kivino

[kivino]

i like to imagine the act 1 kirkwall gang hanging out on those steps outside gamlen’s place for no reason. just sort of lounging and bickering

[kivino]

i used to have no hope for the future but now i'm thinking. i want rich people food. i want rare sirloin steak. i've never had sirloin steak in my life. i think i want to try it before i die.

[kivino]

Hullo

[Image ID: A snail stares intently at the viewer, its bright human eyes adorned with fashionable fluffy eyelashes. The human nose and mouth complete the snail's look perfectly. "Hullo," this pretty creature greets you with a smile. /End ID]

[kivino]

love is in the air ??? WRONG !!!!! gas leak

nah !!!! forgot to post this here again but it's a redraw of last year's valentine art cuz it was straight up ass !!! that one was rushed and last minute..,

if i knew what i was doing, i'd actually like to turn this into a print :3

[kivino]

[kivino]

Fallout conspiracy theory: Most of the skeletons in funny poses were placed like that by bored wastelanders long after the war.

[kivino]

Three years ago was Mariupol Theatre.

We still do not know for sure how many people died there. Mainly children and their parents. Something around 600 people? 1000? I dunno. A lot.

Some russian pilot saw word "CHILDREN" written outside and decided it was a perfect place to bomb. Just like they did with maternity hospital. And other places that mainly housed civilians who were unable or unwilling to leave their city (because it was their home, you know)

...

Honestly, I cannot think of something smart to say. I feel kinda numb. I remember that day. I was in Czech. A few days after I saw a memorial outside.

Here it is

I dunno. I just. I cannot forgive. It's not like anybody is asking for forgivness though. Almost every night in Ukraine is a night of terror. And occupied territories do not know peace at all, it seems.

[kivino]

Help a Family in Need

I am reaching out on behalf of my dear friend, Mohamad S., who is facing one of the most challenging times of his life. Mohamad is 37 years old and left his homeland in 2015 in search of a safer and better future. He’s a kind, hardworking man, and his small family has always been his greatest priority.

Living abroad, Mohamad has recently endured unimaginable loss and financial strain. Amidst the ongoing conflict in his homeland, his mother passed away, leaving behind his sister and her five young children—the last remaining members of his immediate family.

As the situation worsened, Mohamad managed to help his sister and her children escape to safety in Egypt, covering their immediate needs and securing a temporary refuge for them. Since then, he has been fully responsible for providing everything they need to survive during this transition.

In his efforts to support his family and cope with this devastating loss, Mohamad has found himself deeply in debt. To make matters even more difficult, he recently underwent knee surgery, which limits his ability to return to work for the foreseeable future. This has made it even harder for him to manage his financial responsibilities and the pressing need to provide his family with a stable future.

Mohamad is now working to bring his sister and her five children to join him in Belgium, where he hopes they can find stability and opportunity after all they’ve endured. This transition, however, requires significant resources that he is currently unable to meet alone.

For privacy reasons, we are not sharing Mohamad’s full name, as he has chosen to keep his identity discreet. While he initially refused the idea of asking for help, I couldn’t stand by and watch him struggle alone. I insisted on doing this for him because he deserves a chance to overcome these challenges.

Your contribution will help Mohamad repay the debt incurred during this difficult time, cover ongoing living expenses for his family, and assist with the costs involved in bringing them safely to Belgium.

Mohamad has been a good friend of mine for years, and I’ve always admired his resilience and generosity. Any support, no matter the size, will make an incredible difference in helping Mohamad and his family rebuild their lives after these painful experiences.

Thank you for reading his story and considering helping a man who has always done everything he can for his loved ones.

Adam

✅ Vetted by Association: @bilal-salah0

Donate & share: Donation Link

[kivino]

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth orders a halt to offensive cyber operations against Russia.

CIA director says US has paused intelligence support to Ukraine

Now, the White House says stop arming Ukraine!

Next, Krasnov will end sanctions against Russia and Russian oligarchs.

US has spent TRILLIONS on defense and intelligence over decades.

First Felon gave it all away.

Sabotaging an ally to give Putin a huge advantage to negotiate. Pure evil.

[kivino]

MEANT FOR EACH OTHER || ZOMBIE AU || KÖNIG X READER || PART III

sum. A deep-seated paranoia takes hold of you. Every hour of the day, you feel like you’re being watched. Followed. And you’re not wrong. So observant, so beautiful and perfect, but always dismissed by your group, left behind, not paid even a sliver of attention. How tragic. It’s okay though. König is here to do right by you. F̶̖̓͆̕͝o̷̢͚̲̬̍͠r̶͖̝̾̊̍̾e̸͔͇̣̓̈̊̾v̶̛͚͕́͗͝e̷̤̻͔͎̅̑̽r̴̝̬̩̘͒̒̃ ̴͔͆͋̈͝��̷̢̭̯n̶̡̜̫͚̉̌̊̒ḍ̷̩̲̹͝ ̷̖̔͌͘ả̶̡̬̥͊l̶͕̇̓̄w̴̺̥̋̂͠ä̷̢̢̝́̒͗y̴̳̦̙̕ŝ̶͕̋̀.̵̝̱͒̌̅̆

tags. zombie au (twdg inspired), stalking, obsessive behavior, themes of paranoia, fear, distrust, isolation, canon-typical violence, könig being a creep, blood, gore, violence, mutilation, graphic description of corpses

w.c. 5.7k (i know it’s too long, shut up)

a.n. i finished it surprisingly fast for the size of this thing, damn. really thought the chapter was going to be shorter, but oh well. at least i did everything i planned for it lol. enjoy!

taglist. @ilovekentonanami, @skullyz1, since you asked to be tagged, here you go! thank you for your comments <333

|| PART 1 || || PART 2 ||

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link || ko-fi

Be careful of what you wish for, you would’ve told yourself around a couple of hours ago, when the zip of your tent went up with a final sour “zap!”, followed by your harsh, but necessary decision-making. You wanted out of the group. Laying there, under an old chequered blanket you stole from somebody’s unlocked car with busted windows, you were mulling over how you should do it. Waking up earlier than everyone, quickly packing up the necessities and taking a chunk out of food and medicine supply, or going out with a bang, picking a fight in the morning, when everyone’s already up and running around the camp, cooking, talking, cleaning weapons or mending clothes.

You weren’t sure what was better but decided to leave it up to the chance. If you wake up with the crack of pink dawn, you’ll disappear like smoke, perhaps leaving some traces and shocked or fuming Scott to tell the group about the argument. And if you were to find yourself stirring awake with the sound of voices that were once near and dear to you, you’ll snap. No regrets, no holdbacks, and definitely no pity or regard for their feelings. Giving your group the taste of their own medicine was the best you could do to give them the reality check they so desperately needed in their delusion of safety. You went to sleep with the thoughts of possible revenge or quiet disappearance into the sunrise, hearing so much shifting through the thin sheet of sleep, you'd almost assume somebody else was right beside you in the tent.

All of this was the plan before you were awakened by blood-curdling screams that were way too close to be yet another nightmare haunting you. Suddenly, all the terrible dreams that you got used to seeing turned reality. Blood turned to ice, and muscle to stone for a brief moment of confusion, trying to discern whether your mind was playing tricks on you, like always, toying with such cruelty and satisfaction one would think you’re a masochist. Yet another scream pierced the stale darkness of the storage house, while the sound commotion beyond the protection of the thin rainproof fabric was lost on you. This moment seemed to last for a whole eternity. Uncertain limbo before taking action. Realisation that your life was in immediate danger. That your group must be hurt or scared right this moment, for them to be screaming like that. Somewhere among the screams you even managed to discern your name. Which meant only one thing.

It was here. All those months of nightly torment, of getting ignored, dismissed, ridiculed, all the clues that were missed by them but not by you, never by you, were leading up to this.

You were right.

You were fucking right.

Maybe you would’ve smiled, you would’ve laughed, hysterical, content, and just so goddamn happy, revelling in the fact that this entire time, you were not seeing or hearing things. That you were not the crazy one. That this was all worth it in the end. You didn’t notice the hot burn of your eyes, the moisture that grazed your cheeks, how breathing suddenly became much harder, as you cautiously opened the zip of your tent, letting only your hand grab your boots and your backpack, full of nothing but bare necessities.

Those couple of minutes, shoving things into compartments of your backpack grabbing your trusty knife, pulling on your clothes and jacket, were all blurring together, impossible to separate one action from the other. You would’ve loved to take the tent with you, for how surprisingly good it held up in the rain or contained the heat. You wouldn’t have minded taking a plush toy that showed up near you on the morning after your supply run to the mall nearby, causing you to have a meltdown so bad you wouldn’t step outside the storage house for days at a time, paranoid that It was there, ready to sink its nasty, ephemeral claws deep into your flesh and crawl away, as you writhe and cry for help with no one to hear you. You also would’ve loved to take Jay’s gun, as the last “fuck you” to the man. But you couldn’t. Too much time wasted being cocky would mean not only theirs, but your death as well. And you’ll be damned if you rot in the same hole as this human garbage that saw you as nothing but a lunatic, with no worth to them.

The thought of Jay’s gun brought you back to earth for but a second.

Why are there no shots being fired?

You had weapons in stock, you had some ammo, even if all of this was not the best quality, and you even had former military among you, for crying out loud, all of that gave the group a bit of an edge it needed. Especially during scuffles with other survivors, raiders or walkers, which started to become a more frequent problem in the area. Almost as if being led by something to your campsite. No… No. That would be ridiculous, right?

The agitated yelling seemed to be coming from one of the doors off to the side, your exit seemed safe. You had no clue if it was open, but even so, you only needed to crawl out of your tent, make a hook to grab your canteen and another backpack, full of food, taking a right afterwards. Perhaps it will take you some extra time to open the gate to escape, but even so, despite the trembling hands and difficulty breathing, you were confident you could make it. This is it. Your chance to get away in the chaos. There won’t be another.

Your shaky fingers grab onto the zip, pulling it down frantically, with no regard to how the fabric is snagged by the cheap plastic mechanism, ready to finally face what you were scared of, and craved more than anything – freedom. Endless night sky, camping out in the woods, not having to count and weigh every word when saying something, not having to do the work other people push onto you, and some solitude, with no one to bother you about being, supposedly, “a liability”… All of this sounded like heaven to your utterly exhausted, drained mind.

Yet, you’re not given a chance even to get on your knees or crawl out of the tent. A breath is torn out of your chest, when you’re grabbed by the flaps of your jacket and pulled out in a rather rude manner, with a grip so strong you think you might be heading straight to afterlife from the safety of your tent.

“You piece of shit-eating fucking garbage! You motherfucking fuck!” In front of you is Jay, fuming, splattered with dirt and…red. So much fucking red, on his hair, on his face, neck, and this metallic smell mixed with the familiar sweetness of rotting flesh coming off of him, you think you’re about to puke when the older man’s face lingers in front of yours for more than a couple of seconds. The way you reacted to seeing him was probably not the most pleasing thing to him as well – you see a scowl scrunch his features into a likeness of an enraged moose. “You fucking answer when you’re being talked to!” Jay shakes you, almost as if that would help you come into your senses, instead of losing them. “Where is Scott? Where is our fucking ammo? All the weapons?” He practically screams the questions at you.

You didn’t know. Why was Jay asking you all of this? You’re the stupid fuck in charge of them, not me – you think to yourself, and you don’t know how that’s possible, but the sunburnt face in front of you scrunches even further, skin getting redder. Whoops. Must’ve said that out loud. Well, Jay will know better than to drag people around by the collar when he wants to actually get some information out of them, instead of being insulted.

Your blurry eyes drift to the right, head softly lulling along with them. Tom, a man in his sixties, is pushing closed one of the entrances to the storage house, but he’s clearly being overpowered by all the walkers with their unrelenting assault from the outside, rotting hands not letting him close the doors without snapping the pliable, sickly yellow bones in half. You know the man could do it easily, but not when the arms with falling off, decaying flesh are so numerous they’re starting to push the doors open. Scott, his son, is nowhere to be seen after your argument, which happened, you’d imagine, a couple of hours ago, give or take. You’d be upset about it, if you could muster up a single fuck to give after all the pleasantries Scott barked at you in the middle of sneaking off somewhere after the curfew.

After the struggling Tom your eyes fix on Rory, tired, lanky figure kneeling over someone, clearly resembling Amy with her shaved head, even in the stuffy, suffocating dark, soaked with blood and panicked screams of your companions. You can see a pool of something even darker than the air within the storage house, gathering beneath Amy’s body on the ground. Rory’s hands are soaked with the same dark liquid, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that Amy is most likely dying a scary and painful death. Which is a shame. You liked Amy the most, and dissatisfaction with her did not stem any deeper than not feeling up to doing chores she’d pile up on your plate to prove your usefulness to her husband.

Tiny was the last who your eyes fell on, the tall man trying to hack off the limbs of walkers with a dull, rusty hatchet that was usually used to chop firewood by all of you. Yet you saw his eyes frantically bounce to the entrance beside your tent, almost as if Tiny was ready to make a run for it any minute now. Wouldn’t be his first time anyway. You heard his drunk ranting about deserting from an evacuation of civilians from one of the bigger cities. Well, knowing that the hungry hands reaching for living flesh were minutes away from shredding anyone within the storage house to pieces also made you want to run until your lungs collapse. After punching Jay’s lights out, of course.

“What the fuck did you do to Scott?! Answer me!” Jay shakes you even more, to ensure that you become even more dizzy courtesy of his grip. But it’s so ridiculous, right? You didn’t do anything to him. Why are you being blamed for his disappearance?

“Let me go!” You thought your protest would be weak, nothing, compared to the vigour with which Jay’s fingers hung onto your jacket, the collar painfully digging into the skin of your neck, almost as if you were a puppet, commanded by the most talentless piece of shit of a puppeteer. Surprisingly, your hands, clasped around the man’s wrists cause his grip to momentarily lose its strength. You involuntarily stepped back, wrestling with the man who only gripped onto you tighter, as if letting you go in this dire situation would doom you all.

König’s rage blinded him. How dare this rubbish touch you? He doesn’t have a right to lay a single fucking finger on you, and here he is, gripping your clothes, ready to shake the living hell out of you. König felt the need to rid the man of arms, but not before tearing away every nail and finger on his hands. No. No, König won’t let him prevent you from saving yourself. Crawling up to his usual vantage point for the last time was a mistake. Of course, nobody would look up in the chaos, but he knew he should’ve stayed on the lower level, with you. So something like this wouldn’t happen. But this wasn’t your fault, how were you supposed to know you’ll get pulled out of your tent by this weakling? It’s okay! It’s okay… König can fix this. All of this. A deep breath is sucked in through his hood, soaked with sweat and condensation. His finger rests on the trigger comfortable, slotting where it belongs. For a moment, it feels comforting. Like home. Despite finally doing something so…oddly calming, something he kept from his life before the apocalypse, he can hear the way blood thrummed within his ears, heart beating like crazy.

König takes aim. Confident and determined to end this fast. Sights trailing fast and zeroing in on the dark, prematurely greying head of the man clutching your jacket. He can feel his insides writhing with impatience, hurrying him along to finally get rid of the bastard who wouldn’t let you run away to safety. Who was endangering his darling, so needlessly and cruelly, when he could’ve just rolled over and died to make it all easier. But then König snaps back from the bloodlust, blinding him so deliciously. You shouldn’t have to see all the blood and suffering. He ought to protect you from it.

Despite all this happening right in front of your eyes, you feel detached. As if all the tears, terror, death, and panic were not real. Like the assurance of you being right this whole time was almost enough for you to accept your death. The noise was becoming louder each second. The cacophony of moaning and gurgling, paired with blunt, heavy fists and open palms hammering on the metal sheet walls, a fitting chaotic percussion for a painful death, Amy’s sobs and wails of pain, paired with Tiny and Tom screaming their lungs out at each other, unable to close the doors, as more and more of the walkers pour inside the storage house like an undead, rotting tsunami. 

“I was right, Jay.” You whisper, with eyes darting from side to side, observing the utter mess that was happening behind the man. And he didn’t even know. “It’s here.” The phrase is elusive, but terrifying to the man nonetheless. You don’t miss the way cold sweat glints right above his brow, or the way his expression stretches into a mask of confusion, then horror. He didn’t know what “It” was, but the realization about being wrong this whole time was a source of terror enough. Perhaps he was assuming something, or putting words in your mouth right this moment. You didn’t care. Your nails and fingers dug into the rough skin of Jay’s palms, attempting to make him let you go once again.

“What the fuck did you do?!” He yells, voice breaking midway through the sentence. Your name rings out from Jay, hollow and soulless, full of terror, like you were the one to bring this destruction upon all of them. Like they weren’t the ones to ignore every sign of something being wrong. You didn’t care anymore. It was all their fault, and you did everything you could to convince them you were not losing your marbles from having to live a life more akin to an animal, than a human being.

You tried to yank yourself out of his grip once again, nails leaving crescent indents in Jay’s skin, while he refused to let go, and just dug in his heels deeper into the ground. Your palms slide over his meaty wrists, attempting to pull them off of you with all the strength you could muster, but to no avail. The man growls and roars, keeps screaming and you and blaming for everything bad that’s ever happened to the group. You try to duck and break out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, loathing and anger in his eyes almost burning you, as Jay’s palms are inching higher and higher with mad desperation. You can feel fear suffocating you, as you try and fail to shake off the man, who’s gripping onto your jacket with knuckles turning white, like his life depends on it. Until finally, his broad hands slot in place.

On your throat.

You can feel it starting to close from the fear flooding your bloodstream, but there is no giving up on your vain attempts to free yourself of the hold Jay had on you. Terrifying, piercing screams reach your ears, and it seems there is nothing that could distract the man from actively trying to cut your life short, not even his best pal Tiny getting his hand torn to shreds by jagged, rotting teeth that only dug in deeper with every noise drawn. The scene before you is so bloody, so slow in its horrifying cruelty. You see dull fingers and more teeth digging into Tiny, who’s screams don’t cease for even a split second, tearing his throat raw in pointless cries for anybody’s help, reaching out towards somebody as more of the rotting hands grip onto his body. Rory’s feet seem to have grown into the ground beneath her, unable to move even a muscle to help the man.

It seems the walkers that attempted overwhelming Tom are drawn by the fresh blood from still screaming Tiny, who is writhing on the ground underneath a mass of living corpses, swarming him like giant flies. You can’t even see the man anymore, only guessing what excruciating fate was brought upon him from the wails of pain, mixed with gargled begging for mercy. Your neck strained under the thick fingers of Jay, who didn’t even look back one last time before Tiny was consumed by the walkers. But you knew it won’t be enough to satiate the hunger of these creatures, so soon they’ll move onto others.

Maybe by the time they’ll get to you and Jay he would have suffocated you, so there will be no need for you to suffer through such a miserable, terrifying death. No matter how much you hated the man, you’d prefer being choked out instead of torn apart, messy and bloody on the floor, blood gargling in your throat, spilling out in thin rivers from your lips, until the pain is too much for you to bear.

Bang!

A shot fired somewhere from above caused Jay’s leg to give out from under him. The man slid to his knees with a pained groan, the grip on your jacket’s collar becoming weaker each second, as his right hands fell to his hip, jaw tightening. A greedy inhale burned your throat – you hadn’t realized the edges of your vision were starting to darken and blur. Your body was twitching from the violent fear shaking you, and once again, you tried to get out of Jay’s grip. He still did not let go, dragging you to the ground, probably determined to take you down with him. Your eyes locked onto a rapidly spreading dark spot on Jay’s jeans that he’s unsuccessfully attempting to press close, distracted. You didn’t even question where the bullet came from. You didn’t want to know, even though there was a sneaking suspicion in the back of your mind. But what you did want was to make use of Jay’s state.

You didn’t see any other option, before grabbing onto the man’s hand with a grip that scratches him and biting down as hard as your jaw would allow you to. The man yelped out in surprise and his fingers finally let your jacket out of his grip for only a moment. But even a single second was enough for you to start getting away. You were ready to dart to the entrance in front of you – doors ajar, welcoming you to the outside world, urging to get away from the air, thick with clotting blood, decay and so much suffering you couldn’t bear it anymore.

However, before you could even take your second step, you feel a pull on your leg once again. Strong. Desperate. Full of hate. You grew c, and the momentary lightness within your chest disappears in mere seconds. Looking down was useless, it was most definitely Jay clutching your foot in another attempt to murder you. There was no way this piece of shit hated you so much he was using his last moments to fuck you over. It was hard to believe a normal person could even posses such levels of hate.

The seconds stretch out like hours. The heartbeat hammers away in your ears, almost dulling the screams of your former friends perishing underneath the assault of dirty fingernails, yellow teeth and greying flesh. You kick your foot down with strength like never before, wet heat burns your cheeks, and you could only guess that you started to cry from fear and despair, longing to save yourself. Couple of times your boot connects with something you’d only assume is Jay, drawing strained moans of pain and even more screaming you didn’t even care enough to register in your mind. Attempting to move with the dead weight of a grown man attached to you on the floor was not easy, but you made the best of it, managing to stumble forward a couple of steps, before being pulled back and collapsing once again.

Why was this your life? You didn’t deserve this. A sour, nauseating metallic taste spread in your mouth. Maybe you managed to bite your cheek when you fell to the floor. Head pulsing and throbbing from such a hit, you didn’t have any more strength to fight back. Not when a fucking behemoth of a man was climbing on top of you, pinning you to the ground, blood seeping out of the wound on his leg, screaming at you about his wife, who was being devoured a couple of meters away.

You accepted it. You were not supposed to survive that long anyway. It’s just…regret and bitter anger are overtaking every rational sense in your mind. You tremble, body doused with cold sweat and immediately thrown into a hot flash. Before you could think of what to do next, your body moves on your own. Teeth digging into flesh and cartilage, you bite down. Hard. Your canines shredded the skin underneath, more rancid blood filled your mouth, and you wanted to puke more with each second you stayed in that position. Copper kept filling your mouth, overflowing, pouring from your lips, you felt the sickly warmth of it drip down and soak into your shirt, but you wouldn’t let go. Deafening screams above you piercing your ears, you closed your eyes just not to see the picture behind or in front of you, anything but to see the surrounding horrors, and bit down harder. Harder.

So much harder. Until your teeth met, clanking together with a screeching noise. Until the crunch of something, comparable only to a fresh cabbage in your mind, halted, and something stayed in your mouth after your head violently jerked back from pulling on the flesh so strenuously. You bit off something. Spitting it out doesn’t help the bile rising up your throat and getting stuck in there as a nasty, annoying ball ready to pour out of your mouth. You kept holding on, until all of a sudden, the scream above you stopped after another loud bang of a bullet being fired.

More liquid warmth splattered on your cheeks. The body on you is so bulky. Falling, pressing down on you with its weight, suffocating in its heaviness. Your throat lets out ragged breaths, chest falling rapidly as you try to shove off the dead weight off of yourself. And everything is so red, drenched in putrid burgundy, sticking to your skin, hair, clothes, everywhere, pouring over you in a fountain that seems to be never-ending. Managing to slightly lift Jay’s shoulders, shoving you into the cold ground, you started shuffling away from underneath the man above you, the skin on your back aching, as it’s scratched by the earth and concrete. Crawling out took you longer than you cared to admit, you let go of Jay’s shoulders, muscles in your arms aching, as the dull thud of the man’s forehead against the ground makes you shiver in disgust.

Panic keeps rising within you, even after the factoid of human danger is gone. Through tears blurring your vision further and further you force yourself to notice only what mattered. Piles of walkers, writhing and shuffling like maggots on the ground, probably reaching to the last untouched bits of the human bodies underneath them, still distracted, but very likely to smell your presence when they’re done feasting; thin hand of Rory reaching towards you and Jay, bloody nails broken up to the meat of her fingers leaving scratch marks on the floor, as her legs are torn apart by dead, ravaging hands,  woman’s muscle tissue soon to be devoured. You could hear the distant hisses and moans of the undead, the squelching and sloppy chewing echoing within the metal walls.

Jay’s body, with half of the skull gone, a mess of meat and greyish brain matter pulsing, pouring out of what you could only guess was bone — pink, thick and shattered. You could see the pieces of hair sticking to the bloody mess, when you felt the bile rise up in your throat once again, the acidic, foul taste mixing with the blood still resting on your tongue. The palm of your hand flew up to cover your mouth, closing your lips shut as if your life depended on it. A second passed, as you closed your eyes, letting the nausea die down. Then, you had the courage to turn in the direction where you spat out that something that you bit off from Jay. You wish you didn’t.

It was an ear. Bloody and ragged, bit clean off. Resting on the floor, your winning trophy of a fight with no winners.

You felt even more nausea come over you, but it was not the time to stay in one place. Somehow, your backpack managed to stay on your shoulders. Not wasting another second, you limped towards the open doors, shivering and scared, looking back. Not a single walker raised its eyes at you, too preoccupied with their fresh meat.

It was then, when you saw it. Out of the corner of your eye, you let your head rise up towards the wicked, human-shaped shadow you see within the roof window. The seconds spent staring at it feel like hours. It never disappeared, firmly planted within your vision. You expected it to vanish any second, whether dissolving into thin air, or ducking back behind cover, but it stayed. For some reason, you got the impression this thing was letting you see it. Almost as if…taunting you. You were clearly looking at it, but it was so far and dark you couldn’t make out any details.

Fuck, you hated this. Even after months of torture and your whole group dying in front of your eyes, there was no answer to what this shadow wanted from you. Worthless.

Oh, but König…he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Face covered in blood, dishevelled, scared, trembling from terror, looking death right in the eye and emerging victorious. His help was of no circumstance, to König you would’ve won in the fight anyway, he just sped up the process by a couple of minutes. Something in your head made you just as perverse as he was. It was such a pleasant surprise Pressed up against glass, cool temperature of it not dampening his suddenly spiking body heat, tearing away his gaze from your figure felt criminal. Seeing just what you were willing to do to get your freedom back, what your despair could drive you to was…sublime. Absolutely macabre and beautiful.

The metallic taste in König’s mouth made him realise he was biting his lip so hard it started bleeding. Teeth digging into parched skin, gloved fingers glued to the glass, he wanted nothing less than to absolutely devour you in this state. With soapy blood sticking to your wet skin, smell of sweat clinging to your bodies, disgusting and foul, just like the essence of human nature. Hot breaths puffing out from his tender, bleeding lips, dreaming of yours touching the dry, bitten mess of his. Or, better so, you could devour him instead.

Wholly and utterly, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of him, but bones sucked clean of meat. Until you destroy him so deeply he would live, breathe you (as if he wasn’t already). König would be so good to you, and you’d be so good to him. That’s right. He will treat you so good the whole world outside will be an empty, faded, and disappointingly hollow picture in comparison to his love for you. Bound in destiny and mutual destruction, now he was confident you were truly meant for each other in every single way. Now he knew that you were more like him than he could’ve imagined. And König would be lying, if the sound of that didn’t make his heart race like a wild animal on the run. Surely, if he let you devour him, you wouldn’t mind König getting a taste of you.

Yes…yes. That would do it.

A mild, sweet shiver shook him at the pleasant thought. Alone with you, at last. König didn’t dare entertaining such thoughts with much seriousness before, it was much more like a daydream he desperately clung to. Distant and far from the actuality, even as he worked hard on it making it the reality. Dreaming nightly of your piercing eyes that nailed him to the wall easier than anything, keeping your curious, endearing mannerisms in his mind as he crowded the walkers together, and trembling from anticipation of finally touching someone so worshipped and adored by him, as he unlocked the heavy metal doors of the storage house.

Now, when he only needed but to reach out and offer help to have you all to himself… He couldn’t wait. König’s mind buzzed with thoughts like a hive of irritated wasps. Pulling on him, urging him on to follow you, to take you for himself, because you could only belong to him. It wasn’t irritation, annoyance, anger, or even pure adoration tenderly trembling and warming him up from within his chest anymore, no…

It was carnal desire.

One that couldn’t be satiated without you, one that made him need you more than air, water, or food, so hard his head started spinning. One that would doom the both of you, bathing in blood and mutual violence, that König craved along with your loving gaze, delicate touches and quiet, sleepy whispers. Because destroying each other is what you were meant to do.

---

How none of the walkers followed you from the storage house was a mystery to you, drenched in blood and Jay’s brains were sure to draw them in — those undead fuckers were able to follow a scent trail like trained hounds. Still, you were grateful for that, having more of them on your tail would ensure your prompt death in the forest that seemed to be stretching around you, with seemingly no end to it. You were so goddamn tired, everything about your current state felt dirty and unclean; dry, brownish blood crusted onto your skin, soaked through your clothes and made you an easy target. Plus, with no food and no water available you won’t last long. You ended up being in the right. But what was the cost? 

You were losing hope, fast. It has only been maybe half a day after your cut and run, the adrenaline that kept you going for hours wore off too soon for your liking, causing you to stumble around in the forest, much like a recently born deer, shaky-legged and lost. You started to think perhaps you hit your head on the floor too hard while fighting Jay, but that didn’t matter anymore. You were lost, dehydrated, hungry, with no prospects of surviving unless you find a river, and find it fast. That was your course of action, before you spotted shuffling and footsteps, crunching loudly on the ground, covered in a blanket of twigs, leaves, and grass. You expected a walker sneaking up on you all of a sudden, drawn in by the scent of blood, or an animal, if luck was on your side today, which you wouldn’t bet on, after all you’ve been through before the sun even cracked the sky open with its rays.

In front of you, however, was not an animal or a walker. It was a man. The first thing you noticed about him was his height, how he towered above everything around him. Only then, the lack of his face dawned on you, dirty hood with bleached stains right below the holes for eyes. Eyes, which you could barely make out from underneath this…obviously improvised face cover. But you weren’t the one to judge, however, assured in the fact that you must have been looking a hundred times worse, with your torn clothes, absolutely drenched in red. And that’s not to mention the smell…

The whites of your piercing eyes contrasted heavily with the skin, covered in red. König could hardly believe what he was seeing. Hours of tracking down the trail you used to get away from the storage house, chasing you down as quietly as possible, with anxiety churning his insides in an endless, void-like vortex, consuming his mind with devastating consequences and possibilities. Yet here you were. Shaken, staring at him like a wild animal, but safe. His.

It took everything in König not to fall down on his knees for you, burying his face in your gentle, lovely hands. There was nothing he wanted more than to crawl towards his beloved obsession, scraping the skin of his legs raw, tearing his gloves apart and scraping up the soil with his fingernails. But he had to contain himself, despite the trembling heart hammering behind his ribs like it was about to burst outwards, to you. Despite the most beautiful and warm of emotions overtaking him fully, despite his cheeks heating up in but a second, and despite his hand curling into a fist in his pocket, clutching a piece of your blanket he cut off for himself.

Finally. His for the taking.

check out this masterlist for more cod fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

[kivino]

Anora winning 5 Oscar’s including best film is fucking disgusting. A senseless movie full of “mysterious russians souls” and actors who actively or passively support genocide of Ukrainians winning best film and everyone around the internet so happy about it.

Yo, do yall want to know how Ukrainians spent Oscar night? Sleepless, not because of excitement, but because of russian drones and bombes. Just like night before, and before. Just like every night since 24.02.2022 and 14.02.2014.

You wanna see real “mysterious russian souls”? Go watch 20 days in Mariupol. It also has oscar if you please.

[kivino]

MEANT FOR EACH OTHER || ZOMBIE AU || KÖNIG X READER || PART II

sum. A deep-seated paranoia takes hold of you. Every hour of the day, you feel like you’re being watched. Followed. And you’re not wrong. So observant, so beautiful and perfect, but always dismissed by your group, left behind, not paid even a sliver of attention. How tragic. It’s okay though. König is here to do right by you. F̶̖̓͆̕͝o̷̢͚̲̬̍͠r̶͖̝̾̊̍̾e̸͔͇̣̓̈̊̾v̶̛͚͕́͗͝e̷̤̻͔͎̅̑̽r̴̝̬̩̘͒̒̃ ̴͔͆͋̈͝ȃ̷̢̭̯n̶̡̜̫͚̉̌̊̒ḍ̷̩̲̹͝ ̷̖̔͌͘ả̶̡̬̥͊l̶͕̇̓̄w̴̺̥̋̂͠ä̷̢̢̝́̒͗y̴̳̦̙̕ŝ̶͕̋̀.̵̝̱͒̌̅̆

tags. zombie au (twdg inspired), stalking, obsessive behaviour, themes of paranoia, fear, distrust, isolation, creepy behaviour on könig’s part, arguments, swearing (obvi), some ocs for reader’s group

w.c. 3k

a.n. i just want to preface by saying i do not condone any behavior of such sort, and if someone displays tendencies like that towards you seek help and support! i wanted to include more interactions with the group to show the process of reader completely losing it, so this will be the second chapter and everything will come to an end in two chapters – reader will finally meet könig and he will try to be on his best behaviour. which will not work out…

taglist. @sirbonesly asked to be tagged in this, so here you go, love! thank you so much for your sweet comment on part 1!

|| PART 1 || || PART 3 ||

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link || ko-fi

Loud, hungry rumbling in your ear, hot, wet breaths fanning over your face in impatient, shaky puffs, greedy, needy hands pawing at your body, unable to settle on one thing. Your blood ran cold in your veins when in the restless, all-consuming sticky darkness you could feel a body press against you, almost as if the inky blackness itself formed into this…unknown, rabid creature snaking its way from behind. Entwining itself into your arms, pressing against the curve of your hip, forcing its way in-between your legs with animalistic abandon. Growling, dripping saliva...

Inescapable. Terrifying. And worst of all, forceful and undeniable, not even entertaining the possibility of allowing you the luxury of resistance. All-consuming and merciless, heart hammering against your ribs, cries, and whimpers of despair torn from your lips, as fingers reached to tear away desperately at anything you could reach – relentless darkness, your tears, and flesh….

Snap!

A loud noise of a twig breaking finally helps you to will yourself out of your restless, suffocating sleep. You sit up with a storm of shuffling around you, your stained sleep t-shirt soaked with cold sweat, sticking to you like a second layer of skin. Your blanket lay beside you in a dense, and unusually giant pile, the burning fire under your skin too hot to even entertain the idea of wrapping yourself in it. Trembles wreck you still after the nightmare, the air in the tent is unpleasant and heavy with moisture, settling down at the bottom of your lungs and making it so much harder for you to breathe.

It takes you a second before you take in the lack of light penetrating your tent. It’s clearly nighttime. No one is supposed to be walking around the camp at nighttime.

You need but a second to reach under your pillow to find a hunting knife, unsheathed and ready to be used (not effectively, but that worried you the least at the moment), before your other hand reaches the zip, yanking it down with a force that almost makes the cheap material get stuck in the mechanism. Your head is immediately on a swivel, looking for the active threat with burning eagerness to dispose of it. All before your eyes settle on a dark silhouette of your group member, Scott, who was heading off…somewhere?  Your hand with a knife clutched in an unsteady, shaky grip stays within the confines of the tent. You can see the man turn his head towards you.

“Hey there.” Scott’s quiet greeting paired with a quick (and rather unsuccessful) attempt at a reassuring smile does little to ease the way your mind was fraying at the edges more and more, leaving you a mess of tangled, tense nerves. From the group that accompanied you, he was the only one you knew from before. You could be called some things, colleagues, acquaintances, but definitely not friends. Which you only realised after throwing him a pleading glance from behind Jay yelling at you, recklessly throwing accusations about your being a liability, that did more harm than use to the group; after silently reaching out to Scott for anything — support, help, whatever words he could spare to refute Jay’s claims you were only met with his brown eyes avoiding yours, much preferring the look of moist ground underneath his feet. That’s when you realised you had not a soul to confide in among your group.

“Mm.” You mumble something incomprehensible to him, remembering that a greeting demands a response, even a low-quality one.

You notice that he’s about to speak up again, opening his mouth, unsure of his next move. After Jay’s weekly outbursts (most often on you; because of that you were almost positive the asshole despised you with his whole being) he wouldn’t even try saying anything afterwards. As if agreeing with the accusations through his inaction and timid glances thrown your way. Well, he could stay silent all he wants, you were not going to start this conversation with Scott.

It’s not like the man was particularly brave or outspoken, even before the entire world went to shit. He was your age, which, sure, didn’t warrant him extra respect among any social circles you’ve shared, but any time he’d witness a creep hitting on you during a night shift he’d just avert his eyes, heading away in a visible hurry, trying to look as busy as possible. He’d lower his eyes and walk away when the manager would take out her anger on you, who just ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not only that, but he’d also be the one to nod and smile anytime somebody would talk shit about you (or any other co-worker you had, you’d wager) in the break room. He never interfered with anything. Never stood by what he believed to be right. Never really got in the way. Never escalated. Never talked back or was mean to anybody. You’d call that complicit. Meek. Weak. But if you were being nice, you’d say that Scott wasn’t good or bad. He was just…. Nice. So very nice you’d lost any wish to converse with him beyond the necessary, knowing it would take a miracle for him to stick by you, or anyone, for that matter, because spines don’t grow overnight.

König will enjoy killing him. Or, rather, he would take pleasure in it, but sadly, he won’t be there to deliver the final strike, observing how life would leave this man’s eyes, draining along with viscera into the hungry, festering earth. But perhaps, he could allow himself this small pleasure? It is not for him, but for you, after all. Your safety, your wellbeing, and your peace of mind. Maybe a quick axe to the head would do the job. A broken neck, or a crushed windpipe. Perhaps, a throat sliced into minced meat? So many options that didn’t involve shooting the man… But that would mean blood on König’s clothes. You always seem to overthink or be suspicious of blood. Such a pure, and fascinating force of life…

He could hear his own breath becoming heavier, each second of silence filling König’s mind with images of Scott staring up at you with that absolutely pathetic look he always had. Did he think to earn your favour by squeezing all the pity you had in you, little by little? König wanted to laugh, really. This man didn’t deserve you. Your group didn’t deserve you. You were wasting yourself and your talents with them. You kept your wits about you so carefully, which not only drew more respect from König towards you, but at times also caused unwanted, rather irrational fearful reservations about you being able to pinpoint König with uncanny accuracy. But no matter how careful and smart you were – it never happened. Especially after your group insistently discouraged you from pursuing any leads he would place so lovingly for his special darling.

Tonight, however, was different. König, at times, would allow himself the simple, satisfying pleasures of being sloppy. A second more to take in your beauty was all that he needed to get through the day at times. König’s blood rushed through him like a mad storm, his ragged, dirtied hood soaked with condensation from hot puffs of air coming out of his mouth along with sweat. It was maddening, having to wait this long to put his plan into motion and not allow himself to approach you. At least while you were awake. Which is why he had to take in the beautiful sights while he could – in your sleep. Lashes fluttering in your sleep, restless, helpless to resist him, and oh, so beautiful in your rare lapse of awareness.

But this time was more than sloppy. It was simply careless, disregarding any worries and fear in favour of letting himself take you in completely, one last time, before having to do such a cruel thing to you. Hanging over your body, captivated by you trapped within nightmares, a theatre of your mind that clearly had you cornered – small whimpers leaving your lips, laboured breathing making your chest rise up and down underneath the blanket.

He couldn’t help himself, letting the palm of his hand rest on your chest, trembling with agitation at the ragged, hurried motions of your breathing. Your life, so fragile in his hands. König took in each and every detail, eyes not closing even for a second in the hot cocoon of the tent encasing him and his darling. You were perfect like this. He was so close. Separated from your slick skin by a measly layer of fabric, he could feel himself tremble from excitement at something so intimate, every loud beat of your heart hammering through his limbs. Along with a reverent, sweet shakes from allowing himself to touch you, you! König wasn’t even able to notice how his palm was pressing too hard on you, blinded by his utter adoration. Oh, how he would like to act on it. But it’s okay. He will put everything in motion tonight. Right after that fucking nuisance near your tent goes to do his business and you fall asleep. Hiding in the pile of blankets within your tent was the best he could do when you so unexpectedly woke up.

As good as König was with planning on the fly, there weren’t that many resources he could spare to rid you and himself from those pieces of human rubbish that you stuck by. So, he decided to make it easy. The spacious storage house you camped out inside had three exits, with your tent conveniently set up right beside one (always the smart one, you). König noted that usually only one out of three exits was being kept open, the other two locked with multiple draw-bolts and latches. He would open them beforehand, sneaking into the storage house under the cover of the night, just like usual. Then he will dip into the measly ammo supplies your group had, taking it for himself, along with emptying every loaded weapon there. A pile of melee weapons will also get cleared out by him, but he will just dispose of them, instead of taking for himself – if you recognize any of these knifes, pipes or bats (and you will, he was sure of it), he’s done for. He knows better than to underestimate your caution.

Then, the next stage of the plan will be put in motion. König will sneak out and make a loop for another storage house half an hour on foot down the road. Why? Well, that’s all because he’s been luring more and more walkers in that storage house, locking them up in there, waiting to gather enough of them in order to take out your group. It was rather inaccurate to call them walkers at this point. Some of them would run like crazy after feeling the smell of fresh blood. König will lure them back to the storage house your group rests at, which will probably take him quite a lot of time. Technically speaking, it wouldn’t be him, so there is nothing to blame him for. König was only going to nudge them in the right direction, not kill all those people with his own two hands. As such, he’s blameless. Not guilty. You’ll have nothing to be suspicious about.

Of course, there was a lot that could go wrong about the plan, but this was precisely why he was planning on sticking close by to keep an eye out for you. The storehouse was surprisingly dark in the dead of night. Then, once you run out of the exit, closest to you, he will follow, closing the door behind, so none of the walkers follow. Wherever you decide to stop, he’ll pretend to find you and offer his help. Easy. Surely, you’ll have no option but to rely on him. Scared and desperate, nearly escaping your death, there was no way you’d refuse him. And that thought made König’s mind race even faster each second.

“Not sleeping well?” Scott finally asked, after standing in one place for what felt like an eternity to you. Containing a scoff was not easy, but you managed it – what did he care? Not like he’d make your sleep any easier, with the same disregard as anyone showed you so far. Gulping down your pride – you still, after all, relied on the group for your survival, and your chances would drop dramatically if you were to compromise your already questionable standing even more, you speak up.

“No, no… I just have a bad feeling.” You rub your brow, hiding the frown, scrunching up your brows. Yeah, like he fucking cares if about your gut instincts screaming at you that something bad is going to happen.

“M-maybe you should…should try to sleep?” The man asks, visibly uncomfortable with such sudden straightforwardness from you. He clearly didn’t know how to comfort you either. “We can., uh…figure it all out. When you wake up. Does that sound okay?” You know that you won’t figure anything outcome morning. The ginger looks at you quizzically with an expression that oozed an incredible lack of assurance in his own words. Scott obviously didn’t care. You sigh, looking at him through your murky vision.

“Scott, you don’t have to even pretend to give a shit about me.” You blurt out before you can weight your words properly. Thankfully, the darkness doesn’t allow you to see the degree of shock on his face. “But at least have the decency to pretend you care about yourself and all those friends of yours.” You gesture towards the tents that contained all the warm sleeping bodies of your group, hammered into the ground a little further away from yours, clearly suggesting the dynamics in the group. Scott’s voice trembles with your name, as the name responds to you.

“You know I do care. I just…” The silence, as he’s unable to give you a sound argument to refute your statement is already quite telling. “I don’t like confrontation. You know it! I’m not heartless! I care. About everyone here. Which is why I don’t want to get into the conflict with anyone, or make somebody mad.” Scott’s voice is soft as he says that, you could almost picture him looking at the ground, as he usually does when an unpleasant conversation comes up.

“That is such a childish perspective.” You mutter, with the same disregard you’ve been shown. He should know how it feels, to be constantly reminded of no one believing something that was there, always. “By avoiding conflict, you help nobody, especially not yourself.”

“I can’t go around picking sides! I thought you understood!” His low, whispery voice comes to a higher point, still quiet enough to not wake anyone up with the racket, but already suggesting the heat building up from the argument.

“It’s not about who’s right and who’s wrong, you dipshit. It’s about our safety. I know we’re not safe, I see all the signs, yet all of you just turn the blind eye” You explain to him yet again, losing count of how many times you had uttered these words hoping that someone, anyone, would take you seriously.

“Blind eye to what? Some critters shuffling in a bush? Our own footprints? Shadows from the trees? Extra food in the bag that you forgot about? You sound crazy! Every time it’s something new, and it sounds more ridiculous than before!” Scott’s voice rises once again, and you swear you could hear some shuffling inside the tents. For some reason, even your own fills with the noise.

“There it is! You think I’m crazy! Just like the rest of them, you do!” You say with a painful laugh welling up within your chest, triumph and bitterness halved inside of you. “How I hope whatever it is that keeps coming around this camp finally shows itself, and you’ll eat your damn words.” You tremble from the cold air scorching your skin, while rage licks your insides with its flames. You were done with it. With everything. You’ll pack up and leave tomorrow. Because by god, dying of dehydration, hunger, or being torn to ribbons by a bunch of bloodthirsty walking corpses was preferable to being with this bunch of dimwits.

“Nothing is going to show up, because there is nothing, you stupid piece of shit!” Scott hisses out, giving the conversation a sense of finality, leaving the last word for himself. Oh, so he’s afraid of confrontation, but not when it’s with the bottom of the barrel member of the group. Cool. Fan-fucking-tastic. Your jaw tightens, and you glare at man’s silhouette, harbouring hope he’d drop dead from your stare. However, no such luck. He stands proud at his five-foot-something, rooted to the ground with shoulders rising and dropping from the laboured breathing.

“You’re a spineless suckup and an ignorant dick, Scott. I hope you fucking die.” You finally spit out your verdict, yanking up the zip of your tent and falling on your blankets in exasperation, venom bubbling inside of you. Wishing you could say more. Wishing you could cuss him out like he deserves, instead of being so concise. All your frustrations during these long months of being on your own in this built up to that. This fight with Scott. You leaving. It’s been a long time coming. Maybe in the morning you should duke it out with Jay as a little goodbye present, for all the months he made your life a living hell, giving you shit for just trying to protect everyone and be careful. If so, everyone should receive some insults – Rory for her rude-ass behaviour, Amy for constantly making you do all of Jay’s laundry, like he wasn’t her own damn husband, Tom, for being Scott’s father, and Tiny, for blindly supporting Jay in every fucking argument that sparked in the camp, towering over you, attempting to intimidate into silence each godforsaken time.

Oh, how you hated this. Bastards. All of them.

König will set you free into his bloody embrace, never to let go.

He’ll bathe the whole world in blood if it meant you were his forever.

check out this masterlist for more cod fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

[kivino]

hello! I saw you needed jjk moots ?

hehe yes, i'm still looking for some jjk mutuals, even though i'm writing a bit less for it now!

[kivino]

Not Russian, but can I ask why the Russian dni? If u don't mind ofc !

because i'm a ukrainian refugee. also literally says i'm ukrainian in my pinned post

[kivino]

MEANT FOR EACH OTHER || ZOMBIE AU || KÖNIG X READER || PART I

sum. A deep-seated paranoia takes hold of you. Every hour of the day, you feel like you’re being watched. Followed. And you’re not wrong. So observant, so beautiful and perfect, but always dismissed by your group, left behind, not paid even a sliver of attention. How tragic. It’s okay though. König is here to do right by you. F̶̖̓͆̕͝o̷̢͚̲̬̍͠r̶͖̝̾̊̍̾e̸͔͇̣̓̈̊̾v̶̛͚͕́͗͝e̷̤̻͔͎̅̑̽r̴̝̬̩̘͒̒̃ ̴͔͆͋̈͝ȃ̷̢̭̯n̶̡̜̫͚̉̌̊̒ḍ̷̩̲̹͝ ̷̖̔͌͘ả̶̡̬̥͊l̶͕̇̓̄w̴̺̥̋̂͠ä̷̢̢̝́̒͗y̴̳̦̙̕ŝ̶͕̋̀.̵̝̱͒̌̅̆

tags. zombie au (twdg inspired), stalking, obsessive behavior, themes of paranoia, fear, distrust, isolation  

w.c. 2.7k

a.n. i had a post about this fic quite some time ago, but only got to finishing this fic right about now. it’s my bad, folks! still, i hope you enjoy it nonetheless! let me know your thoughts and like and reblog, please!

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link to this fic || ko-fi

You were not okay. Unstable. Dangerous to the group. That’s what you kept hearing every time you would try to speak up about your worries. “Help your fellow man” your ass. Delusional assholes, all of them, you thought, after having to endure this torture that appeared endless. Constant paranoia eating away at you, piece by piece, making you look over your shoulder more than look straight ahead, forcing your sleep to become so light you’d wake up from the slightest shifts of your companions dosing off in the tents beside yours. Or from the wind rattling the rusted metal sheets on the roof of the abandoned storage house you camped out in. You felt exhausted which was no less shitty than being unheard. Or, rather, straight up ignored.  

It’s been weeks…months of it? You weren’t quite sure anymore. You had trouble tracking the days at this point in time, any disruption turning you into a likeness of a jittery rabbit – head on a swivel, ready to dart at the merest visible sign of this…unknown and incomprehensible danger. So naturally, days blended into nights, and nights would smother themselves in-between the days, and there was no end to it. At times, anything felt as a sign of some foreign, unfamiliar and very unwelcome presence. The whole world ending, shriveling away into a primitive, disconnected and scattered realm of endless violence was bad enough, but then there was something else…You weren’t quite sure what started out this deep terror within you. But you just knew, after bumping into someone’s empty, but clearly frequently used hideout in a dingy, and frankly, nasty motel, nothing has been the same.

Stretches of makeshift barbed wire across all the fences and, in places, even the ground, where the passage wasn’t interrupted by wrecked cars forming a barricade in front of the dark building with the windows boarded up shut. As you approached the place, you swore you could hear a low purr of a generator and smell the fuel, heavy in the air, and thick on your tongue. However, the place, though well protected, seemed to be deserted. Not a sign of a human presence from a quick glance. A lawn chair on the second floor of the motel, right behind a study looking railing with the paint rubbed off in the center, however, threw you off a little bit, as well as the doors, either locked, or boarded up shut from the inside. No bodies, no signs of fight or struggle, very little blood, while the place itself was locked up so tight you’d think a herd of was mere hours away from reaching it. Who’d put so much effort into making this motel a fortress, only to then abandon it, since there were no bodies that would suggest an attack from the walkers, or a raid from a fellow man.

Things clearly didn’t line up and you didn’t like that. Your group, however, didn’t bother with technicalities and nuance. Safe place was a safe place, end of story. Having nothing to offer in terms of resources – apart from a couple of already ransacked vending machines, the motel was quickly moved on from after the group spent the night. Since no one managed to get a single door, but the one leading to the laundry room of the dreary place open, the decision was made to sleep in the tents within the barricaded parking lot. “You’re welcome to freeze your ass off outside the fence, if you’d like, love, I couldn’t give two shits” – grumbled Rory, a woman in her thirties, who was clearly not having your cautious behavior. You were more than sure that she probably had to sleep in places much colder and dangerous than this dirty godforsaken motel, so you let it go. That night was the last night of undisturbed and calm sleep you’ve had before the unrest took hold.

You haven’t told anyone (as if that would change anything, your mind adds with palpable bitterness), but you swore there was something at that motel. Always conveniently just out of the corner of your eye, avoiding you so well you were ready to scream in frustration at the lack of substantial evidence for your suspicions. A giant, hulking shadow, faster than your reaction speed. A suspicious, bright glint from stuffy darkness of a boarded-up window. A loose stretch of a chain-link fence with dull grass crushed underneath. But then, why would it be? Unless it pinned the lifeless blades of greenery to the ground while sliding out (or in) below the fence.  

Of course, without outright noticeable evidence it was just that. It. But you were just scared to admit that this shapeless, inexplicable “It" you kept in your thoughts day and night, waking up and going to bed with an insistent tremble in your chest and shaky hands, was someone. That this “It” would suddenly develop a form, a conscience. Then, a goal. You didn’t like that. Not in the slightest. Frankly, who would like the phantoms that reside in their mind to suddenly become real? Nobody. And definitely not fucking you.

Regardless of your limitless turmoil and anxiety, non-stop coiling within your gut, you had to wake up. Stirring awake in your stuffy, hot tent, you don’t waste any time finding a zipper on the cheap rainproof fabric and dragging it down, to let some (relatively) fresh air inside, letting your lungs enjoy it while it lasts. Your group of seven has already been obviously busy; you can hear some chatter and clacking of pots over the fire in the middle of the camp. Didn’t even wake you up? Odd. You’ll take it though. An extra hour of sleep is better than none.

You shuffle towards the opening in your tent, your hand snaking towards the half-empty backpack, laying on its side right in your reach. Empty-minded, you let your fingers pick at a bunch of zippers and clasps, while rubbing your eyes off the scarce leftover sleep. Your hand, much like a lithe spider finally gets inside the backpack to pull a sweatshirt out, until you hear a clear, almost deafening crunch of plastic in the morning quiet.

You can feel the blood in your veins turn to ice.

The hand snakes deeper inside, trying to get a feel of this plastic package that was definitely not there last night, before you went to sleep. Finally, you fish out multiple packs of ramen from your belongings and you sit there for a moment, in silence that only you can comprehend.

None of your group store their food in their personal backpacks. You included. Nobody went on any supply runs this week. And you definitely don’t remember ever having problems with sleepwalking. Your head finds its way into your hands. There “It” is again. You’re on the verge of hysteria. And even if your try to say something, it’s going to be the same song, all over again.

“You’re overthinking simple things.”

“Maybe you put it there before, but just…forgot about it?”

“What does it matter anyway? You’ve got more food to last you, would you stop being hung up over nothing?”

Same things, same voices, same thoughts. You were sick of it. Utterly and completely.

Finally!

You found it!  König could feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as you took out the gift he so carefully placed in the bag during the night. Sneaking around the other tents, careful with every step, suffocated with anticipation and worry. Now he had the perfect view of you from the shattered roof window of the storage house, which couldn’t have made the moment any better. Setting up this vantage point was his best decision yet…Apart from deciding to trail behind you, tagging along until your useless group members make the slightest mistake that will cost them their life. And then, König will be able to swoop in, finally help you openly, get you to join him (because why wouldn’t you? Your refusal was not even a possibility in his mind). The mere thought sent shivers of excitement down his body, sweet and languid. He couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of peeking out from behind the window once again, tilting his head ever so slightly, so his dark hood is not too visible over the vivid backdrop of the winter sky – off-grey and dull, much like a dirty slush that was this year’s snow, resting in a thick, melting blanket over the dark earth.

His eyes are zeroed in on you, squinting through the bright light penetrating even the dull clouds hanging over the earth and he could just feel the familiar, loving tremble in his chest when he sees you taking out his little surprise from your bag. It would seem that you’re lost for words – clutching your poor little head in your hands, mulling over who it might be from. Or maybe you’re already drowning in despair, deep in the realization that no one from your group can protect you properly, if someone was able to sneak into the camp in the middle of the night. Yes! Yes… König couldn’t have asked for a better reaction.

This…utter distress you were displaying, fanned the flames within him like no other person ever managed to, even before the world has ended. Frankly, anything you did would set off this insistent, lasting spark deep within his chest, burning König up from inside out, until it felt like he was smoldering if his eyes couldn’t catch a glimpse of you for too long. His insides would churn with an unknown, heavy feeling, it almost felt like he was drowning in a bog, being dragged down in the depths of his mind with little to no resistance. Only catching a glimpse of you helped to stop that feeling. So, keeping away just wasn’t an option. Never was. Never will be. And how could it ever be, if even in his restless dreams he searched for you, while every waking thought revolved around you. How determined he was to see his plan through, how desperate for the closer presence of your light in his life, finally being able to bask in it without your disgusting group getting in the way.

König never thought the accidental encounter at the motel he’s been holed up in would end up in him packing up everything he had to follow your useless group. You. You were the first living soul he’s seen up close since the world started falling apart so rapidly. It awakened something he completely forgot about in the months he hasn’t seen any people. The newfound hope.

Your carefree smile near the bonfire first confused him. How can you be happy and laugh the way you did when nothing around you was in its original state – shattered, broken, locked, rotten, spoiled or otherwise; when he the danger was around the corner, lurking just out of reach, ready to pounce and consume the measly, weak remains of humanity any time. Nothing to smile about for him. Despite his initial, less than generous assumption about your mental abilities and level of intelligence, you proved more cautious and careful than any people from your group. Stupid jackasses, satisfied with the surface-level search. How pathetic.

It would be such a pleasure to finally get rid of them. Give them all that they deserved. Every blow, every bite and every scratch. But not from him, sadly. He has to be even more careful, so you don’t have any basis to even assume König had anything to do with their deaths. He’ll…nudge them in the direction of death, but he will not be the deliverer of justice. As much as he wished he could.

Not you, though. Oh, never you. That day, as König peeked from the darkness of the motel room around him, through tiny slits in the dusty curtains that obscured everything behind the wooden boards he hammered in himself, you seemed like you started figuring something out, looking over the spots of the motel he most often frequented. Almost like you could feel or see his presence there, only hours ago.

Carefully, but nonchalantly walking around vending machines, the good spot overlooking the front gate and the parking lot with König’s chair on the second-floor balcony, his sleeping spot on warm nights, in a bed of a pickup truck, and finally, attempting to open the room where the man would sort through the supplies he had. When he was completely shrouded in darkness of said supply room, it felt like you could see right through it, like you caught sight of him through the dirty glass window. Your narrowed eyes, suspicion-ridden expression, laced with fear at the same time that he glimpsed at before tearing himself away from the handmade peephole in a manner too reluctant and terrified for him.

There and then, leaned on a wall with his breath short and face burning up under the hood that obscured his face, König realized. You shared a connection, deeper than any. You must be. How easily you picked apart each of the places that belonged to him, like you felt with your whole being the dark, smudged stains of his presence left behind, how observant you were, it couldn’t have been a simple lucky guess, he was sure of it. You were meant for each other. Yes, yes, that’s it! The world fell apart, but it was always supposed to happen, you would find each other no matter what. The thought, for the first time in many, so many months filled to the brim with blood, gore, loneliness and hunger filled him with comfort.

That was what drew him in, there was nothing easy or outright understandable about you to König. He didn’t mind, though. You were meant for each other, that was all that mattered. He would bathe the world in blood if it meant you’ll be there to find way into his arms. He’ll protect you, just like the comfort from the smallest glimpse of your charming self protected him from the darkness that caged him in for so long. Only König can protect you. You just didn’t know it yet.

Of course, he realizes that his attempts might be too…forward for you, but it was for the best. He was doing it for you only, for your wellbeing, and no one else’s. Of course, he could be much more discreet, yet instead König chose to be meticulous with how he approached leaving behind signs of his presence. It was charming and so, so endearing, how quickly you picked up on the smallest traces left by him, how your brows would knit together in careful consideration, piecing together every clue given to you by König’s generous hand. Like a conversation between only the two of you. König had to let you know that your savior, your protector is coming. He wasn’t worried about you pointing out things left by him to your group; figures that they would choose to ignore it – it wasn’t meant for them.

König cherished every expression, every tiny reaction you gave to the smallest traces of his presence, keeping them hidden, locked away in his mind, recalling every and each one while lulling himself to a sleep that was sure to bring more dreams of you. The man savored them like there was nothing better than seeing your eyes widen in horror, hand clasping over your mouth to contain a loud scream of terror, as you stumble across a large, neatly stacked pile of festering, unmoving walkers that just a day ago creeped upon the camp, with no one from your group noticing, as expected. Of course, König could easily dispose of the whole pile elsewhere, burn them, bury them, or dismember them until there was nothing but rotten mincemeat left on the ground, but he wanted to send another message, by leaving the bodies for his beloved to find. Just so you’ll know, he’ll do anything to keep you safe. Anything to keep you all to himself.

Or when the shuffling within you tent momentarily stop after he would intentionally snap a twig with his full weight while doing a round through your camp, intent on putting another food item in your bag. Clearly you took notice of someone lurking through the camp, but didn’t dare to check what was the noise you heard. How cute. König needed you to know that you won’t go hungry with him either – he’ll give away the last he has for you to last longer. The world will have a little more light with you in it, rather than with him.

König also knew you could see his shadow from the corner of your eye at times. Those days, he was intentionally being sloppy, allowing himself more and more of the simple, invigorating pleasures of taking in your beauty just a few more seconds before ducking behind the thick trunks, scattered bushes or a corner. His blood would come to a boil almost instantly, the hood that usually allowed for normal breathing would soon become suffocating for him, and his hands would start to tremble until his teeth would find a way to bite into his flesh, flashes of pain searing the incredibly joy the image of you gave him.

It was hard to wait. So hard to not act on his deep-seated, loving urges and finally take you all for himself, like it should be. Like it was meant to be. Every day without you in his arms felt more and more like torture, hours ticking away with him wasting himself out of your embrace he craved so restlessly. Anything seemed to remind him of you, pulling along the slow realization that you were not there to ease his heavy mind out of the instability that threatened to spill over in destructive, bloody violence. It was worse than bad. König needed you. So wholly and desperately he couldn’t exist or function in the way he was used to.

Soon. He’ll set everything in motion very soon. König already started carrying over all his stuff and equipment from the roof to a camp he put together carefully, a safe distance away from this storage house. You’ll need a safe place to stumble into, after all. And, from that safe place, right into his arms.

You won’t have a choice. Because you were meant for each other. You just didn’t know it yet.

check out this masterlist for more cod fics or send me a request/comment! you can also support me on ko-fi

[kivino]

gahdamn that cod masterlist is a getting a little too long

reckon i might make a separate one just for ghost lololol

[kivino]

OMG YOUR ZOMBIE FIC?

I cried multiple times PLEASE MAKE A PART 2😭😭

I need them to find i nice place in the mountains up in the south away from most zombies, build/ live in a cabin AND BE DOMESTIC ‘N CUTE😭🙏🙏

heyyy, thank you so much for reading that fic! it makes me incredibly happy that you connected so hard with it, it was probably one of my most demanding and, at the same time, personally rewarding works.

i'm so sorry it took me such a long time to complete your request. it was a spur of the moment, very inspired work, so i really hope you like it!

here's the link to the fic, and if you prefer ao3, here is the other link to the fic! enjoy <333