#zombies x gn reader

[clarks-letterman]

URGGGGGEEEEE!!!!!!!!!! | zed necrodopolis x male!reader

a/n — putting this as male reader because it's implied. not explicitly stated but I don't want to misadvertise the fic lol, gender neutral pronouns and body parts used. I don't really like the smut in this but the idea was funny to me… this fic will definitely be non-canon by the time Z4 releases!!

summary — Zed goes to Mountain College and gets a sex toy, his roommate comes to their shared dorm at a bad time.

words — 3k

warnings — smut! 18+ | implications of sex and actual sex occur, uses of the word "gooning", zed zombies out and they fuck so... feral!Zed, slight dubcon!! - first zombies fic so it may be ooc or just poorly written

~~~

Fall was in full swing at Mountain College. Soon the tops of roofs would be snowcapped and walkways would be sprinkled with salt, but for now, everyone tried to enjoy the weather while it was still warm. Sloping sides brought the occasional gusts of wind that all of the early morning go-getters had to deal with. They had to learn the hard way to bundle up if they wanted to make it to class without becoming the next monster to roam the Earth—probably as a snow yeti or something similar. The lecture halls were grand to handle the kind of metamorphosis a lot of human and inhuman students would be going through over the course of their early adult years. The only place where people were forced to grow together were the dorm rooms—as a push for inclusivity at Mountain College left everyone in close quarters to someone—or something—they had no clue existed before college. It was another thing to learn about, to understand that the small circle of your hometown isn’t the only circle to exist. People have groups that come in all shapes and sizes, and not all of them are going to fit together nicely, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be an effort. But there was one unspoken rule that everyone had to learn, regardless of their major: don’t enter a room with a tie, sock, or anything hanging off the door handle. Not at parties, not in classrooms—if there was such a thing to happen, and especially not at your dorm.

When Zed arrived at Mountain College, he never expected anyone to be as pro-zombie as they were. His roommate was insanely warm and kind to him. No one really hid who they were here. They were at that stage where they left the conformities of high school and living with their parents to being so overwhelmed with freedom that they had no way to grasp everything they had. The freedom; the new flaws determined by society were still unclear. Zed was one of those people, being free from the shackles of Seabrook and Zombietown’s driving force in unity to being another student in a sea full of them. It wasn’t to the same extent that he had gone through, but the established scene of breaking free from your past to start something new is what really pushed him to start trying things. He wanted to be a part of the community and to do that, you have to understand the area first. 

Zed started by doing most of his workouts around campus, then transitioning over to the city that was built around Mountain College. The short drive down to the city below could be completed in a timely manner during a daring jog down the road leading to the developed area. He never wore more than a tank top and shorts for his morning runs. The college was north of the city, so he only ever rarely went into the downtown area during his morning runs. He decided to go farther on his run today since he had an upcoming game and needed to burn off the endless brain-fest for dinner from the night before. So many calories, so little scores during his big game was how he viewed it.

Most of the shops still weren’t open, but there was one on this block that was still open. It turns out that the shop was not opening early in the morning, but in fact, closing after a very late night. The neon signs had yet to be turned off, and one reading ‘OPEN’ in big illuminated letters drew his attention. Next to it was a red triple-X sign.

The fleshlight was cobbled together with scraps and carefully welded parts to resemble the repurposed items of Zombietown. It reminded him of home, and the clerk told him that the toy was advanced, deceiving the average person by appearing to only be made of scraps and to have the basic, archaic function of just fucking it. Inside it was a hidden set of magnetic coils that both provided the correct amount of electromagnetic pulses through the zombie’s dick to prevent them from turning into the much more unpleasant version of themselves and it heightened the feeling of jerking off while the machine made contact with the skin from the inside.

He listened to what the clerk had to say about remembering to take off his Z-Band so it wouldn’t overstimulate him to the point of numbness, and that the side effects of it were mainly just slowed brain activity from “too much gooning.” As Zed would be quick to learn, it was called going cockdumb. There was the opposite, too, where his zombie side would forfeit all rational thought and quickly take whatever the closest thing to fuck is around to poundtown.

He learned quickly, though, and did as he said when he got back to his dorm. The order of instructions was simple: get yourself ready—get your dick hard, is how he interpreted it, take off the Z-Band, and use the fleshlight to calm all of his zombie urges. Before he started any of that, though, he placed one of his ties around the door handle facing the hallway. Then he got undressed, stripping down until the full-body mirror over his closet’s sliding door reflected his pale figure and vibrant green hair. He stood in the frame, checking out his recent gains for a second—still eternally lanky, but he was starting to fill out in the places that mattered.

His hands roamed over his body until he got down to his nether regions. Zed rubbed his dick until he was hard enough to stick his dick in the fleshlight, then watched in the mirror as he took off his Z-Band. The area around his eyes started to darken and dark veins started coursing all over his body. He took a few deep breaths before reaching for the fleshlight, each breath drawn in becoming more raspy as his insides changed in a way he couldn’t see. Carefully, holding on to it with an intentionally lighter grip so as to not overuse his own strength, he guided it over his cock and watched his tip disappear into the slit. He moaned, it was tight. He moaned again, it was vibrating. And then he looked back up at his reflection, the monstrous features were gone. 

Zed never told you about his little reveries into sex and pleasure as the weeks went on. After that faithful day, he found that he came harder and started to crave the feeling of release more and more. The feeling was simply addictive to him: a mix of tingles from the electro-pulses and genuine pleasure from the stimulation. But with how frequently he did it, there was bound to be a day where mistiming or miscommunication would expose him in the act. Today was that day.

It was around two in the afternoon, the ground was covered in a thin layer of snow and Zed had stopped his morning runs in favor of a quick indoor exercise and then moved to jerking off while the sun rose—you were returning to your shared dorm with the zombie from a lecture, notably earlier than usual. It was a Gen-Ed for biology, something that Zed had learned when you approached him one night in the hopes of having him help you. If he remembered correctly, it was about zombies—a newly implemented unit in the curriculum, now finding its way into its own circle of life. New studies emerged about the carbon emission of their dead cells that Zed couldn’t help with, but he explained how he felt that he functioned and the way he and plants interacted. That was at the beginning of the semester and it was how he found out that your class ran until around two-thirty. Usually.

Zed was enjoying his time inside for a change. Having finished his classes for the day and feeling the testosterone of his morning workout preserved through it all, he decided the best thing to do during his alone time was to use his broken-in toy. Zed was confident enough to not hide his sex life—well, he was confident enough to act like he was having sex with someone else, not his sex toy or the fact that he edged himself until he literally couldn’t hold it in anymore. That part was thankfully undisclosed by everyone since they knew not to enter his dorm, but you entered without thinking. He was laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling like the white ceiling was painted over with the limitless stream of thoughts flowing out of his head. His eyes were shut, soft moans slipped out and he barely shifted the fleshlight on his dick out of the fear of blowing his load too early.

His load threatening to come out dissipated quickly, though, when he heard the door handle click. Then the hydraulic mechanisms that would normally push the door shut started to whir as it opened. He reached for the blanket he slept under, letting the fleshlight hang off his dick so he could find something to cover himself up. He was mad at himself for slipping into the habit of playing with himself while naked, but it was so much easier to bunch his comforter up against the wall and lay in bed with easy access to all of his holes. In the seconds—which felt even shorter for him—he covered his lower half and just accepted that you would see his bare torso. With enough smooth talking, he could convince you that he had just woken up from a nap. 

“Don’t be mad.” You said, coming in, hoping that he wasn’t with a naked girl or anything. You tried keeping your view of the inside of the room as limited as possible by turning your head just in case. “But I got out early ‘cause of the weather and I saw the sock…”

The only issue was that his fleshlight was forming a bump in his sheets, meaning that he couldn’t be laid down without it looking like he had a huge dick—or what would be the more reasonable explanation: he had a sex toy. Either way, it looked unnatural. So while you were still acclimating to the sight of him, purposefully looking away to give him time to cover up. You were still under the impression that someone else was in there, but you heard the clatter of something hit the floor, followed by a hasty curse under his breath.

You decided that you had given him long enough and finally looked into your shared dorm room. On the floor was a machine made out of old zombie parts that seemed to have broken into pieces, scattered around a pair of bare feet that padded around the carpet in panic. Your eyes trailed up to see Zed, naked and with a raging hard dick. Still freshly coated from the lube he pumped into his fleshlight, still wet enough to glisten in the sunlight pouring in the window behind him. And to say he was naked didn’t mean much, because he was truly naked—no Z-Band in sight on his body. His dick was red for only a second before the veins on it darkened along with the rest of his body. 

Somehow, his dick looked to be bigger, more intimidating. The dark shade it turned caused it to look like anything but slimming. His chest started heaving and that drew you to his arms, bulging with thick black veins that trailed up his arms and increasingly curved arms. They started finding their way to his midsection until his hands reached his dick. Neither one touched his pulsing cock, but motioned around it as if he knew that the fleshlight was unusable. He started fucking the air like he knew the presence of it from his more conscious and tame state.

Incoherently, through a gust of grunts and growls, he started speaking. It sounded like the friendly words he used during your past exchanges but were blatantly needy and desperate. You couldn’t quite hear what he said, so you moved closer under the assumption that he still had some control. Some sense of sanity without his Z-Band on. But as soon as you were within his reach…

Zed grabbed you, pulling you closer to his naked form. You looked at the dark circles around his eyes before meeting his actual eyes. A few words slipped through—as if he could still recall the language he had used for years somewhere deep in his brain—slurring out a loose connection of words that sounded like: “You break it… I break you…”

Zed’s mind was everywhere yet nowhere at once. His feral side was feeling and processing all of the emotions from his “human” side. So many things in his head were whirring for the first time in a while, and nothing was shutting down to compensate for the rising new emotions of rapacity—the urge to have it all and take it all. His head was already running at one-hundred and ten percent so now he needed to claim things in the room. To make things his. His room; the little voice in the back of his head that he suppressed about being annoyed by the fact that he had to share a room with you was finally being heard. You’d walk out of this—or better yet, be carried—with a new perspective on ownership.

Sex with Zed was fast. The urges brought on by his true zombie nature allowed him to rip off the clothes you wore to attend class. They were in shreds, adding to scattered bits of his broken toy, some landing on the sharper parts of it so that you didn’t have to worry about stepping on something painful as he guided you to his bed. It was the closest one to him and the easiest to throw you down on since the sheets were all undone, unmade. He would make you a mess in the next few moments so it didn’t really matter to him.

But for the first time, Zed was faced with a challenge in his zombie brain. He had put you on his bed—the faint smells of sex and sweat emanating into your nose from how much he jerked off in his bed, typically covered by his comforter—but now he looked at you, laid on your back, head on his pillow, and he was faced with one of two choices: did he want to cum in your mouth or your ass? He wanted to do both, and he hit his head in frustration, grunting. The simple thoughts his undead brain was meant to handle couldn’t stomach this as easily as brains.

A feeling deep within him told him that your ass would bring him the greater amount of pleasure, so he hopped on the bed with you, kneeling. His increased strength allowed him to lift your legs easily and with an unmatched haste. Your hole was in clear sight, and he wasted no time in burying himself down into it and lapping away. It was another sensation he had, thanks to consuming a million videos of porn in his spare time. That, and he was still a zombie. Flesh was something that he wanted to taste during his feral frenzy. It was the only thing his tongue tasted: the saltiness of skin. He felt so good, and you wanted to bury your fingers in his vibrant green hair to push him deeper into you, but that seemed a little too risky in his current state. Besides, he didn’t stay down there long. His head reared up a few moments after going down on you, his clear intention to fuck you until he comes, not the other way around.

Thanks to already fucking his fleshlight, his dick was still coated in lube; still sheening with its slick surface reflecting the light. When he put his dick in, he didn’t feel any friction, and he wouldn’t have cared if he did. The friction didn’t bother him and if it didn’t bother him, then it shouldn’t bother you. It never became a problem, though.

Zed decided that the perfect position to keep you in was with your legs over each of his thin shoulders. He started thrusting, taking little to no time to go as fast as he could. He was desperate, uncaring if you needed time to adjust. But, like everything else about his zombie-heightened feelings, what it took to make him cum went up too—much higher than his regular edging point. 

Zed was a quick learner. He found which spots made you feel the best—well, which ones made your face twist and your head turn into his pillow as he fucked you. That seemed to make him climb to the peak faster than anything else. Your ass was tight and soft, sure, but it was your reaction to how he dominated you with his big dick that really made him get going. He unleashed a flurry of moans that were deeper than the voice you got used to hearing.

Wet sounds and slapping filled the room until he came for the first time. You could feel your ass burning from the rough slapping and the way he kept up the skin-to-skin contact—breeding you until he was out of breath. Just like when he first transformed into the beastly version of himself. 

Zed pulled his dick out and you could hear the wet gushing, as well as the feeling of your hole leaking with his cum. He must have been really pent-up because it was already ruining his sheets and still seeping out of the tip of his dick. You looked around for his Z-band, still gathering your surroundings and acclimating yourself to the point-of-view of his bed. It looked to be on his dresser and within arm’s reach, so you went to grab it. But Zed stopped you, guiding your hand to his dick that was still hard. This was going to be a long night…

#zed necrodopolis #zed necrodopolis x reader #zed necrodopolis x male reader #zed necrodopolis x y/n #zed #zed x reader #zed necrodopolis x you #wally clark #wally clark x you #x male reader #milo manheim #x reader #wally clark x reader #milo manheim x reader #milo manheim x you #milo manheim x male reader #zombies 4 #zombies 3 #zombies x reader #zombies x male reader #zombies x gn reader #fanfic

[dr3c0mix]

What does goth man look like 👁️👁️

whaT DO THE ZOMBIES LOOK LIKE???

this reminded me that i had a wip of the zombie horde in my procreate ghhghhhghgh but i want to give yall a little more than that so im also throwing in some headcannons and stuff from when they were alive &lt;3 <3 <3

💀 Ribs' hair is bleached blonde! It also has a faint smell of weed, hmm.

💀 Just as he is now, he was very hyper. He used to go to a lot of parties and raves. He was actually at a beach concert when he got infected.

💀 He reacts to rock music, if you play a song near him, he’ll turn to where the sound is coming from and go to it and hop around happily, it’s a good way to find him if you loose him in the mall.

💀 Screw looked like he was a scavenger like you before turning into a zombie, you found old cans of food and an almost empty flask of water in his bag amidst things he probably picked up, things he very much didn’t need anymore in his current state.

💀 He and Ribs found a pair of scissors in your drawers once and you came back to your bunker to Ribs cutting Screw’s hair. They both just stared at you with Screw’s hair all over the floor, that’s why his hair looks a bit choppy.

💀 He gets cold easily somehow so he clings onto you the most, the others are a little jealous..

💀 Soda has a lot of burn scars on his shoulder, you make it a point to not use fire around him as he chirped and cooed worryingly when you lit a match to warm some food.

💀 His hair is surprisingly soft, a bit dry but it isn’t as covered in blood and dirt like the others.

💀 his shirt is slightly in better shape than the rest of his clothes, he’s probably had to change it after a while.

💀 Bo looks like he’s lasted longer than the others considering his supposed military experience and a bandage present on his leg ever before finding him, he’s had in on for a while.

💀 The sides of his face are scratches and torn, revealing his teeth underneath, it makes it hard to chew sometimes but that’s why he focuses more on getting the others food more than himself.

💀 He’s a bit of an attention seeker so if you see him beekeeping the others in line or doing something good, please praise him, he’ll be so happy. The others tease him for it because he resembles a dog when he leans down for you to pat his head.

Anyway here’s your funny little zombos !! Hope you like how they turned out ! I promise to give y’all a proper drawing of goth next time too!

#yandere x reader #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere #terato #teratophillia #monsterfucker #monster x human #monster smut #monster lover #zombie #undead #x reader #x male reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #poly x reader #polyamorous #polyamory #poly relationship #opossumdoodles

[dmitriene]

ɪꜰ ɪ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀ ᴢᴏᴍʙɪᴇ; ɪ'ᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀɪɴ.

❝ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

❝ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ❞ 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦.

❝ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ❞ 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘱𝘴𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

❝𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦❞ 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘬𝘵𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯! ᠌ ᠌𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 — 𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @ave661

 ✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢���3. ˑ༄

The world fell into an eerie silence — a silence that resonated with deep seated fear.

The once bustling streets were now deserted, the echoing emptiness interrupted only by the distant growls and shuffling footsteps of the undead.

You were scared beyond words and fear gnawed at your heart as you tried to come to terms with the nightmare that had taken over your life.

— «God, this can't be happening» you whispered to yourself as you looked out the window and watched as a group of zombies shuffled past your house.

Neither you nor anyone else was prepared for the catastrophic events that unfolded.

The virus, a mysterious and merciless force, spread like wildfire, leaving destruction in its wake, people you knew or loved turned into grotesque predatory creatures, and the world turned into a realm of chaos and despair.

However, amidst the darkness that befell humanity, you clung to a glimmer of hope — Simon Riley.

He was your anchor, your support — Simon, an experienced soldier who had served in the army, had a unique set of skills that promised protection.

You fervently believed that he would protect you from the horrors of this new world.

Simon's voice cut through the tension in the room, his tone laced with determination — «We'll make it through this, together»

It was a belief that you held with unshakable faith, but the harsh reality of the apocalypse did not discriminate.

Even the strongest soldiers could not withstand the relentless onslaught of the undead, and Simon was not immune to danger lurking around every corner.

The day that will haunt your nightmares forever began like any other.

You were in the small, dimly lit kitchen, hastily preparing food from canned food you found during the reconnaissance mission you and Simon had been on together.

There was a hint of desperation in the air, but you tried to console yourself with the presence of the person you loved.

Simon came home that day and your heart sank when you saw him, dried blood clinging to his clothes like a creepy badge of honor and his demeanor embarrassingly quiet and tense.

Worry crept into your voice as you asked if something was wrong, but he brushed off your worries with a soft kiss to your cheek and then your lips.

The consolation was fleeting and he diverted your attention by asking about the food you were preparing.

You smiled, albeit with a hint of concern, and began to describe the impromptu dish you were preparing — «It's just some canned beans and vegetables, Simon, but it'll do»

Your words sounded like a mixture of mundane details and hope that everything could be okay as long as Simon was with you.

He listened attentively, but there was a growing concern in his eyes that was impossible to ignore.

As the days turned into weeks, Simon's behavior underwent an ominous transformation as his once stoic nature gave way to irritability and a creeping paranoia began to overwhelm him.

He began checking windows obsessively, his gaze constantly drawn to unseen threats.

— «Simon, you're scaring me» нou said quietly, reaching out your hand to stroke his face — «What's going on? You can talk to me»

But he dismissed your fears, offering vague explanations that only increased your fear.

The outside world was unforgiving and you clung to the hope that Simon would protect you, but his inexplicable behavior shattered that hope, leaving behind a gnawing sense of fear.

Then, one fateful evening, as you watched Simon through the doorway, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you saw this — an ominous bite mark on his shoulder.

Terror gripped you like a vice, your eyes widened in panic, without thinking, you retreated deeper into the room, seeking refuge under the safety of the blanket.

Your heart was pounding, and you desperately tried to convince yourself that this was a hallucination, a figment of your imagination, born of the horrors of this new world.

When Simon came out of the bathroom and walked over to you, laying down and pressing your back against his bare chest, you felt his lips on your neck.

His voice, laced with tension, asked if everything was okay, and you hesitated for a moment, fighting your fears, before finally, quietly, muttering — «Yeah»

Relief washed over you as you relaxed in his arms and closed your eyes, trying to escape the horror that was engulfing you.

You fell asleep but the worry still lingered in the back of your mind, little did you know that the nightmare had just begun and the darkness of the apocalypse was gathering around you.

The room was shrouded in a deceptive calm, a refuge of fleeting peace amidst the relentless chaos that had become your new reality.

You lay in bed, pressed against Simon's body, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace — the faint, rhythmic sounds of your breathing mixing with his, a fragile symphony of hope in a world torn apart.

Simon's voice, barely louder than a whisper, abruptly broke through the silence — «You sure you okay, love?»

You nodded, your eyes heavy with fatigue — «Yeah, just.. can't shake this feeling of dread»

The night was quiet and your sleep was peaceful until an unfamiliar noise disturbed the peace, causing you to stir, awakening from the depths of your sleep with a sound that seemed out of place in the eerie silence of the apocalypse.

Sleepy, you sat up and looked around the room, searching for the source of your concern.

Your heart sped up as you realized Simon wasn't next to you, panic set in and you screamed his name in a quiet but insistent tone, the syllables hanging in the air — «Simon, where are you?!»

The only answer was a guttural growl that seemed to come from the shadows.

— «Simon?» you called again, and now your voice was shaking with fear.

But before you could understand the identity of this figure, before you could understand the pale, ghostly face that was slowly becoming visible, it rushed towards you with blinding speed.

Panic overtook you and a scream ripped from your throat as you stumbled backwards.

The flashlight fell from your hand and clattered to the floor, casting a crazy, chaotic light onto the stage.

In that fleeting moment, you saw him — Simon.

His once familiar face was now a grotesque, nightmarish parody of itself, his normal brown eyes pale and milky, devoid of the warmth and recognition that once inhabited them.

Horror filled you as you witnessed undeniable proof of his transformation.

The ominous bite on his shoulder exuded darkness and dark veins snaked out from it like tendrils of malice, your worst fears came true — Simon had turned into one of the undead.

Instinctively, you tried to back away, but he was faster, he rushed at you, his hands gripping your wrists in a vice grip.

Pain shot through your wrists as he squeezed them, and tears welled in your eyes as you sobbed in fear.

In that terrifying moment, when he suddenly turned his face towards your neck, a primal guttural sound escaped his twisted lips.

He was on the verge of giving in to his monstrous instincts, the insatiable desire to feast on your flesh while your heart ached from the profound loss of the person you loved.

But then, in an astonishing display of willpower, Simon gained a glimmer of control, his face contorted with struggle, and he turned away from you, letting go of your hands.

The brief respite allowed you to gulp for air, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and relief, and your knees threatening to give in to your weight and collapse any minute.

Your eyes widened as you watched in disbelief as Simon's hands moved to his own jaw, squeezing it on both sides.

And suddenly, in a nightmarish act of self preservation, he broke his jaw, and a sickening crunch echoed throughout the room, he did it, did it so as not to bite you and not succumb to the insatiable hunger that haunted the undead.

You jumped up, your heart pounding, your mind reeling from the horror of the scene.

Trembling, you carefully held his face in your trembling hands, whispering his name through your tears as his growls became quieter, as if he was trying to comfort you, to convey to you that no matter what happened, he would never allow himself to hurt you.

Simon's voice was heard, hoarse and barely audible as he pressed himself against your trembling palm — «M'sorry, love» he managed to say hoarsely, filling his sluggish speech with remorse and a deep feeling of love.

He closed his eyes, a milky veil still covering his once bright gaze, and you realized that even in the depths of this nightmare, there remained a fragment of the man you loved, fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume him.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @valsthea, @kennedyswhore dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist.

#[ ✒️july writing ] #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley x gender neutral reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley fluff #simon riley comfort #cod fanfic #cod fic #zombie!ghost

[cielie-voss]

Drunk late night talks with Eddie

(probably part one of many more to follow)

Masterlist

The music, which is only muffled through the closed door, seems far away. Occasionally, someone slams against the door or pulls it open to shout something unintelligible into the dark kitchen.

"You know," you say, holding a pickle, gesturing towards Eddie as he nibbles on raw spaghetti, "if a zombie apocalypse happens, we need a plan. We should hole up somewhere."

"No, no," Eddie intervenes, shaking his head. "We should be on the move. Always be on the move. In a caravan, for example."

"And what do you do when the tank is empty? Or if the zombies try to break into the car at night? Besides, they can easily smash the windows." Your interjection makes him think. With a furrowed brow, he stares at the noodle in his hand.

"And what about other survivors? They might turn on us. And I don't think they would hesitate to kill you in a heartbeat to stay alive themselves."

"Okay," he clears his throat and looks at you firmly, "then on the water. A houseboat. Zombies can't swim, right? And I don't think others would bother swimming to our ship just to hijack us!"

You look at him skeptically and gnaw on the pickle. The small flashlight, which only illuminates the small space between you, flickers dramatically to add atmosphere to your vital discussion, casting eerie shadows.

"But even the ship needs fuel at some point." you argue, debunking Eddie's plan. "And at ports, we risk being attacked.”

"God damn it," Eddie hisses, pressing his lips into a thin line in resignation.

"I'm sticking to my guns, we should hole up." You insist and lean back, your back pressed against the cold, glazed wood of the kitchen cupboard and a shiver creeps through your body. The alcohol level in your blood is certainly not conducive to making such an important decision. A decision for an absurd hypothetical scenario of a zombie apocalypse. But even in this state of inebriation, Eddie seems to have reasonable doubts about your plan.

"And where?" Eddie asks, prompting you to improvise. Damn, that's a very good question that you haven't thought about yet. But of course you can't admit that. So you shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know. In a supermarket?"

"No, lots of people will be planning to do that too, that's not safe.”

"In an Ikea!" After a moment's thought, you come up with this glorious idea, your eyes light up and, thrilled with your idea, you lean forward and steal the noodle from Eddie's hand.

"In an Ikea?" Eddie repeats skeptically.

"Yes, that's perfect! You've got enough furniture and comfort to live in, enough material to keep you safe, food, sanitary facilities! It doesn't get any better than that!"

Eddie watches you skeptically for a moment, but has to admit to himself that this proposal is indeed great.

"You've got a point," he finally admits reluctantly and grabs the noodle you snatched from his hand earlier. "That's pretty clever of you, I didn't think you were like that."

"A zombie acopalypse like that must be well thought out!" you beam, your cheeks glowing red from the alcohol and weed.

"Acopalypse," giggling, Eddie repeats your slip of the tongue and after a moment of realization you both burst into laughter.

Taglist: @violettsoul @kores-mun-son-n-more

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie minson x gn!reader #zombie apocalypse #eddie stranger things #eddie fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson masterlist

[luveline]

ZOMBIE AU YES steve and you but reluctant allies - forced to travel together and when you get stuck in a tight spot, you fully believe he's going to leave you behind. but steve does what he does best, he comes back

tysm for ur request! reluctant friends to lovers arc starts now. tw for zombie typical gore, violence + apocalypse struggles (near enoigh starvation, weight loss, isolation) this got longer than it was meant to

It's not that you don't like Steve. Though maybe that's what he thinks. He doesn't seem to like you all that much.

Steve Harrington is pretty. He's a pretty boy. You hadn't expected him to be able to fight or defend, or even run all that fast. He'd proved you wrong on each account eventually — "I ran track, idiot," — but the reluctance of your pairing has remained.

You can't like everyone. You and Steve simply don't fit. You didn't in high school and you don't now, and you know in reality that he doesn't like you. Not really. He tolerates you and he shares with you because you have more chance of surviving together than apart.

He searches the waste of Indiana for his friends. You follow. You have nothing else to do.

You're scouring for supplies in a mall not unlike the Starcourt in Hawkins. You imagine it's as desolate and derelict as this one. Escalators frozen in time, storefronts destroyed by time. Dangerous. There's a thousand places for a zombie to be dwelling. They aren't good at hiding, obviously, but you're also not good at finding them. Steve says you have poor observational skills.

"Yes, well, I'd hardly have any reason to need them if it weren't for the end of the world," you mutter.

"Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?" you ask with a scowl.

"Like- like a rich girl. A really rich girl."

"I don't sound anything like you."

"Weak insult based in sexism. Next."

You drop the shirt you'd been looking at. "Right, I forgot. Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, progressive."

He meets your gaze and smiles at you. He does this, sometimes, where he forgets he doesn't like you. Then something happens, a disagreement or an argument, and you're back to square one, Steve and his burden.

"I'm very progressive." He looks between you and the shirt he's holding, a men's cut, plain with long sleeves. It looks warm. "I think this'll fit. Come here."

You step over a fallen mannequin and let him hold the shirt to your abdomen.

"You're losing weight," he murmurs.

"Lucky me."

His hand touches your shoulder and he draws very close. "Bad news."

"I had it to lose."

"You need all the help you can get." He doesn't bother saying why. You're both more than aware of how dire the food situation is getting. If you can't find anything worth eating here, you're probably fucked. You might be fine. (You're fucked.)

You take the shirt. "Do you think it's silly to put it on now?"

"Definitely. I'll turn around."

He turns. You put your bag on the floor and quickly take off your outerwear. Your shirt smells bad because you smell worse, the strong smell of sweat no matter how much you scrub at it lingering. The fabric is imbued with a permanent odour.

New t-shirt in place, you preen at the feeling of new cotton over your skin.

"Are you done?"

"No-"

"Hurry. We need to move."

You always 'need to move'. You think Steve says it to sound cool.

You pull your clothes back on and hang your backpack from your aching shoulders. Over time, the bag feels heavier. Funny, as it's contents constantly lighten.

"We haven't found anything for you yet," you say.

Your shirt had needed replacing, it was thin and stained with a seam slowly unthreading. Steve's pants are worse. The zip is tied closed with a hair tie and the cuffs are pulling apart.

Steve reveals a pair he'd already set aside. "Tada."

"Put them on!"

"Sheesh, hold your horses."

"You could've been changing while I was. You always nag about wasting daylight."

"And leave us both defenseless. Good idea." His tone suggests a genuineness he doesn't possess.

You stand guard. Steve changes. You have that intrusive thought to turn and look at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the shucking of fabric. Intrusive, unreal. You don't look because you're not a pervert. You do, however, wonder about it. His naked legs, his thighs.

You shake your head and bite the inside of your lip to stave off bad thoughts. Stupid.

"Let's go."

Out of the clothing store and back to the walkways. You and Steve skulk with your backs to each other and some space between you, watching the open shutters for zombies or other people. You don't know which is scarier.

The mall is wrecked. Smashed glass, mysterious liquids, no electricity. Daylight streams in bright and unhindered by the huge skylights above. Nature struggles to fall in with it, but it does. Birds nest in the rafters, bugs cling to the walls. You suppress chills at the scuttling sounds of vermin and almost trip over an upended rack of stuffies outside of the toy store.

"You okay?" Steve asks. You don't know if he's looking at you, your eyes pinned on the stairwell across the way. Accidental or otherwise, making noise is a signal to the zombies that you're here.

If there's anybody here, they definitely would've heard you.

You don't answer Steve's question. He doesn't ask again.

"There's, like, a hot pretzel stand to the right," he says, intrigued.

You check what's in front of you one last time and then catch up to Steve. You'd love to take his arm, not because you think he'd let you or anything, but it's easy to miss touching people and he's right there in front of you.

"Under the shutter," he says quietly.

You crawl under and emerge in the dark. Steve joins you with his torch already in hand, flashing light quickly in all four corners of the room.

"This might be a bad idea," you whisper.

"It's okay. I doubt zombies can crawl."

"If they can?"

Predictably, Steve ignores you.

He weaves between untouched chairs and tables. You catch onto the end of his shirt and he's generous enough to pretend you haven't, the two of you making your way to the front counter. There might've been edible food behind the glass once but now it's all infested. It's disgusting.

You've seen a lot worse.

"That's gross," Steve says.

You tap the display and a dead fly falls off of the glass.

"Lift the counter?" you whisper.

You make your way to the employees only door. "Be careful," he reminds you under his breath, "be quiet. You have your knife out?"

"Got it."

He throws the door open quick and looks around. There's a walk-in freezer to the left, an old couch in the middle, and a storage area to the right. Steve again checks each corner with the flashlight, the both of you holding your breath. You're holding the knife so tightly you can feel each divot of the grip moulding your skin.

"I think we're clear."

"I think we need another torch," you mumble.

It's really scary in the dark.

"They'll have batteries somewhere," Steve says. You think he might be humouring your fear. He's likely tired of having to reassure you.

Again, you grab his shirt. It's too dark to navigate the room without him.

Steve leads you to the staff kitchenette, opening the cabinets one by one. There's mugs in one, plates in another. Untouched by dust.

He has you hold the torch while he searches through drawers of kitchen tools and equipment.

"Do you miss pretzels?" you ask.

"Mm. With the cinnamon sugar."

"You like cinnamon?"

He pushes aside what looks like an ice cube tray of all things and finds an old key. He offers it to you with a peculiar smile, as if to say What do you think that does?

"Everyone likes cinnamon," he says.

"Not everybody."

"Everybody I knew did. Robin fucking loves cinnamon. At Christmas, she'd make me take her out for warm cinnamon cookies and... frozen cokes." His tone had started soft. It ends strangled.

"Frozen cokes? In winter? Isn't that sorta weird?" you ask.

He shuts the drawer harshly and doesn't answer. Your attempt to cut the tension backfires once again with him. Who could've guessed.

The next drawer is a motherlode.

"Yes," you say, cheeks taken by a sudden smile.

There's enough batteries to power your torch for a year. Steve tears open the packet and holds a hand up without looking at you. You scramble to open your bag and pull out your torch. Bigger and heavier than his is, it illuminates larger spaces and makes for less nerve-wracking supply runs, but it eats batteries like no tomorrow.

Steve cracks open your proffered torch and loads it up with batteries. The light flickers on before he's put the closing back into place.

He shines it straight in your eyes.

"Nice," you grumble.

"Now you got your own you can quit clinging," he says. "Why don't you go look in the freezer?"

"It'll all be spoiled. There hasn't been electricity in forever."

"Might find a can of something," he says with a shrug.

"If you want me to leave you alone, just say that."

"I want you to leave me alone."

You huff and spin away. Your torch shines over the couch, an ugly mess of floral pattern that went out of fashion a decade ago but is surprisingly new for a staff room. You drop yourself into it and stare at the ceiling for a while, dust motes drifting in the ray of torch light like snowflakes. You haven't seen snow in a long enough time that you're surprised you can remember what it feels like. If you close your eyes, stick out your tongue, a cold like ice feels sharp on your taste buds.

Steve cusses to himself. You sit up and find him sucking on an injured finger.

"Need help?" you ask.

He sticks his knife into the top of a cardboard box. "What did I tell you? Go look in the freezer."

"Steve, there's not gonna be anything in there."

"I worked in a place like this before. Just look."

You roll your eyes, feel super guilty about rolling your eyes, and then roll your eyes again when he says, "Don't be lazy."

"I'm not," you defend. Your whining falls on deaf ears.

The freezer door handle is fucked. You pull and pull until your palms burn and can't get it to unlock. Changing tactics, you press all of your weight forward and feel something click like it's not supposed to. The door crashes forward and you fall to one knee with a startled shriek.

Your heart slams between your ribs. When you're trying to be hypervigilant of every small sound, every movement, every change in your environment, sudden events are like a shot of adrenaline.

You land on one hand. Your torch flickers further in the room.

"Fuck," you mutter.

"What happened?" Steve asks, his footsteps fast and moving toward you.

You scramble forward to grab the torch before he can see you've broken it. You're ashamed at your own idiocy — you burn with it, a flush of heat in your cheeks that. Steve won't lie to you to make you feel better, so if the torch is broken he's gonna call you an idiot for it.

"Nothing!" you call.

The smell hits you like a freight train. Spoiled milk. Shelves and shelves of spoiled milk and batter. You gag and throw a hand over your nose. It smells almost as bad as a zombie, and they smell like fresh hell.

"Y/N," Steve says.

You throw your eyes over your shoulder and realise the door has closed behind you. There's a sound of a jiggling door handle on the other side. From your side it doesn't move.

A sinking feeling begins.

"Steve," you say, hitting your torch against your thigh. The light flickers off completely. You gawp.

"Can you open the door?"

You push your weight against it urgently. The handle doesn't want to move.

"I can't get it," you say, panicked.

"Push it inward."

"I am!"

"Okay, alright. Hold your horses."

"Steve, it won't open."

"I heard you the first time. Don't worry. I'm gonna get it open."

You throw yourself at the door. Steve must guess from the sound. "Stop," he says, frustration seeping into his low tenor, "that's not gonna work. It's hinged inward. Stand back, okay? I'm gonna force it."

"It's dark in here," you murmur pleadingly, moving away from the door.

"What?"

Your own fast breathing echoes around you. You hit the torch with the meat of your palm and the light flickers. You hit it again and it dissapears. You shouldn't be so scared, but the door closed means your trapped and the dark feels so oppressive now. Dark means you die, because you won't see a zombie before it bites you.

You realise that there's more than one person breathing.

Or rather, an illusion of breathing. A moan.

Your blood turns to ice as you spin. Your torchlight flicker flicker flickers, illuminating the face of somebody long dead.

"Oh my god," you say. It sticks to your throat like each word has been dipped in honey. Or ichor. "Fuck, Steve! Steve!"

"What?" he shouts back, equally freaked.

One eye opens. The other remains closed. One second, you can see the open socket, half an eyeball. The next, pitch darkness filled only by the grind of clicking teeth. Your breath catches in your throat and you keen as you walk backwards, the torch shaking in your hand.

The light flicks back on with your movement.

The zombie's face appears in front of yours.

You scream and fall flat on your butt, backpack preventing you from slamming onto your back. The torch turns off. You scrabble for your knife — where the fuck is your knife? Where's your knife?

Steve hammers against the door. "What the fuck?"

"There's a fucking geek in here!" you squeal, throat tight. You can barely get the words out. The zombie can't see you in the dark but it can hear you, it can smell you, and it's footsteps draw closer, one after another.

"Steve, get me out of here!" you beg.

He doesn't answer.

"Steve?" You don't sound like yourself. You're not sure you've ever made this sound before.

Nothing.

Your hands shake hard. You can't feel them as you bring the torch into your lap. You try to find the catch in the dark. When you can't you mess with the lens, screwing it tight to the right. You feel it move in, spinning back on.

The light exposes the zombies gained distance. He towers over you and you can't speak, can't breathe, can't sob. You hold your arms in front of your face and hope it won't hurt.

The door slams open. You get pushed roughly into the zombie's legs, the breath knocked from your chest.

You crumple in on yourself.

Footsteps slide with a rubber screech over the linoleum and you search the floor for your torch, breath coming in shirt pants. Your hand closes around it and you flick the switch with little success. Broken again. You must've loosened a fuse.

"Steve," you say desperately. Please don't die.

The zombie makes a noise like retching, Steve groans in extertion and then there's a sound of wetness, a sinking. A body falls to the floor.

Silence.

You flinch as he turns on his torch and shines it in your face.

"Oh, thank god."

Steve leans down and helps you up into his arms. You struggle to catch your breath, your face pressed hard into his chest. You can't cry though you desperately want to, too busy fighting for air.

Steve holds you, hands at your back. "It's okay. You got it, dummy, just take it slow."

You nod. You can't really focus as he pulls you out of the freezer. The air noticeably changes from brain matter to plain old stale.

"I thought you-" You swallow against an aching throat. "I thought you were gonna leave me."

"Why would you think that?" Steve asks.

"I was- I-" you stammer to a halt.

Your arms move of their own accord, over his shoulders and behind. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, hot tears spreading over his skin as you pull him in close, as close as you can.

Steve's hand is slow at first, hesitant against your shoulder. Your backpack stops him from hugging you properly, but you think maybe he might try otherwise.

"I wouldn't have left you here," he says.

There's hints. Confusion, sincerity. A rawness. You can't see his face, his torch pointed up at the ceiling, only where the light kisses his brow, the bridge of his nose.

Steve let's you cling until you've caught your breath.

"Let's sit down," he says.

He encourages you onto the old couch and shoves his small torch between the cushions. You miss his touch as soon as he leaves, an anxiety at being left alone dawns like a yawning chasm between you. Your relief when he returns can't be understated: you feel like a spent, abused nerve.

Cortisol and adrenaline crash through your veins. All that's left to do is come down. Hard, when you don't feel completely safe. Haven't felt completely safe in a long time. Steve's return helps.

"Don't touch the rim. It's sharp," he says, pressing an open can into your hand.

"Steve, is this-"

He passes you a spoon. "Sure is."

You don't have the luxury of nausea. Life or death situations start to wear off quicker when you're hungry, half-starved, and after a few good mouthfuls of pudding you're starting to feel better. Not perfect, not any less afraid, but there's a door between you and the zombie's dead dead body, and a door with a chair propped under the handle between you and the rest of the world. And there's Steve, a spoon between his lips with your poor torch in hand.

"You left your knife on the table. Do you know how stupid that is?" he asks, a spoon hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Yes."

"Hm." He whacks the torch with his spoon. "Shit."

"I'm sorry."

"About the knife? You should be. You were totally defenseless."

"The torch."

He puts your torch down on the floor besides your gathered things. "Couldn't be helped."

"How'd you open the door?"

"Running start."

You sniffle and eat another spoonful of pudding. The last thing you'd eaten was half a gronala bar in the early hours of the morning when Steve had insisted you'd need your energy. It had been a year out of date and chalk in your mouth. The pudding may as well be straight molten gold for how valuable it feels.

It goes down soft. Calms your aching throat. By the time you've finished you almost feel settled. Almost.

"Steve... I'm sorry. For thinking you'd leave me. That's not fair. I mean, I know-" Why is it hard to talk to him? He's the only perosn you've had for company in God knows how long and you're still fumbling for the right thing to say. "You wouldn't do something like that to me. You have morals."

"I would do anything for my friends," he says, like he's disagreeing. "I would do anything to see them again. See them safe. Anything."

You bite your tongue. Tears sting. Hypocritical tears, because haven't you had that thought before? You'd do anything to get what you want. You'd do anything to live. Steve doesn't owe you anything.

"I didn't think you'd come back," you confess sheepishly.

"I'm always gonna come back for you."

You look up at him, finding his eyes illuminated in the dim light sweet and soft and brown.

"I want you to be safe."

"Are you saying I'm your friend?" you ask.

He glares at you. "Are we in middle school?"

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? What, I have to invite you to my birthday party or something? We need to go rollerblading together?"

"You're an asshole."

He snorts. "Asshole just saved your life."

"I didn't even wanna go in there, if you remember. I expressly said that I didn't wanna go in the freezer. It's your fault I was even in there in the first place."

"That's ridiculous. And a low blow. And fuck you."

"Not very friendly."

He laughs abruptly. It's a pretty sound, made golden by it's genuineness. Steve does sarcastic snickers and mocking chuckles, and none have ever sounded as his true laugh does now.

"I'll show you friendly," he mutters.

You raise your eyebrows. He moves enough to make the couch shift, upheaving your empty can and spoon. They fall together with a metallic clinking.

You watch mournfully. "I kind of wish I hadn't eaten it that fast. When's the last time we had sugar?"

"Don't speak too soon."

Steve shows you the stash. An entire box of pudding, enough to feed you both for a month, though the sugar might rot your teeth.

"We'll be sick of it in a week," Steve promises.

You're not so sure. Chocolate is chocolate, whether it's eaten during the zombie apocalypse or not.

-

more steve zombie!au

#steve harrington imagine #zombie!au #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve zombie!au

[snoozingredpanda]

imagine having a zombie boyfriend and you guys fuck and his dick just snaps off inside you 😭

you’re both just like 😧

#zombie #oc #yandere #fem oc #oc x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #gn reader #yandere x reader smut #x reader smut

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER ONE | RECKLESS

Tara Carpenter x G!P Reader x Female OC

Warnings: zombies, fighting, thats all i think

A/N: twd helped me with this

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Once you get close enough to the woman, she starts running as well, leaving you no time to ask questions. You chase after her, desperately trying to keep up with her pace. As you follow her, your mind races with curiosity, wondering why she chose to help you. And was she the one who shot the gun?

You feel a mix of fear and intrigue as you contemplate the mysterious circumstances surrounding her involvement. Despite the unanswered questions, your instinct tells you that sticking with her is your best chance at survival.

The two of you run for a while until you reach the middle of the woods. She stops, looking around.

You take this as a chance to talk, "Where are we going?" You ask, trying to catch your breath. She turns to you with a determined look in her eyes, "Get in the car, and then I'll explain." She begins jogging, and you follow her, behind a few trees there's an old pickup truck.

Its worn exterior suggests that it has been abandoned for quite some time. As you both climb into the truck, you speak again.

"Okay! Now, can you explain? I'm lost on what's going on, where we're going, and who you are." She starts the engine, and the truck roars to life, its rusty parts groaning in protest. She glances at you before turning her attention back onto the dirt road.

"We're going to turn around for my sister, then we're going back to our home base. And my name is Tara Carpenter, there." You furrow your eyebrows, holding onto the door handle as the truck bounces along the uneven terrain. "Wait, your sister? I didn't see anyone," you say, trying to make sense of the situation.

"How do you think you're still alive? She was the one who shot that walker." Tara's eyes narrow as she recalls the intense encounter. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Tara's words hang in the air, leaving you speechless.

The realization sinks in that your life was saved by someone you never even saw.

"Wait, wait, wait! Did you just call them walkers?"

Tara sends you a confused look, "Yeah?"

"What about the ones that jog?" You ask, then mumble to yourself. "Joggers..?" Tara raises an eyebrow, clearly perplexed by your question. "Joggers? What are you talking about?" she asks, her confusion evident in her voice.

You quickly realize that your attempt at humor fell flat, and you awkwardly laugh it off, trying to change the subject. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

"Also, you said something about a home base? I appreciate you and your sister saving my life and all, but groups never do any good." Tara looks at you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I understand, but think about what could've happened if we didn't find you," she responds, her voice gentle yet firm. You ponder her words for a moment, realizing that she's right. You could've gotten bit.

"I'm not going to beg you to come home with us. Just think about it." You nod, acknowledging Tara's point. The thought of the potential danger you narrowly escaped lingers in your mind. Soon, you see a group of walkers and another woman in a tree, a sniper on her back.

Without thinking, you hop out of the truck, yelling, causing some of the walkers to turn their attention towards you. You take your knife out of your belt and start slashing at the approaching walkers, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

The woman in the tree notices your bravery and starts picking off the remaining walkers with her sniper rifle, providing you with much-needed backup. As you both fight off the horde together, you realize that this unexpected partnership might just be the key to surviving this terrifying ordeal.

With each swing of your knife and each shot from her rifle, the walkers are slowly but surely being taken down. The adrenaline-fueled teamwork gives you a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos, making you believe that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for survival in this post-apocalyptic world.

The woman makes her way down the tree, quickly entering the truck. You stand there, looking overtop of dead walkers, wiping a bit of blood that got on your face. "What the hell are you doing? Get in the truck!" the woman yells, and Tara quickly nods in agreement.

You snap out of your daze and quickly jump into the bed of the truck, Tara wastes no time pulling off, leaving the gruesome scene behind. You lay on your back, spread out like a starfish, as the wind rushes past you, providing a brief moment of relief from the chaos.

Tara glances at you through the rear view mirror with concern before focusing back on the road ahead, her determination evident in her eyes.

As the truck speeds away, you can't help but wonder what you're about to get yourself into. Tara's sister knocks on the truck's back window, gaining your attention before she opens it. "I'm Sam, by the way." You give Sam a faint smile, grateful for the introduction.

"Y/N." You simply say. As the truck continues down the road, you feel a mix of anticipation and nervousness building inside you. The unknown awaits, and you can't help but wonder how this journey will unfold.

Your eyes snap awake at a loud slap against the metal truck. It's Sam. "We're here." You quickly gather your belongings and step out of the back of the truck, taking in your surroundings. A brown-haired man with a scruffy beard makes his way toward the three of you in a sheriff's uniform.

He introduces himself as Sheriff Dewey Riley and welcomes you to the small town. "Before you settle down, I'm going to have to take your weapons." You exchange a wary glance with Sam, unsure of whether to comply.

Sheriff Riley notices your hesitation and reassures you, "It's just a precautionary measure for everyone's safety. You'll get them back once everything is sorted out." Reluctantly, you hand over your weapons, hoping that this small town holds more than meets the eye.

Tara glances at you before whispering something in Sam's ear. You strain to hear what Tara is saying, but her words are too quiet. Sam nods in response, her expression growing more serious. Curiosity piqued, you wonder what secrets this small town might be hiding and what role Tara and Sam might play in it all.

"C'mon kid." Dewey says, nodding his head in the direction of the town. "Let's get you checked in." You follow Dewey, your mind racing with anticipation and questions about the mysteries that lie ahead.

As you walk towards the town, you're truly shocked. Everything looked so peaceful, as if there wasn't an apocalypse happening on the other side of the walls.

The sight of the seemingly untouched town only deepens your intrigue, making you even more determined to uncover the truth. As you approach the entrance, you can't help but wonder how this place has managed to remain unscathed amidst chaos and destruction.

Dewey took you to the doctor to get yourself checked out before introducing you to his wife, Gale.

She seemed like the leader of this place, with an air of confidence and authority that commanded respect. Her eyes held a glimmer of resilience, as if she had seen it all and still managed to keep the town thriving. "I'm Gale Riley, sit, please."

You sit listen to Gale's voice as it carried a sense of determination and compassion, instantly drawing you in.

"We've faced countless challenges over the years," she explained, "but we've built a tight-knit community that supports one another through it all."

"What is this place?" you asked, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. Gale smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with pride.

"This place," she replied, "is a sanctuary for those seeking refuge, a haven where people come together to rebuild their lives and find hope amidst adversity, or the start of sustainability. Which is what the brochures we found say. This was a planned community with its own solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration."

Gale continued, "Me and my husband were led here. See, I'm a news reporter, and my husband was a sheriff in our old town. He was investigating a series of corruption cases that led to dangerous threats against our lives. We had to leave everything behind and start fresh, and this place seemed like the perfect opportunity for us to do so."

You nod at her words, still in disbelief about the place. As you take in Gale's story, you can't help but marvel at the foresight and ingenuity that went into creating such a self-sustaining community.

The idea of a solar grid, cisterns, and eco-based sewage filtration all working together seamlessly is truly impressive. It's clear that this place was designed with both environmental consciousness and the well-being of its residents in mind.

There's a knock at the door, interfering with your thoughts. You turn to see another woman, "Hi, I'm Sidney." She introduces herself with a warm smile. Sidney explains that she is a longtime resident of the community and offers to give you a tour, eager to share more about the innovative solutions and sustainable practices that make this place so unique.

Intrigued by her offer, you gladly accept, curious to learn even more about this remarkable community.

Gale gives you a tight-lipped smile before you walk out of her living room, following Sidney closely. As you walk behind Sidney, you notice her enthusiasm and passion for the community radiating from her every word.

She points out various landmarks and explains how each one contributes to the community's commitment to sustainability. As you continue the tour, you can't believe you were going to turn down this place not too long ago.

"Are you serious?" You ask Sidney, who quickly nods. "You're just giving me a house?" Sidney chuckles and replies, "Well, not exactly giving it to you. Gale will give you a job, and you'll have to earn your keep." Everything about this feels too good to be true.

"I know you're still feeling us out, but I'm glad you're here, Y/N." Sidney says sincerely, her eyes filled with warmth. "We believe in creating a sense of community here, and having you join us adds to that spirit, you know?" You nod at her, sending a slight smile her way.

"Well, then. I'll let you settle in, but if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask, I'm just a few houses down." Sidney's authentic warmth and offer of support reassure you, easing some of your initial skepticism. Her words about creating a sense of community make you feel more hopeful about this opportunity. "Thank you," you say.

Sidney sends you another smile before leaving. You slowly open the door to the home, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The space is cozy and inviting, with warm colors and comfortable furniture. As you step inside, a sense of excitement and anticipation fills the air, mingling with a hint of nervousness.

You make your way into the kitchen, resting your hand on the faucet before turning it. The sound of the rushing water is soothing, and you laugh, overwhelmed with amazement. It's been a while since you've been in a place like this, where everything is new and refreshing.

You take a shower, cleaning off the sweat, blood, and dirt that's been on you for the past couple of months. The tension in your muscles begins to melt away, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. It's a small luxury that you've missed dearly during this apocalyptic time, and you relish in the simple pleasure of being able to wash away the remnants of your journey.

You quickly put on your bra, grabbing a towel as you hear a knock on your front door. Curiosity piqued, you wrap the towel around yourself and cautiously make your way to the door. Wondering who it could be. You open the door, revealing a redhead girl and a curly-haired boy.

The girl whistles at the sight of you, admiring your freshly washed hair and the towel wrapped around you. The boy, on the other hand, looks slightly embarrassed and averts his gaze. "I'm Quinn, and this is my brother Ethan," the readhead says, a small smile on her lips.

You feel a mix of surprise and self-consciousness as you quickly tighten the towel around yourself. Quinn's compliment on your appearance brings a blush to your cheeks, while Ethan's shyness makes you wonder what could have prompted their visit.

"Our dad is Officer Bailey, so whenever we get newcomers, he makes us introduce ourselves." You nod understandingly, realizing that Officer Bailey must take his role as a community liaison seriously. Though you start to realize you haven't been introduced to him yet, "Officer Bailey? I don't think we've met."

Quinn chuckles and replies, "Oh, don't worry! Our dad is always busy with his duties, but he'll definitely come by to meet you soon. He's not really the friendly type, but he needs to know everyone in the neighborhood." You hum, giving her a nod.

"Oh! Did Gale tell you about the get together that's happening?" Ethan speaks up, raising an eyebrow. You smile and shake your head, admitting that Gale hadn't mentioned the get together yet.

Ethan continues, "It's going to be a fun event with games, food, and a chance for everyone to socialize. You should definitely come, it'll be a great opportunity to meet everyone."

"Sure, I'll be there." You reply, genuinely intrigued by the idea of getting to know your new neighbors better. Plus, it sounds like a fun event that you don't want to miss out on.

"Great! Well, we'll see you then." He responds, smiling and giving you a friendly wave before heading off. Quinn follows behind him, giving her own wave and smile.

The event was your average get together, with people mingling and chatting in small groups. You were in a corner by yourself, drinking as you observed everyone.

"Socialize." You hear someone say, you turn to be faced with Sidney.

You smile at the woman, whose mouth drops dramatically. "Look at you! You look nice, cleaned up!" Sidney compliments your appearance, clearly impressed by your transformation.

"Thank you. It felt nice to have a hot shower again." You reply, grateful for the simple pleasure of feeling clean after a long time. Sidney nods sympathetically, understanding exactly what you've been through.

Your eyes leave the woman beside you, glancing over only to find Tara talking to someone else her age. Sidney's eyes fall to your point of view, and her smile widens. "Tara's a sweet girl."

Your eyes flicker between Sidney and Tara, letting out a chuckle. "I don't think she likes me." You admit taking another sip of your drink.

Sidney chuckles softly, shaking her head. "Oh, don't worry about that. Tara can be a bit reserved at first, but she warms up to people once she gets to know them better. Give it some time, and I'm sure you two will get along just fine."

"Sam told everyone how you helped her." Sidney says. You shrug, "She helped me first. Plus, we took down those walkers together, it wasn't just me." Sidney nods, a smile playing on her lips.

"That may be true, but teamwork is key in this world. But still, not everyone would have stepped up like you did. You've earned Sam's gratitude and respect." You blush slightly at the compliment, grateful for Sidney's kind words.

"Tomorrow morning, go talk to Gale. She has a job for you." You raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Why can't you just tell me?" Sidney chuckles, shaking her head. "Gale likes to give out the details in person. She's old-fashioned like that. Plus, I think she wants to see the look on your face when she tells you."

You can't help but laugh at the thought of Gale's mischievous nature. "Alright, I'll go find her tomorrow then. Thanks for the heads up, Sidney."

Sidney squeezes your bicep before walking away. "Y/N!" Someone calls out from Tara's group. They stand up, ushering you off. You smile at Ethan before deciding to walk over, curious to see what he wants. "Oh, it's pretty girl." Quinn smiles, you now appearant in her sight.

You return Quinn's smile and join Tara's group, wondering what Ethan wants to talk about. As you approach, Ethan greets you warmly and introduces you to the rest of the group. "Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Chad, Amber, Wes, Mindy, Anika, Frankie, Liv, and you already know Tara."

You exchange greetings with everyone in the group, feeling welcomed and curious about their dynamic. "It's nice to meet you, I heard you saved Sam's life." Mindy says, causing you to shake your head. "It wasn't that serious. She saved mine, to be honest." You brush off the compliment modestly, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Mindy just hums, and Chad takes this as a chance to speak. "Did Gale give you a role already?" You shake your head in response to Chad's question. "Not yet," you reply. "She's supposed to give me one tomorrow, though." Chad nods, looking intrigued. "I'm sure she'll find something perfect for you. Gale has a great eye for talent."

Wes chimes in, adding, "Yeah, she's really good at matching people with roles that suit them." You can't help but feel a surge of anticipation for what Gale might have in store for you. "That's good to hear."

"How old are you?" Liv asks, and you turn your head to her with a smile. "21." Amber then speaks, "Really? You look younger than that." "Thank you, I guess it's good genes," you reply with a chuckle. Wes joins in, saying, "Age is just a number anyway. What matters are your skills and passion."

"Wes, what the fuck are you talking about?" Amber questions, squinting her eyes at the blonde haired boy. Wes shrugs, unfazed by Amber's reaction.

"We're going to go get some more drinks." Frankie announces to the group, interrupting his own conversation he was having with Tara. Tara and Frankie both get up, and you watch the two disappear from sight before turning your eyes back to the group, only to have everyone staring at you. "What?"

You ask, feeling a bit self-conscious under their gaze. Mindy chuckles and leans back in her chair, saying, "You like Tara." You blush slightly, shaking your head. You didn't even know the girl! But Mindy's comment makes you wonder if there was something about Tara that caught your attention.

Though you couldn't help but admit she was absolutely beautiful. Her long, flowing hair and radiant smile were captivating, along with her freckles that dotted her cheeks, adding a touch of playfulness to her overall appearance.

There was an undeniable aura of confidence that surrounded her, as if she knew she had a magnetic effect on people. It was intriguing to think about what it would be like to get to know her beyond just her physical appearance.

"No?" You mutter, furrowing your eyebrows, trying to convince the group. You couldn't understand how anyone could resist being drawn to her. There was something about her that seemed to defy explanation, making you even more curious about the person behind the captivating exterior.

Mindy just shrugs, "Whatever you say." Anika rolls her eyes at her girlfriend, "Ignore her. She believes she can sense people's crushdars! She does it with everyone."

You chuckle, and Mindy immediately defends herself. "I definitely have a sixth sense when it comes to matters of the heart," she playfully retorts. Anika smirks, teasingly adding, "You couldn't sense my crush on you."

Mindy thins out her lips and says, "Because you give off straight girl, babe."

Anika's jaw drops as she lets out a dramatic gasp. No, I don't!" Mindy laughs and says, "Oh, come on. You know it's true." Anika playfully pouts and replies, "Well, maybe I just wanted to keep you guessing."

Mindy leans in, kissing away her girlfriend's pout. "Guessing or not, I'm glad we're together now," Mindy whispers softly, their lips still touching. Anika smiles and pulls Mindy closer, savoring the warmth of their embrace.

"You guys are going to make me sick." Quinn says, earning a nod of agreement from Chad. Quinn rolls her eyes playfully and adds, "But seriously, you two are disgustingly cute." Chad chuckles and says, "Yeah, it's almost nauseating how in love you two are."

You smile at the group, happy to fit in so well. But your smile is gone once you see Frankie leading Tara to the front door of the house, obviously drunk.

You feel a pang of concern as you watch Frankie struggle to keep Tara steady. It's clear that Tara has had too much to drink, and you worry about her well-being.

You quickly stand up, earning confused looks from the group. You follow Frankie and Tara outside the house, not even sparing the group a second glance. "Hey guys!" You call out to Frankie and Tara, trying to get their attention.

"Are you guys okay? Tara seems really drunk, maybe we should get her some water and make sure she's alright." You offer your help, hoping they will listen and take care of Tara's well-being.

Frankie shakes his head, laughing. "She's fine, dude. Just go back to the group." You glance at Tara before squinting your eyes at Frankie. "Nah, dude, I think she should come back with me."

"It's fine. Y/N." Tara mumbles, her words slurring together. "I can handle myself." Despite her protests, you can't shake off the concern you feel for Tara's well-being.

"See. It's fine." He harshly grabs Tara's arm, dragging her down the few remaining steps of the home's entryway.

Tara mutters out an, "Ow." You shoot Frankie a disapproving look, but he ignores it. You quickly push Frankie away from Tara, placing yourself between them. "Tara, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go with him," you say firmly. "Let me take you home instead."

"⁠She's fine," Frankie seethes, reaching for Tara, but you push him, maybe a bit too hard, because he falls to the ground. Frankie's face contorts with anger as he scrambles back to his feet. "The fuck?"

He rushes to you, tackling you. As Frankie tackles you, you struggle to defend yourself, trying to keep him at bay.

The situation escalates quickly, with both of you grappling on the ground, desperately trying to gain the upper hand. You straddle Frankie, attempting to punch him repeatedly, but he manages to block most of your blows.

"Guys! Stop!" You hear Tara's panicked voice, but the adrenaline is pumping too hard for either of you to listen. The fight continues, with neither of you willing to back down.

You don't notice people starting to exit the house, drawn by the commotion. Some onlookers attempt to intervene, shouting for you both to stop, but their efforts are futile as the intensity of the fight consumes your focus.

You're roughly pulled off of the man, your heart pounding and your breath heavy. "Alright, alright, that's enough." A voice says from behind you, holding you back by your bicep.

You look around at the crowd, and Quinn mouths, "My dad." You shut your eyes for a second, realizing that on your first day in the community, you were already about to be put under arrest.

As you open your eyes, glancing over to Tara and then her friend group, Quinn's dad begins to handcuff you. You feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you as the handcuffs click into place. Tara's friend group watches in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Fighting on the first day, really?" The gray-haired man says, shaking his head. You try to explain yourself, stuttering out an apology. "I didn't mean to start a fight, sir," you manage to say. The gray-haired man raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of your explanation.

"He was going to take advantage of her!" You continue, desperately trying to defend your actions. "She was obviously drunk and he was trying to take her home. I had to intervene."

The gray-haired man's expression softens slightly as he considers your words, but he remains cautious. "Well, we'll have to sort this out," he says, slightly pushing you to walk in front of him.

You take one last look at the crowd, your heart dropping when you notice a familiar face.

"Iris?" You mumble to yourself. She looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see her. Memories of your past together flood your mind, adding another layer of complexity to the situation.

#reader insert #wattpad #tonyspank #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x g!p reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x gn!reader #tara carpenter x g!p reader #zombie apocolypse au #tara carpenter scream

[gloomiebearwritings]

W.I.P Whenever~

A teeny tiny snippet from something that'll take ages to finish because life is busy ( •̀ ω •́ ) Inspired by talks I've had with @chadillacboseman

It had been a few weeks since the outbreak started, and at least a solid two weeks since you’d lost contact with Simon. 

You hadn’t had any contact with anyone else either- just huddled down in a house you and two others managed to make safe enough to stay in for the time being. 

By now nightfall had already set in and both companions were still gone- maybe they got trapped or had to settle down for the night in some hole they found themselves in. And after making sure things were still holding up, you chose to try settling down for the night yourself.

But you didn’t even reach the end of the hallway before you heard the outside hatch leading to the basement fly open with force. The sounds of one of your companions racing towards the door, begging you to hurry up and open it- when you did he was covered in mud and soaking wet. His eyes were wide open as he frantically spun around to shut the door, but a strong, sickly gray hand grabbed the door away from him and practically ripped it off its hinges. 

From the near pitch black doorway sprung one of the un-dead who quickly pinned your companion against the wall, not even leaving you a second to consider helping him as he was dug into- leaving you only enough time and room to make a mad dash for your emergency exit. 

You didn’t even make it to the handle of the hatch before you felt the thudding footsteps come barreling towards you, and the feeling of two strong arms wrapping around your waist that ripped you away from your escape. The arms practically crushed you against the cold, wet material behind you, not even letting a sound escape you. 

And yet nothing came of it, you were just held there in a crushing grasp against a sopping wet un-dead. Something was off- you opened your eyes to see in the reflection of the window that familiar skeletal mask illuminated by the moonlight that peeked out from the clouds. Yet there was nothing there, those once warm, lively eyes were as cold as ice- hazed over just like all the others. “Simon-”

You could swear his eyes widened for a moment, as if he realized what he’d done before letting you go only to have you spun around to face him. 

His jaw hung slack as he stared you down, eyes looking like they were searching for why you were so stiff and leaning as far away from him as you were. It seemed like he was trying to find his words, or at least get them in line for you as his hands gripped your waist harder and harder. You'd think he was trying to crush your insides. Leaning in closer to your face, even as you pulled further away until you felt the wet skin of his lower jaw press against your forehead- a low rumble left him as if he was pleased with himself for “kissing” you. 

Now the edge of his headgear rested against your forehead as he remained leaned over, his milky eyes staring into your own as if to make sure you weren’t going to try bolting away from him before slowly bringing one hand away from your waist up to your face, his bloody glove leaving a streak across your cheek. As disjointed as his movements were, he seemed genuine in his attempts- even if it was leaving blood across your clothes and skin. “Y/N-” He barely croaked out, his voice sounding hoarse and worn out.

None of the others had ever uttered a word before, only screaming and yowling whenever they spotted something to tear apart. You pressed him, questioning if he actually understood what he just did or where he even was- but he didn’t respond, only straining out your name as he brought his bloody thumb over your lips. The feeling was horrendous and made you scrunch up, earning what sounded like an amused hum from Simon. 

The next few moments were still a blur, it still felt like a dream. You could remember hearing something coming into the room, the feeling of being ripped from his grasp, and the thud of your head on the floor. Between the blinding pains in your head you swore you saw Simon pick up the infected and break them in two, but at this point almost anything went.

Laid awkwardly on the bed you raised your head just enough to spot Simon at the end of the bed, facing away from you. Wanting to believe it was just a nightmare or that you were still dreaming you called out his name- but he didn’t turn to look at you, only stood up and left the room. You wanted to believe it was a dream you were having so badly that you couldn’t even be mad at him for walking away, only calling out his name louder until he came back into your blurry vision. He silently set down a glass next to you on the nightstand before moving your legs over enough for him to sit there next to you. You genuinely couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the water he brought you, only fixating on trying to force your vision to clear enough to see his face, only really grasping that familiar skull shape and his hand on your arm when you tried to reach for it.

You thought maybe he’d shove your hand away, only to be comforted by the feeling of his bottom lip against the back of your hand- his bare bottom lip against your bare skin, and it felt wet. 

Quickly you pulled your hand back to your side, glancing at it to see red smeared across where his mouth had been. You would have shot upright on the bed and moved as far away from him as you could if he hadn’t turned and moved practically on top of you to keep you still. 

His weight knocked the air out of you, his skull mask grazing the side of your face it used to when you’d play your games of cat and mouse- and just maybe in your delirious state you wanted to believe it was just that as you wrapped your legs around his waist, teasing him by questioning who really had who now. And while he never responded verbally, he hummed aloud and pressed his masked face to yours before pulling away to hover over you. Your vision was still blurry enough that your mind saw his sweet face instead of the ghastly, blood covered skull, smiling back at you in that sweet, familiar way. 

The feeling of your hands cupping his face made him feel alive again, forgetting wholly just what he’d become as he dipped his head down to kiss your face again like he did earlier in the night. He forced himself to stay aware enough of himself to not kiss your lips or nip at your skin- he wanted you alive as yourself for as long as he could keep you that way. He could feel it, mixing with that painful hunger, the feeling of missing you- of being inside you. It was fucked up beyond belief, he knew that much, but he also felt he had nothing left to strive for or want anymore. 

#my works #x reader #x gn reader #x male reader #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod x gn!reader #zombie!ghost #zombie!ghost x reader

[mitoad]

chat are we cooking (apocalypse au goes crazy)

#at that uncomfortable spot where all my my works and requests are partway done but not finished enough to release #🍵 mito's writings °｡ ⋆⸜ #call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #kyle gaz x reader #john soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #male reader #gn reader #fem reader #apocalypse au #cod zombies

[harveywritings92]

R/n: If I was bitten by a zombie, what would you do?

Horangi: Shhhhh… Wait? What kind of zombie? Shaun Of The Dead, World War Z or Night Of The Living Dead zombie?

R/n: Why?

Horangi: Because World War Z zombies are fast, Shaun Of The Dead zombies can be trained, and Night Of The Living Dead zombies are slow.

R/n: Um, Shaun Of The Dead.

Horangi: I’d probably do what he did with Nick Frost at the end: train you to play video games with me. If you had picked one of the other two I would’ve shot you. Repeatedly. In the face.

#S: not always right #call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #call of duty 2022 #kim horangi hong jin #cod horangi #gn!reader #horangi x reader #tw: zombies #tw: death mention

[yanderestarangel]

☆Yandere!Edward Richtofen ☆

a/n: just using some posts from my old blog ( I ​​excluded it because I wanted to focus more on the things I liked and not stick to just one topic ) Anyway, enjoy.

Tw: male reader and gn, other than "you" no other names used, death, blood, manipulation, harassment, dark themes, non con.

This man met you when you unexpectedly fell into an intradimensional portal connecting realities.

You fell at his feet

Like a fallen, lost angel who needed to be held at any cost and when I say any cost, I mean literally anything.

Young Richtofen tries to hide his sadistic side from you, he will always give you a friendly and reassuring smile, but deep down he wants to see you in your most intimate and fragile state. If you are an independent person who likes to do everything alone, forget it my angel, Richtofen will simply cut your independence completely, whether you like it or not.

He will remind you of how he saved you when you were so lost in his world, the desperation in his eyes as he saw a horde of zombies chasing you, you literally begging a stranger to save you from death, how grateful you are it must be because he did it. the one who found you and none of your mates who would leave you there without a second thought.

He would use anything to see you grateful and fearing in a way. Edward hates this feeling that fills his chest and warms him.

The man hasn't had much human contact in his 30 years of life, the university was empty and cruel to poor Edward and the gods have sent you, their saving angel.

He trembled just listening to you talk, seeing you every day seemed like a difficult task, Richtofen controlled himself more and more not to grab you in the middle of everyone and claim you as his. But you haven't realized it yet. For you, richtofen was just a crazy doctor who had created the zombie apocalypse you were in now while still worrying about returning to your reality, you were afraid, like how much time had passed there, if your world would corrupt like that of Richtofen someday. To you, the innocent Y/N Edward was a friend or acquaintance you were uncomfortable with, but kept as a means of survival and gratitude, after all he set you up and saved you from being eaten alive by the undead. But in the rotten mind of the doctor. You were his. Only his.

Richtofen knew how to get him home, it was simple, easy and fast. But he never told you. Never. Every time you met him, the same thing was repeated.

You would enter his lab in an abandoned building a few meters away where you and the rest of your team slept, he would smile at you asking you to come closer.

You would ask the man again who would pull you into his lap and ask for a kiss in exchange for the information. "-My love..." Richtofen started with you in his lap passing his nose over your neck and hair, you felt uncomfortable with the man's big hands on your thighs going up and up, you could feel the man's breath on your skin . "-I have the name Richtofen, please don't call me that." -you said as you took his hands away and stared at him, the man smiled and lowered his tone looking at the notebook in front of him. "-Nothing so far, I'll see if I can do something else and send you home soon... But nothing my prince." - said the man while blatantly lying to you, he knew how to get you. But he wouldn't. You left the frustrated man's legs and went to his dorm again hearing Richtofen say something but you didn't even turn around to see him.

How long has he been saying the same thing? 2 weeks? 2 months? 2 years? You didn't even know what time it was anymore. In addition to Richtofen, no one in the group was interested in talking to you, which made him frustrated for having only the doctor as a support to not go crazy in this distorted world.

Edward was working on other things, the main one being how to kill more zombies so the two of you could live a little better in that horrible reality. He even thought of opening a portal and running away with you to another place, but that would be too risky and he hated risk. Then you and he would stay in that world forever, but the man saw that you were getting more and more impatient and that worried him leading him to a drastic and horrible measure, kill all his team members and succumb to total madness only you are he .

He waited for you to sleep that night and quickly took care of killing all your team members, Richtofen felt nothing. The warmth of someone else's blood just made him feel empty without any regrets.

He quickly disposed of the bodies giving zombies outside the safe walls of the city, you were quickly returning and showering cleaning the blood and gunshot marks on the gray building. You woke up with a weight on the side of the mattress and quickly turned around to see Edward smiling at you, bidding you a warm good morning.

After that you went downstairs seeing the silence of the dorm and asking the man where all the other members were.

And that's when the theater began.

Richtofen lied playing the victim saying that the men had found the portal to his reality, you smiled happily but everything fell apart when the brunette said that they had entered and placed a timed detonator so no one could find them, it seemed like a false lie and it was really, but the air there and the current loneliness made you hyperventilate with all that belief in your doctor “friend”.

You cried while Richthofen mentally repeated an apology, he blamed himself deep down for all of this, but there was no going back.

#call of duty headcanons #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #yandere #yandere call of duty #yandere headcanons #yandere male #cod #yandere x ftm reader #call of duty zombies #edward richtofen x reader #yandere edward richtofen #edward richtofen #edward richtofen x male reader #yandere fiction #yandere themes #dark concept #yandere cod #yanderestarangel #yandere x gn reader #dark yandere #dark romance #call of duty black ops #call of duty fandom #yandere male x reader #gay #ftm reader #ftm #male reader #yandere x male reader

[eccentrcks]

Primis “Tank” Dempsey x Reader

♡ Domestic Headcanons

Warnings ; not much to warn here, it’s just lots of fluff and hints of suggestiveness.

Note ; I finished this sooner than I expected, but I’m happy to get this done sooner. And the motivation I have to write made this easier for me to finish.

Word count ; 1,012.

I personally think Dempsey would be the greatest husband of all time. He’s attentive, devoted, and utterly loyal to his only significant other. He is all there for you physically and emotionally. There isn't a day, or moment, where this marine mistreats you in any way. He is literally husband material.

The two of you typically married at a church with loads of guests that are family members (mostly from his side) and some close friends from the USMC. He once joked that he glued your wedding ring onto your finger after vows were exchanged and rings were given to one another. Although he was actually tempted during preparations.

So many twirls and dips during dancing at the reception. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you for a minute on that special day. Like, someone would need to tug him by the arm off of you if it was necessary for whatever was needed of him much to his obvious dismay– which wasn’t in his personal opinion.

Then there was the honeymoon. Oh man, after Dempsey carried you bridal style to the bedroom like a classic gentleman would do. Man or woman (ain’t no way he’s passing up the opportunity to do this with you), there isn’t a doubt he would still do this gesture just for you.

That honeymoon phase lasted for years, and yes, you did read this correctly. Years. More than other newlyweds did so. It’s just so blissful for you two.

The two of you often bath with each other in that bathtub, with steaming hot water and bubbles, where it’s just simply intimate. He likes to wash you with the sponge and shampoo (and conditioner, don't worry) your hair himself.

He does love it when you wash him up as well. Things might get really wet if you get really touchy.

Let’s be honest, he isn’t exactly skilled in the culinary arts, but he is half-decent and does his best just for you. Breakfast? It’s really simple for him and makes him feel happy to know that he can make his spouse the most important meal of the day. Lunch? Whenever he gets the opportunity, Dempsey will make sandwiches and maybe easy recipe soups that he learnt from his mother. Dinner? Let him cook with you, uhm, sure he can help, but just give him an easy task such as cutting up the vegetables or something. No need for dinnertime to be delayed.

He’ll just end up unexpectedly holding you from behind whenever you’re cooking..

If the marine persists on helping with dessert… kick him out of the kitchen. That man will just end up becoming distracting and make you his dessert instead.

He will buy flowers for you everyday. You’d need so many vases, or start a little garden in the backyard, because he will not stop gifting you these gorgeous plants.

Whenever Dempsey is home, he will likely spend most of the day with you on the couch watching television, usually whatever you prefer, and hold you in his arms during the movie/show.

Arguments don’t tend to last long between you two. Not even twenty-four hours. He will give you space and sleep on the couch downstairs if it upsets you that bad, but is the first to give in with apologies because the guilt eats him alive slowly like maggots would do to a deteriorated corpse.

So he will hold you and place kisses all over your face and neck once he makes it up to you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands alongside with something you love in the other.

Dempsey prefers to resolve the situation with sweet words and gifts if you’re his spouse. His favourite person. The most beautifulest love of his life.

You’re getting a dog and a cat. He can’t choose one of them and the two of you would go through animal shelters to see which one of two is the one for your household. Welp, let's just say that you ended up getting one dog and two cats. They came in a pair and the marine couldn’t resist leaving the cat’s littermate behind at the shelter all alone so he had to bring them along.

So far they have been great additions to your little family since then.

Dempsey won’t pressure you into the idea of having kids (either having them biologically or adopting), but he will give out subtle hints here and there. He is family oriented after all and is definitely eager to become a dad for sure.

He won’t get overly bummed out if you do not want to have any. Maybe just a little he will, but your choices matter to him more than his own. Either it’s health issues related or you aren’t comfortable with the idea of having children, Dempsey will prioritise you first.

However, if you do decide to have children. He wants around five kids. Yeah, five. Man is willingly to negotiate if you want less than that. The conversation will probably last all night in the bedroom at night time.

Dempsey loves, loves coming home saying “Honey! I’m home!” in that loving tone of his when he walks through the front door.

With his job as a drill instructor, it’s not an easy job as it looks most of the time whenever you’re not in his range, but all of his stress and worries would just easily evaporate once he looks down at the photo of you from his pocket and once he gets home to you for sure.

Expect the two of you to be heading to his parent’s place often. The Dempseys love you and are likely to be the best in-laws since his mother loves spoiling you with her homemade meals and desserts.

He is communicative and wholesomely supportive in your marriage overall. The marine will cherish you in his arms until old age, no one can whisk him away from you. There isn’t a happy ending without you for Tank Dempsey as cheesy that sounds, but it’s true.

Dividers by @saradika

#call of duty #cod zombies #tank dempsey #codz #call of duty zombies #primis tank dempsey #tank dempsey x reader #gender netural #gender neutral reader #gn reader

[dr3c0mix]

I just want to tell Bo he's really handsome

youre now trapped in this mans arms for 24 hours

#yandere x reader #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere #terato #teratophillia #monsterfucker #monster x human #monster smut #monster lover #zombie #undead #x reader #x male reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #poly x reader #polyamorous #polyamory #poly relationship #opossumdoodles

[morgandoesstuffsig]

Hello! I’m new to your blog and I love your writing. I was wondering if you could do a sagau with creator reader that comes from the last of us games? ( the last of us is just a zombie apocalypse game.) How would they react to there creator coming from a place like that? Everything is ran down and taken over by plants and wildlife. Just being born there and forced to learn how to kill and survive on there own. Having to learn the skills of survival and technique. How would they react to there creators PTSD and trauma? How would they react if they actually saw the world there creator comes from?

Well that’s all I have you can write this however you want to if you’d like or don’t write it at all it’s up to you. Anyway have a great week!!

dude. zombie apocolypse!creator!reader... u are amazing anon tf

didn't exactly know who to write for i went with the trusty genshit wheel of names

c.w // zombies, blood, gore mention, disturbing descriptions, mentions of pstd

GOROU, AYAKA, XIAO

start under cut

gorou.

"Your Grace?" Gorou spoke, not much more than a whisper.

"I've told you this before Gorou, just call me (Y/N)."

"Of course... (y/n)... I wanted to ask you a question.." He said nervously.

"What is it?"

"What was your world like?"

You froze at the question. Your breathing became shallower and shallower, and your hands slightly trembled.

Gorou, being the keen one he is, quickly took notice and reassured you that you didn't have to answer.

"You dont have to--"

"It's.. fine. I can tell you." You cut him off, holding up your hands to sign that it was final. He silently nodded, and prepared for, well, anything.

flashback below. proceed with caution.

"FUCK!" You yelled. You'd been running for hours now; they were on your tail. You made a sharp turn and nearly fell, but you didn't stop running.

Into the heart of the forest, you ran to your makeshift shack with all the food and supplies you'd stolen from the ghost town abroad, and locked yourself inside of it. You pushed your back against the door as you felt the banging of the zombies trying to rip through your door, and you just waited it out. Eventually, an unfortunate deer stumbled across and lured them away from you.

You let out a sigh of relief as you slid onto the floor, panting.

'They've never gotten that close before.' You thought as you counted your items. You'd have to leave soon. You grabbed your stuff and checked the windows much too high for anything outside to reach. Or so, you thought. You were met with a rotten-flesh-filled face staring straight back at you. You yelped, and fell onto the floor. The zombie starting banging on the glass, harder and harder until it shattered everywhere. You covered your eyes with one hand and grabbed you knife with the other. After the glass settled, you quickly got up and prepared to fight.

Time to put all your self-taught fighting to use.

flashback end.

Gorou's mouth hung open, eyes widened in shock. You had to deal with that all alone? As a kid nonetheless?! His hand subconsciously reached for yours and rubbed it in an attempt to comfort you.

"It's okay. You're not there anymore, and you're not alone."

end : 1/3

ayaka.

You had invited Ayaka to walk around [region], just to chat. She was one of the only people who didn't make you feel suffocated in this "creator" crap. (she was holding herself back, just for you.)

Though you didn't expect it to start thunderstorming.

BAM! A large clap of thunder sounded unexpectedly, and you flinched, and practically jumped.

Fuck... You thought, turning around just because. You knew it was thunder; but god, did your past still linger with you, even after all this time.

"(Y/N)? Are you okay?" Ayaka asked, snapping you out of your daze.

"Yes, I think.. I think so. We should-!" Cut off by another sound of thunder, and lightning following shortly after. Ayaka looked at you with a soft expression, and she took your hand, gently. You looked at her as she carefully guided you back to where you two were staying for the time being.

"Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?" She asked softly, still holding your calloused hand.

"I... sure.." You said hesitantly.

after explaining your world.

"I... I see." She said sadly. She reached up to pat your head, and she motioned for you to move closer. She moved your head onto her lap and started gently brushing her fingers through your hair.

"I'm here now. There is no need to worry. I won't let that ever happen to you again."

end : 2/3

xiao.

"Your Grace?"

"First of all, how many times have I told you to call me (Y/N), and what's up?" You said, a sigh.

"..Where are we?"

"Home."

"...why is it so run down?"

"That's a.. long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?" You asked, and he nodded. You sighed and opened your mouth to speak.

crack.

You both froze. He looked at you and was about to say something, but you instinctively slapped your hand against his mouth, and stared in the direction the sound came from.

Unbeknownst to you, this action made his face heat up, but he was also curious and slightly concerned. What could've made you stop him from talking so quickly?

Only then did he hear a growl emitting from ahead. He summoned his spear, preparing to fight, but you shoved him behind you and grabbed something from a slot attached to your belt. You pulled it up to ahead and aimed it; but he had no idea what it was or what you were aiming for. Also, whyd you shove him behind you?!—

Then he saw it. Rotting flesh and both fresh and dried blood dripping from a disorted and ripped face; eyeball hanging out of its socket and hair missing all over its supposed head. The ragged and dirt-and-blood stained clothes, ripped and disgusting around itself; a zombie.

Before he could react, there was a large BAM that echoed throughout the forest. Suddenly, the zombie fell over, motionless, and you grabbed Xiao and left as quickly as the wind could blow.

What the hell?!

end : 3/3

#gorou genshin #general gorou #genshin impact #gorou genshin impact #genshin gorou #gorou x gender neutral reader #gn reader #angst #genshin angst #sagau angst #zombie apocolypse au #genshin cult au #gorou x you #gorou x reader #sagau gorou #genshin sagau #sagau genshin #sagau reader #sagau x you #x you #genshin ayaka #sagau ayaka #ayaka x reader #ayaka genshin impact #kamisato ayaka #ayaka x you #ayaka sagau #ayaka kamisato #sagau xiao #sagau x reader

[a-5-m-0-d-3-u-5]

Compartmentalizing here because if it's in a note on my phone, it's gone and I wanna share my ideas

Zombie apocalypse scenario because that's how I got fuckin neck deep in this cod stuff to begin with and there aren't enough for male/gn readers or aren't super depressing (angst is fun but I'm a hurt comfort man)

Posting that price one shot I already wrote

Fulfilling a request (technically two but they're very similar so I may lump them into one? TBD)

Got a ghost thing I've got kinda scribbled out in a doc

Polyam ghoap where one if them is kidnapped instead of you (I know I said Johnny in my little blurb but also the antsy possibilities of ghost being napped instead is making me go wild)

More polyam stuff in general cuz four pretty boys all snuggling me and each other? Yeah

That price x loyal dog fic I wanna write. May very possibly make it a hybrid au thing cuz I see a lot of those but I make absolutely no promises on that exact detail happening lol

Also no promises but I do wanna continue my castlevania fic at some point. It's one of the most fun things I've ever written and I miss it

Edit: also royal au stuff too because ugh prince x knight forbidden/hidden love type stuff absolutely destroys me

I think that's it jfc writing brainworms really just go hog wild when you allow yourself to indulge huh

#male reader #ftm reader #trans male reader #trans masc reader #gn reader #castlevania x male reader #alucard x male reader #castlevania male reader #loz x reader #botw x reader #totk x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #john mactavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #zombie apocalypse au #zombie au #ghoap x reader #poly!141 x reader

[luveline]

jade you are such a wonderful writer and i appreciate everything you post so much!! if this sounds like something you’d want to write, i’d love to see zombie au steve and reader find a lil creek/lake somewhere to cool off and they’re all giggly and happy swimming together for just a little while :)

hi! thanks so much!! this isn't exactly what you asked for but i hope it's OK regardless!!!! ♡ gn!reader zombie!au

You wake up to three quick and insistent kisses across your greasy forehead. You tense at first but quickly relax; a geek would hardly treat you this nicely.

"You know the rules" you murmur groggily, hiding your face in the make-shift pillow fashioned under your head. 

"Do I?" Steve asks. He sounds spritely, a stark contrast to your ever bearing fatigue. 

"You can't be sweet to me when I'm dirty." 

Steve waits for you to open your eyes before he answers. He's sitting near your chest, knee kicked up and face turned to you completely. There's an excitement on his face you've begun to see more and more as you've grown together. It's a very friendly expression. Better than friendly. 

"That isn't the rule. The rule was that I can't be affectionate when you're dirty." 

"Same difference." 

"Those were hate kisses. I don't like you. And you're not dirty, we're dirty."

"Semantics." 

"Gesundheit." 

You try not to laugh because he doesn't need the encouragement. It's an impossible task and you fail spectacularly, your eyes glued to Steve's. His mirror your own, beaming with a happiness you'd genuinely thought was impossible. 

But things have been good lately. You have to take happiness where you can get it, which is currently in the middle of nowhere in a brownstone fancier than any home you'd been in before, surrounded by the previous owner's fantastic stockpile. God bless couponers. It's mostly more toothpaste than you'll ever use and soaps and shampoos, all the commodities you'd taken for granted once upon a time. There'd been a regular amount of canned foods, which is to say a half a pantry full. Enough for you and Steve to rest for a while. 

So, you're in the relative safety of rural somewhere neck deep in toiletries you've sorely missed, but with one problem — you can't find any water. There'd been a couple of crates of bottled water in the pantry, but you and Steve aren't stupid enough to waste it getting clean. 

And safety makes Steve touchy. Touchy while you're disgusting. 

"Please can I kiss you again?" he asks gently. 

You close your eyes and nod. He really makes this one count, a hand heavy on your shoulder as he leans his weight into you and kisses your forehead in the same spot. 

He breaks the kiss to touch his forehead to yours. It's a really nice gesture, a soft touch, and it makes you want to hug him to your chest and stay sandwiched for hours. 

"Our grease is totally mixing right now," Steve says. 

You push him away and laugh so hard it stings, a sudden biting exhale like it's been stolen from you. He's unexpectedly charming, now. Now he's your boyfriend. 

Though you use that word in your head. Because there's really no need to say it aloud. After all, who's around to hear it? 

You've never talked about it but all these kisses and all his lightness makes you think it's fair to label him as your boyfriend. Your partner. 

"Anyways… I might have good news," he says, putting on a casual air. 

"You found me some hand lotion." You have cracked palms.

He drops a small tube on top of your chest. 

You genuinely squeak. "No fricking way! Where did you find it?" You'd searched through the master bedroom early on, but hadn't bothered in the other bedroom. You'd taken one look at the bikini poster on the wall and given up hope. 

"Think the kid must've had a girlfriend. But that's not it." 

You uncap the lotion and pour some into your hands. "No?" 

"No, he had a bunch of fishing stuff. A tent, rods, everything. Which made me think-" 

"There's-"

"A lake. Or a pond, at least. Close by."  

You massage a little bit of lotion into his hands with a grin. "Get your boots on." 

-

You and Steve follow a dirt path just off of the house's Street down into a thicket of trees. You mark your progress carefully so you'll remember how to get back and try not to cling to him. It's better to have both hands to yourself and eyes scouting for potential danger, but the temptation to take his hand becomes too much. 

He squeezes your fingers. "Don't get stupid, okay?"

It sounds harsh, but he's right. You can get stupid about this. 

The dirt is wetter as you walk, the smell of marshland all too evident. The toiletries in your bag thunk together as you and Steve break into a slow jog.

"See it?" he asks, grinning.

"What?" You trample him trying to get a better look. "Where?" 

He grabs your shoulder and turns your gaze. 

You gasp in awe. 

Steve pulls you along and suddenly you're running, laughing and excited, shoes slipping over the wet grass and dirt until the lake is in clear view, growing larger and larger and larger. 

You stop at the edge of an old wooden dock and stare at an expanse of almost blue. 

A family of birds swim at the opposite end. 

"Ducks," you say breathlessly. 

Steve insists that you go in first. He stands watch, laughs loudly and unsympathetically when you jump into the lake and emerge gasping at the cold. 

"It's summer! It was supposed to be warm!" you complain, wiping your face with both hands. 

Steve chuckles where he sits at the end of the dock with his knife in one hand and a bottle of shampoo in the other.

"You should come in with me," you say. 

"I already told you that's not happening." 

"Stevie, all we have is your knife. We're kind of fucked either way, so you might as well come in here and risk your life with me." 

"And if a geek comes by?" 

"They can't swim!" You move back toward the dock, on tiptoes to reach the bottom. "Please." 

He reluctantly begins to strip. You're in that new part of a relationship where this should be nerve-wracking, but the apocalypse has sort of stolen those firsts and blended them up. You've already seen each other half-nude. You wolf whistle as he shrugs down to his boxers. 

He winks at you, grabs a bar of soap, and dives in. 

You laugh at the water he upends, splashed and cold and happy. Really happy. Steve emerges as you had, gasping at the cold with his hair slicked to his face. You swim to him. 

"Fucking freezing," he says, taking your arms into his hands. 

"Where's the soap?" you ask. 

"Dropped it. Gonna have to swim for it before it dissolves." 

You both laugh, breathless with the cold, and share a few long seconds in each other's space. The only warmth is his hands. 

"Think I can kiss you now?" he asks. 

"Depends, does my face look dirty?" 

"Not the word I'd use." 

You cup water in your palm and scrub your face. "What word would you use?" you ask, water dripping from your eyelashes. "Is that better?" 

"Your face," he begins with a laugh, "looks pretty. You're beautiful." 

He reaches for your cheek, thumb brushing with enough pressure to pull. "And much cleaner already." 

You wipe his face in turn. "I can't say the same." 

His kiss is very warm and twice as soft. Water drips from his hand where it cups your cheek, rivulets streaming from your jawline and down his wrist. 

You break away to kiss his pulse. 

"You were on the swim team, right? The fish are gonna eat all our soap," you hint. 

He rolls his eyes, steals one last kiss, and disappears into the blue. 

-

more steve zombie au

#steve zombie!au #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #zombie!au