#lost in the cloud moodboard

[cwrcent]

͟M𝚊　　tú　　𝖊stás　　ri𝖖ui (yeah),

　᮫͙𖹭†　　　　la 　má' dura 　de 　mi 　city

　　　︵ུ 𖹭𖹭無駄て　　　LA𝒮 V𝓔GAS ..♰

[binghuua]

𓈒 ݂۫ ׄ ֯ ࿐ ྂ wherever you are, ill be there for you

[huensito]

did you want to hold hands, beomgyu?

[ya-ttori]

︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

ㅤ ㅤㅤ skylar is soooo me ! >__

[hyucklovely]

random icons

like or reblog! ;)

[honeyysan]

amor amor, amor, amor

[shinjizitos]

(¬_ ´¬ )

[riddlevile]

୨ ⠀ SKYLAR ⠀ ♡ ⠀ moodboard ⠀ ⠀ ୧

°ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

[zeninss]

(.◜◡◝) ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🧸

(.◜◡◝) ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ 🧸

[livviespixels]

hai!! can i plz get some graphics of skylar yeon from lost in the cloud? totally OK if you r uncomfortable w this rq.. thx :P

skylar yeon graphic! . f2u, reblog + credit if using

note: hope u like this! its a bit lazy, so apologies for that ^_^;

[lizziesfirstwife]

YES!! Grace us with your masterpiece :P

Guardian Angel

jinu x fem!reader

warnings: hints of yearning, depressed themes, obsessed jinu?, clueless reader, use of Y/N, slow burnnn, suggestive language, not proof-read

word count: 3140

authors note: this is my first fic in a long time, so please bear with me as english isn’t my first language. have as much fun reading this as I had writing this! <3

preview to part 2 moodboard for part 2

Part 2

Jinu hated Sundays. 

Sunday was the one day of the week when most of the population made it comfortable at home, not putting a single foot outside. There was nothing wrong with it being Sunday itself. A few lone pedestrians stretched through the alleys of the metropolis, mostly nurses who had the bad luck of having to work on weekends and teen groups who used the calmness of the city to hang out undisturbed. 

Jinu hated Sundays more than anything.

They were quiet, forcing one to think about all the things that seemingly went wrong the past 6 days. He didn't want to think. A normal person would have used a free Sunday to meet up with their relatives, or spend a spa day in front of the TV. 

The deeper Jinu sank into his thoughts, the more dense and dark the clouds in the sky above him became. He wasn't human. He shouldn't think about whether it was worth getting up in the morning, if it was worth carrying on with the small flame of hope he managed to sustain all these centuries. 

Contrary to all religious and folklore beliefs, demons needed sleep. Jinu slept, but didn't dream. And he was glad. Because not even demons are immune to the ghosts of their past that haunt them. 

The road was clean, the puddles from last night's thunderstorm still deep in the ditch.  

He had swapped his usually colorful clothes for something dark. No colorful pants, no colorful shirt. It didn't seem right to him. He was lost in the small crowd of the city, blending in too well as if he were one of them. One of many aimless figures desperately seeking their meaning in life. 

Sunday was the day Jinu dreaded the most. Not just because it left him alone with his thoughts, but because of the people. Or rather the lack of them. 

Nobody went out on Sundays. Hardly anyone. Not even in this big city, where new gambling stores opened every day and small businesses had to close because the rents were too high. 

The people worked so much, that they spent the time they had left with their families. He wondered what it was like to come home to a warm meal, how it felt to spend time with people who expected nothing from you in return for their acceptance. He wanted to be accepted, deep down. But acceptance was a luxury. Tolerance was a prosperity that was easier to uphold, easier to manipulate. 

Sundays were the most unprofitable days for the soul hunters. Many stores closed on Sundays, almost no activity available for the lost souls of this city. 

And out in the vast emptiness of the city it was too dangerous to do what needed to be done. 

A warm light. Large white letters in cursive script.

✮⋆˙

Had the flour expired? The lettuce leaves looked strangely shriveled, didn't they? 

She had a feeling she would get fired soon because of the action with the cupcakes, but if not, her voluntary letter of resignation would be typed and sent away faster than she needed to get up in the morning. It was supposed to be a part-time job to finance her studies, a shitty minimum wage job as an untrained bakery employee. She had no idea how to even bake bread, because the last time she tried, she almost lost a tooth. 

But she knew how to get cinnamon buns out of the packaging, or how to make a sandwich with instructions. 

She loved Sundays. 

No one wanted to work on Sundays, which meant much-needed bonuses and an exceptionally quiet shift. Working in customer service was not for the light-hearted.

Yesterday, she tried a new hair styling cream that was supposed to have some kind of magical bonding system in it. Allegedly even Zoey from Huntix used it. Y/N was frustrated with her hair. Wearing it up every day for work and the heat from the dozen ovens didn’t help care for it. So she tried it out.

Only for her hair to end up in a low wispy bun this morning anyway. Work rules and such things. 

Y/N sighed. Luckily it was Sunday. That meant that after her shift ended, she could take home all the left over baked goods that didn’t sell that day. 

She wasn’t poor, she still had her parents sending her a bit of money every month. But she didn’t have a job yet. A real job, not this forced university funding job. A job which she could only apply to with her degree in archeology. 

Everyone has told her she wouldn’t find a job in the field, that only the far more experienced archaeologist experts would be getting booked on excavation sites.  Y/N sighed and dumped the weird smelling flour in the trash can under the front desk. 

She knew they were right. Surviving as an archeologist in South Korea was harder than in the USA or Europe, where she would’ve had better job prospects. 

Pulling out the chair behind the counter, she smiled as she sat on it, straightening her apron. She would find a way to get into an excavation. Do some internships, join a few archeological Facebook groups, and she would surely feel better. Fake it until you make it. 

The bell tinkled, announcing the arrival of a new customer.

✮⋆˙

The air in the small shop soured of cinnamon and sakura room refresher. Jinu scrunched his nose. 

He didn't know when he had pushed the door of the small bakery inwards, when exactly he had entered the small space. A few white wooden chairs stood in two corners of the store, accompanied by equally white round marble tables decorated with lacy white table cloths. Tulips that were starting to wilt, filled various vases in the small space. A warm lamp hanging from the ceiling, inviting dust so sit on it if not cleaned properly.

Demons did not have to eat human food. They could, but it didn’t make them survive. They had the burden of robbing people of their souls, their entire lives, who deserved it the least. People at their lowest point. Homeless people. Desperate teenagers who ran away from home at night because they had long since given up hope of a better life. Jinu wanted to feel sorry for them. On dark days, the only thing that kept him waking up from his dreary sleep was the small flame of hope he protected inside himself for all those years.

But what choice did he have, what choice but to take away the only thing they had left in their miserable lives?

A low hum interrupted the path of his wandering eyes, which scrutinized every detail of the bakery.

He turned around. He was used to people starting to scream, especially women, when they spotted him. When they saw the K-Pop star. When they saw the version of him that millions of people loved. Forced smile, clothes that no grown man would voluntarily wear, happiness basically tattooed on his face. These reactions soothed something inside him. 

On days when he wondered what it was like to be really liked by someone, or even loved... on those days it wasn't quite so bad to think about it. After all, he had fans who loved him, didn't he? Isn't that what counted? With every new fan, he reached thousands of others. One step closer to their goal. 

True love and affection, which did not have to be bought or hypocritized, did not exist. 

But she didn’t scream. She just sat there. He almost didn’t spot her sitting behind the counter, which displayed varieties of tuna sandwiches and some adequate looking baked goods. When she spotted him standing there all still, she quickly put her phone aside and stood up. 

Jinu wanted to chuckle. Now he knew where the sakura scent came from. 

Her hair was tied together behind her head, some fashion strands hanging down her temples. It curled slightly, maybe from the heat of the oven behind her. Maybe it was just her natural hair texture. 

Her lips moved, but he heard nothing. She smelled of cherry blossoms and cinnamon, looked as if the word unhappy was not part of her vocabulary. 

Her fingers touched her necklace, nails embellished with pink nail polish. He had never understood why women painted their nails when hardly anyone would pay attention to such things. 

His eyebrows furrowed. 

They looked beautiful.

"Do you need help?" 

His eyes snapped up.

✮⋆˙

Y/N didn’t believe in angels. 

She didn’t have a hard childhood growing up. She had two married parents and an annoying older sister that moved out from home years ago and barely texted her anymore. While most of her friend’s parents got divorced in high school or throughout college and university, her parents stayed together. Simply out of convenience, or out of love that still lingered in their hearts from all those years ago, Y/N wasn’t sure what it was that kept them together for this long. 

They were busy working all the time, her father an architect that traveled abroad often, and her mom a veterinary nurse. Their marriage worked, but as the years went on, Y/N felt more and more invisible to their love. Their affection barely was enough for themselves, and she as their youngest child became forgotten. When she was younger, she used to curse out the devil for making her parents so successful in life. She didn’t believe in angels or the tale of every person having a guardian angel, because if they really existed, they did a really bad job.

But as she looked up to the customer who entered the small shop, ready to recite her studied standard greeting, she froze. 

He was tall. The smell of rain emitted from him, most likely from wandering outside in the still damp streets. But he didn’t say anything, he just stared at her.

He looked at her like she had the answer to all of his life problems, as if she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. 

His eyes looked mesmerizing. A deep brown, almost black, looked back at her own eyes, captivating her in a trance she was unable to escape. Was this how sirens lured sailors into their deathly embrace?

But he didn’t look evil. He didn’t look like the type of man to hurt you, just to feel malicious. 

She tried to speak, but the words didn’t want to leave her mouth. Her fingers wandered to her necklace, touching the small gemstone pendant hanging on it. It was a nervous habit she picked up during exam phase in high school, her fingers playing with her jewelry as soon as she got the slightest bit anxious. 

She certainly wasn’t in high school anymore, and she definitely didn’t know why she was uneasy, why she suddenly felt conscious about her hair, the stains on her apron, or that she forgot to apply mascara this morning. 

Shaking her head, she forced her fingers to let go of her necklace and instead grip on the marble counter in front of her. 

“Do you need help?” 

The man seemed to snap out of his trance, and shook his head. 

“No, no- I mean yes.”

Y/N crooked her eyebrow and hummed. Out of customers talking to someone on the phone, placing their card on the card reader without telling her they want to pay by card, and customers that complained about the prices, the ones who were unsure what to get were her favorite. 

“Any idea of what you want to get today? A sweet treat or a hearty snack?”

He shook his head. Jinu wasn’t prepared to talk to anyone, less a woman who he didn’t know why his words suddenly turned to thin air when looking at. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the displace of products behind the glass. He was a charming, young superstar, who never had to try to get humans to like him. They just did, annoyance and rejection foreign to him. He knew that that affection wasn’t real, but it was the best available for him at the moment. But this woman was blind to his charm it seemed, indifferent to his looks. 

Y/N wasn’t unfazed. She tried to appear that way, at the very least. Inside of her, she was screaming at how sinfully good he looked. She couldn’t afford to think that way about anyone. Love didn’t last, a curse doomed to dissolve under time. But God, if his eyes didn’t want her to jump into his arms, she didn’t know what do think anymore. 

Humming again, she tapped her foot against the wooden floor of the bakery. 

“Do you like it spicy?”

His head snapped up from where he was previously looking at, pupils widened.

“What?”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at his reaction. How couldn’t he understand this simple-

“Oh! No, no, not like that! Oh God-“

Jinu chuckled, her reaction making him feel slightly bad for his uncertainty of what to get. 

“Yeah, I like it spicy.”

Y/N looked at the man who was holding back a laugh, and furrowed her eyebrows.

“Are you making fun of me?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, crossing her arms. 

“No. I mean it. I like spicy food. I don’t look like a liar, do I?”

Y/N shook her head, sighing and pointing to the left side of the food display. She was getting underpaid, and she only got 4 hours of sleep. She didn’t want to argue with anyone, less this sinfully charming Korean Adonis. 

“We have chicken sandwiches with gochujang, grilled garaetteok, or plain chili filled rice balls.”

Jinu pretended to think about which option to choose, but in reality he was just using the time to look at her from underneath his eyelashes. He didn’t know what about her made him curious, it just…felt right to look at her.

He straightened up again and looked at her, really looked at her.

“What is your favorite?”

Truth was, Jinu didn’t know how any of these dishes tasted like. The last time he ate food for enjoyment reasons was 400 years ago, the taste of everything he once loved long forgotten in his trapped mind. He didn’t know how to cook either. His mother always cooked for him and his little sister, refusing to let him do anything besides working hard on his career. He shook his head. Laughter echoed inside his head, the smile of a woman he didn’t recognize haunting his mind. 

Y/N didn’t know what to answer to that. No one cared about her opinion, everyone just expecting her to wrap up their food and give them their change. She put a loose strand of hair behind her ear and shook her head. 

“I don’t have one. I don’t like spicy food at all.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what made you think I would like it?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “You look like the opposite of me. I don’t like spicy food, so I figured you might like it.”

Jinu looked her up and down. She was wearing faint pink colored jeans, a white blouse and over that her black work apron with a few stains on it. Her pink nails and jewelry only complemented her outfit. She was right.

While she was a star trying to shine, he was a meteor trying not to crash into earth. 

“So what do you like then?”

She pointed to a small brown baked sweet treat with white frosting on top, and dried honey in the shape of a heart draped on it. “This is the only thing in here I made myself. Everything else really is just ripped out of a plastic wrap and put into an oven.”

He nodded, not even looking at the other options. “I’ll take it then, your…” He squinted his eyes and looked down at the lettering in front of the item. “…cinnamon roll.”

Y/N smiled at that. She didn’t know what drew her to him. He looked strangely familiar to her, the level of familiar of someone you met in a dream you only dreamed once. 

She took a pair of tongs and placed the cinnamon roll in a brown paper bag. No one ever bought the cinnamon rolls, too special of a taste and too sweet for most people. That’s why she loved them, and the overwhelming taste of hope that came with them. Hope that she carried within her every day she came to work, every time she cried herself to sleep because of her dream job being unavailable to her. Every morning she would come to work early, just to bake the sweet treat over and over again, in hopes of not taking it home with her again like the last day and the day before that. They were the only thing in this store that she wasn’t happy to be able to take home on Sundays.  

She typed something in the screen of the cash register, the imagine for the cinnamon rolls popping up, and selected it. 

“That would make 7000 won (5$). Cash or card?”

He reached into his back pocket, and placed a crisp ten-thousand won note on the counter.

She was already typing it in the register, when he took his bag from the countertop and just shook his head. 

“Keep the change.” He opened the bag and took a bite out of the roll, eyes widening briefly before looking at her. “It’s worth the money.”

With that, he turned around and exited the store, leaving behind a baffled young lady and way too much change.

Y/N looked down at the note and put it into the till. She took out the change, and carefully dropped it into the tip jar on top of the counter. Employees weren’t allowed to take the tips customers gave them home, instead having to put them in the tip jar to be divided under all employees every week. But since it was Sunday and she would be closing the shop, the jar was all hers.

She dropped on her chair she was sitting on earlier, her arms hanging still beside her. Her head felt like a void, empty and shouting simultaneously. 

The strange feeling inside of her lingered, the premonition of this not being the first time they met. Her mind couldn’t put a finger on where she could possibly know him from, and it killed her. 

She shook her head, and wet a rag before wiping down the countertop. 

She didn’t know he was watching her. 

She didn't know that he now had his eye on her.

Y/N didn’t believe in angels, especially not in guardian angels. 

She just didn't know yet, that she now had her very own, very special, guardian.

𓍯𓂃ᥫ᭡.

Thank you for reading! If you liked reading this little piece of fiction in any sense, I would be more than happy about a like, reblog, or a comment! I absolutely love this movie, and it’s a shame how they ended it. But I’m sure we will get a second part, with the way the last scene teased it. <3

Comment if you would like to be tagged in a potential part 2! Requests for this movie are open ۫ ꣑ৎ

Who wants a preview of part 2? Let me know here! .ᐟ>ᴗ<

Vote what my next fic should be about!

What do you think will happen in ch.3? Vote here!

tag list: @yoihoshi-maki @kristinthegeek @zozoparsnips @mackenzielaw15 @lunaria1 @blobs-away @thaliasnicket @bakugousimpofawif3 @yoongiprongs @franbowidk @lorain07 @jetblackw1ngs @thesimppotato11 @aubreeiscool @ivorria @iamatinydinosaur

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by the wonderful @chennqingg <3

...when hope is all you got...

[EoH Universe]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: When the prison falls, your family gets separated. Now it's all about finding each other again... Especially Daryl and your son.

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, angst - a lot, blood, death,

The Road Era!

Word Count: 3,7k

a/n: I forgot that I wrote this story and remebered a few days ago. I thought for a second that I just dreamt writing this, but... Then I checked my docs and there it was. I never posted it, though. This has to change, 'cause I really like this installment of the AU. ☺️

EoH Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

Daryl's breath was laboured as he stopped to run; back pressed against a tree and crossbow dangling from his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut; throwing his head back. Rest wasn't granted him for long, though... The snarling and growling of the approaching threat caused his body to pump more adrenaline through his veins. "Damn it," he cursed and clenched his teeth, before he started to run again. In distance, the archer could see the thick cloud of smoke; marking the fall of the prison.

Tears gathered in his eyes. He had lost sight of everyone... Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Michonne, Carl, you, the kids, Teddy - everyone. He didn't know who was still alive and who wasn't.

Gritting his teeth, he continued to run - not away from the prison, though... Towards the prison. He had to find you and his son. At all costs. "Y/N! Teddy!" He yelled; his voice echoing through the woods and probably attracting the walkers all around the area, but he couldn't care less. The archer was running high on adrenaline; the pain, anger and fear in his heart pushing him on. He was more than ready to fight.

"Y/N! Teddy!" The closer Daryl got back to the prison, the more walkers came into his way. He killed them all; not stopping - until they had more or less surrounded him; coming at the archer from all sides.

He grunted and took quick breaths; sweat rolling down his neck and chest. His eyes flickered back and forth to not lose track of which walkers would 'attack' first.

The tactic was good at first - but at some time he lost track. More than ten walkers being too much for him as well. Therefore, he didn't notice how the threat sneaked up on him; ready to take a bite out of neck - when a loud gunshot suddenly urged to his ears. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the walker behind him sinking to the earthy ground beneath him. More gunshots followed.

Daryl quickly fought off the last two walkers (for now) and spun around - his heart leaping almost out of his chest as he saw you standing there.

"Y/N!" The usually so composed man almost sobbed; running over to you and straight into your arms. "Daryl," you croaked out; holding onto him for dear life. "I-I heard your calls a-and came as fast as possible, I-" You pulled back from the hug and cupped his cheeks; eyes scanning his body for any injuries. "You okay, sweetie?" He nodded; smiling ever so softly. "Now 'm okay." You breathed out a laugh and leaned in to press your lips against his in a desperate, but sweet kiss. You would've loved to kiss him longer, but the archer pulled back. His eyes were sloshing over with worry; hands twitching on your waist. "W-Where's our lil' boy? W-Where's Teddy?"

You swallowed hard; lump forming in your throat. "I-I left him on the bus, I-" "The bus?" You nodded; tears pooling in your eyes. "I-I went looking for you, thinking that he would be safe t-there. I-I had to look for you, but couldn't take him with me. It would've been t-to dangerous w-with all these bullets flying..." Your head dropped, just like your hands from Daryl's cheeks to land on his chest. "G-Gods, I-I hope they made it."

You felt how the archer's grip on your waist tightened softly; thumbs caressing your clothed skin. "Hey, sunshine, look at me," he spoke in a low, reassuring voice. You did what he asked you; looking up in those seemingly endless blue-grey orbs. "We're gonna find 'im, 'kay? He'll be a'right. Teddy's such a strong kid."

You nodded. "I-I know, but he's still just a child after all..." Daryl dipped his head to plant a firm kiss on your forehead; his goatee tickling your skin. "We find him, sunshine," he said again, "C'mon. We gotta get outta here." before untangling his arms around you and gently pulling you along; hearing the threatening snarls of more walkers getting closer. "Let's find tha' bus."

Daryl's tracking skills were probably never more advantageous than they were now in this very situation. Unfortunately threw nightfall a wrench in the works. It was too dangerous to walk around all night. Especially with the two of you still being not that far from the destroyed prison, which still attracted new walkers. Daryl wanted to keep going, of course, so you had to be the reasonable one this time.

You had just come back from securing your small camp with old ropes and empty cans you two had found; creating a alarm system. Now, you sat down on the remains of a tree trunk, beside Daryl, around a small campfire. He was skinning and cooking the... snake he had caught earlier. You watched him work; knowing that you were in the safest place in the whole world... By his side. You just wished Teddy was, too... But giving up wasn't an option. It never was and it would never be.

"Here," Daryl gently nudged your side; interrupting your thoughts. "You gotta eat somethin'." You nodded and took the piece of cooked snake meat Daryl was handing you; taking a small bite. "Could be worse," you stated then and looked at your man, who answered with a grunt and shrugged his shoulders. "'S not bad. Had worse." "Oh, definitely."

Later that night - might as well call it very early in the morning, you had taken over to keep watch; insisting that Daryl needed some rest, too. It took you some convincing, but in the end, he gave in and granted his body some rest.

You kept your senses sharp; constantly looking out for any threats. And of course, it came how it had to come... Something - or rather someone found their way into your tiny camp...

Not a walker, though...

You had your rifle drawn and loaded; ready to shoot, as you pointed it into the direction of the quick steps on wooden ground you heard. You were hiding behind a thick tree only a few yards away from the camp.

The closer they got, the more picked your heart rate up. Your finger was hovering mere millimetres above the trigger; twitching - but to your sheer surprise and endless relief stumbled a familiar face out behind the bushes... "Beth?!" You breathed and immediately lowered your rifle; beyond happy to see one of your family members. It gave you hope that the others survived, too.

The blonde teenager looked at you wide eyed, as if she had just seen a ghost. "Oh my gosh, Beth!" You immediately lunged forwards; taking the young woman in your arms. You felt how her body relaxed against yours. "Y-Y/N..." "Are you okay?" You pulled back; giving her a quick once over. Beth nodded. "Are you alone?" Once again, she nodded. "A-Are you alone?"

You just wanted to answer something, when another voice cut through the air. "Sunshine? Ya a'right? Wha' 's goin' on?" Daryl. His footsteps could be heard as well; approaching. "It's all good, sweetie. I found Beth." Within seconds, he appeared from behind a tree; looking from Beth to you and back. Then he nodded and lowered his crossbow. "Ya okay?" "Y-Yeah..."

Of course, you took her to the little camp. "How did you find us?" You asked; giving her some water to drink. The young blonde woman shook her head. "I didn't search for you. I just stumbled across you." You smiled softly and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "I'm glad you did." "What you think I couldn't make it on my own?" Beth snapped; giving you a frown. You shook your head, "No. I never said that. I'm just happy to see you; knowing you are alive gives me hope." and gave the teenager's shoulder a gentle squeeze. You could see in her eyes, that she immediately regretted her words. "I'm sorry... You're probably right. I wouldn't make it, I-" "Yes, you will, Beth," you interrupted her. "You are strong. Stronger than you think." In return, the blond gave you a small smile. "Thank you."

Then she looked around. "Where's Teddy?" Her question brought you back down on the hard ground of reality. You swallowed hard. "I-I... We don't know. We hope he's in the bus..."

Daryl, who had been a quiet participant of your conversation with Beth decided to chime in. "He will be in tha' bus," the archer said and subtly reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers and giving it a soft squeeze.

With the first daylight, you, Beth and Daryl got on the road again; trying to find the bus. It took you quite a while, but around midday, you finally found its tire tracks. "Are those...?" You asked as Daryl inspected the tracks; hope flaring up inside you. He nodded. "Yeah, 'm quite sure 's from the bus." You exchanged a relieved smile with Beth, since she was hoping Maggie and Glenn were probably in the bus as well. "Let's go!" You almost shouted; excitedly running ahead.

Your happiness didn't last long, though; got blown out like a candle within seconds. As you rounded the slight curve, you spotted the bus in distance; causing you to stop in your movements. The back door was ripped open and a lot of dead bodies were scattered on the earthy road. Familiar bodies. People you knew and once lived in the prison with you.

The moment of realisation hit you hard. It felt like your heart had just jumped over the edge of a cliff; free falling into its death. "No... No, no, no..." You whimpered; tears already starting to well up in your eyes, as you started to run again - straight for the bus. You heard quick footsteps behind you and Daryl's voice calling out your name, but you ignored him. You had to look for you son. You had to see if he was dead.

"Teddy!" You screamed from the top your lungs, but got no answer. Hastily, your eyes scanned the dead walkers, but Teddy wasn't one of them. Without thinking, you climbed inside the bus. "Y/N!" Daryl called out for you again, but once more you ignored him; your motherly instincts taking over.

You could feel your heart hammering against your ribcage, as you checked every nook and cranny of the empty, blood soaked bus. "Teddy!"

He wasn't there.

All you found was the red bandana he used to wear around his neck. Tears blurred your vision as you sunk to your knees; clutching the bandana against your chest. Teddy was gone, and you had no clue where to even start. Was he dead? Was he alive? The uncertainty ate you up inside.

Daryl and Beth reached the bus after you; the archer's eyes immediately scanned his surroundings. He didn't have to be an expert to know what happened. It was obvious. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned to Beth, "Ya keepin' watch, yeah?" and let his crossbow fall carelessly to the ground. Beth, who was shocked as well just nodded.

With a grunt, Daryl climbed inside the bus as well; spotting your shaking and crying form on the floor. Of course, he didn't hesitate and rushed to your side. A pair of strong arms lifted you up and embraced you tightly; catching you from falling. You buried your face in Daryl's chest; holding on to him for dear life.

The archer knew he had to be strong for you, but that wasn't easy. Teddy was his son as well. Keeping up a brave, strong face in this situation was impossible. He couldn't stop the tear from escaping the corner of his eye. "We're gonna find 'im, sunshine. I promise. He's out there 'n we're gonna find 'im. I ain't givin' up. Ya hear me?" You snivelled and lifted your head to look Daryl in the eyes. You could clearly see how much this affected him as well. The pain he felt.

Daryl lifted a hand and cupped your cheek; gently wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "Ya hear me?" He asked again, and this time you nodded. "Y-Yeah..." Daryl gave you a nod as well, "Good." and pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead.

"Someone's been clearly here 'fore us, let all 'em walkers out 'n killed them. Perhaps got Teddy saved by the person who did this." "You think so?" "Could be, yeah," Daryl said; chewing on his bottom lip.

You stayed silent for a few moments; gathering your thoughts and trying to get a grip again. "Alright. Let's keep searching."

You stared aimlessly at the concrete ground beneath you; trying to process everything that happened the past two days. You didn't even have time to breathe. Well, at least that was how it felt like... Finding the fallen bus, camping in an empty but stocked morgue, which resulted into losing Beth to god knows who. All you and Daryl saw was the white crosses on the rear window. It felt like another blow into the gut - full force. Now you were back at trying to find Teddy and the others; knowing very well that you couldn't rescue Beth alone.

You sat across from Daryl on the hard ground of the empty, only halfway finished building on the top floor; gaze directed on the landscape beneath your feet. Terminus was your destination; hoping that the others saw the signs too and followed the tracks as well.

The orange flames of the little campfire warmed your skin, but it didn't change the fact that you felt utterly cold. Without hesitation, you stood up and crossed the small distance to sit down beside the archer, who took you wordlessly in his arms. From your position, with your head resting in his lap, you looked up at him; noticing the trouble in his eyes.

Something was off.

Well, clearly Teddy still missing was occupying him, but there was also something else on his mind. You could feel it - and you had a guess...

You lifted your hand and gently cupped his cheek. He flinched at your touch; had been clearly lost in thoughts.

"What's going on in that handsome head, huh? Besides being worried about Teddy?" You asked; voice merely above a whisper. Daryl lowered his gaze and shook his head. "Nothin'." You huffed. "You can't bullshit me, Daryl. Not after seven years of being together. When are you going to learn that this won't ever work with me, huh?"

The archer started to chew on his bottom lip; lowering his head. He answered nothing at first and you didn't push him; caressing the skin on his cheek instead and trying to provide him some comfort and reassurance.

"'S on me," Daryl whispered after a while. "Losin' Beth..." You frowned; feeling his scruff tickling the tip of your thumb. "Sweetie..." You started and shook your head. "Why would that be your fault?" He swallowed hard. "'Cause I jus'..." He exhaled shakily. "I jus' send 'er out. I shoud've kept ya both safe... I-" "No..." You interrupted him immediately; shaking your head. "This is not on you, Daryl. You hear me? It's not your fault." You gazed deeply into his troubled eyes; swallowing hard. "You did what you think was right. And it was. You protected her from that literal herd of walkers by sending her out." You paused for a moment; letting your words sink in. "I hate that we found and lost her again in such a short time, but... She's alive, Daryl - and that's what's important."

The archer chew on his bottom and said nothing; just looked down on you. You could see in his eyes that your words had definitely reached his brain, but also that he was still hesitating. So, you jumped into action. "C'mere."

Sitting up, you shifted your position and gently nudged Daryl; gesturing for him to switch positions. Within seconds was his head now resting in your lap; face nuzzled into your stomach and arms tightly wrapped around your waist. It was exactly what he needed - and you knew.

You buried your hand in his chestnut brown hair; gently massaging bis scalp with your fingertips. "Let yourself feel it, sweetie. Imma catch you, I swear," you whispered; other hand running over his leather clad back. You just held him then; trying to be his tower of strength.

Silent tears were wetting your t-shirt, but you couldn't care less.

At some point Daryl had slept in - something you were really glad about. He needed rest and sleep; the physical and emotional exhaustion of the last few days catching up on him.

You went to check the barricaded staircase, before you extinguished the small campfire and laid down beside your man; trying to get some sleep as well.

You didn't know how long exactly you and Daryl were sleeping, but it must've been quite a while, since the first rays of the morning sun didn't manage to wake you up. Something else did... The familiar snarling and snapping of teeth, alongside some shouts and the sounds of knifes slicing through skin and bone.

You sat up with a start.

Someone was fighting walkers.

Out of instinct, you immediately reached for your weapons and stood up. Moving to the edge of the opened side of the house, your eyes widened at what you saw. It wasn't just somebody, who fought against the walkers... It was Maggie and Sasha.

"O-Oh my... Shit," you cursed and ran over to the stair; trying to quickly move the barricade away. The noise woke up Daryl, of course. "Whatcha doin'?" He croaked out; voice still thick with sleep. "Maggie and Sasha are outside and surrounded by walkers! We gotta help them!"

No ten seconds later was Daryl by your side and helped you to get out of the building.

Together, you stormed down the stairs and floors, until you reached Maggie and Sasha outside; quickly helping them to kill the threat. Both women's eyes widened as they saw you and the archer, but there was no time to talk. You had to get rid of the walkers first - and you did. Together. Panting, you wiped some blood from your hand and smiled at the two family members you just found. "Maggie... Sasha..." They smiled back at you with tears in their eyes, and within seconds, the three of you were wrapped up in a hug.

"It's so good to see you," Maggie stated, while she went to greet Daryl; placing a hand on his upper arm. The archer gave her a soft smile and Sasha a nod - which she returned. "Likewise," you replied, before looking around. "Are you two alone?" Maggie and Sasha exchanged a look. "No," Sasha said. "Bob's with us. He went ahead. We have to catch up." You frowned; were slightly confused. "Why did he-" "Trust us," Maggie interrupted you; still smiling softly. "You'll see."

You and Daryl packed your things and joined Maggie and Sasha; following the tracks. After catching up, you got to know that they were looking for Glenn, of course, and heading for Terminus as well - what gave you hope that all your other family members would do the same. Daryl talked to Maggie about Beth and explained what happened.

It didn't take you long to catch up with Bob. You could see him walking in short distance. "Bob!" Sasha called out to him, which caused the man to stop and turn around. His eyes widened for a moment, before a bright smile stretched over his face. He turned around again for a few seconds, and what then happened literally took your breath away...

Bob wasn't alone. A way smaller figure appeared from behind him. A little boy you only knew too well. Teddy. "Mommy! Daddy!" He cried out the second he saw you two and didn't hesitate to instantly start running towards you and Daryl.

"O-Oh my god," you breathed out; hand reaching out to grasp your man's arm. Tears were glistening in your eyes. But this time, it was happy tears.

Nothing in this world could've held you back then. You stormed off; running towards Teddy and fell to your knees in front of your son; quickly taking him in your arms. "M-Mommy..." Teddy was audibly crying as well; beyond happy and relieved to see you, of course. He was still just a child after all. "I-I'm so sorry, baby... S-So sorry... I should've never left you alone," you whispered into his hair; breathing in his scent. Teddy's small arms squeezed you in response - and not just Teddy's...

Daryl had made his way over as well and was now perched on his knees, just like you; one arm wrapped around you, the other around his son. The little boy noticed the presence of his father immediately and quickly untangled his arms around you, in order to throw himself into Daryl's arms - and you happily let him. Unlike you, though, the archer stood to his feet with him; giving Teddy the opportunity to hug him even closer.

An opportunity the four-year-old took.

He wrapped his legs around Daryl's waist; clinging to him like a baby koala to a tree. You smiled warmly at the both of them; beyond happy that your little family was reunited - something you had to thank your other family members for.

You turned towards Maggie, Sasha and Bob, who were standing beside each other a few yards away; watching the joyful reunion with smiles on their lips. "Guys, I..." You had to hold back a few tears. "I can't even say how grateful I- we are...Thank you so very much." You walked over to them; taking all three of your friends in a group hug.

"You don't have to thank us, Y/N. We are family - and that's what family does," Maggie said. "Exactly," agreed Bob. "W-Where did you find him?" "The bus. He was hiding overhead. Smart boy," explained Bob. "We killed the walkers and found him," Maggie continued.

Everything made sense now.

"Again, thank you. I-I don't know what I or Daryl would've done if we had lost Teddy..." Maggie shook her head and hugged you again. "Don't think about that. He's here and safe." You nodded; "Let's find Glenn." giving her body a gentle squeeze.

And you did. Just like all of you found your way to Terminus...

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @stiveroon @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @dixonsdarkelf @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep

[secretress]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐒𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞.❞

What is your future spouse’s aesthetic?

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Pac Summary!

🍊Your future spouse's aesthetic.

🍊How they feel about it in the future or in the present moment.

Moodboard | Divider

Pile I

Your future spouse's aesthetic. 

As I was shuffling, nothing came out. So I went with the assumption; perhaps they are lost with who they are. They are trying different aesthetics and seeing what makes them happy. I believe having a title like an aesthetic can bring us down if we don’t know what makes us happy, and that is the same with your fs. They are struggling to see what fits their standards of aesthetics.

Reversed nine of wands.

The reversed nine of wands confirms my thoughts. Right now, they are struggling with everything. They remind me of the tower tarot card. This is seen as something negative, but I see it as a breakthrough in life. Because if there isn't a negative situation, then you can never become uncomfortable or grow from the experience. You need those negative emotions for growth even if it’s sabotaging yourself. You become self aware throughout and teach yourself to not be your own enemy. I’m still feeling hopeless energy with your fs. So right now, the aesthetic is baggy clothes. They are struggling to become comfortable with their skin and what they like. They have tried fancy and luxurious suits. They have tried the swag or baddie aesthetic. They have tried sexy dresses, etc. They keep going for materialistic outfits, and intuition says you will meet them in a month or two and help guide them out of that hell hole. So when you do meet, I see them going for a flowy or relaxing aesthetic. It reminds me of a bit of boho and a soft aesthetic. And those who are into men, I see them actually painting their nails. Now, I've seen people associate nail polish on men with the LGBTQ+ community, alternative/emo/punk, etc., but no. Nail polish is about expressing yourself like makeup; the same goes here. 

How does their aesthetic make them feel in the future?

I kept shuffling the cards, but wasn’t able to get anything. Then I realized they wouldn’t feel much about it. I don't see them caring about how other people perceive them because of you. You were able to guide and heal them in a positive manner that made them realize they don't have to try so hard to impress others and that impressing themselves is more important. And you also taught them that materialistic aspects won't last in the long run; appreciating the small things you have in life is important. Beautiful life lessons; thank you for sharing those with them and elevating them into someone they love. So there isn’t a feeling here, but more of a thank you note from them to you.

‘’Thank you for showing me something that I thought was lost. Thank you for being there for me when I struggled and put money, charm, and looks on a pedestal. It was because of you that I realized that those weren’t important. What matters is the inside of us, our soul, and how we actually do things for other people. Without you, I wouldn't be able to understand who I was—I wouldn't be self-aware of the flaws I had, nor would I understand the struggles I put you in when I was so self-absorbed in the fashion world. Forgetting how toxic the industry has been. So thank you for being by my side and allowing my wings to flutter open as I escaped hell and finally met you in heaven. In our heaven.’’

Masterlist.

Pile II

Your future spouse's aesthetic. 

I was seeing a dark, winter night. The wind is flowing around the dead but beautiful trees. Beautiful white snow is raining down from the clouds, and there is a haunted house. Well, that is how the rumors spread, but in that house was a single father with his sweet daughter, trying hard to survive in the winter. Though it was hard to survive time to time with rumors being spread, people coming to throw hate, and such, the only thing that helped them cope was the love they had together. Before, I check what the card is. Intuitively though, they give me the aesthetic of gloomy winter. That softness that comes from the winter days, the excitement that comes out when it’s winter break, and when you want to go to the fireplace and have a nice cup of hot chocolate while being sneaky and adding marshmallows for yourself. The darker days of the winter as the moon glistens over a river. Or when the days become cold you must isolated from your friends. This is what your future spouse’s aesthetic. It’s complex but that’s the beauty of it. They allow people to spread false judgments while they express what they love, their aesthetic. They portray softness while appearing rough, a contradiction that works beautifully like dead trees allowing the snow to pile on top of it. Eventually the tree grows back and blossoms once more. That’s the irony of your fs.

Reversed four of wands.

A smile appeared on my face because the energy matched. Even though it is reversed, it’s a siren (bird form) on an apple tree, as weapons, i believe arrows, are pointing at her and targeting her. Do you see the resemblance? The weapons are the rumors. The siren are the people in the house, or in this case, your fs’s house. And the apples are the love shared with the family. The tree is what your fs holding their family together. Their family has accepted what your fs change in their traditions/culture which has made them happy. Thus causing them being comfortable with themselves and wearing the aesthetic they like despite it being frowned upon. I am getting a conservative family with them, but the family was able to heal because your fs took the stand and changed their views. I heard the family had no idea of the pressure given to their children before everything went down.

How does their aesthetic make them feel in the future?

The first word that popped up in my head was refreshing. The biggest weight came off their shoulders; it will be so rewarding. Everything they wanted has already come their way, and to top it off, you will be their last reward. Their wishes are coming and you are the last wish. They are manifesting for someone like you; you are their dream person, and the thought of being with someone like you makes them go nuts. Think of the craziest TV show character you know and amplify it by 3-5 times. That’s the excitement I feel with them, but with a healthy mindset. It’s just something they have been dreaming about for so long, since their childhood or teenage years. 

Reversed seven of wands.

Yeah, so with the reversed seven of wands, this is about a turning point that will lead to a positive situation occurring in someone’s life. And you are their positive aspect. If they didn’t stand up for what they believed in and speak with such vulnerability and power, then you guys wouldn’t be meeting in three to four months. Everything would’ve been delayed. And as I channeled this, I kept hearing soulmates. I know all (other than the 3-4% who believes it) of you don’t believe it, but that’s what I am hearing. So if it’s not soulmates for you, then it’s a relationship that is meant to be.

Masterlist.

Pile III

Your future spouse's aesthetic. 

Two of wands.

Your future spouse’s aesthetic is daring. They like to try new things, always getting out of their comfort zone. Sometimes, they enjoy pissing other people off because they live in a traditional area. Wearing something that is provocative or very showy bothers the people around them, but for them, it’s similar to adrenaline. I see someone riding on a skateboard wearing ripped jeans, showing their bruised knee. A grin is on their face as they are wearing a crop top, accentuating their curves and body. People look at them with disgust, but all they can see is their reactions. People record them to make fun of them and yet, they do not care. This is your future spouse’s energy. They genuinely don't care what other people think of them unless it comes to you.

Their fashion is fun and bold. It makes you think about them as they stay on your mind. In terms of aesthetic names, I get punk and emo vibes and lots of tattoos or piercings. Someone has vampire teeth, or they add them in. For some, your fs loves wearing spiky boots or making their ponytail in a spiky motion. Others, think of alternatives mixed with cyberpunk. Very wild and bright colors too. They know what they want when it comes to life and their fashion taste, and they are very straightforward about what they dislike too. So when there is a communication issue, they will be upfront about it and you both can resolve it quickly. 

How does their aesthetic make them feel?

Ten of pentacles and queen of wands.

Honestly, they feel blessed that they are wearing what they love. When you live in a traditional area, it’s hard to wear the outfits or do the things you enjoy, but they were able to push past their fears and become confident. Their outlook on life changed drastically, and they became comfortable with their real selves. They also feel thankful for how you will accept their fashion. They felt hesitant around you because they assumed you wouldn’t like their fashion style.

Masterlist.

Pile IV

Your future spouse's aesthetic. 

When I was shuffling your cards, a card flipped by itself, and then it became lost. At first, your future spouse kept changing their aesthetics constantly. They didn't know what looked best with their facial structures. They have a mother who is into cosmetics, so they know how to work well with fashion, but the idea of being perfect has affected their mindset. ‘’Perfectionism is my downfall; I know that, but I am working on it.’’

Reversed strength and reversed the high priestess.

Their mother has always been strict with them. Always putting their imperfections on their child because they couldn't handle their insecurities. So your fs has absorbed what they said onto them, thus causing them to become a perfectionist. The high priestess reversed is focused on trust issues and a lack of personal harmony. Their mother pressure has caused a strain in their relationship, and the amount of projection has made your fs doubt their fashion style. That is why the card disappeared and became lost. That is their energy right now. Their aesthetic is kind of like piratecore mixed with richness. It’s very attractive and will make you feel flush. I see them wearing a corset tank top with a white blouse top, showing their breasts slightly, or they will show their chest and torso in a laid-back way. They will have black pants that are tight to accentuate their body and to match their eyes. They will wear a black steampunk or some type of long jacket with buttons resembling a pirate’s captain. It’s going to fit very nicely. They will leave their hair loose to create that effect. And I am also seeing that sometimes they will switch it and wear a suit while still allowing their chest to show. I'm getting a strong nonbinary aesthetic too. They don't focus on what is feminine or masculine; whatever appeals to them and makes them look attractive in their eyes is what matters. 

How does their aesthetic make them?

Reversed six of wands and the empress.

There is already a huge cliff between their mother, and their fashion focused on piratecore and rich/luxury has drifted them a bit. Their mother isn’t noticing their hard work to find what they like; they are supposed to be into only classy outfits. Everything must be hidden and modest, and they break that. So that has pissed off their mother. The six of wands reversed is about a temporary setback and a lack of recognition for achievements. In the future though, I don't see much of a difference between them so meeting their mother isn’t a likely occurrence. On the bright side, they love their aesthetic, which makes them love themselves more. They are able to rebel against their mother and find comfort in this. The amount of changing things up to fit their mother’s standards killed a part of them, and to be able to gain it back and become resilient is something they are thankful for. They have a strong connection with themselves, and it makes them want to learn how to make their own clothes or design them. But no, this is a hobby and not their major or what they want to have as a career in the future. I also hear that they find themselves to be beautiful now, and a huge weight is off their shoulder. In a way, they are their own mother now (accepting their feminine side and taking care of their inner child), and when you meet, they will prorate a nurturing and mother-like nature. Tranquility is what appeared in my mind; you will feel peaceful around them. A true gemstone amongst the fake ones. 

Masterlist.

[riddlevile]

୨ ⠀ CIRRUS ⠀ ♡ ⠀ moodboard ⠀ ⠀ ୧

°ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ° °ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

@c0mmunisious ^_^

[oromanticism]

A Family Day at the Beach

Nanami Kento x fem! Reader

Tags: Pure sweet almost sickly fluff, Domestic, pregnancy, SFW, Alternative Universe, I was watching a bunch of Nara Smith videos and needed an outlet before I ended up getting married and having a real-life baby

w/c: 2,083

Based on this moodboard I made

For reference son is around 5 years old, older daughter is around 3, baby is almost 1 and the fetus is a fetus.

Dividers by @soulari

Nanami walked leisurely across the shore line of Kuantan watching his son and daughter in amusement as they poked and prodded at a displeased crab.

He had warned them earlier to leave the animal alone, that its claws would pinch their little fingers however, they insisted that the crab come back to live in their sand castle and that it had simply lost its way home. He couldn’t argue with that.

So for the better part of half an hour he had joined his kids in the slow journey guiding “Mr. Grabs” back home. And finally after a lifetime of traversing the sand dunes, the sand castle was in view.

“Almost there Mr. Grabs” his daughters sweet voice offered words of encouragement gently tapping the crabs hard exterior with a twig in the hope to jolst in further ahead. His son however, has grown restless over this whole ordeal.

“UGHHHH Can this thing be any slower” his son puffed, squeezing at his blonde tendrils in frustration. Nanami let out a breathy laugh recounting that at least all the lessons he had taught them both on patience had an effect on one of the children.

In that moment of positive recollection, he glanced upwards towards the sky soaking in the warmth from the rays above.

Big Mistake.

His knee-length clone identified this slight second of distraction from the adult present which gave him enough time to make his move. Nanami should have expected this, kids are like predators, waiting for a moment of weakness from their prey (their parents) before striking and doing something stupid. Alas just as quickly as his happy memories started to play, it ended with the shrill shriek of his daughter.

“Put him down” she screamed as she watched her brother pick up Mr Grabs and run in the direction of the sand castle. Before Nanami could open his mouth she had taken off after her brother, swinging her plastic toy shovel in the air. Standing there in the cloud of sand dust left by his children Nanami mused the idea of yelling at both of them to stop knowing they would both immediately listen but something tickled in the back of his head reminding him that this would be a great parenting lesson to have up his sleeve so he resigned to watching this small bout of madness play out already knowing how it would end.

His son looked back at his sisters expression taunting her with a toothy grin “I’m just faster than you-“

“Three, two, one…” like magic Nanami counted in his head and as soon as the clock struck midnight his son’s face began to contort. First confusion, then pain, then….

Every beachgoer in the near vicinity, grimaced at the ear splitting scream let out by the little boy as he began to flay his arm attempting to unattach a very pissed off crab from his appendage. Pushing the smug parent grin to the back of his mind Nanami approached the panicked child and removed the crustacean from his body, tossing it to the side and watching as it hurriedly scuttled away.

“Errrrr, Kento!” Your voice slashed through the moment “When I said watch the kids, watching them get bitten by crabs was not what I had in mind!” You grumbled, awkwardly manoeuvring yourself upwards, your round pregnant belly throwing off your centre of gravity causing you to stumble slightly in your ascent. Beside you your youngest child babbled happily in the sand, unaware of the distress her older siblings were in.

Nanami grinned sheepishly “It’s alright dear no one got hurt” he held the blushing boys arm as proof of his claim “Lie back done and get some rest” he cooed sweetly. Although your eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses he could feel the daggers aimed in his direction before you sighed and laid back down in the sun chair, picking back up the mother magazine you were reading.

He knelt down wordlessly and analysed the boy's wound, the finger was pinched pink but otherwise no skin was broken and no damage was caused other than to his ego. Smiling sweetly at his son, his lecture to the sniffling child on patience and respecting animals had begun in the most serious tone he could muster with that heavenly ‘Told you so’ feeling swimming in the back of his mind. His son stared at the ground, he hated being scolded by Nanami despite the fact his father never raised his voice or berated him his tone always carried a serious level of discipline and respect that could make a bird feel bad for singing. Nanami didn't like scolding either but he knew it was important to ensure his children stayed on the right path and represented him and his wife's hard work well. The boy nodded wordlessly once Nanami had reached his concluding message and reached out to hug his father's open arms buring his face into the older man's chest.

This was your fourth child with Nanami yet you were still a bundle of nerves preparing for their arrival. Being so close in age with your youngest (completely unplanned on your part, SOMEONE can’t keep their hands and other body parts to themselves) you worried about dividing your attention equally between the under twos and also how much sleep you would be able to get with breastfeeding two mouths.

You had read countless advice columns and mommy blogs warning about the dangers of having kids too close in age, critiquing mothers with large families on their ability to love and provide attention to all their children equally, and seen countless posts warning about the dangers of just about everything you currently did raising your young family. Doubt began to fill your head and despite having three little ones you felt like a new mother learning to do the correct things all over again.

Nanami did his best to ease your anxiety with foot rubs and affirming words reminding you that you both were a team and that he was ready to take on the sleepless nights again, even suggesting hiring a full time nanny to live in the house during the first few months to make the newborn stage easier. You declined his offer, despite home-care being cheaper in Malaysia it would still eat into a large chuck on his savings that could be allocated better elsewhere. Plus you had just watched a video of kids saying that they liked their nanny more than their moms which only added to your growing anxiety.

Nanami had noticed your behaviour change, especially after you began to second guess whether or not you'd vaccinate the baby and seriously discussed giving birth at home in the tub with no nurse or midwife. He shot down these ideas immediately, insisting that he would not be putting you or his children through that extra stress based on conspiracy theories and fear-mongering. He had started to worry about how all the 'online garbage' was affecting your sanity and mental health during your third trimester and insisted on having a no-technology day at the beach to ease your worries.

After another great parenting lesson was concluded Nanami made his way towards his moody wife. Your grouchiness never bothered him, in fact, it was one of his favourite parts of pregnancy. Seeing you become tender and over-emotional and knowing exactly how to squeeze a smile out of you in those moments was his greatest pleasure and partially why you both had formed a little league football team worth of children in such a short amount of time.

“There are my sweet girls” he approached the cheery baby on the ground first, casually removing the fist full of sand that was making its way to her open mouth and peppering kisses across her chubby cheeks causing her to bubble over in laughter. Music to his ears.

“And my favourite girl” he grinned placing the baby on his hip and crouching beside you on the chair. You glanced away from your magazine and scoffed at the slight on your husband’s over-exaggerated kissy face he was making at you.

“No kisses for me?” He asked playfully cocking his head to the side. You rolled your eyes and placed a single chaste kiss on his lips but before you could pull yourself away, you felt a large hand on the back of your neck , keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss. You mumbled incoherently into his mouth for a second before giving in to the affection placing a soft hand on the side of his face. After what felt like an eternity, this kiss was interrupted by a small disapproving smack from the baby on his side who began claw at both of your faces clearly distressed by this public display of affection.

Giggles enveloped the both of you whilst affectionately watching the baby crawl back to the pile of toys in the sand once placed on the ground.

“Still reading that magazine love? Nanami asked glancing at the the object in question “Honestly, we’ve done this three times already I don’t know what other advice you could possibly need or how much more equipment we could fit in the nursery” he grunted as he stood up from the sand balancing at the edge of your sun-bed.

Rolling your eyes you folded up the magazine placing it out of sight “There’s always some thing new to learn with these things, like the new Montessori school opening nearby and there’s these baby bottles that are shaped like real nipples to help with latching, and a bassinet that rocks the baby for you! It’s called the SNOO it’s about eight thousand Ringgits but we can buy it second hand” Nanami playfully groaned at your rambling shifting his body until he laying between your thighs leaving small kisses where he could reach.

“Are you even listening to me Kento? I said it says here that plastic nappies are actually bad for babies skin and that plastic bottles can cause eczema” He hummed absentmindedly in response resulting in a pout from you and a flick to the forehead.

Brushing off your annoyance he pointed his finger in the direction of your two oldest children who were engrossed in a very intense game of tag “Look over there love”

You winced slightly at the blow your daughter had delivered to her brother back once she caught up with him suppressing your giggle as he face-planted into the floor before getting up and taking after his assailant at full speed.

“And over here” he again pointed to the baby playing “Can I eat that?” in the sand beside them.

“You raised all of these kids just fine without all that nonsense, we’re going to be just fine” he kissed your thighs again caressing small circles into you while his eyes remained half-lidded.

You huffed again staring down at your caring husband allowing yourself to relax at his touch. Maybe he was right, all your babies were happy and healthy and you kept them alive for this long and anonmom2567 couldn't be THAT much better at parenting than you afterall.

"You're probably right Ken" you sighed again closing your eyes and relaxing back into the sunbed, he smiled lazily into your thighs content that his plan had worked and that he could reduce some of his wife’s troubles. The sound of gentle waves and chatter lulled you both into comfortable silence appreciating the wonderful weather, coastal air, and beautiful sky.

Of course as a parent silence meant trouble was afoot.

After a few minutes of this blissful silence you turnt to find your baby was not at her pile of blocks. You immediantly shot up and began to scan the area horrified to see your baby a considerable distance away (how'd she even crawl that fast???) at another families beach set up eating a popsicle from a cooing older lady.

"Aren't you just the most precious little angel" she fawned over your littlest one who was already scanning what they would eat next.

Not only that your oldest son had decided that the most adequet punishment for the slap he had recieved earlier was digging his younger sister neck deep in the sand.

Nanami followed your eyes to the scenes before him and let out a loud laugh, getting up to dig out the now-crying child while you retrieved your baby escape artist.

You were going to be just fine.

A/N: My second public fic omgggg hope you enjoyed. I was binge watching a bunch of Nara Smiths content and decided that I need to write my own young family AU before I messed around and married a mormon

[oddsandends-dirt-to-dust]

The World Ender

Masterlist - (chapters, link to ao3 post, moodboard, and spotify playlist.)

I’m The World Ender, baby, and I’m comin’ for them

Word Count: 9.5k

Warnings (for part6): smut, violence, murder, bombs and fire, graphic descriptions of gore and violence, nightmares, ptsd

A/N: Happy New Years everybody!!!!!

——————————

PART 6 - A Moth Who Just Wants To Share Your Light

A faint sound drifted in from the city – so quiet it was almost lost to the wind. You set the empty can down and stood, moving over to the windows. The grimy glass distorted the view of the streets below, but you caught it – the silhouette of a truck, its hulking frame arcing slowly across an intersection in the distance. 

Ellie came up behind you, her presence grounding as her arms wrapped loosely around your waist. Her touch was warm, steady. 

“Commuting home after a long day of torture and jerking each other off.” She mumbled against the curve of your neck, her voice twinged with bitter humor. 

Something sharp tangled your gut. 

Ellie’s lips brushed your skin. The heat of her breath fanned across your neck, making your nerves spark like kindling. Her mouth parted, and she began tracing a teasing path up to your jawline. Each press of her lips sent a ripple of sensation through you, anticipation thrumming low in your stomach. 

“Really? Now?” You chided. 

Ellie paused, her mouth hovering against your pulse point. Her smirk pressed into your skin as her voice came low and teasing. 

“You can tell me to stop.” She said. 

But there was a tension beneath her words. She was trying to distract you. Or herself. You blew out a breath as her hand slid down your stomach. Her fingers smoothed beneath the hem of your shirt, caressing over the skin there with feather-light touches. 

“Ellie, we’re supposed to be keeping watch.” You murmured, even as your body betrayed you, tilting subtly into her touch. 

“Better keep your eyes open then.” Her voice rumbled like the low growl of that dark truck, thick with reckless intent. 

The heat simmering in your gut flickered higher, undeniable. You swallowed hard, fighting a battle you already knew you’d lose. The button of your pants gave way under her fingers with a quiet pop.  

Her lips latched back onto the curve of your neck, soft and warm, sucking gently. You pulled in a shaky breath as she pushed her hand into your underwear. Her hand slipped lower, until her fingers were skimming over your slit, finding the growing pool of wetness between your legs. She coated her digits in your slick before dragging them back up, almost reverently, to your clit. She rubbed over you, touch light and teasing, and your stomach caved in. 

You bit your lip, nails digging into the arm wrapped across your waist. Her fingers pressed harder, pulling up and down over your tingling flesh until it turned to pleasure. Your hips curved into her hand, a low moan humming from your chest. The touch eddied through your stomach, up to your head, your mind swimming with amorous mirth – desperate for more. 

Your eyes blurred, threatened to close as your hips rocked, body settling back into her strong frame. Her hand sped, and your mouth popped open, a shaky whimper falling out and into the murky air. 

“You watching, babe?” Her breath ghosted over the damp trail her lips left on your skin. 

The pleasure wracking your body in waves clouded your brain. Your chest arched, head falling to rest on her shoulder as you shuddered. 

“Yeah.” You sighed out, eyes shuttering. 

An amused hum left her throat.  

“Look.” She whispered, mouth moving up to the hollow beneath your jaw.  

You dropped your eyes to the ruined city. The ruins glowed faintly in the dim, amber haze of the sinking sun as the afternoon crawled its way towards dusk, their decayed edges softened by the light.  

Ellie’s teeth grazed your skin, sharp enough to draw a gasp. Her free hand slid up your torso, cupping your breast through your shirt. She kneaded the flesh there, her touch firm yet careful, sending a fresh wave of pleasure pooling low in your stomach. Her fingers on your clit grew harsher, the rhythm precise and unrelenting. You groaned loudly. Ellie’s hips rolled into yours, a moan of her own buzzing against your skin. 

The city faded into the background as your eyes caught onto the reflection in the mirror. Your bliss-filled face, Ellie’s head tucked into your neck, the hand in your pants bucking into your pussy fervently.  

“Fuck, Ellie.” You whined, your hand sliding back to grip her hip, nails digging into the denim of her jeans. 

“You’re not watching. All you can see are those pretty, fucked-out faces you’re making cause'a me, right?” She said, her tone possessive. 

You sighed shakily, turning your face into hers. She captured your lips, the warmth of her mouth seeping onto yours. She shifted her fingers until she found a spot that made your mouth widen, wanton moans jetting out at with the overwhelming euphoria. Wet sounds leaked into the air as your flesh heated, the muscles of your stomach clamping down roughly. 

A breathy laugh left her lips, your own meeting her teeth as she grinned. 

“You hear that?” Ellie asked, low and taunting. “Hmm? You want me to fuck you?” 

You nodded, feet shifting to spread your thighs at her words. Her fingers dipped to your entrance, plunged inside. Your head lolled into her at the delicious stretch, her fingers curling into the plushy, tingling flesh. Flashes flared behind your eyelids, your moans growing dangerously loud in the quiet air. Ellie’s hand moved from your tit, hooking around your ribs to support your weight. Her palm ground into your clit and you rolled your hips into it, her fingers pounding into your pussy messily until your body trembled.  

You snapped a hand out, pressing it onto the cool plane of the window ahead as your legs weakened – shuddering and clenching around her hand. 

“Fuck.” You choked out. “ Oh my god .” 

“That’s it, baby. Let them see you.” Her words curled into your ear, bounced around your skull as the pressure in your stomach dropped low – bursting into heat and sparks. The turbulent waves of your orgasm crashed over your quivering body, your heart thundering in your chest. 

You writhed against her, mind hollowing out as the pleasure swept in unrelenting. Only the heat of her against you, the fingers you clenched around, and her low rambles of praise in your ear made it through the haze. 

“There you go.” “I got you.” “Feels good?” “Fuck, I love the way you moan for me.”  

She slowed her fingers, coaxing the last shudders of your climax from you, her lips peppering soft kisses across your neck. 

You caught your breath, the strength returning to your legs as you turned to her. Your lips crashed into hers, all urgency and heat, your hands tangling in her hair. You pushed her backwards, stumbling, until her back bumped against the edge of a desk. Ellie kissed you hungrily, melted into your mouth as the heat of your bodies collided. You brought your hands to her hips, pushed her onto the desk’s surface as it creaked faintly under her weight. 

You didn't leave her waiting for long, brought your hand down to her jeans, unfastened them, slipped your hand in. You drew a finger up from her throbbing, soaked entrance, found her clit. You rubbed languid circles around it, swirling your tongue around hers as her mouth opened and she kissed you deeper. 

Ellie tensed into your touch, hands tightening in the shirt at your waist. She sucked in a shaky breath, unable to focus on your lips as your hand sped, rubbing into her harder, ripping a groan from her throat. You pulled back, watched as her head fell back. She could barely open her eyes as she huffed, every exhale chasing a lurid moan. Her neck arched and you took the opportunity to lean in, your lips trailing down to suck at the soft skin. She pulled a hand up to your hair, twisted her fingers in it. 

Ellie was too delirious to even protest when you stopped, stretched up to pull your shirt off. 

“You deserve more than my fingers, baby.” You murmured, leaning into her. 

You kissed her again, shivering as she brought her hands up your ribs, over your heavy tits. She squeezed them between her palms, moaned into your mouth. You lifted her shirt to free her boobs too, falling to your knees as you dragged your lips down her body.  

You slipped her jeans and panties down her legs, left them by her ankles and slipped beneath them to bring your face to her pussy. She spread her creamy thighs for you, staring down with glossy eyes and reddened lips. One hand pressed into the desk behind her to brace herself, the other coming down to find its place in your hair again. 

You licked a slow stripe up her center, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as a low whimper escaped her throat. You did it again, slower, stooping to add more pressure as you passed her beating clit. The silky flesh against your tongue was intoxicating – her body responding to every swipe, her muscles tensing and releasing as if caught in a tide. Her brows scrunched together as her eyes grew more desperate, teeth clamping harder onto her lip.  

As you reached her clit this time, you wrapped your lips around it, sucking hard. Her mouth popped open then, choked gasp falling out as she gripped your hair harder. She pushed your face into her pussy, and you brought your tongue up to lick at her clit ��� short, hard sweeps, stopping every so often to suckle your lips around her again too. Her voice echoed through the room, breathy and desperate, each moan sharper than the last. 

Ellie couldn't help but collapse back onto her spine as you ruined her with your mouth. She rutted herself into you, groaning like she was hurting. Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk, white-knuckled, other hand still tightly in your hair as she used it for leverage to fuck against your mouth. Her muscles were tensed, head tipped so far back that you could only see the stretch of her sallow neck, her chin, the plump curve of her lips, the delicate tip of her nose. But from the sound of the whimpering, the erotic moans, the groaned curses spilling from her, you could imagine how lewd her face looked. 

Your own pussy throbbed at the sight of her. The flush climbing up her chest, the sweat gleaming on her skin, the way her voice cracked with euphoria – it was enough to drive you wild. Your tongue worked her in messy strokes as you drank in the sounds of her unraveling. 

You felt like you could do this forever, work her into madness with your tongue, feel her plushy thighs pressing into your face, licking up her taste. Better than peaches, better than the tang of blood-let, so uniquely her it made you moan. 

Ellie’s stomach was spasming, her sounds growing rough and ragged. And you knew she was coming by the way she ripped at your hair, the way her thighs squeezed in to keep you right where she needed you, the way she was chanting desperate pleas and babbled filth into the empty air above.  

You didn’t stop even when she sagged – you dipped your mouth to her entrance, pushed your tongue into her pussy, tasting her release. Her breaths came in shallow gasps as she struggled to compose herself. 

Ellie clenched around you, body jolting when your nose brushed her sensitive clit. You pushed your face in further, rubbing your nose back and forth against her deliberately. Her hands flew up, fingers clenching at the overstimulation before they tore into your hair, the back of your neck. Her nails stung, a feeling that only spurred you on. She shuddered, torso curling as broken moans ripped through her lips, her face twisted in blissful agony. 

You slipped your tongue back up to her swollen bud, caressing in light circles. Her eyes rolled back, shaky breaths tumbling from her heaving chest as her back arched. The sharp angles of her body softened as pleasure overtook her again. You suckled her between your lips and she whined, high and begging. You worked her back to the edge, relishing in the way – despite the things beckoning in the world beyond – it was only you and her in this moment. Only the softness of her body, her cries of ecstasy, her pretty face filled with need and carnality – all for you. 

She fractured beneath you again, trembling and cursing softly. And you were there to piece her back together, pressing kisses to her flesh and smoothing your hands up her clenched thighs. Your fingers traced gentle patterns into her skin as her breathing began to steady. You pressed your lips to her inner thigh, savoring the heat of her, the faint aftershocks that still rippled through her body.  

When you finally pulled away her glossy eyes met yours, a lazy smile tugging at her lips. 

She lowered herself to the floor next to you, kissed you as you felt her fumbling to pull her jeans back up. Then she pushed forward, chased your mouth as you laid back onto the carpet. Her lips kissed a searing path down your neck and chest, finding the peak of your breast. Her mouth pressed in around it, sucking, sending a low spasm of pleasure to your gut. 

She leaned up, mirrored your earlier movements – tugged your pants down your legs, her body slipping lower and ducking beneath them. Her tousled hair tickled your thighs. 

She worked you with her tongue, her hands steady on your hips as she held you in place. Your muscles clenched as her tongue flicked over your clit, bolts of electricity shooting through your veins. 

Ellie fanned the sparks in your tingling flesh, licking and sucking until hot tears rolled down your cheeks, until your skin blistered with sweat, until your eyes glowed white like the birth of an explosion, until your brain roared with burning, unrelenting pleasure. 

Her hand kneaded your tit – right over your aching heart. She moaned into your pussy, nails biting into your hip as you writhed on her tongue, shaking and groaning and shattering. 

It felt like fire. 

-- 

“If you’re going to do this, do it right. Do it well and feel it true.”  

His voice was scratchy, echoing, made your chest bleat. The room swirled into darkness.  

clink, clink, clink  

Your body hummed.  

“You know what’s right. We only have each other. We’re different from all else, you and me.”  

There was something dark behind his eyes. Swirling and twirling and devouring your face.  

You dragged a hand down your cheek, felt the skin pull and snap back.  

“You’re going to save this world.”  

clink, clink, clink  

Your spine straightened. Ice gripped your gut. You were freezing.  

“You’re going to save this world, my girl.”  

Snaps and crackles flittered against your eardrums. Ashes cradled your face. And you were warm now. You were warm. The light pooled in your eyes, bright and beautiful. Like a sun, like a star – no, like the end of a star. Blazing and collapsing and burning into death with a roar.   

Someone was screaming. Your body tensed up like a trigger ready to fire.  

The sound ricochetted into your mind, and the floor was caving in. The floor was splintering, the floor was falling, the floor was caving in.  

It was hot here, too hot.  

Your feet bounded into the dirt, your bones groaning with the impact. And someone was screaming.  

You didn’t turn, you didn’t look, the trees were a maze around you.  

Branches whipped at your face and wind rushed past your ears and you were screaming.  

The wind was screaming with you, the world was howling, and your feet were stumbling.  

you can’t run  

You didn’t stop.  

You can’t run; the sun is coming. the star is dying behind your back and you’re burning to the ground  

Footsteps followed, thudding against the dirt, echoing through the forest. Too many feet.  

the star is dying  

The trees growled. The air tasted sweet and choking and the sky was missing. You couldn’t see.  

THE STAR IS DYING  

Fingers clawed at your face. Your throat ached. You ran. You ran until the trees stopped growling.  

THE STAR IS DYING AND YOU KNOW WHAT IT PROMISES. STARS COLLAPSE INTO RUBBLE. STARS COLLAPSE INTO HOLES THAT NEVER SATIATE, NEVER GLOW, NEVER END  

It was cold here. The floor was smooth and unforgiving and cool against your bones.  

a star’s death is a swirling hole that never ends, never changes, only grows - cannot exist  

And they’re coming. Burned and butchered and faces gone, faces devoured, faces swirling with black.  

Clawed, charred, ruined fingers reached for your face.  

You lurched away, thumping into something solid. You sucked in a gasp, blinking through the black as something rattled behind you. 

Moonlight seeped through the windows ahead, coating the peaks of the city in an opalescent balm. Rays of the cold light illuminated the room, the desks and debris, pooled onto the face of the slumbering girl beside you. Your chest caved in, heart ratcheting against your bones so hard you flinched. 

They were coming. 

You jolted to your feet, eyes darting to the door at the far end of the room. It didn’t move. 

Where the hell was your bag? When had you taken it off? 

You’d eaten – no, Ellie had given you a can from her backpack. 

Your eyes roamed the floor, catching on scattered binders and broken pencils. And dust and decay and the dirt of age. 

Ellie shifted, her brows curling in before her face settled again. 

When had you fallen asleep? It must’ve been after...  

Stupid. So stupid, you were supposed to be leaving this fucking place. Where had you- 

A voice called your name, it echoed up the stairs, wailing in from behind the door, rough and begging. You didn’t recognize it. 

“Can you help me?”  

Where had you put your bag? Your steps stumbled in the dark as you peered behind the desk. 

you can’t leave, it’s too late. they're here, you can’t leave them like this  

Panic, cold and smooth, rippled through your muscles. Your eyes latched onto the tattered, black mound of your belongings, resting against the side of the desk she’d sewn you up on. 

Your arm shot out, fingers curling around the strap. You dragged the thing up and onto your back. 

stars collapse. stars collapse and burn into nothing; they die and fizzle and suck a tear into the chest of the sky  

Your eyes snapped back to Ellie. 

She looked peaceful. In the middle of all this rubble, in the middle of this butchered world, she looked peaceful and soft as she rested. 

Your heart clenched; your mind bleated.  

stars collapse. they're coming  

Your feet bounded into the floor, thudding against the carpet. Your legs tore down the stairs, hip groaning, hands smoothing down the railing as you flew. 

Past that burning room, that tomb, that devouring void of dark and memory. And down still, swirling and twirling down staircases until your feet met concrete and your face met night air. 

--  

They were lousy patrol-men. Things like them didn’t like grunt work, they were all hunger and gorging – no discipline. So, you weren’t surprised to find the streets beyond the hospital empty. It was only when you got closer, heaved yourself onto a roof outside the flimsy, wire fences they’d raised, that you finally spotted their inky silhouettes. 

Some stood rigid, watching the night curl through the city. A few shuffled lazy paths around the hospital’s pale walls, the moon hanging heavy in the soulless sky washing them in a sickly glow. A few clustered in the parking lot’s center, shadows shifting and merging as they muttered amongst themselves – you couldn’t hear their grueling voices from here but you could imagine the cruel contents of their words. 

There were about fifteen men in total, scattered across the cracked concrete lot, the ones who walked disappearing behind the hospital every now and then. Smoke slithered into the sky, seeping from a glowing drum of fire in the middle of the lot – dancing, spitting sparks and warmth you could feel on your skin even from this distance. And you were right, there was a dark mass of vehicles huddled in the back corner.  

One of the men broke off, meandering towards the edge of the lot. He trailed the fence line until he disappeared around a sharp corner covered by bushes. 

You dragged yourself over the roofs edge, your fingers gripping window ledges and decorative mountings that crumbled slightly beneath your weight as you scaled down the side. 

Your feet pattered softly against the ground as you weaved through cramped alleyways. The scent of damp concrete eddied into the air, as the sky began to weep lightly, the little specks of water dewing your skin. 

You saw the fence then, lowering your body instinctively as you slinked up the street. Your back pressed into the nearest wall, rough and chilling. He stood just beyond the fence, his back to you. You watched, scowling, as he emptied his bladder into the bushes. Beside him, the shoddy gate yawned wide open, the chain that once tethered it now dangling limp against the dirt. 

You crouched low, angling yourself behind an overturned dumpster. Its rusted edges flaked onto the ground, withered and corroded trash spilling from its maw and onto the street. You let the practiced sounds leak from you then, loud enough for him to hear. Growls and faint shrieks that left your throat burning, the perfect mimics of those grating sounds you’d grown so used to. The ones that had been thoroughly wiped from this little corner of the map, the ones that were a perfect lure for a starving creature like the man across the street. 

You sent your fist for the side of the dumpster; it rattled with cavernous bangs as you pummeled it. 

The rumbling of a deep voice reached you, and you paused.  

“-infected on fourth. I’ll deal with it.” 

Your muscles winded up, tension buzzing under your skin. You slipped your gun from her holster, felt her cool hilt warming in your palm. 

His shadow stretched long and menacing across the gloomy street in front of you. His boots scuffed against the trashed ground, and his body came into view – a long, curved knife glinting in his grip. 

You lunged. 

You free hand latched onto his wrist and twisted hard. He let out a strangled grunt as you wrenched his arm behind his back, adding pressure until his knife clattered to the ground at your feet. Without hesitation, you coiled back and slammed your boot into his spine, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Dust kicked up around him, speckling with the faint rain like ash.   

He rolled over, coughing, and you froze mid-step. 

The man’s hands shook, just a little, as he leveled his gun at you. You tilted your head, felt your face stretch into a grin. 

“Ooh, scary,” you drawled, twisting your pistol in lazy circles. “What’s the plan? Bang-bang, pow-pow? Think you’re fast enough?” You asked, taking the step closer anyway, slow and deliberate. Your boots crunched on debris. 

He flinched, finger twitching on the trigger.  

You swayed your head. 

“Put it down.” You said, voice dipping into something softer. Something deadly. 

His eyes were wide, the whites shining as he flicked his gaze to the settlement behind your back, as if salvation lay somewhere in the distance. 

It didn’t. 

His eyes found you again. You lowered your brows at what you found on his face. 

Things like him didn’t like feeling threatened. Didn’t like feeling hunted.  

His shoulders tensed. 

You dove to the side as a bullet rattled out of the barrel with a pop, feet dancing up and onto the rusted, bent back of the fallen dumpster. You followed through, flew from its surface in a blur of motion. You landed atop him hard, driving the breath from his lungs.  

Before he could react, you slammed the butt of your pistol into his temple, the impact sharp and satisfying. You pried his weapon from his fingers as he groaned, his arms pinned beneath you flexing with weak attempts to push you off. 

You plucked the radio from his belt, flicking it off with a click before hooking it onto your own. 

He blinked up at you, dazed. His eyes widened when you pressed the cold barrel of your pistol to his forehead.  

“Hi.” 

His brows furrowed, face twisting with frustration and fear. 

“What’s your plan? Waltzing into an armed settlement with a handgun and some knives? You’re dead, you stupid bitch.” He spat; his words venomous but his voice shaking. 

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to a lady.” You taunted, leaning into his scarred face. “I need you to tell me how many men are inside. Where they’re stationed, what weapons they’ve got.” 

“No.” 

You sighed, rolling your eyes even as a thrill went through your chest at his defiance. 

“You’re going to tell me. I’m letting you choose - you can just give it up, or we can make this messy... and painful.”  

The man tried to raise himself. You reeled a hand out; it made a vicious slap as it collided with his chin. You followed through, pushing his head back violently, moving the gun down and shoving it hard into his exposed neck.  

“I’m getting bored. And you really don’t want to see what I do to men for fun.”  

He didn’t respond.  

You took one of your knives into your palm, the blade glinting as you angled it down and pressed it to his abdomen. You dragged it slowly, savouring the way his skin split under the pressure, dark blood welling up and spilling over your fingers. He groaned, face contorting in agony. 

You lifted your drenched fingers to your face, smudged a sharp, curved line from one side of your cheekbone, across your mouth, and up the other side. You lifted your fingers to carve two heated circles onto the plane above your eyebrows. 

The man bared his teeth, eyes flickering with horror. His sins, his people's sins, staring him in the face. Come to collect the blood they’d let. Your own smile grew beneath the crimson one, the sharp twang of his ichor seeping into your mouth. 

“I can rip you all the way open and keep you alive the whole time. I could feed you your gallbladder. Or your dick.” You laughed a little as you said, “would you like that?”  

“You’re dead.” He bleated again, voice cracking. 

You wrenched your fingers into the gash in his gut, felt his skin stretch around you until you met the squelching mush within. Your fingers burned hot, sticky and glossy with the wet of his life, as he cried out and writhed beneath you. 

You smiled, eyes roaming his horrified features. 

“This isn’t the torture, by the way.” You told him, rummaging through the gore within until you found the soft, spongey mass of some nameless organ and clamped down hard.  

You waited for him to stop screaming before you murmured gleefully, 

“This is the fun.”  

- 

Things had gotten messy. 

Blood coated your face and hands, dripped down your limbs, seeped into your skin until you were all ruby and rust. The metallic scent of it swam with the musty decay of the old building, that had once been clean and sterile. You saw the ghosts of its former glory in the cracked, yellowed walls that were once white, and the sleek linoleum floors now hidden by grime and unidentifiable stains. The signs around the walls were eroded, or covered over by scrawled graffiti.  

Patient beds, their frames bent and rusted, screeched on warped wheels as you shoved them aside to clear your path. The sound echoed sharply in the wide, hollow hallway. You didn’t bother glancing at the scrawled directional signs, the hospital wasn’t big, and you knew where you were going. You made your way to the intensive care unit – the section that held the most beds. 

The man in the alley had conceded eventually, his screams and groans turning to babbled words of intel. There were thirty-five men stationed here in total. You weren’t sure how many you’d ended by now – ten or so. They’d been easy work, using your knives and silenced gun – because men underestimated you, and it was one of the best weapons in your arsenal.  

You turned a corner, found a corridor just like the last. But a big, blue sign lay over the doors at the end, gleaming even in the dim, back-up lights. Those three letters sent a jittery excitement crawling under your skin.  

I see you.  

You frolicked past empty cans, ruined hospital equipment, shredded scrubs, and other rubble. Your eyes caught on a med cart that had been refilled with random supplies – a few bottles of whiskey, old bandages, some boxes of ammo, and tools . Shining wrenches and crowbars, jumper cables, pliers, nuts and bolts. 

You paused, bending low to shove the cables and some of the tools into your backpack, your hands bumping into the jagged, colorful shape nestled at the bottom, almost glowing within the dark fabric. You took it into your palm, warmth blooming in your chest. Then you stood, slinging your bag back over your shoulder. 

You carried on down the corridor, and as you got closer, your ears picked up the faint drone of voices. Your steps softened, and your hand reached for the heavy ICU door. You opened it slowly, a whisper against the floor, and peeked your head in to look.   

Rows of faded, ripped blue curtains spanned the room, shielding the beds behind them. The air carried the tang of sweat, cigarette smoke, and rot. In the far corner, a group of men clustered around a battered table, bottles and cards scattered across its surface. You counted nine. 

You slipped inside, a shadow in the gloomed light. 

Eyes snapped to you then, widening first before filling with that sickening concoction of glimmering amusement and arrogance. 

“Well,” One of them drawled, dragging his gaze over you like a wet cloth. “You look all kinds’a fucked up, but this ain’t a hospital no more.” He shook his head. “No doctors here for you.” 

You tilted your head, gaze flickering to the rifles leaning against the wall beside them. They had guns strapped to their hips too, and all different kinds of knives peeked from belt loops. You hummed. 

“That’s alright.” You said with a lazy smile. “This isn’t my blood.” 

A little anger seeped into his face at that. A few of the men placed their cards down and stood, their chairs scraping against the floor. 

“You stupid?” One sneered, hand settling on his gun. 

You smile widened, sharp and gleaming. 

“Move,” You began, showing them the bomb in your palm, your thumb hooked in the pin. “And I’ll bury you in the rubble of this place. Let the walls do all the hard work.” 

The eyes latched onto the painted thing in your hand. 

“Slide your guns over here.” You ordered. 

“Hell no.” Another spat, turning to the rest of the men with furrowed brows. 

Apprehension settled into the air, thick and choking. They were scared. Your chest danced with glee. 

The first one who had spoken though, he still looked slightly amused. He sat casually in his chair, a small smile twitching at his lips before he slipped his gun from the holster, aimed it at you. 

“Really? I just killed a third of your people, you wanna take me out with a few holes to the chest?” You mocked, tone pitchy and taunting. “Slide your guns over here, you can keep the knives.” 

“Your bluff needs work, kid.” He said, gaze narrowing. 

But he didn’t shoot. 

No, they wanted their fun first. And you’d give it to them. Because your bluff had taken a lot of work, and you’d designed it perfectly for moments like this. 

You slipped your thumb out of the pin, gripped the top of your bomb, and twisted. It hummed to life, drumming out a clinking rhythm as it flickered with blue light, casting dancing spots on the walls. It sounded like a heart.  

The man lurched from his chair; arm outstretched to keep the gun on you as he stepped in front of the men. His men. 

His eyes widened, that shock and fear you were looking for etching his features. 

You twisted the top of the bomb back into place. It stopped buzzing. 

“I can only do that a couple more times before this thing goes kaboom .” You quipped. “You should probably take my word for it.” 

“Yeah, well, it’ll take your ass out too.” The leader growled, his body taut now; shoulders tense and face severe. 

Your laugh bounced through the room – a high, sharp sound that made the men flinch. 

They still hesitated. You swayed on your feet, twirling the bomb lazily in your palm. 

“I’m getting bored. Tick-tock.” You said. 

They didn’t move. 

You pursed your lips. 

“Tick-tock.” You angled your head, lifting the bomb pointedly. “Tick... tick... tick.” 

The man shook his head – not a refusal, more like disbelief – before he lowered his weapon.  

“Fine, you want a fight? Drop your shit too.” He jerked his chin at you. 

“Oh, I will.” You promised, adrenaline buzzing through you. “You first.” 

He licked his lips, dirtied face scrunching up before he placed his gun down, kicked it. It scratched against the floor as it slid to your feet. 

“Mike, you seriously can’t be-” 

“Shut up.” He cut his peer off. “Give her the guns.” 

The men started sliding their guns to you, their faces tight and stricken. 

You crouched, pulling Jezebel from your hip and placing her with the others. You started pulling the magazines and bullet cartridges from the guns, making sure to glance up at the men every so often. They watched you, leaking thunder and frustration. You dropped your bag from your shoulders, and stood. 

Your eyes narrowed, smile twisting. 

The room exploded into motion.  

You launched yourself at the first man to reach you, ducking beneath his blade and twirling around, sending your elbow into the back of his skull so hard your bones groaned. The next one was on you then, before the first had hit the floor, a hand gripping your shoulder as the other made to plunge his hooked knife into your face. You snapped your arm up, ripping your own knife from your holster as you did, and it met his with a sharp clang. The blades spat a spark as they dragged against one another, and you used the distraction to fling your knee up and into the soft flesh of his groin. 

The man crumpled as you took your other knife into your palm, lancing it up and straight into his awaiting throat. Blood sprayed warm and wet over your hand. You barely had time to yank the blade free before a fist collided with your face. Pain exploded through your jaw and you staggered back, vision swimming and ears ringing like a shrill alarm. But there was no time to falter, they were closing in – a pack of snarling wolves with blades gleaming like teeth. 

You whirled like a storm, wild and relentless. Your arms carved in wide arcs, knives striking flesh and tearing skin from bone. Hot blood splattered your skin, mingling with the sweat building at your back. And their knives found you too, grazed your arms and sides – sharp kisses that stung – but you were moving too fast for them to dig deep enough to maim. Groans and guttural snarls spewed into the air around you as a few men fell – their faces and necks split – then a hand wrenched onto your right wrist.  

You spun on instinct, shifting your weight as your leg whipped up and crashed into your captor’s jaw. His head snapped back, and he fell with a grunt of pain. You used the momentum as you righted yourself to plunge a knife into another's chest. It found its mark, sinking deep into the corrupted heart within, and he rattled out a gasp. A sickening crunch sounded as you ripped the blade free, spraying blood onto your face and the arms reaching in around you. They tangled around your neck, yanked you flush against the body behind you – not hard enough to stop your breathing, but enough to make you choke. You dropped your knives to free your hands. 

The leader – Mike – was in your face now, his own dark and contorted in contempt. You couldn’t help but smile, even as those arms tightened beneath your jaw and the barrel of a gun slid onto your forehead.  

Lying, cheating bastard.  

“I’m gonna-” 

You clasped your hands onto the arms caging you, braced a foot on Mike’s hip, and used the leverage to surge your other leg up. Your thigh landed on his shoulder, and he grimaced at the sudden weight. You had to move – now. 

You snapped your head to the side as the gun went off. A fiery searing grazed past your scalp as your teeth burred in your mouth, and blazing blood trickled hot down your neck. You couldn’t ignore the ringing of your ears now, but even as your thoughts careened and rattled in your skull like the bullet should have, you hooked your calf behind Mike’s head.  

The man behind you had met your bullet, and he gargled, dropped like a bag of rocks, gagging on his own blood. You dropped with him, dragging Mike down. You all thudded to the floor, the breath puffing out of you as Mike dropped against your leg and into your chest. You didn’t hesitate, shifting your foot from his hip and shoving it into his stomach. The gun in his hand clattered to the floor as he grunted, and you rolled, shifting your weight onto him and wrenching his arm down, hard, against your knee. 

This time he screamed, a delicious sound that almost silenced the crack of his arm. You pulled your other knee up, pressing it into his face as you reached down to collect the gun he’d dropped. His free hand snapped up, tangling into your hair and ripping your head back. Another man was standing again, and you arced your arm back, squeezed the trigger. Your bullet hit the mark, as always, and his body froze, swaying for a moment before he joined his peers on the floor with a thud. Satisfaction flared in your gut. 

Mike threw you off, and your backside met the damp floor – marred and ruined with pools of steaming, sanguine blood. You threw your arm back towards him, branded him with the barrel of his pitiful gun. He froze. 

Your scalp burned and ached all over, warm ichor of your own still seeping down your neck, your arms, your stomach. You didn’t mind it. It made your chest thrill with something electric. 

The radio on Mike’s belt hummed, the light twitching green. 

“Everything alright up there? Heard shots, what’s-” The voice sputtered out, static cutting in before the frequency went quiet. 

You quirked your head. A few more shots wouldn’t hurt. 

Well... they’d hurt him. Your mouth twitched. 

You pressed down on the trigger, sent a chunk of lead for his gut. Then you did it again, even as he roared and clutched at his stomach. And again. The pops bounced around the walls, shattering the silent air. 

Mike growled curses, reaching behind him for your fallen knives in desperation. You lurched forward, stomped a boot over his out-stretched fingers. He hissed. 

“Let me get that for you.” You said sweetly, picking up one of the knives and delivering it straight into his groin. 

He screamed again, a brutal sound, before it sibilated into more of those rough curses. You chirped an amused sound. 

“I thought you liked torture, Mike.” You mocked, twisting the blade before ripping it free. 

His head lopped back into the floor, face a mask of agony. His muttering was slurred, now, weak, and his eyes scrunched up. 

You chuckled, retrieving your second knife and slotting them both into the loops on your belt. Walking back to the door, you scooped up your bomb, threw it in the air a few times before stuffing it into your bag. You tossed your backpack over your shoulder. Then Jezebel found her place in your grasp again, steady and familiar. 

Mike gasped, blood bubbling at his lips as you sauntered back over to him. You stooped low to his face. 

“How many are in the hotel?” 

His bloodshot eyes locked onto yours. 

“Go fuck yourself.” He growled. 

You smirked. 

“Just tell me, and I’ll make this quick.” 

His eyes shuttered, face curling with pain. 

“Too many. Too many for your little bombs and bullets, bitch.” 

“Ooh. Guess I’ll have to use something bigger then.” You rasped. 

He wheezed a laugh. 

“The big man’s gonna-” 

You lifted your gun to his head, blew it wide open. His useless thoughts sprayed all over you, across the floor as he slumped. 

You rose and started for the door but you slipped in the blood pooled around, knees slamming into the ruined floor. You caught a warped, blurred reflection of yourself in the gore – a black smudge of shadow. You slathered your hand into the liquid, let it squelch between your fingers. Then you stood. 

You walked to the wall, reached your arm up high, dragged a large curved line onto it. You stood on your tiptoes, reaching higher to add two ex-marks for the eyes. The image was bright against the pale wall, dripping and gleaming and sending fulfillment through your gut. You stepped back, smiled. 

Static crackling ripped through the room before a voice came through. 

You turned, eyes on the drenched radio in Mike’s belt. 

“-trouble down here. Carl and Everett are dead, I found ‘em by the trucks.” The words fizzled. “Don’t know – is, can’t see anyone around but – stationed on the far fence are – too.” 

Dead. You could read between the lines, find the truth being gauged out by spitting static. The guards at the fence were dead too, and they didn’t know who was out there.  

You’d crawled in through a back window between patrols – you'd left the men stationed outside alive, planning to take them out last. 

Something hot rumbled to life in your gut. 

You whirled, running through the doors and back into the corridors beyond. 

The hospital swallowed you whole, it’s labyrinth of yellowed walls and harsh turns closing in like teeth. Your heart drummed against your ribs, your steps hammering the cracked floors as you tore down stairwells. 

Finally, the entrance loomed ahead, its glass doors open wide, offering you the night beyond. 

Cool air slapped your face as you burst through, steeling your breath and sharpening your focus. You gaze fled across the lot, found the men spanning out and searching for someone. Searching for her .  

You raised your pistol, sure and steady, sent a bullet into one of their skulls. The crack split the night and his head snapped back, eyes rolling with it before he thudded to the concrete. 

The others turned on you then, their shock twisting into fury. A cacophony of gunfire erupted. their bullets flying through the air like malignant raindrops. You dove to the side, colliding hard with the ground behind a massive, cracked planter. Your ribs and shoulder trilled with pain at the impact but you swallowed it, pressing against the edges of the pot. And the plant within was dead, drooping, withered to brittle flecks and curled claws of twigs. 

Crouching low, you crawled toward the cover of a small brick wall as the gunfire settled, each movement dragging against your screaming muscles. Heavy footsteps roamed closer, shouts ringing out with them. Then the steps were replaced by more bullets, resounding peals ripping through the air and meeting rock, metal, bone. Men screamed, rough and ragged. Your fingers speared into your hair, palms pressing over your ears as you grimaced, choked on your breaths, tried not to fall into the pit of your brain as it yawned wide with black. You focused on the burning of your scalp. 

Hands were on your own, ripping them from your face. Your eyes opened just in time to meet the blurred mass of a fist before it collided with your nose. You careened into the floor, sputtering as blood seeped over your mouth and down your airway, pain splintering your skull. The man loomed over you in the black, his grip twisting into your shirt. He yanked you up like a doll, dragging you into another brutal strike of his knuckles. Lightning skidding across your cheek and through your vision as your face snapped to the side.  

The hand came for you again, this time glinting with malice. You threw an arm up, your other hand bracing against the floor as his forearm collided with yours. His face came close, teeth bared and angry, reflecting off the knife you’d blocked. You lashed out with a boot, striking his shin with everything you had, and he crumpled with a grunt. You scrambled backward, nails clawing at the gritty pavement as you twisted yourself to your feet. 

And you ran. 

The hospital building blurred at the edges as you bolted, each breath slicing through your chest. Branches reached out from dead bushes to lash at your cheeks, their brittle tips snapping against your skin. Behind you, screams rose like an ominous chorus, carried on the cold wind. 

Your scalp lit up with pain as a hand wrapped into your hair, tugging you back with vicious force. You smashed into a solid chest. The hand curled around, fingers gripping your neck so hard your breath caught in your throat. The man slammed you against the wall, made your spine sing and body hum. 

You couldn’t breathe.  You clawed at his wrist, nails scraping his skin, but his grip only tightened. You tried to kick your legs up but he pressed his front to yours, sandwiched you against the sturdy wall.  

“Who the fuck are you?” He snarled, such blistering anger in his features you almost wanted to laugh. 

These things, these arrogant, monstrous things, who could take so much and still feel slighted when something took back. Disgust tore through your stomach. 

You wanted to spew something back, rip the outrage from his face, cleave the heart from his chest. But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.  

You couldn’t think. Black threatened at the edges of your vision, blurred with tears, and your head spun like a record. Your body sagged. 

Then, his hold vanished.  

Air flooded your lungs, your throat aching as you collapsed to your knees. Your chest heaved, spasming with coughs that left you trembling. 

You lifted your face, found those familiar canvas shoes – splattered in gleaming blood. They trailed to the man kneeling a foot away. He was clasping at his own neck now, red spouting from between his fingers. He ripped something from his throat, and it fell to the floor. It was covered in gore but you knew what it was – her switchblade. 

Ellie stood before him, stared for a moment. Then she pulled back, swung the thing in her hands – a machete – into his already butchered neck. It landed with a sick thwack , and he gurgled. She shoved a foot into his chest, ripping the blade free. Then he was splayed on the ground, eyes on you as the life fizzled from them, dull and accusing. 

You lifted your gaze to her face as she turned. All you found there was cold, merciless indifference. 

“Get up. Let’s go.” Ellie bit out, stalking past you, back toward the lot. 

Your body protested as you braced a hand against the wall, forced yourself upright. Your vision was still blurred, swaying and warping with shadows.  

“What’s that creeping in your gut? Shame?”  

You winced, staggering as you stepped over empty bottles and chunks of rock. 

You inched into the parking lot, eyes searching for Ellie. 

You found her, cutting a path through bodies and gore. Men with bullet holes and chunks missing from their flesh. The dark substance leaking from the emptied things sent a spark through you, sent your head swirling again, sent a fire to your chest.  

There were bodies missing. The one in the alley had said there were thirty-five, including him. Things waiting to be ripped into corpses, three or four of them, missing from their place on the ground. 

“You should feel pride. I do.”  

Your eyes snapped to the entrance, the doors wide open, maroon footsteps on the battered floors - going in, not out. Hiding, the things were hiding like worms in the dirt. You twisted your head.  

You could see down a long corridor from here, though the image swayed slightly. But, past the wide entrance hall and conjoined waiting room, down that corridor – there were two doors. Two closets.  

The route to the basement was connected to the other side of that entrance hall, and the generators were in that basement. And the trucks were in the lot outside, and the maggots were lazy and frivolous. Gas tanks were somewhere nearby. You could almost smell the sweet, pungent aroma rippling from behind the doors, because the gas was somewhere nearby, and you’d bet your soul it was in that corridor. 

You reached a hand behind you, stuffed it into the side of your bag. Your fingers met the crooked mound of deliverance within. You pulled it out, raised it to your mouth. Your teeth clamped onto the rigid, metal pin, and you tore it free. The thing trilled in your palm, blinking as it awoke. 

Your brows lifted, a satisfied smile pulling at your lips. 

You moved a leg back, angled your torso, drew out your arm. And you let it fly. 

It drenched the dimmed walls within in blue light, bounced across the floor and settled right between those doors. You sucked in a breath, insides swirling and mind fogging up. 

Then the blast ripped through the air, a symphony of fire and fury. 

Heat rolled over you in a wave, sharp and biting, singeing the edges of your hair. Glass sprayed outwards like glinting stars, catching in the glow of the flames as they shattered against the pavement, nicking your face. The hospital walls shook and trembled, but held. Your grin stretched wide, teeth bared to the heat, as the sound hit you – a deep, stuttering, chest-shaking roar that drowned out everything else. The beast of your bomb danced and hissed and escaped into the air, marking the earth and sucking up the souls of the men within the flames. 

You let the burning beckon in your eyes. 

A hand latched onto your arm, and Ellie tugged you sideways. You let her lead you to the trucks as your brain buzzed, flickered like the flames behind you, darkened like the ashes that fell. A faint click sounded, and one of the truck’s lights flashed. Ellie walked to it, reached a hand out. 

She paused; fingers curled around the door-handle. Her eyes flicked to the burning building, back toward the city, before they finally landed on you. 

She looked like she was going to speak, for a moment. But then her face flattened again, and she ripped the door open. She slumped into the seat, slammed the door behind her. 

The freezing air enveloped you, dragged claws down your back. And your skin stung. Prickled and throbbed where thin slices had welled up and clotted over, down your arms and at your hips. You choked on the lump in your throat. Everything hurt. Everything ached. 

The truck sputtered to life, the lights snapping off a moment later. 

“At least one of you cares about being stealthy.”  

Your legs lurched, carried you to the other side of the truck. You pried the door open, heaved yourself onto the smooth leather seat. 

Ellie stared ahead, driving the truck forward before you’d even closed the door fully. Her hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel. She guided the truck slowly through the open gate in the fence – the chain had been busted open. You swallowed thickly. 

“You did well, my girl.”