanted to coast along Morgan’s delight, but knew it was about to be knocked off the wheel, one way or another. Deirdre leaned into each touch, shivered where Morgan brushed her skin and hummed where she was kissed. One day when the world spun them out of existence, she hoped that feeling of love would still persist: if just one other person could know what it was like to be loved so completely, cared for so wholly, and held so warmly. If someone else could know a word brighter than bright, maybe something could exist beyond the spinning and the weeds.

Deirdre just wished it could be them.

“You said that last time, my love,” Deirdre shook her head, laughing the observation into the casual. “And you--we--say it so often. I know it doesn’t make it any less true--that we should steal our moments where we can--but...aren’t you tired of stealing? Can’t we just have?” Deirdre shook her head again. “I’m sorry,” she leaned up into Morgan, kissing her and lingering. “I’m sorry. I want you. I want to make you feel alive. I want you here, right now. And I want--well, I’m not going to accept that promise.” Another laugh. “Those don’t end well, but I believe you and I understand you and I love you.” Another kiss. “And we’ve got a wedding and a life and a family to get to one day. Right now, we’ve got an hour.”

“Of course I want to ‘have’,” Morgan said. She’d wanted to ‘have’ all her life, and it was the bitterest truth of all that she couldn’t cash in her suffering for a pass to a kinder world where pain never cut too deep. “Badly, Deirdre. I want it so badly. And maybe someday we will. Maybe we’ll figure out the balance, or maybe we’ll find the softest, quietest place to hide as long as we want. We’ll make our world real. Maybe after this is over we’ll rest easy for months and it’ll be almost as good.” Morgan didn’t know if she believed her own words, or if she should. Maybe they wouldn’t hurt so badly or feel so hounded by the world if they accepted these turns as part of their fate. Maybe they could have a more reliable sense of safety, if they accepted that they never truly would be. But Morgan had never excelled at playing safe with her heart.

She eased them slowly down against the cushions of their prickly-soft couch. She touched a finger to Deirdre’s lips and lifted her eyes to meet her love’s. Just let me say one thing more. I know we’re losing something every second, but one thing more. “Don’t be sorry for wanting to ‘have’. And don’t ever think for another second that I don’t want that too.” She combed Deirdre’s hair down so it fell down other their faces and blocked out the room, the world, the whole stupid thing that wouldn’t let them be. She was a meadow of the finest grass and silk and simmered like the sun over an earthy river; proof that their world could be touched and maybe kept. Five-hundred years was a long time to try. “We’re just not there yet,” she mumbled, thumbing open her overalls one button at a time. “It’s on the other side of this mess. Now take me there.” Take me, while there’s still a me left to take.

#turn to loathed sours #wr deirdre #wr chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #medical blood tw

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 11 - Anonymous

_____

Jack opens the door, stepping aside to allow a pale girl with medium-length blonde hair into the small house. She's clad in slightly ripped jeans, a pair of sneakers, a maroon tank top, and a black jacket. In her hand is a plastic bag that looks to have been taken from some kind of store, and what resides inside isn't completely clear, although judging by the shape of the objects Y\n assumes it to be shoes. Her violet-grey eyes land on Jack, then shift over to Y\n, who remains leaning against the wall and watching the scene warily in front of her. 

She nods in silent greeting before walking through the door frame and into the living room, being followed by yet another girl, this one much younger and, instead of gripping a bag, a brown, old-looking teddy bear is tightly clutched within her arms. Her eyes are a bright, piercing shade of green, her chocolate-brown hair cascades over her shoulders and down her back. She wears a multi-colored hoodie splashed with shades of pink, lemony yellow, blue, and purple, and the hood itself has cotton cat ears attached to the hem. She has on a pair of black leggings, a pink mini-skirt, and rose-colored tennis shoes.

Faint freckles are scattered along her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose, and her gaze travels from the floor and up to Y\n as she tilts her head shyly. There's a kid here, too? Y\n furrows her eyebrows and glances between the three people now standing ahead of her, two of which she's never seen before in her life. She assumes the teen to be who Jack called 'Wisteria', but who the younger one is she hasn't a clue. She never heard a kid being mentioned, so the news is a bit surprising to her. 

That's when she takes notice of the blood slowly trickling down the side of her head, hidden previously by her long locks of hair, and dripping down onto her hoodie, forever staining the brightly-shaded piece of clothing with quite a large blotch of crimson. The child doesn't appear to be in any pain, but how would that be? If she had just been bashed in the head by some blunt object, how would she be able to ignore it? Come to think of it, how would she even be standing right now? Shouldn't she be knocked cold? 

Y\n's heart rate increases from concern, and she's tempted to comment on it or even lunge forward, pull the girl toward her and get her away from the two teens standing in front of the doorway. They don't seem even remotely worried about it, either because they're the ones that gave her the damage, or they just haven't taken notice of it yet. "What is Sally doing here?" Jack questions, shoving his hands into the pocket of his black hoodie and taking up a casual-looking posture. He doesn't sound mad, just curious, and perhaps a little surprised. 

Wisteria shrugs, wrapping a hand around her hair and slinging it across one of her shoulders. "Because she wanted to come."

"You couldn't have just left her with Ben or somethin'?" She shoots him a mildly annoyed expression. 

"Are you stupid? That'd be a terrible idea." 

"You've done it before."

"And that's a mistake I will never make, again." After a moment, Jack murmurs a half-hearted "okay, fine" in agreement before shutting the door and propping his back against its solid wooden surface. Wisteria briefly motions toward Y\n with a raised eyebrow. "This the girl?"

"I have a name," Y\n says, narrowing her eyes at the blonde and unable to stop glimpsing down at who she presumes is 'Sally', stomach churning with unanswered questions. She gets an impatient glance in return.

"I don't care," she responds, crossing her arms. Sensing a brewing disagreement, Jack interjects before it can go any farther. 

"Yes, this is Y\n. And Y\n, this is Wisteria and Sally." The young brunette takes a small step forward, bringing her hand up and giving Y\n a timid wave as she clings tighter onto her stuffed animal. 

"Hi..." Her voice is soft, so soft in fact that Y\n has to strain her ears just to hear and understand the words that leave her mouth. She offers the ghost of a smile in response, mostly one of concern for Sally's well-being. Who did that to her? Surely she didn't hit herself straight in the head, and even if she had, then she couldn't have made that big of an injury. She's just a kid, after all, no older than eight or nine, there's no way she could manage that kind of strength. Then again, there do seem to be some pretty...unusual people here. Is she one of them?

Wisteria stares her down as if studying her appearance, waiting for her to do something, silently judging her. Wisteria seems to be the only normal-looking person that Y\n has come across so far, save for the odd color of her eyes, though that can easily be overlooked. She'll still use it against her if she has to, though. 

Y\n shuffles on her feet uncomfortably, meeting the slightly taller girl's gaze and refusing to break contact for fear of looking weak. She is not weak, and she doesn't want anyone to think that she is. Jack runs his fingers through his hair, standing to his full height once more, and steps toward Wisteria. "So, you brought the stuff?"

Without looking away from Y\n, she nods. "Yeah, I did." A barely-noticeable, sly smirk etches itself across her face as she uncrosses her arms. "Here. Catch." Before Y\n can even blink, the bag of shoes is being launched at her head, and she only just catches it before it can hit her in the eye and temporarily blind her. Huffing indignantly, she holds the plastic bag by its handle and places a hand on her hip, glaring at Wisteria and earning a haughty grin in return. 

"Thanks." Her voice comes out in a sarcastic drawl, contemplating on throwing the bag back at her and giving her a taste of her own medicine. Instead, she focuses her attention on the child standing right beside Wisteria, then down to the large gash on her temple, unable to quell the curiosity about the unexplained wound and the worry for her safety. "What happened to your head, Sally?" She tries to keep her tone mild as she bends down a bit so she'll be closer to her height, as to not further intimidate her. Sally looks down nervously, stepping to the side until she's hidden partially by the taller girl's legs and the lower part of her torso. 

"I...It's, uh..."

"None of your business," Wisteria snaps, suddenly becoming defensive and putting an arm in front of Sally protectively. Y\n takes a stride forward, boldness swarming inside of her chest. 

"I'm not gonna stand aside and let some kid bleed to death while you're not doing anything about it."

"Alright, alright." Jack puts his arms out in front of him and steps between the two girls, facing Y\n with a peaceful tone to his voice. "Y\n, Sally isn't in danger."

Her eyes widen and she points at the green-eyed child mostly obscured by the larger frames of both Jack and Wisteria in exasperation. "Do you not see her head? Somebody clearly split it wide open!"

"Yes. Yes, they did." She presses her lips together and scowls at Jack, not understanding why he's acting so mellow about an eight-year-old kid being injured. "But that was a long time ago."

"So then why is it still bleeding?"

"Because it doesn't stop. It can't." Raising a skeptical and, distinctly confused eyebrow, she stares at him, waiting for him to continue the rest of his explanation. "Look... she isn't normal, not by a long shot. Not anymore."

"She doesn't need to know all of this, Jack," the blonde spits from behind him, though he only turns his head back to face her for a moment to say his reply. 

"If she's going to be staying here, yes, she does." He shifts his attention back onto Y\n, ignoring the scoff of protest that erupts from behind him. "And what I mean by that, is... she's not human anymore. She's a ghost."

A ghost? He's talking about ghosts, of all things now? How crazy is everyone? She's never been a strong believer in ghosts or hauntings or anything like that but considering everything that's been happening to her as of late, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to start believing that things like ghosts do exist. But to be a ghost...you'd have to die. Does this mean that Sally died? Come to think of it, that wound does look pretty fatal... 

"But ghosts aren't real," she says quietly, mainly to reassure herself that things like what he says are only in movies, and books, and TV shows. But are they, really? There has to be some reason that Sally isn't hurt by that exceedingly large gash in her head. Could that be why? Because she's already dead?

"They are, Y\n. That's why she isn't in pain." He points down toward Sally. "Because she's not alive, anymore." Y\n stares at Jack incredulously, then over to Sally, trying to process the information in her head. A dead person walking around? Like a zombie? Except, one major difference between Sally and a zombie is that Sally isn't currently trying to eat her alive. At least she's a friendly ghost, right? 

She blinks, finding herself not completely in-touch with her surroundings. Next Jack will be telling her that there are aliens from another world about to invade Earth and that they need some time-traveling machine to stop them. It wouldn't be a big surprise, at least not at this point. Okay, so ghosts are apparently real. Yeah, that makes sense.

Though she really can't understand how such an idea works, she figures that dwelling on the matter won't do her any good. Just go with it, right? It'll make it easier on herself if she doesn't think about how bizarre this whole situation is. She just has to keep her mind on more plausible explanations, but like what? She hasn't any other theories for everything that's been taking place lately, what more does she have to go off of? The best idea she has is that this is all one massive hallucination, but even that's a far stretch of her imagination at this point. It all feels too real to be imagined. 

Wisteria scoffs, rolling her vivid periwinkle eyes and drawing Y\n out of her hysteria of scrambled thoughts. "See? She can't even handle the simple truth." She furrows her eyebrows at the shorter girl still standing on the other side of Jack. "I still think we just shoulda killed her—"

"Wisteria." Jack cuts her off, voice austere as he shifts around to better face her. "That wouldn't have been a smart move."

"And why not?" She places a hand on her hip audaciously. "She wouldn't be our problem." He sighs in reply, shaking his head in disagreement. 

"You know why she's here. It's better for all of us this way." Y\n stares at the two with a look of mild disbelief—like, hello? They do know that she's still right here in front of them, yeah? She can tell that Jack is trying to at least be subtle, but Wisteria on the other hand just acts like she doesn't care at all. Which is likely the case. "Y\n," He looks back at her, "are you ready to go?"

"I don't want to go." She eyes Wisteria, backing up farther into the wall behind her. "I'm not living in some stranger's house." At least she's been acquainted with Jack prior to all of this, and she's been talking with him for the past little while so she feels the most comfortable with him. What if this 'Brian' person is as obnoxious and appalling as Jeff? Or even more so? She really doesn't want to deal with someone like that, much less stay with them. 

"Brian isn't going to hurt you, he's one of the most mature people here." Jack tries to sound reassuring for the most part, though it hardly works. "And Wisteria won't do anything either, she's just taking you to him." Y\n crosses her arms in protest, choosing not to verbally respond and instead send a stink eye his way. 

"Don't be afraid..." A soft voice erupts from below her, and she glances down to meet the green eyes of Sally, who had somehow walked closer to her without Y\n even realizing it. Her facial expression melts into one of compassion as she once again looks at the open gash still bleeding on her head. If the little girl trusts them, shouldn't she? 

Absolutely not. To be fair though, if Sally really is a ghost then they couldn't hurt her, anyway, so she wouldn't have a reason to fear them. Can she really trust her when she says not to be afraid? She could be in on it all, for crying out loud. Although, maybe she should be a bit more compliant just to see what happens. Other than kidnapping her among some other, more mild things, they haven't hurt her. Jack is the only one that's really even communicated with her, and as much as she hates to admit it, he's been nothing but patient with her since she woke up here. He didn't even seem to hold anything against her at the fact that she kneed him in a place no boy wants to be hit.

Plus, he provided her with an explanation for everything that's been happening. No one else had done that. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and releases an inaudible sigh from in-between her lips before turning and strolling down the hallway, stopping once she gets into the room she originally woke up inside. The broken glass that had been previously in front of the doorway seems to have been cleaned up, and she's more than grateful. It would suck stepping on shattered glass, it's a wonder she was able to avoid it to start with. Sitting on the bed, she takes the pair of shoes and a couple of old-looking socks out of the plastic store-made bag before beginning to slide them over her feet. 

She tries not to bump her ankle, though her attempts prove futile when the top of the sock constricts around it, making a bolt of pain shoot up her leg. "I hate that stupid dog..." she mutters, remembering the very recent sensation of a canine's teeth clamping down on her ankle and refusing to let go until his owner told him to. She rubs at the bandages, trying to give the inflicted area some kind of relief before pulling the shoes up and slipping them, too, on her feet. She ties the laces, inwardly rejoicing at the fact that the shoes aren't high-tops, otherwise, it would bring her even more pain. 

From the living room, Y\n can hear faint talking from who she assumes to be Jack and Wisteria, one of the voices slightly hostile and the other calm and collected. Well, what now? Go with Wisteria, she guesses, although she really doesn't have another choice. It isn't like she can run away in the state that her foot is in—she would surely be caught before she made it ten feet if even that. Jack said that Brian, whoever that is, won't harm her. Is he telling the truth? Who even knows. He's lied before, how can she be so sure that he isn't doing it again?

She shifts her gaze up from her shoes to the brunette girl standing in the doorway, looking a little timid though offering an affable smile nonetheless. She bounces on her heels, teddy clutched to her chest, and speaks. "Hi..."

Y\n tilts her head curiously, sitting properly once again and staring at the young girl. "Hi..." Sally slowly makes her way inside the room, face displaying innocence and a friendly desire. 

"There aren't many girls here," she says, eyes averting down to the floor shyly. "You'll be the fourth, if you stay..." 

"Fourth, huh?" She folds her hands into her lap tentatively. "Who's the third?"

"That's Zero...but she isn't here right now. So it's just me, and Sissy...and you." That comment makes her eyebrows furrow in mild puzzlement.

"Wait, Wisteria's your...your sister?" Y\n can't see any resemblance between the two, not even their eyes are the same color. And their personalities definitely seem different, with one being brash and the other being quiet and timid. Then again, having just met them she can't be too harsh of a judge but first impressions are everything. Sally parts her lips a moment as if she's about to say something only to cut herself off. She twirls a strand of long, brown hair around her finger as she collects her thoughts while Y\n waits patiently. 

"Well...no. Not really, but...she treats me like her little sister."

Makes sense, she thinks, She did seem pretty protective of her. 

"You're staying, right?" She steps a little closer, biting her lip hopefully. "Bad people are after you. They're after all of us. This is the only place we're safe."

"Sally...I have a family to get back to. They need me. I...I don't think I can stay here, not—not for long, anyway." Her facial expression falls, and she dips her head forward in what Y\n recognizes as discouragement. 

"Oh..."

"You can...come with me, if you want?" She can tell that Sally seems perfectly happy here, but it doesn't quite sit well with her that she's still in a place with multiple people that could have, and likely did, do very bad and illegal things before. "My grandparents would be happy to give you a place to stay."

Sally flashes her a look of mild disbelief, green eyes widening slightly before she shakes her head. "I'm not leaving. This is my home."

"Are you sure?" She nods in response. 

"And...and I don't think you should leave, either. I think you'd like it here if you gave it a chance."

"Sally...I don't belong here." Her voice lowers as she speaks, looking down and into the young girl's wide eyes. "I have a family back home, important people that I need to go back to."

"We all had a family at some point." She lowers her gaze to the floor, her tone becoming sheepish. "But...that was a long time ago." Y\n tilts her head. She knew that the people living here had to have some kind of backstories, though she never gave it much thought. Just how tragic is everyone that lives here? What happened to them to turn them into these...sadistic-looking things that likely have a natural lust for blood? "And now all we have is each other. We're our own family."

Not sure what to say, Y\n shifts a little on the edge of the bed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and biting the inside of her cheek. 

"The monster wants something from all of us. It wants you, too." She nibbles at her bottom lip. "If you stayed with us, you'd be safe. It can't get you here." Taking a small step forward, she avoids eye-contact shyly and squeezes the stuffed bear tighter to her chest. "And you could be part of our family."

Y\n parts her lips to respond, though before she gets a chance, Wisteria peeks her head through the door, eyes landing on Sally then over to the girl still sat on the bed currently conversing with her. She meets her mild glare, expression hardening at the intense look being thrown her way. "Sally, c'mon. We're leaving." 

She glances behind toward the blonde standing in the doorframe, then back at Y\n, her face lighting up slightly as a friendly smile spreads across her cheeks. "Yeah! You're gonna meet Brian. Don't worry—he isn't so crabby once you get to know him."

"Yes, he is," Wisteria says, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. Sally shakes her head, taking Y\n's hand somewhat hesitantly and beginning to drag her toward the door. Y\n complies reluctantly, walking slowly behind the small-framed brunette. 

"Not to me! He's only like that to you cause you're annoying." She scoffs and turns, disappearing from sight and heading outside. Sally glimpses up at Y\n as they begin to stride down the hallway. "He's nice, don't worry. He's just wary around new people."

Sounds like this 'Brian' dude isn't going to be too easy to get along with. Not that she's intending to try and 'get along' with anyone here, though it would be in her best interest to not make the people residing in this area hate her. As far as she's heard, they're not aiming to cause her any harm, but better safe than sorry, right? The last thing she'd want is to make one of them mad, especially the one with a smile carved in his face and an intimidating knife in the pocket of his hoodie. 

They soon step into the living room, Sally momentarily releasing her hold on Y\n's hand as she swiftly catches up with Wisteria, who is walking off the porch and glancing around, as if checking the surroundings for possible dangers. Y\n slows her pace when she gets in front of Jack, meeting his oozing, soulless pits attentively. "There are no more dogs, right?"

He curtly shakes his head. "Brian isn't big on dogs. Smile's the only one here." He shoves his hands into his pockets, noticing the look of disdain on her features and attempting to bring her a sense of reassurance. "I'll be over in a couple of days to check on your bite. Until then, medicate and dress it each night before you go to bed. He should have plenty of resources to work with."

"That's comforting," she mutters, briefly averting her eyes down to her bandaged ankle, partly hidden by her shoes but still in clear sight if one were to look closely enough. 

"I know you don't want to be here. I get it. But if you want your grandparents to be safe, you'll have to stay put, or get out and get them killed and possibly yourself, too." His voice has a solemn sound to it, his deep tone contributing to the daunting factor.

"Y\n, come one!" Sally calls from outside, drawing Y\n's attention and making her release a defeated huff. 

"I'll see you, I guess," she says quietly, gaze falling to the ground before following the two girls, Sally taking hold of her hand once again when she steps onto the ground. The very same ground that she had run across just an hour prior in a rushed attempt to escape, and could have succeeded had it not been for Jeff and his stupid dog. Merely thinking about the series of unfortunate events, she's unable to stop from glancing down at the bandaged area in which Smile chomped down upon in order to catch and bring her back here, where exactly 'here' is, she still hasn't figured out. In the middle of a forest, obviously, but in the middle of what forest? Where is she at? What state, what area is she in?

Wisteria takes a sharp turn left, beginning to stroll in-between the tall trees, some skinny and some quite large, and Sally follows suit, dragging behind a nervous and mildly resistant Y\n by her hand. After a moment, she hears a soft click from the house, signifying that Jack closed the door and is likely in the process of forgetting about her and her miserable situation. 

Figures. "So...do you not like dogs?" The question takes Y\n a little off-guard, and she meets the curious eyes of the curly-haired girl walking in front of her, still clinging to her hand gently.

"Um...well, I never really minded them, but...that was before one of them John Cena'd me earlier so now, I'm not so sure." She shrugs, and Sally grows a knowing look on her face. 

"Are you talking about Smile?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm talking about Smile." She inwardly winces as her left foot lands inside of a shallow hole, stumbling slightly and having to take a moment to gather her bearings. She hopes that they don't have to walk too much farther before they come upon Brian's house, not that she's looking forward to meeting another freak, but because if she has to stand on her leg all day then it's going to be throbbing very badly. 

"Smile's usually a really sweet dog. He may just not like you."

"Yeah, cause his owner is a huge jerk."

"You mean Jeff? Yeah, he's kinda mean." 

What a shocker. 

"A couple days ago he replaced the sugar with salt and it tasted terrible on my Rice Krispies." She makes a moderately disgusted face, scrunching up her nose and reliving the memory. Y\n furrows her eyebrows.

"Did he?"

"Yeah. Wisteria made him leave and threw my Barbie doll at his head..." The image of Jeff having some kid's Barbie being yeeted at his face and hitting him in the eye or some other important area almost has her smiling bitterly, eyes shifting down to her ankle once more and reminding her how much pain he just recently caused her, unnecessarily. 

"What was...Jeff, doing at your house?" 

"He was over to return something that he borrowed before," Wisteria suddenly speaks from ahead of them, not looking back and continuing to walk through the expansion of woods. "There's no way I'd allow him to come otherwise. And for the record, that Barbie doll was a piece of trash anyway. I was just putting it in the garbage where it belonged."

Y\n snorts quietly at that comment, not expecting the sudden insult toward someone who isn't even currently present though definitely not disagreeing. Through her brief encounter with the blue-eyed male, he did not seem like a favorable person by any standards, and as much as she'd hate to admit it, he is frightening and she wouldn't want to cross him. He's a big dude and there's no way she'd stand a chance against him, especially not with her leg the way it is.

"Well...we're here." Y\n looks up and sees yet another house, this one also shrouded with plants and vines likely to obscure its appearance from anyone who may stumble across it, assuming they actually didn't get caught by the psychopaths that live here and made it out alive, oblivious to their existence. It isn't very big, the paint is chipped and faded, and there's a barbed-wire fence surrounding the outside of it. 

Sally grins up at Y\n excitedly. "Welcome to Brian's house!"

#Creepypasta #creepypasta x female reader #y\n l\n #sally willliams #hoody #brian thomas #wisteria everest #creepypasta oc #eyeless jack #creepypasta fanfic #x reader fanfic #jeff the killer

[starlightshadowsworld]

I don't understand the Prophecy of the seven

The prophecy of the seven isn't new, it's been foretold for years but suddenly its happening now.

Unlike the first Great prophecy, which was pretty self explanatory as to who it was about. Percy was the child of of the eldest God's who reached 16 despite everything going on, saw Manhattan asleep. And Luke's broken promise cursed Annabeth's blade which was used to kill him and Kronos. This being the decision that would either destroy or preserve Olympus.

That's good writing, very Chekovs gun and makes sense. It feels like a complete story.

But the Prophecy of the seven just refers to 7 half bloods. Which could be absolutely anyone, Infact some Roman demigod believed it was him years ago.

And no offence to the seven I love them very much but they are kinda... Eh...

Percy is Percy and also plot.

Annabeth is Annabeth and also plot

Jason is Praetor, son of Jupiter and stuff.

But than you have Piper who's a rich shoplifter without realising it, Frank who yes is a legacy of Poisideon with a cool gift but he's also been decreed to live a short life with it tied to a stick... Soo there's that. Leo who yes has fire powers but he probably maybe traumatised by them, and Hazel who's a cursed Zombie witch.

... Soo not the most promising sounding line up. Especially when you have people who are brand knew to this life with no training. Especially when you have many people who seem more capable like Clarisse.

Honestly just feels like Juno just picked whoever she deemed worthy. Although she did pick em VERY earlier on and even babysat Leo and stuck him in a fire place...

For reasons...? (Also ignoring the ethical stuff he was fireproof soo....why stick him in a fire place?)

Also that means she must've known Percy's parentage if she did have this info... But didn't tell her husband...or anyone that such a thing had happened when to there knowledge Olympus could've been destroyed.

For reasons...?

Also the seven themselves aren't enough to defeat Gaea, Nico and Reyna and play very crucial roles so it's kinda confusing why they weren't included (?)

It honestly just feels like we were given a bunch of hastely thrown together characters and a reason as to why they were important instead of actually allowing us to get to know them, who they are and why they are so important regardless of powers or status...and that because of that they must all get along instead of actually seeing them form bonds and watch em argue over relationships for 5 books...

Wait a sec...

And I gotta say, I love Percy but if he's so amazing and special... And that powerful... Why does he need 5 other demigods (ain't mentioning Annabeth cos she'd be there obviously) to help fight Gaea? At 12 he 1 V 1 Ares... yeah Gaea's a lot stronger than Ares but Percy is very powerful and was actually invincible with the Styx stuff minus that one spot. Could've just added a few godly gifts and streamed that over Hepheastus TV.

Doesn't really make sense why he'd need 5 others to help him. Maybe hold his armour?

But Star they wouldn't be helping him, they are the 7, they are equals in strength and ability and need to unite via the prophecy to defeat Gaea. Percy can't soley defeat Gaea in the same way he couldn't fulfill the last prophecy alone, the reason way the Avengers were formed, they can't defeat her alone because its not enough. It needs to be all of them working together, chosen because they've proven themselves prior to be apart of this. Because they are the strongest demigods of their generation and the fate of the world depends on them.

Said no one...

Well... Cept me cos I did just now.

And if it was said it was most certainly not executed that way. HOO is essentially Percy, Annabeth and... These side kicks.

Haven't even mentioned the whole, no one not even the characters knew who was "to storm of fire the world will fall" "oath to keep with a final breathe" and than Leo is somehow both and dies?

But he doesn't?

And finds a girl friend... Least the series ended with what was the most pressing thing for it.

Anyway now I'm imagining 12 year old Percy to go waltzing into a McDonald's car park to go beat up Gaea...

Also also actually actually... Gaea kills Leo's mum but than doesn't do anything after till HOO? She can do that but giving someone a papercut or a minor injury to get blood from them is too much for her, I get that she's asleep but okay.

Anyway I'm done ranting now 😂 I love HOO but man is it confusing.

#Percy Jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #piper mclean #hazel levesque #frank zhang #leo valdez #nico di angelo #reyna avila ramirez arellano #heroes of olympus

[downywrites]

Bird is back, but bird wrote not funny stuff. It is Sap.

random angst, no tickles LMAOO tw: death, blood, losing control?? RIP y’all have all the angst for now HAHA

Don’t worry though, I will be back with tickle stuff eventually lol

Sapnap is not happy with the rain.

Sapnap always knew he was different from the others. Everytime they would scream when a smolder of flame erupted from him in a fit of fury. The snarls of rage that sent people cowering, even when he furiously apologized. The feeling of animosity that was mutually shared between him and everyone’s pets. (“Don’t you dare hurt Squeeks!” “He looked at me funny!”) The fact that he couldn’t sleep in the same bedsheets as the others. The sound of the pouring rain framed his thoughts perfectly. He stared up through a hole in the roof of the cave, hissing when a few stray drops landed on his face. Paying them little to no heed, he moved closer. The stinging feeling felt grounding, calming almost. He sighed. ‘When had my life come to this?’ When had it, really?

Unfortunately, he could not recall. Life was a blur outside of training, outside of sparring, outside of pain. Out of all the memories, his best ones were full of pain. Pain from losing one he loved, dull and muted behind the curtains of affection from another. Pain emanating from his right side, rippling throughout his body, when that loved one finally left his mark forever, tears rolling down his face, his pickaxe scar. A ring, broken. Water pouring over his form, hissing as it bubble on his skin. The bittersweet memories reminded him of when people failed to see him as a hostile mob, as an outsider. No, they saw him as the enemy- the human enemy. “What a twisted way to see things.” The rain pattered on, unknowing and uncaring of the hissing, burning tracks rolling down the blaze’s cheeks. “Since when did my life revolve around...them?” He had never noticed. The subtle way Dream manipulated him into leaving his husbands’ sides, the way he pocketed his ring ‘for safekeeping'...the tears burned white-hot marks. And Sapnap loved it. He loved every bit of it, almost too much. “Wh-what...is wrong with me?”

Claws gripped at his hair. Was it his? A zombie’s? He didn’t care. He wanted the pain, craved it. The grip tightened. Sapnap sobbed, a fake (not fake) smile coming to his face. Stone dripped, making a harmonious noise on the floor next to his ripped up shoes. Sapnap didn’t care. For once in his life, he didn’t feel any resentment over the rain. He wanted more, more pain, more suffering. He wanted it to end. He stumbled towards the mouth of the cave, muted sounds roaring to life in his ears. A voice in the back of his mind wondered where the zombie beside him went. At the mouth of the cave, the difference in noise was enormous. Water rained down like a never ending torrent, washing away the torches. Mobs struggled to their feet, trying to move towards the hybrid. He winced at the sound of the chaos. ‘It’ll do.’ Crazed eyes met empty hollows. He surged forward, rain pouring onto his skin, ripping and melting like acid to a human’s flesh-

“-ap. Sap?”

“Ay, hombre. You good?”

“He’s not waking up...No, he has to.”

“Por favor, mi tesoro. Please…”

A gasp. Eyes, red-orange like the fire he was born from, snapped open, wide in shock, fear, and maybe a little bit of disappointment. The sudden movement was certainly not expected. Marigold wings fluttered in shock, flapping up and down quickly in rapid succession and making the whole room feeling like a miniature air tunnel. Sapnap felt that first. The high-pitched, almost feminine shriek came second. The whine of tinnitus pierced his eardrums. He clutched at his ears, appendages twitching like mad and trying to fold in (as if they can). Soft, gentle hands rubbed at his temple, carding through his hair. The blaze, unknowing who or what it was, pushed into it, low purr catching in his throat through the noise. “Sap, are you okay?” A quiet whisper softened the whining for a moment. Memories flashed through his mind. Calming words. Soothing stories. Ticking. Stopwatch….

“K-karl?” Sapnap regretting the words the second they came out. His throat screamed bloody murder. Both of the people in the room froze, deathly still. “Sap, you re-remember us?” A small blossom of hope bloomed in his voice. Confused, Sapnap pulled away from the hand, a small seed of disappointment adding flavor to his frown. “Of course I do...did I do something?” His senses, dulled from the tendrils of sleep, snapped awake. Nomad instincts sparking to life, he eyes his surroundings warily, mapping everything out with careful planning.

As far as he was concerned, it was his room. Everything was perfectly placed, perfectly positioned as if it was his room. The posters of random bands stuck up on the walls, the trash that he couldn't always bother to pick up, the slightly-charred journals he kept just in case of emergencies- all there. The boards full of hints to items- famous red string dangling precariously atop their pushpin perches- all there. The only thing that felt off then, was.. He looked down to the bedsheets, clawed hand massaging the fabric. It was soft, textured gently, as if someone had kept it with care and weaved it with the nimble hands of a spider. The texture underneath his fingers was heavenly. It felt lush, fresh, as if nobody had ever used it before. And that was what made him worried. Since when did he have sheets this soft? Karl gave him a quick peck on the cheek, eyes glancing down quickly to assess a possibility of what he was thinking. “Ah, the sheets? Well, we thought you’d like them. Those old fireproof sheets weren’t very nice, after all.” Quackity, finally calming down from his birdlike startle, snorted obnoxiously. “Yeah right. Karlos over here just wants to bed you in comfort.”

The resulting slap earned a loud yelp and a “Rude.” from the avian. Sapnap’s guard stayed up, even as he chuckled. The lightness in his chest clashed with the iron feeling of his emotional walls. He ignored it, focusing on the way his husband’s rings glimmered in the soft fairy lights. Their rings...He pushed himself up further. When had he pushed himself up? Prime, he didn’t know. But that didn’t matter. “You...you have them on? The rings?” Against his will, his tail wagged behind him, pitch black on the red-white sheets. Karl and Quackity turned back to him, confusion inked on their faces. The time traveler tilted his head, dangling clock earring swinging from side to side like a pendulum. “What? Sap, did something happen?” He strode back over to his side, cradling his face gently. He rubbed a single finger on the edge of his chin, getting a slightly giggly purr from the blaze. “I know that Dream said you had an injury out on that really long mission, but-” The purr stuttered to a halt. His vocal chords rumbled, as if he was speaking deeply. The alarm in his voice, however, raised the pitch by a few octaves.

“He said what?” Hesitantly, Karl pulled his hand away from his face, using it to shift a watch on his wrist aimlessly. “Dream said that you had a concussion and you passed out in the middle of the battlefield. He said he took the ring off of you to keep it safe from any pilferers in the hospital...do you remember that?” Alarm set his walls on fire. In a fit of emotions, the lava that filled his soul roared to life, filling the nooks and crannies of the stone and melting it back into the state it originally formed in. He growled, a noise that sent shivers down the other’s spines. Steam rolled out of his mouth like a pot at a roiling boil. He gritted his teeth, letting it escape in two twin trails of steam. They curled and lapped at his lips. “That’s not what happened. He told me that he would have it for safekeeping. He told me and- and-” All at once, the fire stopped. The lava slowed, rolling back to where it came from. The cracks in the walls stayed put, though, crumbling in places it was weakest. Sapnap’s focus snapped back to Karl and Quackity. Fire flickering and lapping on his fingertips, he growled again.’What did he do to me? Something’s wrong…” “Sap, it’s okay. Memory loss and replacing is normal for this type of injury and-”

Sapnap cut Karl off with a snarl. “I didn’t get a concussion! He’s tricking you, all of you! I can’t believe you’re falling for this!” Losing control, he felt himself whisper under his breath. Karl recoiled, a look of fear flashing across his face. Genuine fear. The tension of the scene cut though everyone like ice. The feeling of fire lapping at his skin did not feel comforting to the others at the moment. Karl scrambled to get away from the snarling hybrid, eyes wide as saucers. He ran to Quackity, hugging him tightly. Wings enveloped his form, hiding him from sight. “Sapnap. What are you doing? We’re only trying to help-”

“Liar. Dirty cheating liar.” Wing-ears pulled backwards, a look of shock glazing over his countenance. Never, in all of the years they had been lovers, had Sapnap ever called him a liar. He called him a swindler, a casino junkie, sure. All jokes. But a liar? A cheater? Tears pricked at his eyes. Luckily, his casino skills saved the day. His face morphed from sadness to neutral in an instant, albeit a little more guarded than before. “What are you talking about? I-I never cheated on you-” “Liar!” Sapnap’s look of fury silenced his usually timely retort. The flames that had danced on his fingertips were no longer small, nor were they gentle, like they usually were. They spiraled all over his arms now, morphing into him naturally. The underparts of his skin glowed, veins pumping glowstone-colored blood throughout his body. The mere sight of this form, this unfamiliar man that sat in front of them, sent their heartbeats into a frenzy. But this wasn’t the man they loved. No, his eyes burned with a rage better left to rot.

His teeth, yellowed from eating a little too much junk food, no longer looked like a part of Sap. It looked like it came straight from a horror movie. His fangs dripped with malie, looking more and more like the maw of a great, angry dragon rather than their seething husband. A small wavery voice came from the mound of feathers. “S-sappy? It that you? O-or-” A sob. Tears. It meant tears. Tears meant pain. Pain… Sapnap struggled to rein his emotions in. It felt like a cage he could never close, an animal he could never herd. He pulled at it, struggling to hold it back from doing the thing it wanted to do the most.

‘Kill. Revenge. Death. They will pay.’

‘No, no, no! It’s Dream! Dream made them think this, they didn’t do anything! Please!’

But no matter how much he begged, the fury never wavered. It never stopped flowing. Little, by little, by little, the dam broke. The wall that he took so much time to build, so much effort to keep safe, crumbled beneath the onslaught of fire and beast and blood and hostile within him.

“Sappy, please!”

A final cry for help, from the person who could save them. A final cry to the person inside of his body. But Dream’s puppet strings remained, keeping him trapped. The very strings that held his hostility back held him back. Tears sprung to his eyes. The burning, hissing steam blurring his vision. He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see it.

Blood splattered on the floor. Whose was it? He didn’t want to know anymore. A broken sob ripped out of his vocal chords. He hung limp. What had happened? He didn’t know anymore. He wanted help, needed help. The strings tugged gently at his arms, as if to comfort him. The hissing of tears running down his face kept him awake.

And on the floor, two hands laid side by side with one another, clutching at each other and laying on top of each other. It was almost as if they were simply lying still. But the glimmer of blood on their matching rings said otherwise.

On the day of discovery, Sapnap was nowhere to be found. But the rain, oh, the rain kept on pouring. After all, nature cares not about what happens to the poor blazes who get caught in it, do they?

Bruhhh this is so bad and so random help LMAOOO

#oof #my writing #downy writes #this will be unlisted lol #I just wanted to get back into the swing of things #and plot holes #galore #i'm not even going to list this as a tickle fic #it's not #dsmp angst??? #dsmp angst #yes #dsmp fic

[one-boring-person]

Only Traitors Consort With The Damned. (Part Ten)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: blood, mentioned death, injury, gun violence

Context: The SRS have finally arrived, in time for Halloween.

A/N: This is a little bit late, but it's slightly Halloween themed, so I hope that it's still alright! Spot the reference I "accidentally" left in there😉😅

Masterlist

Eerie music plays from hidden speakers as the costumed crowd ambles by, children screaming and laughing as scare actors jump out at them, the variety of zombies, witches and mummies, not to mention vampires, too, astounding, movie characters and even some book characters making appearances around every turn, familiar and unfamiliar lines being spoken to cheerful bypassers. Painted masks and faces litter the mixed throng of people, the twinkling, orange-cast lights throwing the crevices of each visage into sharper definition, ghoulish grins becoming longer, twisted grimaces becoming even more painful, the many slashers roaming the Boardwalk now covered in a blacker blood than before, each fake knife, axe and machete lathered in the stuff. A sickly sweet odour lingers in the air as sweets and chocolate are passed around, often accompanied by a smoking joint, or sachet of some other high-class substance, the strong reek of sweat providing an unpleasant undertone as the stifling costumes heat their wearers despite the late October chill.

As a child, I used to love Halloween. There was always something enchanting about it: you could become anything, or anyone you wanted for the night, and no one would question you on your choice, or look at you oddly because everyone was doing the same. A cheery atmosphere always seemed to hang over the annual event, the leading pumpkins that glittered along the streets and the creative decorations building up the necessary excitement over the weeks before the 31st; a fun game of mine had been to run down the streets of my hometown and count every pumpkin we could see, separately, and see who had the highest tally at the end of the day. Once the winner had been decided, they'd get first dibs on the treats handed to us at each door when we later went Trick-Or-Treating, a rule which drew many arguments to the table when we eventually compiled our loot.

Now, as I watch the roaming children, all I can think of is how easy it is for the supernatural to wreck havoc on this night, given that the spiritual veil is much thinner than usual, and no one suspects anyone of the authenticity of their outfit until it's too late. On his night, the SRS always have their hands full, meaning everyone is deployed, not just the normal Hunters: the retired Soldiers still capable of fighting, Clean-Up teams and A.R.O (Aftermath Recon Operatives) Soldiers all made to help out with the bloody massacres that occur all over the country. The holiday has a morbid side that no one sees, and there's always a high body count the next morning.

Beside me, Marko pushes and shoves at people that come too close, the vampire loudly criticizing any costume made to look like his species, his "improvements" just a little too specific to be joking ones, not quite realising that I'm not listening to him. Instead, I'm scanning the crowds, looking out for the tell tale uniform and tactics used by the SRS Clean-Up teams, eyeing any suspicious person keenly until they prove to me they aren't a threat, often earning me harsh stares from their companions. The two of us look out of place in our "normal" clothing, neither of us dressing up, as we forgot that it was, in fact, the 31st, meaning a costume would've provided a good disguise in case we do come across any dangers. Even as we walk, I bite at my lip, feeling very exposed in my current state, my fists clenching at my sides as I try to stop myself from fidgeting too much, knowing that a nervous disposition is a great disadvantage in a fight, should one break out.

"Hey can we get something to eat? I kinda want some food." Marko suddenly asks me, not waiting for my reply as he pulls me over to a nearby sweet stand, the vampire excited by the prospect of buying the sugary treats.

Uneasy, I stand and turn back to the crowd, watching each face closely, my gut starting to feel odd as I notice something odd about a certain few members of the crowd. Eyes widening in realisation, I grab the back of Marko's coat and drag him away from the stand and into the alley behind it, ignoring his protests as I clap a hand over his mouth.

"Be quiet." I command him in a low voice, giving him a warning look as I slowly take my hand away from his mouth.

"What are you doing?" He hisses at me, eyes narrowed.

"They're here." I respond, looking out at the crowd as I try to figure out what to do, thinking over my options until I notice that someone has spotted us over here; someone who I've already identified.

As I watch, they start to make their way over to the stand, casually wading through the people around them as they try to look inconspicuous, though the mere sight of them makes my pulse hitch.

Thinking quickly, I grab the front of Marko's jacket and pull him closer, pressing my back to the wall as I lean closer to his face, ignoring his shocked expression.

"Kiss me, quick!" I order him, wrapping my hands around his neck as he splutters slightly.

"What?"

"Do it!" I growl, pulling him closer.

Still shocked, the vampire leans in and presses his lips to mine, carefully kissing me until I yank on his hair, silently asking him to be a little more rough, to which he responds by shoving me harder into the wall, his hands gripping my hips much tighter. Groaning slightly, I momentarily forget why we're in this situation, letting myself enjoy the rough kisses as he ravishes my mouth with his tongue, only opening my eyes again to look briefly over his shoulder at the Boardwalk, noticing that the person is no longer there. Knowing this, I let the kiss come to its natural end, before pulling away.

"Thanks..." I say, awkwardly, blushing as he reluctantly lets me go, the vampire clearly wanting more as he allows his hand to linger at my hip a little longer than necessary.

"No problem." He wipes his mouth, grinning at me as he regains his composure, "What did you need it for?"

"One of them was coming over here, and it was the first thing I could think of." I admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Right." Marko lifts an eyebrow, smirking, "How did you know it was one of them?"

I laugh, dryly, gesturing with my head for him to follow me back out into the crowd.

"Well, back in New Orleans, the head of the SRS realised one Halloween that our Soldiers need a disguise for this particular night, without being too conspicuous, so that they fit in but can also be recognised by each other. She decided that the mask of a plague doctor would be fitting. She said it works for us, because we're ridding the world of a "plague", just as they were." I roll my eyes, "Obviosuly, this makes them very easy for me to spot them, seeing as I used to dress up the same way."

"Oh, right." Marko nods, understandingly, evidently sending some mental explanation to the rest of the vampires, who are stationed around the Boardwalk.

"You can tell them apart, because they have a golden cross engraved just below the right eye on the mask, so we don't get mixed up with others." I clarify for him.

"Good to know." He frowns, "Did you say she decided? As in the head of the SRS is a girl?"

I nod, a little annoyed by the question, but knowing where he's coming from.

"Yep. Her name is Valentine Fletcher. She's the best fighter we've ever had and has the largest body count of all. Not even the Generals around the world come close to her efficiency, she's just too good. I've met her once, and she was also one of the most stuck-up princesses I've ever come across."

"I guess that's why she's the leader, then." Marko chuckles, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"Excuse me." An unfamiliar voice interrupts us, a hand placing itself firmly on my shoulder as I turn around to face the person. My heart drops as I take in the eerie black beak-shaped mask, the golden cross glittering under the right eye as they catch the lights, the cloaked figure keeping a strong grip on my arm.

"Can I help you?" I ask, getting ready to run as Marko notices the cross, too.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could come with me." The Soldier says, though the tone in her voice is much more demanding, informing me that there is, in fact, no choice.

"I'd rather not." Without a second thought, I slam my arm into her elbow, snapping it inwards as she lets out a surprised cry, allwoig me time to duck under her and and push past her, sprinting away into the crowd with Marko hot on my heels.

Five loud gunshots sound behind us, the Soldier having shot at us with a hidden gun through the crowd, screams and shouts of fear and panic suddenly tearing through the air as the atmosphere suddenly becomes too real, the bullets smashing into the ground behind the two of us terrifying the costumed Boardwalk-goers. Instantly, the crowd around us starts pushing and shoving each other, the heaving current of people now pushing us along as they scramble to get to safety, arms flailing and legs kicking as they go, slowing our progress significantly. Growling in frustration, I pull Marko to the side, intending to reach the alley again, wincing when there are two more shots behind us, though I make it to safety without a scratch. It's only when I hear Marko's laboured breathing that I realise he wasn't so lucky.

"Shit, Marko, are you going to be alright? Can you keep moving?" I ask him, being to figure out where he was shot as he starts to sway on his feet, eyes drooping closed as the pain starts to eat away at him. Grimacing, I swiftly scan the area, spotting a large bin a little way away, which I drag him over to.

"Get in there and close the lid, you'll be safe." I tell him, opening it and giving him a leg up into the reeking interior, helping him settle as quickly as I can, before I go to move again, "I'll be back."

With one last look at him, I firmly shut the lid and start running down the alley, taking as many winding corners as I can, hoping to throw them off as I start to hear pounding footsteps behind me, shouts and calls seemingly coming from everywhere as I start to breathe harder, my pulse pounding in my ears. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, giving me the speed I need to get away from my pursuer, the air rushing harshly into my throat as I turn down another backroad.

A sudden gunshot, followed by a spike of agony in the back of my knee brings me to the floor, my body crashing into a discarded car as it rolls awkwardly to a halt, groans of pain swiftly starting to leave me. Gripping at the new wound on my leg, I try to force myself upright again, only to be kicked back to the ground again by a cloaked figure, who keeps kicking until I'm cowering on the ground, blood pouring down my face. When they are finished, they reach down and force me into a standing position, half-dragging me out of the alley and to the car park conveniently placed by the mouth of the road, where a circle of similarly clad people are waiting, the forms of three kneeling people visible in the dim light of the streetlights. Pulling me over to them, my attacker throws me to the ground in the centre of the circle, manhandling me onto my knees, drawing a small cry of pain from me.

Looking around at the three kneeling people, I feel my heart stop as I instantly recognise them: David, Dwayne and Paul, the three of them bloodied and beaten, burn marks littering their faces from the holy water that was most likely used on them. Horror and guilt flood me as I see them, David's head coming up so he can make eye contact with me, his blue eyes filled with hate and anger.

"Are we all here now?" Someone asks, their voice unfamiliar to me.

"No, there is one more." A voice calls from a little way away, Marko soon being forced onto his knees beside Paul as he is dragged into the light. The vampire is pale now, dark circles appearing under his eyes as his vampiric features break through, his body trying to keep itself from shutting down as he slowly bleeds out, the bullet wounds still oozing the crimson stuff out onto his shirt.

"Ok, that's everyone, we can get started." The person speaks again, this time sounding more decisive.

"(Y/n) (Y/l/n), you have been arrested for conspiring with the enemy, and for shooting a senior officer, willingly, instead of a vampire that was held hostage. Do you accept these charges?" Someone else says, the voice somewhat familiar, though I don't remember where from.

Knowing it is pointless to resist, I lower my head to my chest and reply.

"I do."

"And you are aware of the punishments that these crimes bring upon you?"

"I am."

"And they are?"

I take a deep breath, my muscles tense as I try to ignore the pain in my body.

"Execution on the sight of capture." I recite robotically, knowing them well.

"Good, you remember some form of honour." They sneer, before addressing the rest of the gathered Soldiers, "Are there any volunteers among us who would like to carry out the deed?"

"I do." My blood runs cold at the sound of the voice, my head lifting to look up at the Hunter that has stepped forwards.

"Elijah Forsyth, you wish to perform the necessary execution of (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?" The first speaker questions, confirming the name to me even as they take off their mask.

Instantly, the cold blue eyes lock with mine, the dark-haired Hunter giving me a poisonous look as he limps over to me.

"I do."

"Then it shall be so. Do what you must."

With those words, Elijah steps over to me, drawing a gun from his belt and cocking it deliberately, maintaining eye contact as he lowers it to my forehead.

As the weapon is brought to my skin, I keep my chin up, refusing to feel bad about the actions that brought me here in the first place. Without a word, I accept the fate that will befall me.

Part Eleven

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys) #kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys) #dwayne(the lost boys) #santa carla #marko(the lost boys) #star(the lost boys)

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Whumptober Day 27: I’ll be Right here, Bud

Summary: Written for Whumptober Day 27. Httyd Zombie AU. What happens when the abandoned house you're waiting for your friends is in the middle of an area that happens to be hit by an earthquake on the one day you happen to be there? What happens when there also so happens to be a very poorly treated pipe that has decided to burst and has slowly been eating away at the street that house happens to be on? Nothing good as Hiccup and Toothless soon find out.

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: None

Words: 1 752

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Earthquake

Whumpee: Hiccup, Toothless

Author’s Notes: Not too happy with this one, there's a chance this might be overly dramatic. I have absolutely no idea what earthquakes are like.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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The first sign that something is wrong comes from Toothless. He can sense that something is about to happen, that there is something not quite right with the very earth that they live on.

Resting on the floor by a worn couch in a neglected living room, his eyes snap open and his head shoots up. Breathing rapidly, he can feel it coming, can sense the early rumblings like only a dragon can.

An earthquake is coming.

Looking towards the couch, he can see his Rider lying on top of it, eyes closed. He may be asleep, he may simply be resting.

Hiccup is often tired. Toothless has always known him that way, as someone who is often tired for several different reasons. So unlike the others, he doesn't really partake in scavenging, choosing to recharge instead.

But as much as Toothless wishes him all the time to recuperate, he really needs to get his ass up.

So Toothless grabs him by his plaids and pulls him right off the couch, causing him to wake up by the hard fall on the floor.

"Toothless! What was that for?!" Hiccup groans, rolling onto his back and first almost missing his Bud's trying to bite down toothlessly on his arm to pull him up and out of the house.

"Bud? Toothless, what's wrong?" When he asks, that's when the earthquake starts.

The home they're in starts to rumble and shake. The chandelier overhead quickly and violently swings from right to left, picture frames fall from the wall, knickknacks strewn about tumble to the ground. The sound of glass and dishes breaking in the kitchen joins in.

Realizing what's going on, Hiccup climbs to his feet, holding onto his dragon as it's otherwise impossible to gain any sort of balance in these tremors.

Wanting to be out of the house and into the safety of the sky, Hiccup and Toothless make their way to the front door. But the house isn't planning on letting them leave so easily.

Without warning, the floor in the short hallway starts to give beneath Toothless and the Night Fury, not wanting to see his Rider be hurt, grabs hold of his shirt and all but flings out onto the street, just barely missing the frame of the front door.

The pavement isn't kind on his skin, scraping him all over, but that is the least of Hiccup's concerns as he looks back on all fours and finds his dragon is no longer in sight.

"Toothless!" He cries out and struggles to his feet, but then another surprise shows its ugly face. A hollow pocket beneath the street opens up and before Hiccup's wobbly legs can take him safety, it gives out under him, too, and he's left to tumble his way down, only coming to a halt in dirty water.

And then the rumbling stops and it has barely been a minute.

It's hard to see from his point of view, but a portion on their part of the street has just gone, all because of an already much too long neglected pipe having his final blow some years ago.

Groaning in pain, Hiccup is certain he's hit his head at least a couple of times and he's sure that was his left knee he felt pop out of place.

Not too worry, he'll push it back in place himself. What he's worried about is using that leg to get out of his hole and into Toothless'. That his Bud must've fallen into a basement or something is the only explanation he can think of why Toothless is suddenly nowhere to be found.

Spitting out grimy water, Hiccup carefully moves onto his side.

"Toothless?! Toothless, are you okay, Bud?" He yells out and hopes to be heard.

Only a second passes before Toothless roars back, followed by the sound of wood and brick being moved. And then, there is a second howl, this time one of pain.

Hiccup tries not to let it get to him. He pants, heart racing from the event, and realizes that he's going to have to get himself out, into Toothless' didge, and help him get out and all with a dislocated leg.

Though this kind of life hardens a person, Hiccup has never been the one to tolerate much pain. That he experiences so much of it with his leg surprisingly doesn't help. Knowing that his best friend is hurt is a good motivator, however.

"I should be preparing for uni or something. I should have my dad on my case about my grades because "you're such a bright boy with good brains, Hiccup, use them!" But no, instead I have to climb out of a sinkhole in a post-apocalyptic world because this city was apparently LOUSY with the upkeep of their streets." He groans and complains as he painstakingly slowly gets onto his back and into a sitting position, frustrated by his predicament.

A sigh leaves him in relief as that's over with. And then he looks at his knee.

He can't quite see it with his pants on, but he can feel that it's out of place. It burns.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you see it, he has enough experience with his left leg dislocating that he can pop it back in himself.

He manages to make the toes of his prosthetic face upwards and then he painfully bends his knee until it reaches his chest and then unfolds it again. And he repeats this until he can feel the knee pop back into place and a short cry leaves him.

He trembles and takes a moment to let the pain settle. He hates needing to reset that leg.

Toothless cries out for Hiccup.

"Yeah, I hear you, Buddy! I'm coming!" He calls back to him and finds the strength in him to struggle up to his feet. He'll have to crawl out of this sinkhole somehow in order to reach his dragon.

Fortunately, it isn't too high and seems doable enough.

It takes some pipes, some pieces of asphalt that are definitely not where they are supposed to be, and it takes ignoring the burning pain in his leg. But he manages to pull himself up, rolling onto his back once he's on the street and panting as he needs a moment. His knee is protesting.

Toothless calls out again.

"I know, Bud! I got out and I'm coming!" Hiccup can't blame him for the urgency, he might be hurt and he doesn't know the predicament his human partner had been in.

Hiccup struggles to his feet again and limps over to the house they'd been resting in while waiting for their friends as they searched this neighborhood for anything that could be of use to them.

Hiccup reaches the front door and finds the entire lower floor to be gone. A lot of the house is gone, having collapsed from the earthquake. It must've been structurally weak.

Of course, of all the houses and all the streets, they pick the ones most in danger of collapsing on the day they have to collapse.

"Bud?!"

Toothless calls back to him and Hiccup leans forward, holding onto the door frame and spotting his Bud in the basement with a whole lot of house on top of him.

"Bud," Hiccup gasps and the dragon moans for his help. He should be strong enough to get it off and climb out of this place himself, but a pain in his wing is stopping him.

He should go down there with him, see what exactly is wrong with his dragon and how he can help.

"I'm coming down there, Bud." Hiccup assures him, receiving a verbal reply from him in return, and looks for a way down.

There is no easy way down for him with his leg and waiting for their friends to show up to help him down isn't an option either. So he searches and spots a partially intact staircase. It doesn't look that trustworthy, he might actually end up breaking a leg should it collapse, but he sees little other choice.

So he makes his way over there, soon climbing over debris to reach the stairs. It's not easy, but he manages.

"Just a minute more!" Another moan in response.

Hiccup begins his descend, needing to be slow and careful as he can hear and feel it creak treacherously even beneath his light weight.

But he somehow reaches the basement floor safely, taking the drop after the fifth step. His knee buckles, but only just doesn't pop back out of place and Hiccup gasps.

But he doesn't take a moment, going straight for his Bud and climbing through and over wood and brick to get to him. When he does, Toothless looks up at him and Hiccup sinks to his knees. He's almost completely buried.

"Hey, Toothless, I'm here now." Hiccup pets his head and the dragon purrs.

It doesn't take long for Hiccup to spot what may be keeping him from getting out of this himself as he sees a puddle of blood.

"That can't be good," He says and leans forward to investigate, nearly lying flat to the ground to see what the cause of all of this is. When he does, he gasps.

A thin and pointy wooden beam has pierced his Bud's wing. And to keep the wound from tearing further, Toothless can't move at all.

And at the same time, there is little Hiccup can do on his own. He can see it, all that stuff needs to be removed from his dragon's back before he can get to worry about the injury and the offending object. At the same time, someone needs to keep said object in place while everything is being removed. He can't get Toothless out of here by himself.

Toothless looks up at the human, he probably knows what is up.

"I'm sorry, Tooth. I can't get you out of here on my own. We need to wait for the others." Hiccup apologizes, stroking the top of his Bud's head.

Who knows how long that will take, how long until the other Dragon Riders come back to him. And until then? Hiccup takes Toothless' head and places it on his lap.

"We have to wait for everyone else, but don't worry, I'll be right here, Bud." Hiccup assures him and Toothless purrs appreciatively. He can get through a few hours of white-hot pain so long as Hiccup is here.

#whumptober2020 #no.27 #earthquake #httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfics #tw: impalement #tw: dislocated knee #au #alternate universe #httyd zombie au #hiccup haddock #hiccup whump #toothless #toothless whump #hictooth #dragon bros #my fanfics #i'll be right here bud