#(i already have it like figured out they run a group of survivors)

[liroyalty]

I have to find a fc for Ann, & if I do, the zombie apocalypse AU will be upon ya'll, because I already have too many ideas.

[xwritingdixonx]

Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ‘em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

–––––––––––

A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

[elliyoyo]

The Time You Thought Too Loud (Gale Dekarios/Reader)

This is Part 1 of 5 times Gale got teased + 1 time he got his payback. If you're starting, this is right place :) I'll be posting the descriptions and prompts on My Masterlist so you know what to expect, but this will be posted one chapter at a time.

Desc: You catch Gale conjuring his goddess, and he gives you a quick legend in the arcane. You can't help but fantasize about him after he gives you the most wanton look known to man.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, afab reader, vague f!masturbation, and fantasizing (including p in v, f!receiving oral, and creampies).

Words: 1.5k

After a long day's running around, all you wanted was some rest. You had used what seemed like tons of extra supplies because of your own mistakes, you didn't know if your left pinky finger would ever feel the same, and you were completely over today. Hell, you were over this week already, and it only just started!

Despite all of that, however, you couldn't help but focus on (and grow curious about) a low shimmering noise from across your group's makeshift camp. It could only be described as weave incarnate, and the most magic you could do was a measly fire bolt… How were you supposed to fake not being interested?

When you look in that direction, you see a faint blue light coming from Gale's area, which confirms your sixth sense for the weave and draws you in even more. You push yourself up from your bedroll and take a sip from a nearby bottle of water before heading over to check out the small commotion. A small projection floats above Gale's hand, a portrait of a beautiful, straight-haired woman whose look alone commanded attention and grace.

You stare for a moment more, taking silent steps up behind him to get a closer look, a finer examination of all the details on her delicate face… The earring she had in common with Gale.

"Oh my, you startled me!" Gale finally notices your presence, jumping in place as the projection vanishes. "I, uh… I was miles away," he mumbles, hands coming together behind his back. Even though you had seemingly interrupted him, there was no hint of irritation or anger, only embarrassment.

"Is everything alright?"

"Of course! I was just… practicing an incantation!" He flashes you an effortless, but emotionless grin, clearly trying to get you to go about your evening. That wouldn't work on you, though.

"Hmmm… Gale, I think there's more to it than that. The figure I saw; she means something to you, I'm sure of it. You can be honest; I'd like to say I had a pretty tame reaction to Astarion's vampirism and Shadowheart's Sharran worship." You can't help but physically respond to him as well with a raised eyebrow and a hand flying to your hip.

"She does. She… is Mystra. I cannot quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her--- to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence." His eyes have glazed over, staring off in the distance towards nothing as if he was now conjuring her up, detail by detail, in his mind. Of course, Mystra was important to him, but no ordinary devotee would feel so desperately drawn to see their idol. "No sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies; The weave. Mystra is all magic, and as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation."

"I didn't realize the depth of your devotion." There is a twinge of jealousy, even though there is no reason for it to be there. You have no relationship with this man besides both being survivors, just as there is no reason for you to feel anything towards this goddess.

"Magic is my life. I've been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it. It's like music, poetry, and physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses…" He shows off for a moment, flashing lights and shapes between his hands and in front of your face. Impressive, but he's certainly holding back, not revealing too much of his hand yet.

"Would you like to experience it firsthand?"

"Yes, of course I would!" Personal magic lessons from the magic prodigy? Maybe you were wrong to think there was nothing here. He could have thunderwaved you across camp by now if he had been bothered by your intrusion.

"Then follow my lead." He poises his hands up, doing a quick (easily copied) movement that has you feeling ready and at ease.

"Excellent! Now, repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao."

"Okay, uh… Ah-Thran Mystra… Ryl, Kantrach-Ao!"

"Very good, and I know it's exciting, but no need to shout," he laughs out, doing his best to hold his arms and hands steady. "Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can."

You let your thoughts and consciousness fade from being at camp, next to Gale, with a mindflayer worm in your gods damned head, to your childhood. Early. Before it had the chance to get bad. Picking dandelions with your friends from the spots of land surrounding your family's. Birds chirping, the smell of fresh baked bread wafting out your kitchen window. Not a drop of blood or a tear in sight. And suddenly, as if you'd been doing it your entire life, the state of calm you'd achieved pushed out a burst of Weave. Gale's eyes widened for a moment, but quickly returned to normal before too long.

"You did it! you're channeling the Weave--- how does it feel?"

"It feels effortless… You're a wonderful teacher, Gale."

"I know." His nose crinkles when he laughs this time. It makes you feel something strange and new in your stomach, makes your throat seize and your guard immediately fall. The moment connects you two, it feels intimate in and of itself. The confidence of having just successfully performed magic, magic for gods' sake… and in front of the most awkwardly attractive wizard you could have been stuck with in this whole situation.

You can't help but think of kissing Gale. With passion, cradling his cheek and neck with a hand each. It's a knee jerk, uncontrollable want that invades your mind before you can hide it from Gale. And see it he does, he nearly chokes on his own breath while his cheeks gain a dusting of light pink and sheen.

"I… didn't think… Sorry, I wasn't expecting… that… But it is a pleasant image to be sure!" His eyes are wide open up until he chokes on his own hitched breath, the unexpectedness of such a romantic gesture tugging at his heartstrings. Making him want. He would have jumped at the chance, sure, but not now. Not with the burden it would put upon you. "…And there it goes. How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were to obtain." He meets your eyes one last time before he turns around, retreating into his tent. "Good night, I enjoyed sharing a moment of magic with you."

And with that, you were left alone, to wander off to your own bedroll and ignore the snores and sleep talking of your other companions. You would do anything to be in that tent after the tension you just accidentally caused, but a daydream or fantasy or two wouldn't kill you, eh?

You could only sit still for a few moments once you had gotten beneath your cover again. Your hand felt like it was physically itching, needing to slip under the loose waistband of your resting pants. Plenty of mental groaning later, you had your fingers gently, slowing moving over yourself. You think of the fact that you left each other breathless— you left Gale breathless— and that he hadn't exactly been upset by you thinking of kissing him… He seemed flattered. He looked at you with bashfulness, after being so cautious and slow to reveal himself for the first while.

It turned you on to no end.

Countless images flashed through your brain, all of them uncontrollable and barely coherent, but enough to bring you closer and closer to the edge. Gale mischievously looking up at you from between your legs, your legs well above your head as he splayed your thighs open and fucked you slowly, meaningfully… He dipped a finger down and toyed with your clit, swollen and sensitive from however many rounds he had already egged you on to do. His eyes were closed in ecstasy, his teeth digging into his lip as he tried to hide a miserable, high-pitched whimper of, "Feels so good, you feel so good, 'm gonna cum!"

And then, you came along with him, in your head. A soft moan slipped past your lips that you prayed nobody heard and sweat clung to your body and bedroll. You slipped a few fingers inside yourself while riding the orgasm out and relished in the slickness. You allowed yourself to sickly dreaming that you were full of Gale. The clarity quickly came in tow, causing you to shake your head and grimace at yourself. At the fact that the situation had made it so that basic human kindness and attention would be enough for you to finish to the thought of somebody.

You wipe your fingers off, let your mind wander around the feeling of his skin and hairs of his chest, as if it were under your cheek that night. You slipped off thinking about the kiss he'd leave on your forehead and soft murmurs you'd have in your ear.

Little did you know that a very flustered, erect Gale was now the one with a difficult night mere meters away.

[grimesgirll]

Do you take requests? If so I’d love to see a Rick x reader where he watches reader in the shower and maybe jerks off to it. One day she notices him and asks him to join her

it’s a filthy thing he’s doing.

steam fogging up the glass and bursting around you, you’re oblivious to the onlooker to your nightly shower.

watching you like this has to go down on the list of the grimiest things he’s ever done.

despite being a shining example of a redemption story and someone he could trust, rick wants nothing more than to spend an evening with you face down beneath him. your hands on him, his on you; rick craves you in so many ways.

observing from the doorway already has him palming his hard on. through the mist, your erection stirring figure is obvious and rick has underestimated how painfully hard he is. it wouldn’t be the first time he’s fantasized with you around.

on the road once, you were on your knees tending to his cuts and all he could think about was how beautiful you were. with the prettiest face he’d ever seen and lips too soft too pillowy and tempting for the harsh season you were in.

one of the woodbury survivors, you’d come to the group as nothing more than a shaken young grad student. the governor returning to storm your new home changed that. terminus had changed that. the road had changed that. with every experience you grew closer to the group and closer to rick, although you were both too skittish to address the ways you looked at each other with your basic survivor being such a priority.

you were welcome in his house however, once your group started assimilating amongst the alexandrians. opting to take a second floor bedroom next to judith’s, you fell into a steady routine of playing house with the grimes family. the newfound responsibilities of alexandria didn’t allow you to be judith’s full time caretaker but you still spent most days with the little girl and carl.

alone time with rick was hard to come by; “new constable duties and all,” he’d gruffed when you asked why you’d seen so little of him.

it wasn’t a satisfying answer but rick was wrapped up in alexandria and his new role. and jessie, you add mentally as you trudge up the stairs and to your en-suite to shower.

you hadn’t heard him when he shut the bedroom door - that you hadn’t bothered to close - and linger in the open bathroom doorway.

the hiss that comes out of him when you squirt a handful of body wash onto your palm and cup your breasts is hard to miss though.

at first you think it’s just the shower. the thought doesn’t cross your mind again as you begin scrubbing your torso with your loofah until another fervent breath echoes louder than the shower.

once you realize what’s going on, you refrain from stilling; not wanting to scare rick off.

the loofah runs lower, legs and knees being grazed by the tactile clump of textiles. you take your time bending over and really getting your calves, ankles, and the bottoms of your feet throughly cleaned.

your vantage point doesn’t extend behind you but you can see it all the same: rick, hot and bothered from your glistening body just feet away from him - a hand suddenly freeing his cock and taking the time to allow himself some manual relief.

rick is not the type to snoop on you in the shower but you roll your neck, easing out the cracks and thrusting your soapy bust forward all the same. you would’ve said something by now if you took any serious issue with rick sharing the room with you. your greatest issue is the wanton need bubbling between your pillowy thighs.

how to communicate with him? you mull, warm droplets falling onto your smooth skin from above. maybe being direct is the most honest thing you can do.

“rick, there’s room in here for two, you know.”

the sound of the shower head grows louder in rick’s silence.

you frown. having complex feelings is one thing, ignoring you is another.

thighs clenching at the thought of the tense election in his hand, you offer, “i can help you with that.”

another hiss hints to you that your words are landing. with a coy smile, you’re trying to coax him in another. whispers and wants of languidly bathing together amongst other things slip from your mouth in your ploy to get the man behind this glass door with you.

“come in with me, rick.”

rick’s eyes widen when you slide the shower door open and you think he’s considering heading for the hills until his eyes meet yours. his pupils are way to dilated to have the self control to run out of your bedroom.

he has even less of a capacity to fight when you begin tugging down the rest of his pants and underwear.

with a scolding of your name, he attempts to keep you from unbuttoning his shirt but with the way you’re pawing at him, he struggles to stay strong.

“honey, you don’t have to. i don’t know if that’s-,”

“-it’s fine, don’t worry. just get in here.” you emphasize your point with a wide smile and a pull of rick’s arm and before he knows it, he’s standing under the steam with you.

soft skin against his taut muscles, rick is the one melting into your embrace despite the slick between your thighs. he grounds himself with a hand against your tit.

“i’m really glad you came in here.” you remark into his doused chest. your embrace deepens until you feel rick between your legs and can’t help but grind down onto his rock hardness.

“let me wash your back, rick.”

it’s not what he expected to hear after you crushed his cock against your soft exterior but he’ll take it.

turning around, rick hears you pop the cap off of one of your cucumber smelling body washes and starts with his shoulders. the man grunts from the delicate massage up and down his back.

“i’m really happy you’re with me right now, rick.” you iterate again, hoping to drive the point home.

the constable’s head lifts slightly. “you like me?”

“i do, rick.” you answer without a breath. your hands trail lower as you lather the skin just above his ass. “i like you a lot. i like living here with you.”

his muscles tighten and relax beneath you, responding to your words and the motion of your nimble fingers. his stress filled backside needed nothing more than for you to continue this massage with him on his stomach on the bed. months on months of responsibility, peril, and his role as a leader had manifested the knots in his back.

another hour of this treatment would probably have rick feeling better than he had in a long time but he starts to get an idea of something he wants even more.

rick rotates to face you, catching your wrists in his palms and your gaze all in the same pivot.

“do you want me to fuck you, darlin’?”

you could swoon right then and there. you always ached when he called you darlin’. now he can take care of the throbbing he always caused when he addressed you like that.

“of course,” you exhale and nod eagerly.

the kiss that rick is stamping on your wet lips has you hooking a leg around the back of his thigh and falling into his embrace.

this is the moment when you appreciate having the handicap accessible bathroom.

because after a few minutes of sucking marks that you know are going to incur questions, rick takes a break from attacking your lips, tits, and collarbone to bend you over the white, rubbery soft waterproof bench installed in your en-suite. you brace yourself against the surface as you feel rick behind you, gathering up your slick. the tip of his much larger than you’d expected cock teases your already sloppy wet hole.

“mhm,” you’re crying when he brushes against you again.

“damn, you’re wet, darlin’,.”

“why do you think, rick?”

you don’t mean to be snappy but you want him inside of you. waiting at the door is only working you up even more.

he chuckles lightly. a finger touches your sensitive folds from behind; the gasp he elicits from you has him pressing his cock right along your tight little hole.

the whine that you let ring through the shower is the last straw before rick plunges into you.

every inch is a battle - a battle you’re pleased to lose. it’s like waterloo, or whatever reason abba loved it so much. rick felt like too much to take at first. in all reality, your thick arousal ushers him in flawlessly. each thrust coats him in your cunt’s permission to keep going - keep pushing through each layer of fleshy, heavenly, spongy muscle. the road to bottoming out inside of you has never been more clear.

with the confidence to drive balls deep comes your needy cunt contracting against rick. a temporary finger against your clit only exacerbates the death grip you’ve established.

“good fucking girl, so tight,” rick relays to you through gritted teeth. “you take me so well, baby.”

bent over the bench, you’re thanking god that you’re in the shower and not somewhere where anyone can you hear or rick. no one needs to hear the way you’re murmuring like an overjoyed, sex-hazed idiot and getting fucked so dumb up and down on him.

the dim lighting provided from the bathroom adds to the sensational pleasures you’re being treated to right now. now adjusted to his cock, the girth of rick is something that has you stupid and out of breath. the risk you took calling out rick was well worth it. getting fucked like this in your shower is exactly what you’d hoped for - and maybe rick ending up in your bed when this is all over.

“c’mon, i know we’re both close. come all over me nice and tight like i know you want to, baby.” the man encourages.

“wanna feel you come too, rick,” you’re rasping between twisting your hips to meet his from behind with the pliable plush of your ass.

“anything you want, darlin,” he promises with a kiss against your neck.

hot and searing like sparklers, waves of pulsing pleasure threaten to spill over. your core flutters around rick and he chokes back a hoarse moan. the indentation of his fingers in your hips only sinks deeper. that dull pain guides you with the bludgeoning pace of rick in your already revved up and desperate cunt.

splashing over you like the hot water above you, your orgasm has you jerking your hips even worse than rick when he comes inside of you not thirty seconds later.

when you feel up to it, you’re on your feet and drawing rick in by the back of the head for a kiss from you on your tippy toes. the tongue in your mouth and the firm hand on your waist is enough for you to get a little lost in it all.

you’re pulled from the steamy haze when you realize you two have shifted. the stickiness dissipating with the hot water is your indication and your head lowers to see rick’s come cascading down the duct. the mixture of your fluids is washed down your thighs and down the drain.

rick tilts your head up to interrupt your view of the floor beneath you two, cueing you into another lengthy kiss. he takes the opportunity to run his hands up as down the length of your body, not neglecting to cup your ass.

an arch is reprising in you when the body wash makes another appearance. rick’s rubbing around your thighs, being thorough enough that you drag him out of the shower with you. opting for the two of you to share a towel, it’s not long before you’re heading for your bedroom.

with wet hair and soapy feet you two are crashing onto your bed.

the bedspread is damp already but you could care less. your bodies meeting skin to skin is dinging your pleasure receptors enough. all of rick flush against you while he marks your neck with even more hot, plum colored blemishes and juts his hips into you.

“mhmm,” you moan, rotating your hips back. “rick,” you’re whimpering for him at this point.

“wanna taste this freshly washed pussy,” rick utters against your chest, kissing his way down the valley of your breasts and just above your belly button.

he licks a pattern from there down to your slicked back mound. the tongue that parts your folds for you, gallantly dips inside of you. you’re worried that your reactive bottom will be crushing rick rudely in no time but his dexterous hands brace themselves against your thighs without fault. the accompanying circles and rhythmic patterns he’s etching with the pads of his fingers into your skin have you writing beneath his thick tongue.

roving across your slit as if on a mission, rick takes advantage of your sensitivity that had been see-sawing since the shower. you welcome the crescent shaped marks he’s littering on the paper sensitive skin of your inner thighs. why would you be upset? he’s setting you up to come your way into a state of bliss and sleep like a baby.

“rick, you’re so good at this,” you bellow softly, bleary eyed from the pressure he’s managing with just his tongue.

he doesn’t respond; the tongue toying with your relaxed hole just juts against the muscle. you almost leap up the bed when the tip of his pink tongue trespasses the first inch of your velvety insides.

“rick!” you exclaim.

pupil blown eyes rolling back, you’re clutching at the bedspread to stay on this planet. nerve endings flicker and burst into flame with the weight of rick’s tongue lapping them with no end in sight.

“fuck, i’m gonna come in your mouth, rick.” you confess breathily.

hands find his chestnut waves and they help you cope with the vortex licking and laving every single sweet moan and whimper from you.

you’re worried you’ll come right then and there again when you feel a deft finger that’s opening you up even more. it’s like the room is spinning. this new addition has you scrunching your eyes shut from the double overwhelm of this clearly skilled man’s finger and tongue.

“oh, rick!”

your lust-filled outbursts pair appropriately with the seriousness rick is committing to your cunt. a finger inside of you, a tongue bullying you, and another finger tormenting your clit has you begging and bucking your hips.

“mhmm, rick, shit.” you curse. “god!”

beneath you, the tongue and the two fingers intent on ruining you enter over time in an attempt to overload you. the pace and the pressure bundled up together are enough to have tears rolling down your cheeks.

a crack breaks inside of you when a particularly excruciatingly twist of rick’s fingers tantalizes the spot with the invisible “x.”

“rick!”

heat is rushing to your face when he curls his fingers inside of you. the full lips on your clit only have your knees floundering. that heat isn’t just in your face but brimming in your core. rick does nothing to assuage it - just builds on the heightening ardor around his fingers. fumbling through your words, you flex around his fingers and his tongue is the first to taste the flood as your head clearing, thought averting release grants you a blissful blank slate of a state.

looking down at you, the man savors the glow your climax had brought to your already ethereal face. parted lips and still twitching thighs told him that he’d thoroughly made inviting you in the shower with him worth your while.

fucked out and grinning, rick can’t help but match your disposition when you roll onto your elbows and utter;

“so, are you sleeping over?”

[thebowieconstricker]

Head Over Heels - Prolouge

(The Creature x Reader)

A Lisa Frankenstein (2024) fic

masterlist link

Alright, monster lovers, I’m gonna try something a little more ambitious: an actual fic. Constructive criticism welcome! Please be kind because I have no proof reader and I’m still learning how to write good stories lol. I’m also gonna be fleshing out some characters to better fit the narrative I have in mind for this story. I hope you enjoy the prologue!

Warnings: slight language, my best attempt at worldbuilding, and our gender neutral reader is an orphan, so discussion of that. Also, (N/N) stands for nickname!

~~~

1986, Brookview, Indiana

“Oh. My. GOODNESS, (Y/N)! You have to try a face mask! It’ll help you with those dark circles under your eyes!”

“But (Y/NNNN), pink is totally your color! Just give it a chance, your nails would look SO pretty!”

“You didn’t even jump! It’s like you’re built for these movies, (N/N)!”

Comments like these had already gotten old around- you checked your watch- two hours ago. You considered yourself a survivor of some ancient teenage girl ceremony. Saying polite “no thank you”s to Taffy and the rest of her much too perky friends was becoming quite the laborious task. Some may say you were being too stubborn, as they had treated you with nothing but kindness since you came to town, to which you’d argue that Tricia certainly seemed like she had a bone to pick with you. Along with her, you had unfortunately seen enough of the world to understand one of the most important rules of high school:

The popular girls were mean, and these girls were certainly popular.

You had no idea why Taffy had run up to you on your first day of school and excitedly introduced herself, her gaggle of friends confusedly following after her. You figured this was some kind of territorial power move, checking out the fresh meat before inevitably deciding to kill.

But then Taffy kept hanging out with you. And complementing you. And begging you to hang out with her group of gals.

You took it as some kind of elaborate bit, but hey, they were nice.

At least they didn’t look at you like you were a rotten corpse walking down the halls.

Your thoughts snapped back to your current situation at Taffy’s house. Her mother, Janet, had actually sneered at you when you walked in, but other than that, the night was shaping up to be your average “new girls first sleepover”. Grease had taught you well. That was, until the truth or dare game started.

Lori had brought it up, and it started pretty normal.

“Who’s your crush?”

“OMG, I’m not telling!”

“Come on, Misty! We won’t tell! Right, (Y/N)?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, no.” You mentally cursed yourself.

This is how it continued for a while before you finally perked up.

“I dare you to go to the Bachelors Cemetary Grove.”

“WHAT??? No way, Tricia! There’s no way in hell-“

Your eyes widened in intrigue and you blurted out without thinking, “There’s a bachelors cemetery?”

The girls turned to look at you.

Tricia raised one of her perfect eyebrows.

“You haven’t heard about it? It’s like- uber haunted.”

That piqued your interest. Life in the foster care system had caused you to grow accustomed to the darker sides of life, and you had always had a special interest in the dead. Your own parents had died in a mysterious fire when you were just a baby, leaving you with no real memories of them. You believed that everyone deserved to be remembered, especially the average, unremarkable person.

(Mainly because you knew that’s how you would turn out, and you’d like to be remembered.)

Enough of that, though, because everyone is still looking at you, so you cleared your throat.

“Would I have to go tonight? Or like, right now?”

Tricia rolled her eyes. “I mean, I didn’t ask you-“

“Oh, shush, Tricia! She’s participating!” Taffy smiled widely at you.

Tricia shot you a look.

“Fine. Yes, tonight. And you’d have to bring back a vine to show that you actually went there. The place is full of them, so it should be easy for you.”

You detected a hint of challenge in Tricia’s tone, but ignored it. You wanted to do this to quench the thirst of curiosity that was bubbling in your brain. This seemed like the first interesting thing you had heard about in this boring town.

You stood.

“I’ll do it.”

Taffy cheered and Lori looked at you in amazement. Misty immediately began to try to talk you out of it, worrying about your safety, while Tricia went silent.

Your mind was set, though. Time to see what all the hooplah was about.

~~~

The walk to the gravesite had been much more peaceful than you thought it would be.

Taffy’s house was constant noise, light, color, total overstimulation. However, the cool mist that danced across your skin along with the eerie silence of the woods soothed you. It helped you clear your head.

After walking through the woods for what seemed like hours, you finally came across the old rusted iron gate that sadly displayed the text, “Bachelors Cemetery Grove”. You frowned, finding the disrepair of the cite pitiful. This place should be filled with respect, not to be forgotten by vines and leaves.

Speaking of, holy shit, Tricia was right about the vines everywhere.

Thick, bright green foliage covered every inch of the area, graves poking out here and there to display faded names. It was enchanting to see so much life growing in a place of death. You could have snapped off a vine and booked it out of there, but you were drawn to this cemetery. Careful steps led you deeper and deeper into its heart as you swerved this way and that to try and make out the occasional name.

Then, through a beam of moonlight that shone through a break in the trees, your eyes caught on a specific grave.

You walked closer and came face to face with the stoic expression of a handsome young man, carved in the same stone his grave was made of. He had a strong nose, with beautifully curved lips and hair that flipped upwards on the ends. He was looking slightly downwards, his eyebrows painfully curved upwards, as if to express a dramatic feeling of grief. Resting beside his bust was an arm and a hand, attached to nothing and slightly curled. He looked like a man that would recite beautiful poetry, professing his deepest desires and most intimate thoughts.

Your mouth was slightly agape as you admired him. Despite your more logical thoughts, you brought a hand up to gently caress his cheek, finding a raised texture chiseled there that suggested sideburns. A sigh escaped your lips as you realized the romantic-ness of it all. A man who seemed perfect, a lover, full of life and emotion, condemned to a permanent fixture in a buried world.

You could say it was love at first sight.

[sydsaint]

*frantically drops this on the TL and runs away* The Pepsi man is fucking haunting me.

Summary: The reader has a jaded past with Punk and never thought she'd have to see him again. Until Survivor Series.

"Thanks for the assist, Y/N. Good looking out." Randy pats your arm gently with a friendly smile. 

"When it comes to Rhea? No problem at all, Randy." You nod as the rest of your Wargames team files out of the cage. 

You mingle with the team while laughing at the misfortune of Judgment Day still lingering in the cage. Then it happens. 

Cult of Personality blasts through the arena speakers and you choke on your laugh. Your eyes snap to the top of the ramp and you watch in disbelief as a figure walks through the curtain as the crowd screams at the top of their lungs. 

CM Punk. 

The arena becomes almost deafening as Punk runs around and enjoys his comeback with the crowd all cheering his name as loud as they can.

"You alright, N/N?" Jey sets a hand on your shoulder making you finally look away from the top of the ramp. 

"Fine. I'm fine." You nod. "Come on, let's head backstage. I'm sure that Hunter will want us for the media scrum in a bit." 

The group nods and everyone starts moving up the ramp toward the curtain. You wedge yourself between Sami and Jey and try to look as inconspicuous as possible. The group all pass Punk as he makes his way down the ramp and you do your absolute best to avoid his gaze. Because you know that if you do catch his eye then it's all over for you. 

Luck isn't on your side tonight, because as soon as you happen to glance to the side to smile at a fan holding a sign for you, Punk walks by. Your gaze meets a pair of enticing blue eyes and you curse under your breath. 'fuck' You whisper. 

"You sure that you're okay, Y/N?" Jey checks on you again once everyone is backstage. 

"I'm alright, Jey." You insist with another nod. "I'm just surprised is all. Just like everyone else is." You assure him. 

Jey nods and drops the subject for the moment. Everyone mingles around some more while waiting to see if anyone is needed for the media scrum. Jey and Cody get called to answer a few questions, and Seth wanders off to find Becky. This leaves you with Sami and Randy. 

"Hey, I just remembered something." Randy turns to you while you're talking to Sami. "Didn't you and Punk used to date before he left the company the first time?" He asks you. 

"We weren't dating!" You grind your teeth. 

Randy's eyebrows widen a bit at your outburst and he nods. "Right, sorry." He apologizes. "You knew him though, right? You were just starting out as a trainee if I remember right." 

"Yeah, I just got hired." You nod. "And now I'm a 5-time champion with absolutely no interest in CM Punk." You insist. though it's more to yourself than Randy and Sami. 

"No interest at all huh?" A familiar voice sounds behind you and you can already feel a headache coming on. "Well, I don't know about that, Y/N. Saying  you have zero interest in me is a little harsh, don't you think?" Punk comes sauntering through the curtain, still obviously high off the hype from his return. 

You lock eyes with Punk again but feel more confident in meeting his gaze this time. "Read my lips, hypocrite. Not interested." You answer him firmly. 

"Hypocrite?" Punk laughs and your stomach does a flip. "Sounds to me like you're overcompensating for something, sweetheart." He winks at you. 

"Oh you'd know all about overcompensating, wouldn't you?" You fire right back at him. 

Punk lets out another laugh and you know that you're starting to lose the battle. "Come on, sweetheart. We both know that just ain't true." He flashes a smug smile at you. 

"Alright!" Sami breaks up the dick-measuring contest with an awkward laugh. "Y/N, Randy and I are gonna head back to the locker room." He informs you. "You want to come with?" He offers you an easy way out of this whole situation. 

"Awe, leaving so soon, Y/N?" Punk flashes a fake frown. "But we were just getting to the fun part." 

Your mouth twitches and you turn to Sami. "I'll be there in a minute." You inform him. "I've got one final demon from my past that needs to be taken care of." You turn back to Punk with a scowl. 

"Oh, so I'm a demon now?" Punk teases you. 

"No." Yo, turn back to Punk. "You're a manipulator and a hypocrite." 

Another chuckle falls from Punk's lips as Randy and Sami walk off. "From what I remember, you didn't really mind being manipulated, sweetheart." He reminds you. 

"That was 10 years ago." You remind him right back. "I'm not some starstruck little girl fawning over the great CM Punk anymore. When you compare careers? You should be the one on your knees begging for my attention." You add. 

"You want me on my knees, sweetheart? All you have to do is ask." Punk taunts you. 

Your face heats up a smidge and you bite the inside of your cheek. Punk smiles as you wrack your brain for a comeback to his lewd remark. 

"Still speechless when it comes to me, huh, Y/N." Punk doesn't let up on his teasing. 

"Big talk coming from the main fired from two major companies for acting like an entitled brat." You fire back at him. 

"Oooo, ouch." Punk laughs your insult off. "And what have you been up to while I've been gone, Y/N?" He asks you. 

An opportunity presents itself and you don't hold back. "Main eventing Wrestlemania in front of hundreds of thousands of people." You remind him. "While you were doing what? Sitting on your couch with your dingy ass dog watching me be better than you? Or what? Getting into fights with kids that used to worship you like a hero?" You make a jab at his short-lived AEW career. 

Punk bows his head with a smile, acknowledging the burn. "Touche." He puts his hands up in defeat. "I'm staying at the same hotel as you tonight. Room 413." He steps towards you. "You talk a lot of game sugar, let's see if you can still back it up." He leans in and whispers in your ear before walking off with a self-satisfied smile. 

You remain in place as Punk walks off. "Fuck me." You groan when you think he's out of earshot finally. 

"Oh, I plan to, sweetheart!" Punk answers from across the room followed by a sinister laugh. 

[anonymousbardd]

Over The Sunset - FT. Hermes x FemReader

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "Your slow loving makes me feel so obsessed with you."

𑄽𑄺 Content Contains: xFemreader, fluff, swearing. This story is based off of the series, Blood Of Zeus - ¡Please do not repost without crediting!

⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: "All my life I and the world had been moving at a fast pace, but everyone always seems to slow down whenever I'm near you."

[F/n] is a young maiden who lives in a small poli, she used to live in a much larger economy, but her previous home was destroyed by a big group of bandits and hoarders. Now, she lives in a small village that the survivors built.

During the hard times, [F/n}'s family were the ones who helped everyone, they were the ones who gathered resources, and food, and they helped with the injured.

The village had a voting session to decide who would lead their newly rebuilt home, and it was no brainer why all of them chose your family. At the time, [F/n] was still an unborn fetus, and by the time she was born, the whole village had dedicated that day to celebrating their new life and home.

The young girl grew up to be polite, humble and kind, just like her parents. The villagers adored her, calling [F/n] the village's white rose. The young girl had a heart of gold, was sensitive, and felt empathetic towards the poor souls who had passed away. [F/n] would pray to Hermes, she would pray for the safety of the undead.

[F/n] would visit Hermes' nearby temple and would make offerings to him.

One morning, the village's white rose now grew into a beautiful maiden, it was a lovely morning, [F/n] was making her way to the nearby river to collect some water, when all of a sudden, she heard screams of terror from her beloved villagers.

[F/n] ran towards the sounds of agony, her heart raced inside of her chest as her mind showed different horrific scenarios. Once she finally arrived, she noticed that the cries and screams were coming from inside.

She rushed in only to find a dimly lit cave, on the ground where some of the villagers bleeding out, a little girl was crying, [F/n] ran towards the young girl and held her in her arms. Then, in the dark, a figure rose and began to swiftly attack the young girl and [F/n].

The young maiden then took a rock from the ground and began throwing it at the Kere, all whilst she hid the young child behind her, she managed to land a decent hit on its head, causing it to fall back into the shadows.

[F/n] then turned to the young child and made sure that she was okay, [F/n]'s legs were already bruised and wounded, so she wasn't able to run away, "Leave this cave... Hurry and run back to the village!" [F/n] said, "B-but.., I can't leave you here!"

[F/n] smiled and placed a hand on the girl's cheek, "Worry not about me, save yourself," she said, and with that, the young girl ran out of the cave and back to the village. [F/n] knew that if she stayed any longer she would end up being feasted upon.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and the young maiden then decided to pray for the two dead bodies on the ground, as she did, she felt a gush of wind brush against her face.

Then right before her, a tall man with fair skin appeared, his eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and his hair was in a braid, he took off his helmet and looked down on the ground to see the dead and [F/n].

The young maiden knew that the man was too big to be an ordinary mortal, "Wh-who.., who are you..?" [F/n] asked quite frightened, the tall man chuckled and kneeled down.

"Well that's quite disappointing... As my devoted follower I would thought that you would have at least a bit of a clue who I am."

He than hovered his hand on top of the dead villagers and began to harvest their souls, he looked at [F/n] and smiled, only then did the young maiden realise who it was.

The man in front of her was no other than Hermes, the god she's been praying to all her life.

Just as the tall man stood up, [F/n] lifted her body and warned him, "Wait! Careful, there's a Keres lurking in the dar—..,"

*shing!*

In a blink of an eye, the Keres from before was cut in half, Hermes' reaction was quick and beyond mortal abilities.

[F/n] sat there in shock, the god then reached out his hand for the young maiden to hold, "Come, let me help you out of here," he said with a smile.

The young woman then held his hand, and without struggle, he carries her in a bridal way.

[F/n] felt her heart pounding inside of her chest, her facd felt hot as she looked at the god who's carrying her. Not a second later they were outside Hermes' temple, the god gently placed her down and looked at her wounds.

"Wait here, I'll be back," he said looking up at the young woman, not even 10 minutes later, Hermes returned with clean cloth and a bucket of water.

[F/n] watched as the god dipped the cloth in water and began to gently dab it on her wounds, causing her to wince in pain. "Bare with me for a bit.., I know it hurts..." Hermes muttered.

The young maiden moaned, her legs were aching, she then looked at Hermes who was currently focused on her injury, "Do you usually do this for those who worship you?" [F/n] asked.

Hermes smiled warmly and looked up at the young maiden, "I do not, consider yourself special," he said, [F/n] felt her face heat up, she then looked away, the sun was already setting.

[F/n] looked back at Hermes and hummed, he was already wrapping up the wound with more clean cloth, "Why..?" [F/n] mumbled, Hermes looked up and hummed, "Why did you save me..?" She asked, "What do you mean?"

[F/n] looked down and sighed, "Compared to you, I am but a young woman... I haven't done anything to be blessed enough to get saved by a god..."

Hermes looked at her for a second and laughed, he sat down on the ground and rested his arms on his knees, "You, my dear, are truly one funny girl," he chucked.

Hermes then stood up, offering his hand to [F/n], to which she accepted.

He then brought her to the top of a mountain that perfectly viewed [F/n]'s village. Hermes held her close to him, making the young maiden feel secure, "You see this village? It's a small poli that your parents helped to grow... And you, a daughter of those with noble hearts, did the same."

[F/n] looked at him, slightly curious. She knew what Hermes meant, but she wanted to know what he'd say. Hermes turned to face [F/n], "You cared for the weak, praid for those who had fallen, and you helped with the village's troubles.., you, darling, are a lovely person."

Hermes smiled and looked out to the horizon, watching the sun slowly fall, "Ever since you started to visit my temple... I can't help but admire you for your kindness, you're very thoughtful... Everday you give me generous offerings, I can't help but feel flattered."

The god then turned to look at [F/n], "Sweetie, you're such a humble person, and on top of that, you're kindness makes me admire you more and more, I find myself looking forward to your presence for whenever you visit my temple again."

Hermes kisses the back of [F/n]'s hand, "I can't help myself but fall for such a charming woman..," he then looked up to see [F/n]'s red face, the way she looked told him everything.

Hermes then slowly pulled himself away, "Though I may know more about you... You don't know much about me... Worry not about that.., I'll gladly take my time and take things slow with you," he smiled, tucking a hair behind [F/n]'s ear.

𑄽𑄺 Blood of Zeus needs more appreciation honestly... Sorry for being inactive, I've been busy hanging out with my family hehe.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

that magic touch; hajime umemiya/reader

content warnings: descriptions of fantasy violence, injury, and blood. nothing too graphic but read ahead with caution.

fantasy au, cleric!reader and fighter!umemiya, established relationship. probably ooc but i couldn't get the idea out of my head.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

The fight had erupted out of nowhere. One moment, your party was walking down a wooded path, the next, you were beset on all sides by a group of bandits.

When the bandits had first struck, Umemiya had unceremoniously shoved you behind a tree, with an order to stay safe and a serious look in his blue eyes before he had pulled his helmet on and charged into the fray.

Steel clashed, the ringing of swords on swords filling the once quiet clearing. You watched from your position, hidden just beyond the treeline, as your party engaged the bandits. You're outnumbered at least two to one, but your friends are holding their own; you see Sakura flying through the enemy, a whirlwind of kicks and punches. Hiragi stands tall, his shield a bulwark that the enemies break against like waves.

At the front, his armor shining silver in the light, you see Umemiya, sword held high as he rallies your party to him. You glance behind him to see a shadow lurking, knife held poised to stab into the gaps of Umemiya's armor.

You curse, leaping out of your cover with a spell sparking to life in your hand. You should have been watching his back; you know Umemiya is too trusting, he always leaves his flank open, trusting that one of his friends will cover it for him.

Most of the time, he's right, but in this circumstance the rest of your party is battling their own opponents and Umemiya is about to pay for it.

You charge out of the treeline and hurl a crackling ball of radiant flames at the assassin behind Umemiya. The spell is a bit weak and a little off target; offensive magic isn't your forte but it does its job. The assassin lets out a howl of pain and reels back, giving Umemiya time to whirl around and cut down the attacker with a flash of his sword.

Several of the bandits break off from the group and run towards you- you've made yourself a target. Bracing for the incoming attack, you go through the motions of a spell, fire flickering at your fingertips as you summon a wave of flames between you and the enemy.

One of them lashes out through the fire with his sword, the tip of it catching the sleeve of your robes and cutting into the flesh of your arm beneath. You can't hold back the yell of pain, and retaliate with another ball of radiant fire. Your attacker stumbles back, and you see Hiragi slam them to the ground with his shield.

Hiragi looks at you, his eyes following the blood dripping from your fingertips and the way your arm hangs limply at your side. You wave him off, the glow of healing magic already forming around your uninjured hand. He nods and heads back into the fray; you run your healing magic along your wound, breathing a sigh of relief as the comforting warmth knits your torn skin back together.

The fighting slowly comes to a stop, the enemy's plan thwarted when you stopped their assassination of your leader. The survivors are left kneeling on the ground, heads bowed and hands tied behind their backs while they await judgement.

You make your way to each of your party members, healing magic sparkling at your fingertips as you heal their injuries. You can't help the laugh that escapes you at the way Sakura blushes when you take his chin in your hand to heal a cut bisecting his cheek.

He swats your hands away as soon as the spell finishes, stomping over to the prisoners with a shout about figuring out why they attacked you.

You look around and notice one missing. Hiragi meets your eyes and points in the direction of the river. You thank him and stow your staff before heading towards the sound of running water.

You see Umemiya sitting on a rock, the dappled sunlight shining on his armor and his helmet resting on the forest loam at his side. He straightens up at your approach, wide blue eyes uncharacteristically serious.

"I told you to stay behind," he says, pulling you towards him with a gentle hand behind your knee.

"And I did," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You ran out from cover and got hurt in the process."

"It wasn't that bad. I healed it already." You roll up your sleeve, showing just a stripe of pink, newly healed skin across your arm.

Umemiya takes your hand and presses a kiss to the healed mark on the back of it. "Just because you can heal yourself doesn't mean you should be endangering yourself recklessly," he murmurs quietly, lips brushing against your skin.

"I'm no more reckless than the rest of you," you sniff, rolling down your sleeve. "You always tell us that you trust us to watch your back, so you can't get mad when I do what you ask me to do."

He laughs, placing your hand against the warm skin of his cheek. He nuzzles into your palm and places a kiss against your skin. "You have a point," he admits. "I'm lucky to have you watching my back, especially today."

"You are lucky to have me," you smile, cupping his face with your other hand and leaning down to kiss the furrow in his brow. He wraps his arms around the tops of your thighs and buries his face in your stomach. "You know I'd do anything for you, Hajime."

"I do, that's what worries me," he groans, voice muffled in your robes. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"Well, I don't want to see you get hurt either, so you understand how I feel," you say, stroking his hair back from his brow. "But we both have jobs to do that come with a certain amount of risk. I trust that you'll protect me, and you'll have to trust that I'll look out for you. If I can keep you from getting hurt I will, but I'll also do what I can to make sure that I stay in one piece so that I can patch you up when you do get hurt."

"So wise," he laughs, pulling his face out of your robes. "I can't argue with that." He stands up, looking down at you with a fond smile. "Let's get back to camp. I'll make us a good meal, I'm sure everyone's hungry after that fight."

You stop him with a palm against his chest. He looks down at you questioningly, and you lean up to capture his lips in a kiss. He immediately pulls you close, careful not to get his gauntlets caught in your hair.

"I wanted to get at least one kiss before tonight," you say when you pull away. "I'm pretty sure Sakura would combust if he saw us do that in camp."

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Too Late I'm Dead

After rushing out from a Jigsaw survivors meeting, you meet another survivor who isn't exactly intent on attending group therapy. A companionship blossoms, and then a friendship. And then, something else.

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 🔞 Fandom: Saw Pairing: Amanda Young x AFAB!Reader Word count: 5.1K Content warnings: Gore, mentions of self-harm (both in the Jigsaw trap context and the more typical context), trauma, PTSD, angst, discussions of disability (since a lot of Jigsaw traps are disabling), Saw is its own warning, smoking, alcohol consumption, flirting, kissing, making out, biting, vaginal fingering, friends to lovers, as is Saw tradition gay shit goes down in the bathroom, reader is AFAB but gender neutral AO3 link: Here

Author's Note: And here’s Blood Fest Week 3, with the keywords “twisted” and “fixation” and the prompts “traps” and “rage”!! “Traps”, of course, got me thinking about Saw. And since I’m down terribly bad for Amanda and have seen appallingly few fics for her…. well, why not? Underrated characters are kind of my signature anyway. Hope y’all enjoy! <3

“Hi everyone. My name is Brandon and…. I’m a Jigsaw survivor.”

A subdued chorus of Hi Brandons echoed around the small church room. You barely even bothered to mouth the words. The gesture felt about as empty as the tipped over plastic water bottle you’d discarded by your chair some time ago. There was coffee at the sad makeshift snack table too, as well as a box of pastries that looked a few days past their prime, but you figured you didn’t need the caffeine to make you any more jittery than you already were. Your leg was bouncing enough as it was.

“It’s been about a year since uh. Well.” Brandon smiled nervously and made a vague, fluttery gesture with his hands. “Well. You know.”

A quiet, obligatory response from the other people – a murmur, a nod of heads. You stared at your bouncing knee.

“I’ve made great progress with my recovery. My knees have healed really well. I can fully walk on them again, even run if I’m careful. My dog Rex doesn’t really like it when I’m careful though.” He laughed fondly. A couple others offered the obligatory chuckle. “They hurt if I get too eager with stairs. Or if it’s too humid. But it’s going really well. I’m really, really proud of the progress I’ve made.” He nodded, as if assuring himself.

He’d had to break both his knees in order to get out of his trap. Was in a wheelchair for months and only recently started moving around without it. Or so you’d been told.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to break your own knees.

“Somedays, though.” Brandon looked away from the loose circle you all formed. Blinked rapidly. “Somedays, it feels like I haven’t made any progress. Somedays it’s hard. Really hard. And it feels like I didn’t survive that trap. Or if I did, some part of me got left behind.”

Everyone else was nodding, some with sad, understanding smiles on their faces. Your own pulse thundered in your ears like a distant, approaching storm.

“It’s really hard to have hope on those days, but…. what else can I do?” He shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. “Give up? Wallow around in my own misery? I can’t live like that. No one can live like that. Not forever. You just have to choose. You have to make a choice, just like the choices we made to be here. You have to choose to live. You have to choose hope. Or else you just can’t survive.”

You shot to your feet, heartbeat pounding in your ears, chair scraping back. Every face in the room turned to look at you. The church felt too small. Your ribs felt too tight. You felt too…. seen.

Who was he to judge you for wallowing in what you’d fucking gone through?

You spun around and bee-lined for the exit.

The cool city air against your face was a relief as you barged through the church’s double doors. But you stopped in your tracks as you spotted someone else already there. A woman was sitting on the church stairs. She twisted around, eyebrows raised and half-hidden by the choppy, irregular bangs across her forehead.

“Uh. Hey,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

She paused, as if uncertain. Of what? You weren’t sure. “Hey,” she eventually said back. Then, after another pause, she twisted further around, a frown crossing her features. “Is the meeting over?”

“No. I just needed some air.” Fuck, you needed something to calm yourself. You dug around in your jacket pockets until you found a lighter and a cigarette. “Um. Do you mind if I…?”

She stared at the cigarette in your hand with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but eventually shook her head no. You internally shrugged and lit up. The first drag uncoiled the tension that had built up in your muscles, and you breathed the smoke out on a relieved sigh.

The woman glanced between you and the church doors. “Having fun in there?”

Did she know? The place didn’t exactly advertise, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. You scanned her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. Had you seen her in the meetings before? “Oh, yeah, lots. You know. Fun therapy shit.” Supposedly, anyway. It was supposed to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous shit, but instead it was for the few survivors of an active fucking serial killer. Jigsaws Anonymous or whatever the fuck.

“Must be going well if you’re out here,” she said dryly, resting her chin on a propped-up fist.

You shrugged, taking another drag. “Well…” Did you really want to tell her about how Brandon’s words had hit just a little too close to home? How they’d made you feel too small, as if the sticks you’d used to prop up your fragile post-trap reconstruction of the world had suddenly snapped, and the weight of it all was now bearing down on you? She was a stranger waiting outside the church. She could’ve been some Jesus freak for all you knew.

Not that she really looked like one. Not with the sheer red shirt over a black bra and fishnet undershirt, or the combat boots, or the sheer exhaustion around her eyes.

She looked less like a Jesus freak and more like you did on the days you could bear to look in the mirror.

So you just shrugged again. “It can be a lot,” you said. “What about you? What’re you doing out here?” You hesitated. “There’re still seats open if you wanted to…”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She offered you a close-lipped smile. “I’ve heard enough of the sob-stories.”

Yeah. You could understand that.

She didn’t look like she was going anywhere, and you didn’t exactly have plans of your own. So you gestured to the stairs next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Be my guest.”

You sat to her right so the wind wouldn’t blow cigarette smoke into her face. The smooth grey stone steps were wide enough that it didn’t feel quite so awkward sitting in silence together. Even though you could feel her analyzing you as you took another puff.

You blew the smoke away and smirked dryly at the cigarette. “Think Jigsaw’s gonna put me in another deathtrap for smoking?” You ignored the tightening in your chest as you said the words. Ignored the tremor of unease. Surely it wouldn’t be enough. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

“He wouldn’t do that.” She said it with such simple certainty, as if it was an inarguable fact. Even still, you found yourself stubbing the cig out and searching for a trash can to toss it into. You didn’t want to just flick it into the grass. Maybe Jigsaw would get you for littering. Maybe he was really passionate about saving the planet.

Who needed to be God-fearing with the possibility of Jigsaw watching your every move?

You shook the thought off. Introduced yourself to the woman. You smiled awkwardly. “Um. I’d offer you my hand but my, uh–” Personal hell “–Trap involved a hand thing so. I’m not a big fan of handshakes these days.” It had taken a long time for the nerves to repair themselves in your hand. A long time and a shitton of agony and medication and physical therapy. You still hadn’t totally gotten rid of the tremor. Fine motorskills were still harder than before.

Before. That.

But the woman just gave a rueful, understanding sort-of smile. Funny how people smiled so much in the presence of trauma and pain. “Amanda. I still have trouble going to the dentist sometimes.”

Shit, that’s where you knew her from, wasn’t it? You’d heard of her, read about her before, seen a clip of her punching a journalist square in the nose when she tried to follow her. All the photos you’d seen had been such shit quality that you hadn’t recognized her immediately.

Amanda Young. The person who killed a man and rummaged around his guts to free herself from the machine hooked into her jaws. The first person to walk away from a Jigsaw trap. The first survivor. In a weird, fucked up way, it was almost like meeting a celebrity. A celebrity for the most depressingly specific thing possible.

You weren’t sure whether it would make things weird to bring that up. So you just nodded. “So. What’re you doing here then? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Mm no, not really.” Amanda scraped at the chipped black polish on her nails. “I just like to come here sometimes.”

You stared at her. Something about her reminded you of a deer, twitchy and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Or maybe not a deer. Deer looked like they’d snap in half if the wind blew too hard. Amanda…. did not. She was twitchy, but for some reason you got the feeling that she was just as likely to start kicking as she was to start running

Permanently caught between fight or flight.

You went with freeze, yourself. Or wallow, as Brandon had put it. Anger and embarrassment burned against your ribs.

“Hell of a place to visit.” You weren’t sure if you meant it as a light-hearted joke or a deadpan remark. The words came out somewhere in between.

“You’re one to talk.” She finally turned to you. It was the first time she’d actually met your eyes, you realized. “You actually believe all this bullshit?” she asked, gesturing to the church.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My therapist wanted me to go. Said it would help me to be around others who understand what I went through. That it would help me get closure or something. I didn’t want to. But he insisted.” You shrugged. He’d pestered you about it until you finally gave in a few weeks ago. He thought it would be good for you. Would help you heal. Really, it just made you want to fling yourself out of one of the church’s fancy stained-glass windows.

Amanda gave a derisive snort. You almost took offense until she said, “Half of the time these therapists don’t even know what they’re talking about. It’s a bunch of bullshit, too.” She propped her cheek on her fist again, giving you a side-long grimace. “People don’t change until they have to. Or until they’re forced to. A bunch of psychoanalyzing isn’t going to do anything.”

You…. strongly disagreed. But the slim scar peeking out from her sleeve kept you from saying that. “Bad experience with a therapist?” you asked, flicking your gaze away.

“It never really worked for me.”

“What did?” you asked cautiously.

She paused. Thought about it. Stared at you with an intensity that had you wondering what the hell was going on inside her head. Until eventually, “Jigsaw.”

You blinked. Stared. Tried to figure out how to respond to that.

She thought…. Jigsaw helped?

You didn’t want to judge. Fuck, that was exactly why you’d stormed out of the church. You were self-aware enough to realize that. Different things worked for different people, and different people responded to trauma in different ways, but….

The church doors squealed open. You both shot to your feet and turned around. Your fellow Jigsaw Anonymous members were leaving, the meeting over, spilling out from the doors with all the speed and excitement of molasses being poured out from a jar. You stepped to the side to let them come down the stairs. Amanda did the same, arm brushing yours, and you wrestled the urge to jerk away. You weren’t sure of the last time you’d actually touched someone, or the last time someone had touched you, aside from the gentle but coldly professional hands of doctors and emergency personnel. It was as startlingly foreign as it was familiar.

Amanda seemed completely unaware of your clashing emotions as her gaze locked onto something. You followed her stare to Brandon slowly making his way down the steps. A man with sandy-blond hair and a cane was with him, chatting, the both of them completely oblivious to either of you.

Did she know them? She was staring at them with such an undecipherable intensity and it was the only explanation you could think of. You glanced at the two men again, then back at Amanda. No… she wasn’t staring at them. She was staring at the blond man specifically.

It really wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you two know each other?”

“Sorta,” was as much of a response as you got.

Once Brandon and the man reached the bottom of the ramp and went separate ways, Amanda turned back to you. It was just the two of you on the stairs now. And it was a little embarrassing how flustered you were just by her proximity. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know her.

Maybe your therapist was right. You did need to get out and be around people more. So you could remember how to fucking act normal again.

“Well.” Amanda bumped her arm against yours again. This time deliberately. You were pretty sure the facial expression you made was not a normal one. “See you round.”

Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, hopped down the steps, and just. Walked away. You stared after her for longer than necessary.

She was impossible to get a read on. Weirdly confrontational, weirdly evasive, and weirdly magnetic anyway.

You kind of hoped you’d see her again.

She didn’t appear for the next few meetings you obligatorily dragged yourself to. It wasn’t until about a month later that you found her sitting out on the steps again. When you, again, had rushed out to clear your head when the room got too small.

“Hey stranger,” she said, tone somewhere close to teasing. It made you smile. Just a little.

“Hey,” you replied, approaching the stairs. And again, you gestured to the space beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

And so you developed a bit of a routine. She appeared on the steps about once a month, for a reason she never shared and that you never really minded. You would sit on the stairs with her, and the two of you would shoot the breeze. It was a comfortable, casual companionship born from a common factor and convenience. It was never anything very deep. Neither of you were there for therapy, not really. You kept it light, casual. That was the point, wasn’t it?

At least until one day when Amanda was standing by the stairs before the meeting had even started. You didn’t bother to hide your surprise as you approached her and exchanged your usual heys.

“You coming in today?” you asked.

“No. I thought we could head somewhere else.” She tilted her head at you. There was a playfulness to her expression, her smile. A playfulness that made you both a little bit cautious and a little bit excited. “Somewhere a little more fun. Unless you want to stay here. For therapy.” She pointedly lifted her eyebrows at you as she said therapy.

You glanced at the church doors behind her. Really, talking to her about anything but the fact that you were both Jigsaw survivors had done a lot more for you than going to these stupid fucking meetings had.

“Only if you promise not to put me in a death game for smoking,” you joked. Or tried to, at least. It really wasn’t that funny. You winced at yourself. But Amanda, to her credit, just linked her arm through yours. You almost preened at the friendly touch.

“Deal,” she said.

She ended up taking you to a bar. A gay bar, more specifically. You were a bit surprised she’d clocked you so easily but never said a word – but then again, neither had you about her. So you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised.

From there, your casual companionship escalated into something much more like a genuine friendship. You got to know each other properly. You talked about your personal lives and hobbies and interests. You even talked a little bit about Jigsaw, and everything after that. You told her how you’d been struggling with insomnia and how you’d lost your job when you stopped showing up. Because of, y’know, being stuck in a deathtrap. And being too terrified to set foot outside your door for a while after. You told her about the new job you’d gotten and struggled to adjust to. And you told her about your hands.

Nails through the palms Jesus-style. Because according to the hoarse voice on the tape that now haunted your nightmares – “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. She’d winced as you told her the story one evening. You’d winced as you’d recollected it. The pain shooting through your fingertips, up your arms, into your very fucking bones. The squelch of blood and muscle, the way you hadn’t been able to stop from screaming or the tears from spilling as you twisted and ripped your hands free of the metal spikes.

It was a miracle they didn’t introduced any infections into your bloodstream, the doctors had told you. A miracle.

You told Amanda how your hands still shook, were still a bit weak. How some days they were worse and some days they were better. And how fine motor skills had become hard now, whereas before you’d taken them for granted. God, had you taken them for granted. You’d been able to write your name, use a knife and fork, all that shit, so damn easily.

It had taken a lot of getting used to.

Amanda has just listened and nodded her head. Understanding. Not offering the grating sympathy people so often flung your way, all the while looking uncomfortably unsure of what to do with your presence and your hands and your experience and your trauma. But Amanda understood. Because of course she did. She knew what you’d been through and where you were coming from.

And she’d even smiled a bit mischievously, glancing down at your hands on the bar counter, and said, “Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m pretty good with my hands. I could always lend a finger or two.”

Maybe it was the little smirk on her face, the glint in her eye when she said it. Maybe it was the loneliness and then the sudden friendship. Or maybe you’d just been a little too buzzed, but her words had remained lodged in your mind as you tried to go to sleep that night.

Amanda had shared things about herself, too, in the time you’d spent together. It had taken a little longer for her to open up – she was a bit slower, a bit more cautious. She seemed a lot more eager to listen than to do the talking. And you couldn’t fault her for that. But eventually, you learned that she worked as a mechanic, knew a lot about fixing and building machines and shit like that. She had a pet guinea pig that she’d acquired entirely by accident. His name was Pigeon. Her favorite color was red, her favorite bands were Nine Inch Nails and Hole, and her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. Her dad was a piece of shit she hadn’t seen in over a decade, and her relationship with her mom was strained at best. She was an only child.

You’d also learned more about her Jigsaw trap. How she’d become a drug addict in prison, how she’d woken up in a Jigsaw trap for it. How the little puppet with swirls on its cheeks had rolled out of the darkness on a tricycle and told her that she’d survived. And how she’d ended up in a trap a second time, a hellish prison of a house with several other people, most of whom had died.

The news had nearly brought your drink back into your throat. Lighting did strike twice after all. He did pick the same victims more than once.

God, maybe you really did need to quit smoking.

Amanda had placed her hand on your arm. Touch gentle but grounding all the same. And she’d assured you that that wouldn’t happen to you, Jigsaw wouldn’t choose you again. He had no reason to. She said it so confidently, and you so desperately wanted to believe her. That you wouldn’t be taken a second time. Or that she wouldn’t be taken a third. Not that she seemed too concerned about it.

That was the strange thing about her. When she told you about what had happened, she stared down at the counter. Her hands shook a little bit. The memory terrified her.

And yet…. she had this fixation on the idea that Jigsaw had helped her. The trap had gotten her off drugs. It had put her on a completely different path in life. Rather than dying from a drug overdose, she’d gotten clean. He saved me, she’d said, eyes wide and earnest and afraid.

You’d fought against the urge to argue that, to say No, he didn’t save you, he almost killed you. The idea of Jigsaw possibly helping – all while you struggled to sleep and were plagued by nightmares as you did, while you struggled to make your handwriting legible, while you fought the urge to bolt back home as soon as the sun started lowering in the sky? The idea felt like swallowing glass.

Had Jigsaw ever made anyone do that?

But you didn’t say any of that to her. People dealt with trauma in different ways. You supposed this was just her way of dealing with it. And it wasn’t really hurting anyone, so who were you to judge?

It certainly didn’t stop you from going to the bar with her regularly. It didn’t stop you from laughing with her, from getting close to her both emotionally and physically till the edge of your seats were almost touching and your arms were practically interlinked.

It didn’t stop the spark of warmth in your chest when she offered a genuine smile. Or the electric feeling that shot through your veins when she traced her fingers over your knuckles one night, after the conversation had lulled and your drinks had gone lukewarm.

“I wanna try something,” she said, voice soft enough that you would’ve missed it had you not been sitting so close your thighs were pressed together.

Eye contact right now would’ve been like staring into the sun. So instead, you stared at her hand on top of yours. Her knuckles were scratched up as if she’d gotten into a fight. “Sure,” you said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

Amanda turned to you. You cautiously met her gaze. Christ, it really was like looking at the sun. Warm and beautiful but intense. Burningly intense.

Confusion turned to shock as Amanda hooked two fingers into the neck of your shirt and tugged you closer till her lips were hitting yours. You must’ve made a noise of surprise, because she drew away almost immediately. It was all you could do not to chase her and ask why did you stop? A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. And God for a second you thought she was going to apologize, when in fact she really didn’t need to because holy shit.

“Oh thank fuck,” you blurted. “You were flirting with me.”

Concern turned to surprise. Then Amanda laughed, the sound pure relief. “Yeah, I was. Did it take you that long to figure it out?” she teased.

“Uh.” Your face warmed. “Maybe.”

She grinned, then grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you again. Gentle but insistent. Her other hand curled around your nape. You didn’t know what the hell to do with your own hands until one curled around her back and the other ended up braced against the bar counter.

The bar counter. Right. You were very much in public. Sure, it was a queer bar, but it was still public.

So you reluctantly pulled away. Amanda looked confused for a moment before you said, “Hey, maybe we should… do this somewhere else?”

She blinked at you. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped a hand around your wrist and pulled you off your seat. She dragged you past the other patrons and tables – it was a quieter night, so you didn’t have to fight through a sea of people – and pushed through one of the bathroom doors, yanking you in with her and locking the door behind you.

“There,” she said. There was a look to her eyes, a look that made your heart stumble and your entire body go warm. “We’re somewhere else.”

This time when she kissed you, you let her fully take the lead. You slid your arms around her and melted into the kiss, sighing against her. It just made her more eager. She prodded at your lips with her tongue, slipped inside with a sweet little moan that had your heart racing. Sent your head spinning. You backed up till you hit a wall, dragging Amanda with because fuck you weren’t breaking this kiss. Not as she was getting to know you with her teeth and her tongue. She tasted like alcohol and peaches, smelled of loam and sweat and faintly of men’s store-brand bodywash. It was heady, intoxicating. Addicting.

Her hands slipped under your shirt. You shuddered at the exposure to the overly air-conditioned bathroom. Shuddered harder at her warm touch roving across your skin, the slight drag of fingernails over your stomach. Amanda broke the kiss with a wet smack as your muscles tensed underneath her.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. She dragged her fingernails over your skin again with just a little more pressure. You arced into her touch. Fuck. Fuck.

You wished you could come up with some kind of response. Something to convey just how much you were aching for her, both emotionally and physically. How badly and how deeply these emotions were running through you. But words were currently beyond your grasp.

Amanda leaned in and nibbled at your neck as her fingers slid past your waistband and teased the edge of your underwear. You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip. Heat swirled through your veins, in your stomach, at the base of your spine. You moved your hips a little, just a little, to urge her on. Nails dug into the soft flesh there. A whimper escaped.

“Mandyyyyyyy.”

“Yeahhhhhhh?” She was all mischief and smugness as she looked back up at you. It just made you more desperate.

“Mandy. Please?” You gave her your best pleading look.

“You’re so impatient.” She said the words lightly, playfully. But she must’ve been impatient too, because she was pushing your underwear down. When her fingers brushed against your clit, you gasped and dropped your head back against the wall. Fuck, God, yes, right there –

“You sure you only just figured out I was flirting with you? You seem pretty fucking wet already.” She punctuated her words with a slide of her fingers against you. Because yeah, you were fucking wet. It would’ve been a little humiliating if you weren’t so achingly desperate for her touch.

“Yeah, well.” You drew in an unsteady breath as she circled your clit. A teasing touch that wasn’t quite enough. Fuck, it was impossible to form a coherent thought. “You’re just…. really fucking hot.”

It was hardly eloquent. But her breath puffed against your neck in a laugh. And you figured it would do for now.

She kissed the hollow of your throat, firmly rubbed her thumb against your clit. You practically bucked against her. Her other hand hooked under one of your thighs and lifted, and you threw your leg around her waist. Let out a moan at how it changed the sensation. “Yeah, like that,” Amanda breathed. “Just like that.” She said it as if you were touching her, as if she wasn’t the one doing all the work, wasn’t the one making you writhe and whimper and leak over her precise fingers.

Christ, you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The pace was languorous, exploratory, testing what made you shiver and dig your nails into her shoulders and gasp for breath. As if she was intent on taking you apart and finding out exactly what got you going – a machine to figure out and put back together. Slowly, slowly, but in a way you savored, you felt the tension inside of you building up and coiling tight like a spring. You were quivering. Your clothes clung to your sweat-sheened skin. The music spilling into the bathroom from the bar wasn’t quite enough to cover the ragged breathing and wet, rhythmic noises, and it just made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Especially with how Amanda was panting against you, as if she was getting off just from you getting off and fuck it made you clench.

When she picked up the pace, you weren’t able to stop the gasps and moans that spilled out of you, the way you panted and pleaded her name. The sound of her fingers squelching against you had you burning. And when your release hit you cried out, clenching, shaking, clinging to Amanda’s shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode out the high. She didn’t stop, didn’t relieve the pressure against your clit. White hot pleasure burned through your body till tears pricked at your eyes. Distantly, she said something. Soft, sweet words that didn’t quite reach your ears as they rang from the intensity of your orgasm.

She only stopped when you went limp against her. Only pulled away from the mess you’d made – that she’d made too, really – to wrap her arms around your hips and kiss you, deep and slow, as if trying to commit you to memory. You lazily brushed your tongue against hers. Your muscles felt like taffy, worn out in the best way.

“You were right,” you said when you parted. “You really are good with your hands.”

Amanda grinned so widely and genuinely that you couldn’t stop yourself from capturing her lips again. Fuck. You might’ve been a little bit in love. Or maybe that was the post-sex endorphins talking. You weren’t sure. You didn’t particularly care either way.

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” you said.

Amanda brushed her nose against yours. For the first time since you’d met her, she actually seemed truly, fully relaxed. As if she’d properly lowered her guard just now, just in this moment, just for you. “Maybe next date.” The words sent a flutter through your chest. Next date. There’d be a next date. “But first,” she said, moving away to grab some paper towels, “we gotta get you cleaned up.”

[lyinginbedmon]

I think I'm done with Dead by Daylight...

So Dracula just dropped, and with him Patch 8.2.0. There's a lot in there, most of it just dealing with the addition of the new Survivor and Killer, but nestled down in the MISC section is this:

Now, this might seem minor to anyone that doesn't play Killer in this game, but this is a Massive problem. In fact, up until an hour or so ago, I genuinely thought this was a bug. I figured it would be such a ridiculous thing for them to actually do on purpose, it was probably somehow related to how my character loses a foot in height right as the match locks in.

But no, it's actually intentional and it's actually horrific.

See, Dead by Daylight is an asymmetric competitive game. There are 4 Survivors to every 1 Killer, per match. Killers therefore need to know as much as they can about the Survivors at all times to properly manage their time and actions to even remotely stand a chance. They are facing up against the sheer action economy that is an enemy team four times as large as you.

So the first bits of information you get are in the pre-game lobby. You can see roughly what items the opposition is bringing in (unless they switch last second, as is common practice for Survivors) and their Prestige level serves as a decent estimate for how skilled a given player is going to be (even though it's per-character, and Survivor characters have absolutely no pros/cons between them).

Knowing if you're going to be facing a mixed bag of mid-range Prestige Survivors, or a group of P0 newbies, or an entire team of sweaty eSports-esque P100s talking over Discord can determine the entirety of the next match for you.

Personally, I prefer the former two groups. It's more relaxed, I can be goofy, I can try out silly builds or get to grips with a new character. Maybe I get a little bit of a challenge but it's all in good mirth.

The latter are nigh impossible to actually have fun with, because they will abuse every single little caveat given to them by the developers. Like the removal of grabs when a Survivor is unhooking, or the speed at which a Survivor can sabotage the hook you're walking towards, or the umpteen different ways they can avoid taking damage, or any number of the perks that tell them exactly where to run and get there at light-speed even against the fastest Killer characters. And they'll take every second to drag things out and besmirch you.

Killers now basically have to treat every single lobby as if it is that last category. We already had an uphill struggle given that the developers are famously pro-Survivor and anti-Killer, but now we have to do that with the basic foundational assumption that every Survivor we face is going to be the most toxic trash-talking tea-bagging pain in the ass the community has to offer.

So I think, unless some serious changes are made, that I'm just done with this game now. After 860 hours, we'll see if they can get any more from me.

[heesdreamer]

SILENCED (1)

MASTERLIST

GENRE ➩ enhypen zombie apocalypse au!

SUMMARY ➩ navigating life 1 year post end of the world was already difficult as you avoided rotting corpses with hefty appetites and groups with various bad intentions. things get harder when you run into a group of survivors, 7 boys who make it impossible to run away.

WC ➩ 10.7k

WARNINGS ➩ all things that zombies bring like gore and death lol, sexual content, main character death etc

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ this was originally a one shot story but under request from people that read my stories before i post it’s going to be a multiple part series! hope you enjoy the first installment as it builds up the world and characters plz let me know your thoughts and guesses (NOT PROOFREAD)

Whenever you pictured the apocalypse, the end of the world that people often talked about over drunken hypotheticals or PG-13 level horror, you pictured it loud.

Thunderous even, a deafening mixture of screams and cries behind the roar of fire and destruction.

You imagined utter chaos and it was never quiet in your head when you did so, a clear built scenario that you never paid too much mind to, considering the absolute fantasy of it all.

So now that you were almost a year deep into the official end of humanity, you were a bit thrown off by how different it was from your previous assumptions. Sure, there had been fire and screams and it definitely wasn’t lacking chaos, but most days you found yourself in complete ear ringing silence.

The soundtrack of your day to day life rarely extended past birds chirping, the crunch of leaves and loose sticks under your boots as you attempted your way through forest filled terrain.

It’d taken you a while to leave Seoul, first being held back by fear and panic and then not wanting to leave the comfort of your known surroundings.

It was easy to figure out how to survive there after a while, knowing when it was safe to leave your apartment and scavenge the nearby stores and when it was time to draw the blinds and let’s hoards pass by undetected.

You’d sit with bated breath as you listened to soft groans and bodies bumping against your front door as they mindlessly made their way down the hallway and eventually off to find something that had made a noise or distracted them.

When you imagined the apocalypse before you hadn’t really considered the different types that could occur. You suppose chemical outbreak or maybe even a world war could’ve been possible, far fetched but possible nonetheless. Maybe even multiple waves of natural disasters, wiping out cities and land masses in its wake.

Somehow, the dead rising hadn’t crossed your mind.

The creatures that had lingered outside your door all those months ago weren’t like anything you could’ve possibly dreamed up in your anxious mind, defying science and all rationality with their mere existence and hunger based drive.

It didn’t bother you as much now, having spent weeks frustrated over the mechanics of their mobility, the reasoning for their immortality.

Now you felt somewhat close to them, these days hunger being your main reason for existence and almost your entire train of thought from the moment you woke up to the second you fell asleep. This was the same thing that had finally driven you from the city, the stores running dry eventually and leaving you no choice but to turn to nature for nutrients.

You thought about this comparison now as you came to a slow stop, lowering yourself down into a crouch as you listened to the branches snapping off in the distance.

The knife in your hand felt heavier than normal, eyes darting around the forest as you took in your surroundings and made a quick escape plan in case it was more than one undead, in case you needed to run and run fast. You didn’t want to leave just yet, having followed a deer into the woods a few hours ago and you were in desperate need of an actual meal.

Shifting your weight onto your heels, you listened to the sounds come closer and then stop when they reached a bush a few yards ahead of you.

Your head was cocking in confusion, grip tightening around the leather of your knifes handle as you waited for it to continue its approach. The bush rattled a few times, keeping your attention tightly locked on it as you held your breath.

“Put it down.” A low voice was sounding behind you and you froze, feeling the cold metal pressed against the back of your head before you even registered the fact that somebody was speaking.

It’d been weeks since you’d heard something so real, something so human other than your own voice and you felt a sudden wave of dizziness at the fact you were clearly stuck.

For a brief moment you considered spinning in place and attempting to disarm him, relying on your own swiftness taking him off guard and beating his reactionary speed that would cause him to pull the trigger before you even saw what he looked like.

This plan was put to rest quicker than you could think it through, the bush rattling again as another figured pushed its way through the thick leaves. You watched his face pull into a wince when he saw you and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Hyung.” He muttered and you heard a sigh from behind you, their plan clearly not entailing this interruption. “She doesn’t have anything on her.”

The one behind you didn’t say anything about this, still not taking his gun off you considering the fact you’d made absolutely no move to lower your own weapon like he had originally instructed you. You remained still despite a wave of fear washing over you at the realization you had nothing of value for them to take other than yourself, a sudden reminder that the apocalypse was scary but being a woman was scarier.

“Go.” He was speaking again, still in that low timbre and the boy from the bush winced again, shaking his head like he wanted to deny the order but also taking an instinctive step forward like he was accustomed to taking them.

You couldn’t get a grasp on their dynamic or what they exactly wanted from you, the boy stood in front of you looked nervous like he had a thin idea of what would happen and he didn’t agree with it. You considered for a second if this was a situation worth trying to talk your way out of, eventually deciding to just let things take their course with your limited options.

“You don’t need to kill her, let’s just leave her here and go back.” He was taking another step forward and he continued to look over your shoulder, eyes only darting down to yours for a second in a silent plea for your cooperation. “She doesn’t know which way we’ll go”

“She was tracking.” The boy behind you was immediately noting and you almost cursed under your breath at the fact he was right. If you wanted to follow them you could, their tracks in the dirt obvious to you now that you’d spent months learning the skill.

“Then we tie her up and leave her, but we don’t need to kill.” He was shaking his head in exasperation and you could hear the boy behind you let out a frustrated sigh.

You had no doubt in your mind that if he was alone he would’ve killed you without a second thought, swift and silent in the way he had approached you from behind and keeping his gun firmly pressed against your skull. Despite your confusion you were silently thankful for the others boys resolve, although it came off as weak to you.

“If you’re going to tie me up in the woods you might as well kill me yourselves.” You were speaking for the first time and both boys reacted immediately.

The one behind you was shifting on his feet to stand firmer, pressing his metal into you while the other in front was giving you a helpless look, clearly upset you had immediately undone any progress he was making for your release.

It was silent for a few moments after that as they looked at each other and you wondered what conclusion they were coming to with just their glances. You hadn’t done yourself any favors in your statement but it was true, leaning you defenseless this close to dark was more of a death sentence than a bullet in your brain.

“We can take her back with us.” The boy from the bush was eventually whispering in a last attempt at keeping you alive, hands coming forward in a plea. “Not as a guest just as a prisoner for now, until we figure out what to do with her.”

You almost laughed at him but decided against it although figuring there was no possible way that would be allowed considering two seconds ago they were about to kill you. However the silence, and lack of immediate rejection, from behind you made you second guess.

You were being pulled to your feet before you even could process him moving again. “You’re explaining it to him, I’m not taking the heat for this.”

His tone was harsh but tired and you were startled at the fact he was actually taking you with, even more fear sinking in as you realized the ‘him’ he was referring to meant they weren’t out here alone. For some reason you hadn’t considered them being with a larger group.

The other boy didn’t say anything but you imagined he gave some form of silent acceptance considering the fact you were suddenly being moved forward harshly with your hands held behind your back.

You hadn’t seen the second boy yet but you were unnerved considering he was able to hold both your wrist together with a single hand, still keeping his gun pressed between your shoulder blades as you moved clumsily through the woods.

From their dynamic you had assumed they were alone, your first mistake, and that he was the leader out of the two of them. Hearing his words about explanation you realized the hierarchy wasn’t that simple and there was clearly somebody they both answered to outside of each other.

“Are your hands okay?” You looked to your left to see the kinder boy following you as you walked, staying at your side with his gun tight in his hands now.

The boy behind you sighed at his question and you weren’t sure exactly how to answer. They were hurting and if you saw any way out of this you would’ve complained, made a sarcastic comment that could potentially get your ass kicked if they weren’t feeling up for jokes at the moment.

Instead you offered him a small nod and turned back to face forward so you didn’t trip.

Your options now were to die here and now, act out and become more of a hinderance than their willing to deal with. Or go along with them and most likely end up being killed eventually anyways, maybe after at least one more night of sleep. You kept your mouth shut for the time being and kept walking.

“We should’ve blindfolded her.” The boy behind you was muttering after an hour or two went by and you vaguely heard the sounds of chatter and fire crackling off in the distance now. “He’s going to lose his shit.”

“Maybe we have Jake talk to him first.” The other one was whispering from beside you as the three of you slowed to a stop, accessing the situation before approaching with a stranger in toe.

It was clear to you now that this group was far larger than you had anticipated. They continued to whisper new names and you listened to the overlapping conversations off in the distance, your heart beating so fast it hurt as you skimmed through the different scenarios this could end in.

While they were distracted you were taking your chance, throwing your shoulder backwards to hit the first boy and taking off in a sprint back the way they had taken you from. You ignored his cry of shock and the others frantic plea for you to stop and come back as you whipped through the trees.

The sun was setting now so any tracking skills you had was completely useless, relying on nothing but your feet and the surrounding terrain as you attempted to put as much distance between you and the others as possible.

You could hear the two who had brought you back with them starting to yell out for help and despite cursing under your breath in frustration, you didn’t blame them and saw it coming before you even ran. You were a stranger and now you knew exactly where they were located, going from a hostage to a threat in seconds.

It had only been 20 minutes of running before you had exhausted yourself from lack of pacing, slamming against a tree and bending over with your elbows to your knees to try and catch your breath.

You could hear shouts in the forest behind you along with groans that brought on the harsh reminder you had more than one enemy in the woods. Their yells and loud feet over leaves and sticks were going to continue to bring more of the dead down on you and you were starting to panic completely.

Before you could think about it anymore or start running again, something heavy was slamming into your side and you were hitting the ground hard.

You flew across the leaves and mud before flipping over onto your back with a shout and scrambling away from whatever had rammed you before you even registered what it was. Another boy, not the one from the bush, was bouncing back to his feet considering he’d also hit the ground after he tackled you and was approaching you swiftly.

He looked furious but you couldn’t tell what type of weapons he had in the dark, kicking you feet out as he gained on you and hitting him in the knee.

A groan fell from his lips and he bent to grab his leg as you pulled yourself off the ground and instinctively reached down towards your thigh for your knife, finding the holster empty and immediately remembering it’d been taken from you hours ago.

He chuckled at your obvious dilemma although it lacked humor, an annoyed expression on his face like you were wasting his time. He was suddenly lunging at you again and although you were fast, he was definitely bigger and you let out a scream as he pinned you back down onto the floor.

Your stomach was pressed tightly against the dirt and you felt his knee land on your back, holding your arms tightly so you couldn’t break free from his hold again.

“Stop fucking moving already.” He was grunting from above you as you continued to thrash and attempt to kick at him despite slowly coming to the realization there was no getting free.

“Hyung.” Another voice was screaming out, obviously following the sounds of your cries and screams to find you. You twisted your head against the dirt to see the boy from the bush approaching you with a few others behind him.

“Sunoo go, you’ve done enough.” Your attacker was spitting from above you and you saw a flash of hurt over the others face, immediately taking a step back towards the rest of the boys who were watching the scene with varying expression.

Sunoo, the one who had brought you here in the first place, was clearly experiencing guilt as he looked down at you but you weren’t sure if it was for you or for causing an issue for his group. One of the boys behind him was reaching a hand up to grab his arm, pulling him backwards softly so he didn’t have to watch.

“Heeseung it wasn’t his fault.” You didn’t recognize the boy who was speaking now, approaching from the side, but you immediately could tell from his low timbre that he was the one who had held you at gunpoint. “I fucked up, we didn’t know what to do.”

“You kill her.” Heeseung was forcing the words out through gritted teeth and you were squirming again underneath his knee, the pain in your back excruciating as you started to find it difficult to breathe. “Or you leave her to the rotters, but under no circumstances do you bring her back to camp.”

Sunoo was glancing at the boy who had said something with a furthering expression of guilt and upset considering the fact those ideas had both been rejected by him. You thought about saying something, about pleading for your life or negotiating a deal where they could bring you far away and leave you somewhere you couldn’t find your way back.

You quickly decided against it considering how serious the boy above you was speaking, also piecing together this was clearly who was in charge and was being discussed in the woods previously.

The others boys were watching in the distance and you were trying to count them to see how outnumbered you were, eventually giving up considering how dark it was and how dizzy you were getting from being pinned against the floor. It was definitely more than you could handle and there was clearly no use in trying to out run them again considering how silently and quickly Heeseung had caught up to you the first time.

You hadn’t even heard him before he came out of the trees and it’d only taken him a second to bounce back onto his feet despite the tackle almost completely knocking the wind out of you.

He had you beat in all aspects and you didn’t feel like poking the bear would be the best move if you wanted to survive the night. That might not be up to either of you however considering the low groans that were starting to fill the forest.

Between the darkness and the almost echoing night air you couldn’t quite tell which direction it was coming from and judging by the way the group of boys starting to look around with their weapons raised, they couldn’t either.

You were being pulled up off the floor before you could think for another second and you sucked in a big breath now that your lungs were no longer restricted, immediately faltering when you were aggressively yanked around as Heeseung started to move towards the boys.

He was flinging you around like a rag doll and you heard him give out a low whistle, the others immediately forming a semi circle defense while everyone started to move in sync through the forest back towards where their camp was. It was a practiced routine and you would’ve been impressed if you weren’t technically their opponent right now.

“Pick your damn feet up.” He was speaking lowly into your ear with irritation and you let out a grunt as he continued to drag you.

“If you gave me a fucking second maybe I could.” You were spitting back and thrashing your torso forward slightly so his grip on your arms would loosen, he didn’t say anything about this and just glared at you as he let you get your balance so you could travel back to the base faster. “Thanks.”

He scoffed but didn’t reply to your sarcastic comment, traveling swiftly in silence on guard in case more than one dead came out from the dark woods.

By the time you got back to the camp, the fires were put out and nobody else was around. You weren’t sure if that’s because it was late or because everybody who lived here was apart of the group trailing behind you.

The camp was mainly made up of tents, some smaller like they were only fit for a pair and some large with big wooden stakes to hold them up. There was a few RV’s you could see from where you were standing and some trucks that could possibly run but for the most part they were large rust buckets littered with blood and dirt residue like the rest of the worlds vehicles.

You were being pulled into the largest tent before you could finish your observation and sat down in a chair furtherest away from the opening. You almost made a comment about them thinking you’d run again but you decided it wasn’t the best idea.

Only two of the boys followed you inside after Heeseung, the one from earlier who had attempted to take the blame off Sunoo and another you didn’t recognize.

“So what’s the plan then?” He was the one who spoke first and you glanced at him from under your messy hair, shifting uncomfortably as Heeseung tied your hands behind the chair tightly.

“First this idiot needs to tell me why he brought her back in the first place.” After he was finished and confident his ties were strong he was circling back around and approaching the familiar one, you couldn’t see his face anymore but his back was tense and straight. “What were you thinking?”

He cocked his head slightly but he didn’t seem deterred or intimidated by Heeseung’s demeanor, only breaking eye contact to spare you a quick glance.

You wondered if he was worried you’d give up the fact it was Sunoo who had practically insisted they bring you back. It was interesting that despite telling him he had to be the one to take the heat originally, he had immediately stepped up for the blame once he realized Heeseung was truly angry.

“She’s a tracker.” He brought his gaze back to the other boy as he spoke calmly. “She would’ve found us if we just left her and I saw no other option.”

The boy you didn’t recognize was looking at you now with a curious expression and you turned your head to look at him for a second, not able to get a good read on what he was thinking or what side of this argument he would be on. You wondered if this was the one mentioned earlier, Jake.

“You should’ve killed her Jay.” He was holding your gaze as he said it and you were taken back by his comment, not expecting him to be so blunt and cold.

Jay, despite being the one to originally put a gun to your head, also looked thrown off by this and faltered in his calm expression for a second and he looked at him. “Are you serious?”

“Jake’s right.” Heeseung shook his head, confirming your previous suspicious and Jay let out a small laugh of disbelief, taking a step away from the two boys back towards the entrance.

“I’m just supposed to blow her brains out right in front of Sunoo, just because there’s a slight chance she’d follow us?” He was holding his hands up in frustration and you shifted uncomfortably in the seat again, causing their heads to turn towards you.

Heeseung was approaching you swiftly and you watched him as he took large steps, gasping when his hand was reaching up to grab a solid chunk of your hair in his tight grip. He pulled slightly to make you look at up him, bending slightly so he could hold eye contact with you.

“How many people are in your group?” He was speaking steadily and low but you could feel the warning in his tone.

You were shaking your head in denial and confusion but stopped when he tightened his grip and repeated himself louder and more agitated. “How many?”

“I don’t have a group, it’s just me.” You were wincing and trying to hold his gaze, failing miserably due to the pain and intensity. Your eyes went over his shoulder to look at Jay and you gave him a desperate look. “Tell him it was just me.”

He didn’t say anything and you didn’t expect him to, only asking out of pure panic and as a last ditch attempt to plead your case. You weren’t afraid to die but if you could help it, it wouldn’t be in some random groups tent just because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Heeseung was loosening his grip on your hair as he looked at you but keeping his hand on the back of your head, a silent warning in case you decided to act out in any sort of way. You watched him with your breath held as you waited for him to say something or react in any sort of way. He was just studying your expression like he was attempting to seek out some trace of a lie on your face.

“You can track.” He was stating suddenly but you took it as a question and nodded repeatedly as best as you could with how close he was to your face. “Can you hunt?”

You were nodding again but slower this time, not quite understanding where this was going. He was looking over his shoulder back at the other boys and Jake gave him an incredulous look that only confused you further before you slightly pieced together what he could he implying.

“You’re not serious.” He was laughing but it was devoid of humor, glancing at Jay who was stony faced as he looked at you. “Heeseung, you can’t be serious right now. Let her stay?”

You felt a wave of sickness pass by as he confirmed what you were thinking and you hoped you didn’t look too appalled visibly. You didn’t like this idea anymore than the thought of them killing you, never being in a group by choice. You didn’t necessarily play well with others and certainly not after they held you hostage and tackled you in the woods.

“She hunts.” He said it like it was obvious and you couldn’t deny the fact it was a valuable asset nowadays as human-made resources slowly died out. You’d noticed it yourself back at your apartment, having to venture out further and further every time you went for a run.

“Riki hunts.” Jake was quickly shutting him down and your interest piqued.

“Riki is learning to hunt but it’s not enough.” Jay was adding into the conversation now, still looking at you as he spoke like he had been since he entered the tent. “It’s almost winter and we can’t keep taking these day long trips every time we’re low…. and we’re always low.”

It was silent for a few moments while they looked at each other in frustration and you once again tried to understand the hierarchy and dynamics at play here, falling short every time. Eventually Jake was scoffing and exiting the tent, slamming the flap down as he left in anger.

Heeseung swiped a hand at Jay, dismissing him too and you didn’t miss the small nod he gave you before turning on his heel and following after the other boy.

That left you and Heeseung alone in the tent and he was taking a step away from you finally, watching you curiously as you took a breath finally and held his gaze tight in yours. You felt a dull ache in your back from his knee and your wrist were screaming for release from your constraints.

“Think of it as a trial.” He was turning away from you for a second as he started to talk and you stared daggers into the back of his head. “I don’t kill you now and in return, you don’t do something stupid.”

You watched him as he started to face you again with a stern look on his face, a hint of youth underneath the hardened exterior, and his eyes shot down to your feet and then back to hold your gaze. “Don’t give me a reason to kill you.”

——

You hadn’t spoken to him again but he didn’t seem too bothered by your silence, only muttering small commands as he dragged you out of the tent and towards one of the RV’s.

You were being left there for the night and you tried not to move much after he cut your restraints with a warning full glance, not wanting him to mistake your movements for another attempt at an escape. Despite not wanting to be there any longer than you had to, your chances were slim out in the woods by yourself.

You figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay a few nights, slipping out whenever you had gained their trust and didn’t need to sleep in a guarded metal bucket.

He’d left you with one of the boys you recognized from earlier in the woods, the one who had gently pulled Sunoo back after he started to get scolded. He looked the opposite of gentle now as he glared at you from the foldable table on the other side of the RV, gun hanging loosely on his lap and he watched you.

“Is there something on my face?” You were eventually muttering, not able to stop yourself as irritation bubbled to the surface.

You hadn’t asked to be brought back here, not even remotely putting yourself in this situation, yet everybody was acting like you were purposely causing issues or trying to harm them.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He was shaking his head and the deep tone of his voice threw you off slightly considering how young he looked.

Despite his youthful features, you could tell he was just as weathered and worn by this new world as everybody else was, you included. His eyebrows were pulled tight and his skin was darker in random sections like he had permanent dirt stains.

He was watching you as you observed him quietly, fidgeting slightly the longer you scanned his features and frame.

He was tall, a lot taller than you and even the other boys you’d encountered long enough to get a good sizing up done. You tried not to focus in on the tears in his clothing or the blood stains surrounding his knees and hands, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than you already were.

“If you don’t want me here, why not just let me go?” You were shrugging like it was a nonchalant thing to ask, feigning ignorance that he clearly didn’t buy judging by his scoff and annoyed expression.

“And get in trouble for no good reason? Are you stupid or do you think I am?” He was letting his gun lean against the table, deciding you were more of a bother than an actual threat.

You shrugged but didn’t talk to him again for a minute of offer him a response to his question, knowing it would just further upset him. Considering the two of you were clearly stuck with each other for the night you didn’t see the point. “I’m Y/N.”

He was sighing as you spoke again, your voice softer than before as you shifted on the uncomfortable half bed Heeseung had sat you down on. You watched him watch you for a few seconds before he finally responded.

“Riki.”

——

You weren’t sure when you had managed to fall asleep, at some point just laying flat on your back and listening to the sounds of the forest off in the distance as they mixed with Riki’s soft breaths on the other side of the RV.

Apparently you had considering the fact you were being shook awake aggressively, jumping up with a start and reflexively striking the person who had woken you.

“Dude what the fuck.” Jake was standing near your bed and shielding his face from any further assault, a pained look on his face. You gave him an incredulous stare at his reaction, not quite sure how he expected you to react to being vibrated awake by a stranger who had encouraged your death last night. “Make yourself useful.”

He was turning and leaving after that quick statement and you groaned, flopping backwards onto the uncomfortable mattress for a second before kicking up and out of the bed, following him outside before he got too far away and you were lost in the camp.

“You’re going out with Heeseung today.” He was explaining as you jogged to catch up with him, trying to ignore the stares and whispers from the other boys as you passed.

“Does that mean I get my knife back?” You were asking him despite already knowing the answer and he shot you a quick glance at the sound of your voice, looking away as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“First piece of advice, don’t ask stupid questions.” He was stepping forward towards a different tent than last night, holding the flap open with a raised arm until you got the hint and ducked underneath it with a muttered word of thanks. He followed behind you and you saw Heeseung and two other boys sat around the tent, gearing up.

Sunoo was there and he faltered for a second when he saw you, another look of guilt washing over his face as his shoulders tensed. You gave him a small nod but it didn’t seem to appease him in anyway.

The other boy wasn’t looking at you, instead focusing on the disassembled gun in his lap as he meticulously cleaned it and cleared his throat. His hands were fast and swift, no hesitation or question in his expression.

“They’re going on a run too.” Heeseung was speaking and you looked up at him to see who he was talking to, surprised to see him already watching you. “We are heading off in the other direction.”

You were nodding and fidgeting in place, not quite sure how to respond to him in a way that didn’t immediately showcase your frustration. You weren’t thrilled about going out into the world with no weapons and no clue if this guy had good intentions, maybe this was his way of killing you as quietly as possible. He obviously wasn’t expecting you to hunt with your bare hands so you weren’t sure why he was bringing you along.

Still, you didn’t bother arguing with him and after a few more minutes of prep you were following him into one of the trucks off away from the main camp.

“There’s a town about an hour away.” He was muttering eventually as he drove, the heavy rumble of the old engine almost putting you to sleep if it wasn’t for the aggressive way the truck jerked every time he amateurly changed gears. “We cleared it for food but at the time we weren’t thinking about other types of supplies.”

You were watching the side of his face as he spoke and he spared you a glance at your silence. “You think there’s still stuff left now?”

“Possibly but it’s worth a shot. There’s a reason you’re out here and not in Seoul just like us, a lower populated town means maybe less survivors passed by when everything went to shit.” He was sighing as he spoke but seemed hopeful as he tried to convince you.

He wasn’t wrong for the most part, you had traveled to a more rural area in hopes for less of the dead and more towns left undiscovered. You figured if this didn’t end soon then there would be no place left that wasn’t completely cleared out.

Heeseung was large and sturdy but you didn’t miss his sunken in cheeks and darkened eyes, clearly lacking vital nutrients and a healthy lifestyle. It wasn’t that jarring considering you hadn’t met anybody who was doing particularly well but being in a group with larger numbers certainly made things a bit more uneasy.

You took a second to study him as he drove, trailing your gaze from his black long sleeve down to his matching cargo pants. His weapon holster was tightly pulled around his thigh similarly to how yours normally sat and you were suddenly reminded how defenseless you currently were.

“How do you know I’m from Seoul.” You didn’t necessarily feel like talking to him anymore than you had to but if you were going to be stuck with him in charge of your life, maybe some small talk wouldn’t hurt.

“Riki.” He spoke bluntly but it answered your question considering the fact you’d spent most of the night talking to the younger boy after the tension between you had calmed down. “Nice to hear you actually talk occasionally.”

“Maybe I’m more inclined to speak with people who haven’t tried to kill me.” You were quipping back and he let out a small chuckle at your sudden change in tone, not taking any actual offense.

You understood why he had done what he did and he knew you understood but that didn’t mean you were happy about the way things had went down and were continuing to go. You didn’t want to be with them and that much was clear but at some point he had figured if you had somewhere to go, you would’ve put up more of a fight.

The truck jerked particularly hard around another turn onto a dirt road and he swore under his breath, yanking at the shift knob until it slightly smoothed out again.

He gave you an awkward glance out of the side of his eyes and you tried not to chuckle at his terrible manual driving skills. You figured eventually everybody would adapt to things they hadn’t needed to before but it was slightly amusing to know most of the world was desperately trying to adjust to things you’d always had available to you.

You didn’t bother telling Heeseung you could drive a stick shift better than anything else, having been taught in one back in high school. He didn’t need to know how good you were at setting camouflaged rabbit traps or that you weren’t half bad with a bow. Your skill set was better kept a secret until you could get as far away from this group as possible.

By the time you were finally pulling up to a small town, if you could even call it that considering it was just a few old wooden buildings and shops in a U shape, Heeseung seemed to have relaxed a bit.

“We’ll be in and out.” He was carefully instructing as you got out of the car and you nodded although you were feeling frustrated about having no weapon. “Stay close by in case you run into an issue okay?”

Despite your upset and undeniable feeling of vulnerability, the run was going smoothly for the most part. You were quick to enter buildings behind Heeseung as he checked for undead and you had actually managed to get a bag full of supplies that could help the group through the winter.

Your guard was lowering slightly considering you’d come across little corpses, the small town seemingly sheltered from the horror the rest of the world had been subjected to.

Neither of you talked much, the mission being at the front of your minds and you were thankful for the lack of distraction.

It wasn’t until you were on your fourth building, some old auto shop with a connecting garage, that you realized how mistaken you had been. Heeseung was still outside the front door, fidgeting with something old and rusty that you couldn’t quite place.

Whatever it was, he seemed determined to unearthed it from the weeds that had grown around it and you impatiently shoved past him into the store. He offered a small scoff as you pushed through but didn’t bother chasing after you or demanding you wait, also making the mistake of being relaxed.

The second you entered the shop and the door closed behind you, a small gap left open considering the door was also subjected to the growing nature that almost converted the entire building, you smelt it.

Throughout the many months you’d been getting accustomed to the apocalypse and all it’s trials and faults, you still hadn’t adjusted to the overwhelming stench that came along with awaken corpses. It was especially murderous when they moved in masses or were left rotting since the start.

“Heeseung.” You were calling out in a hushed voice, slowing down your steps and looking around the store with confusion. You ignored the fact it was the first time you’d said the boys name and how casually it slipped out, listening in to his small hum of acknowledgment from outside. “Do you smell that?”

You could hear him setting down the metal thing he was obsessing over and pushing the door open swiftly, looking at you with a worried expression.

Before he could speak or confirm your senses, you were hitting the floor with a shriek.

It took you a second to realize why you had fallen but the moment you started to think straight again you could feel the tight bony hand wrapped around your ankle, having dragged you down onto the dust covered floor. You sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled back the best you could, kicking at the walker who had gripped your pant leg.

You could see it now, halfway stuck underneath one of the fallen shelves and desperate in the way it’s jaws snapped around nothing.

You were still kicking it when you realized the groans suddenly starting up were far too loud to be coming from the single walker in front of you, understanding with a wave of panic that your shriek had clearly awaken whatever amount of dead it was that was causing such an odor.

“Fuck.” Heeseung was entering the store swiftly and rushing over to you, immediately stomping the rotted skull of the dead that was holding you with his boot.

Ignoring the amount of blood and brain matter that sprayed out on your face at his action, you accepted his hand and let him pull you up and off the floor.

There was no time to dust yourself off as you both heard crashing and groans coming from the connected auto garage, clearly full of dead that had been starving for far too long. They were pouring out in pairs from the small doorway and you and Heeseung stood frozen as you tried to think of a way out of this.

They were coming from both sides of the aisle, filling up the only exit route back to the open door and sufficiently trapping you in the store.

Your fingers were twitching and reaching down to your empty holster, cursing once you remember you had no weapons on you and turning your head to glare at Heeseung who was already watching you with a panicked expression.

His eyes shot behind your head and you almost jumped out of the way, expecting something dead and hungry behind you, before he was reaching a hand out to grip your arm and pull you with him.

You didn’t object despite your confusion and you followed him swiftly, groaning loudly when you understood he was leading you towards the back of the shop where a small maintenance closet was hidden behind some tool carts and brooms.

“Hurry up, help me.” He was shouting back at you as he started to throw things out of the way and you unfroze, helping him clear the way to the door.

You were spinning around once finished to see the hoard closing in on you, a flustered shout pushing past your lips. “Heeseung.”

“I’m trying.” He groaned, his leg propped up against the wall as he kept trying to pry open the old rusted door with all his weight.

Finally, he was stumbling back in your direction and you grabbed his arm to stop him from falling into the awaiting arms of the dead that were now only a few feet from being able to grab onto you. He was immediately catching his footing and ushering you into the closet before closing it tightly behind the two of you.

You sat with bated breath and you waited to see if it would hold, the bodies of the corpses smacking against it as they clawed and practically shrieked with hunger.

Heeseung was holding the doorknob tightly so it wouldn’t spring back open and although it was dark, flashes of light that managed to break past the dozens of shoes outside the door, revealed to you his fearful expression that didn’t help calm your nerves.

You opened your mouth to speak and ask him about what you were supposed to do but his eyes were shooting to your in a glare, his free hand coming up to cover your mouth as he shushed you.

Your eyes widened at the fact he was suddenly touching you, looking down at the hand over your face and then back up at him as he swiftly ripped it away and shook his head, gesturing to the door like you were stupid for trying to make any noise.

He didn’t look at you again as you furrowed your eyebrows in annoyance but nodded in understanding, realizing he wanted to wait until they had settled before showing any sign of life. They could definitely smell you and had no reason to give up, only driven by hunger, but you figured eventually something would come by and distract them.

Which gave you some hope that you could get out of here safe, not wanting to die stuck in a smelly auto shop closet with Heeseung, but you also let out a small sigh knowing you’d be waiting here for a long time.

For the first time since you’d been rushed inside the small space, you took a second to look around. It was tiny, so small that if Heeseung was standing straight and not bending slightly to keep the door held shut, his shoulder would be touching the other wall.

To make matters worse the opposite width wasn’t any bigger, the toes of your boots smushed against his with no room to scoot backwards or make less contact.

Eventually he was slowly letting go of the metal door knob, moving barely an inch every ten seconds as you both waited to see if they were going to suddenly rip the door open and devour you whole. It was clear after a few minutes that it was sturdy enough to keep you hidden behind it for now, you’re not sure you could say the same about the next few hours however.

Heeseung sucked in a much needed breath and leaned backwards against his side of the closet, his knees pointing out towards you in result.

He was watching you with a curious expression and you glared at him in silence, not sure if you were allowed to talk yet or if it would result in his large hand over your mouth again.

“In and out.” He was whispering it so quietly it almost looked like he mouthed it. You could still barely see him but you could hear the smile in his voice as he joked about your failed plan, the light catching his eyes as he peered down at you. “You good?”

You were nodding but shifting uncomfortably, suddenly remembering how close of a call you’d had now that things were calmed down enough for you to think properly.

“It really had me for a second.” You whispered back to him and shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you looked at the vibrating door. “I shouldn’t have let my guard down like that, it was stupid.”

“Then we’re both stupid.” He was muttering back and you tried not to be too curious why he was being so nice to you despite his harsh leadership within the group. “At least you weren’t alone.”

You were scoffing and shaking your head, his boot scooting forward towards yours in a warning to keep your noises at a low volume. He couldn’t exactly make out your expression considering you were placed lower than him and getting less light on your face but he could practically feel the death stare you were sending his way.

“It’s easier to be alone.” You were countering in a stern tone. “If I’m stupid alone I’m just dead but if I’m stupid in a group then I’m guilty. It’s on my hands.”

“It would’ve been on mine if you’d gotten bit back there.” He was cutting you off and you stopped abruptly, looking at him with parted lips. “But the same thing goes for if I die out here, if I don’t get back to camp, back to my family then that’s on me too. Not trying just because you’re alone isn’t an excuse.”

His tone was heavy now and you felt bad for getting him so frustrated considering how carefree he’d been for most of the day, possibly enjoying not having to direct orders and commands for a few hours. You imagine that if he was able to he would’ve stormed off and left you with his heavy statement.

Instead the two of you sat in the silence of what he had said and listened to the groans only a few inches away from your heads.

You were shifting suddenly and he looked back at you in question when you accidentally bumped against his stomach, not having room to move your arms anywhere.

“Is that why you lead them then?” You tried to keep your voice soft and questioning, not wanting him to mistake you for accusatory.

You didn’t want to fight with him again especially since he had saved your life not too long ago, potentially twice with his quick thinking to get the two of you into the closet.

“It just happened.” He was whispering back and his tone was slightly guarded. “We knew each other before and when.. everything went to shit they came to me one by one.”

“I was scared shitless, I mean sure I’ve chauffeured them around for a few years and I’d handle calling in our takeout orders but now I’m supposed to keep them alive?” He sounded flustered and you listened to him quietly, letting him talk.

For some reason it hadn’t occurred to you to wonder how long they’d known each other. They seemed comfortable and they worked fast and efficiently like they had experience with it but you’d seen similar things in groups who met only at the beginning of all this, being forced to learn how each other works to survive.

You briefly remembered Riki saying something about high school and Jay but you didn’t fully make the connection, maybe you just didn’t want to.

But listening to Heeseung so earnestly talk about the responsibility he carried as the leader and the eldest you felt a wave of understanding, immediately followed by the desire to run far far away from the inevitable care that comes along with a group this tightly knit.

“We left Seoul the first week in Jungwon’s old van.” He was continuing on and when you raised an eyebrow in question he was nodding in realization. “That’s the one who was cleaning the gun, he’s out with Sunoo right now.”

“How many more of you is there?” You hoped he didn’t think you were asking him in an attempt to get information on the group that would assist you in your escape, although you halfway were.

“Just Sunghoon, I don’t think you met him.” He was mumbling and you thought for a second before shaking your head.

That made a total of seven and a wave of fear washed over you at the thought. As of now you were leaving no matter what and as of now they weren’t going to let you just go easy, meaning in some form this was your opponent. Seven men who were capable and seemingly willing to kill you if necessary with the exception of one or two.

Heeseung’s silence made you think he knew what you were thinking and he shifted so he was standing again, no longer leaning against the wall.

This put him even closer to you and you held your breath at the proximity, only letting it out in a moment of shock when his hand was coming up suddenly and touching your face like it had earlier.

You were jumping backwards, at least as far as you could in the tight space and he was shushing you with furrowed eyebrows and a finger to his lips, glancing at the door in worry and then back to you as he continued what he was originally doing.

It took you a few seconds to remember the walker he had stomped on, to remember the blood and rotted skin that had splattered all over you.

Heeseung was gently wiping your face off with his hands, using his sleeves at times for the areas that were particularly covered. You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment, his large hands stiffening for a second when he realized how awkward this situation was.

He was taking his hands away swiftly and clearing his throat, shuffling backwards again and avoiding looking at you. It was silent for a few minutes and you felt suffocated by it.

“You didn’t lose anybody.” You broke the thick air by speaking again and he flinched before looking down at you. “Since Seoul, did you lose anybody?”

His eyes flashed with something heavy and sad and you imagined he was thinking about his family, slightly curious why he had left without them and what had happened before the other boys showed up alone at his doorstep. Then he was shaking his head to answer your question.

“Then maybe you’re more fit to lead than you thought.”

——

“Was he scared?” Riki’s voice was ringing in your ear again and you groaned softly, leaning back on your pillow and trying your hardest to ignore his constant questions. “I mean, I’ve never seen Heeseung scared. What was it like? Did he cry a little bit?”

After a few more hours had passed in the closet, your suspicion was correct and eventually something passed by that caught a few of the undeads attention. The stragglers had wondered outside the auto shop and the rest immediately followed the noise and movement.

Heeseung and you had waited another half an hour just to be sure before slipping out finally, backs aching from standing straight and rigid for so long.

You’d gotten in the truck with the supplies you found earlier in the day and headed back to the camp, not wanting to risk your luck any further and needing to beat the night as the sun slowly set.

The boys had affectionately greeted the two of you when you arrived, or more so Heeseung as you hovered awkwardly behind and watched them all. You saw a boy you didn’t recognize and figured he was Sunghoon, finally having faces to all the names.

They all carried different expressions of worry and upset and you watched them scan his skin for injuries or scratches, eyes crinkling with relief when they saw he was safe and returned to them. Your heart felt heavy and your stomach turned as you watched the display of care and love towards each other.

You’d caught Jake’s eye for a second and he narrowed his at you, causing you to swiftly give him a nod and slink back into the RV you’d been assigned to.

The same RV that you were now groaning in as you listening to the young boy, the youngest boy as you had found out yesterday, talk your ear off with questions about what it was like to be stuck in a closest with his hyung.

“He cried like a baby.” You were muttering and he laughed softly before shaking his head, able to tell you were lying to him. “I’m serious, my shoulder was soaking wet by the time we got out of there.”

“You know you’re funny when you’re not glaring at me.” He was remarking and you scoffed softly. “The others don’t joke around anymore so I don’t either.”

He sounded younger than he looked when he said it, voice steady like he didn���t even process the weight and sadness of what he was saying. Maybe he’d already started to forget what it was like to be a teenager with no responsibilities.

For a second you zoned out picturing him before the apocalypse, a younger Riki wearing a school uniform and excitedly chatting with the older boys. Maybe he was shy or maybe he was just as talkative and mischievous as he seemed to get the few times you’ve talked to him.

You were abruptly broken out of your daydreams when you heard shouts coming from outside the RV, immediately sitting straight up in the bed and locking eyes with Riki as his widened in fear and concern.

As far as you knew, everybody had turned in for bed. Heeseung didn’t like any one leaving their tents after dark, a heavily suggested curfew seeming to be followed religiously and you couldn’t think of good a reason for the boys to be disobeying this.

You were standing up swiftly and making your way towards the small door, being stopped by a hand wrapped around your arm.

Riki was shaking his head with a panicked expression, pushing you back into the RV. “What are you doing? You can’t go out there.” His voice was urgent and he took a step between you and the door.

His protective expression was making you feel sick and your expression turned stony, moving to push past him but stopping as the door was flung open without either of you touching it.

Sunghoon was stood panting, looking up at you guys from the surface level. He took a step up the RV’s metal steps and glanced behind him with a hard look on his face. Now that the door was open you could hear the shouts louder and also the groans that accompanied them.

“We have to go.” He was rushing out and your mouth parted slightly, looking between him and back to Riki who Sunghoon had been watching since he opened the door.

The younger boy was shaking his head as his shoulders dropped and you felt a wave of upset and guilt for him wash over you, knowing this had been his only home for the past year considering the fact he wasn’t permitted to runs as often as the older boys.

“I’m sorry Rik, there’s too many we don’t have any choice.” Sunghoon was shaking his head sternly but his eyes were soft as he looked at his friend. “You need to pack and we have to go, both of you.”

His eyes moved over to you hesitantly and he lost the affection in his gaze, you didn’t take any offense to it and nodded your head as he turned to rush back to help the others buy some time. You touched the younger boys arm and he jumped slightly before looking down at you with a heavy expression.

“Let’s pack your stuff okay?” You whispered and your unusually gentle tone just made him feel worse, curling in on himself slightly as he nodded and started to grab what little belongings he had scattered around the RV in an attempt to make it feel more like a home.

He was done quickly and you were getting ready to exit the vehicle and join the others when he was grabbing your arm again to stop you.

You almost turned to scold him for wasting time and not letting you go but stopped in your tracks when you realized he was holding a gun out in between your bodies, gesturing for you to take the weapon.

You considered saying no for a few seconds, knowing Heeseung and the other boys wouldn’t be happy with you for accepting and most likely would also scold Riki for giving it to you in the first place. The need to survive overtook this and you took the gun from him, nodding in appreciation.

The second you stepped outside you understood why the only option was to abandon the camp. The dead were pouring in from every side of the forest, their groans mixing together and attracting more and more every minute that passed.

Your eyes were darting around try and spot the other boys but you couldn’t see them in the chaos, feeling frustrated and panicked as you heard Riki’s breathing getting more strained from beside you.

Eventually you spotted Sunoo at the same moment he saw the two of you as well as he was rushing over to you with a serious expression, eyes bouncing around to check if it was safe to stop and talk.

“They’re out past the river.” He was explaining swiftly and you nodded despite having no idea how to get there. It seemed to make sense to the two boys however because they were quickly turning on their heels and disappearing into the woods, looking back a few times to make sure you were following behind them.

Sunoo was running ahead of both of you and your heart clenched watching him take out a few stragglers that were making their way towards the over run camp, his knife effortlessly going into their rotted skulls as he kept rushing through the woods.

Eventually the groans got quieter and you could hear the light splash of a stream, catching sight of the other boys huddled together before the saw you.

“They’re here.” Jake was announcing when he picked his head up and saw the three of you approaching. He stood up and rushed to meet you halfway, checking Sunoo and Riki for injuries before his eyes landed on you.

His gaze trailed down to the gun clenched in your hands and for a second you thought he’d take it from you, demand you leave or maybe try to kill you here and now so they didn’t have another thing to worry about. Instead he took a step closer and briefly scanned over your body, similar to the way he was doing to the others.

“I’m okay.” You breathed out and you weren’t sure why you said it, just wanting to get his concerned look off of your frame as soon as possible. He nodded his head but lingered on your for a second before turning and walking back over to the others.

You followed behind him to see what the boys were surrounding, watching as they all pointed at a crinkled map and spoke in hushed voices. They carried bags on their shoulders and you vaguely noted that Jungwon’s was full of the guns he was always taking such intense care of.

“We’ve been that way man.” Jay was sighing and shaking his head and he pushed Jake’s finger away and moved it further down the map. “From here to here it’s not clear, dead ends or there’s just nothing left.”

“Well we can’t go north.” Sunghoon was countering and you could see a large red X over the area he was referring to. You wonder how long they’d been planning an escape plan with no luck.

You listened to them talk for awhile with a sick feeling in your stomach, wondering if you should help and throw out the idea that was brewing in your mind. On one hand this was your chance to escape considering they had no home to even protect anymore, you could sneak out or hold the gun in your hands to one of their heads until you were far enough away that they wouldn’t follow.

This could be your only opportunity to be back on your own, not owing any sort of debt to a group that was dealing with their own conflict.

Riki was looking back at you suddenly with a worried expression and that thought was immediately out the window as you let out a small sigh, upset at yourself for what you were about to do, before stepping up towards the boys.

“I know a place.” You were rushing out and they all turned to look at you. Heeseung’s eyes were softening at your sudden want to help and you nodded at him. “It’s a few hours south but I stayed there for a few weeks before I kept moving away from that area.”

“You think it’s still there?” Jungwon was asking, his first time speaking to you directly since you’d arrived to their group. His voice wasn’t as harsh as his glare though and he seemed genuinely curious, not suspicious of your motives.

“It was gated.” You shrugged and bent down, bumping into Heeseung’s side and causing him to sway in his crouched position. You were touching the map and felt relieved to see the area you were referring to wasn’t crossed out or circled. “It might not be but it’s worth a shot. Plus we don’t have many options.”

“We?” Heeseung’s voice was soft from beside you and you turned your head to look at him, flushing slightly when you realized how close to each others faces you were.

“Yeah.. we.”

——

[im-his-druidess]

A little part 2 to this 😗 👉👈

"I told you a hundred times already! I am not hungry I just want to go home," you said slowly, anger and desperation clinging to your words and sticking in the back of your throat, but the man in front of you didn't seem to hear you.

Either that or he just didn't care.

Vincent, you recalled his name from the mechanic yelling at him earlier, was busy pushing a paper plate towards you. A simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich sitting on it. You wanted nothing more than to scarf down the food to appease your empty stomach, but you were more desperate to escape this murderous Alpha than anything else. You were now in the beginning phase of your Heat and it seemed the Alpha had no idea what to do. You were hoping to talk sense into him while you still had all your faculties about you, the simmering in your blood eased only by the Alphas pheromones he was unwittingly releasing, but you knew the clock was ticking before you were crawling all over the man to help ease your pain.

It had been about three days since you arrived in the ghost town called Ambrose from what you could tell, your only source of that information was by the type of food the Alpha tried to feed you and by the way the hundreds of candles burned around you, and you were nearly at your wits end. You tried screaming at the silent man, tried to yank yourself free from the chain around your wrists that were bolted to the wall, tried to calmly bargain with him, and eventually bawled your eyes out until your eyes ran dry.

The only response was him petting your head and sliding you a plastic cup full of lukewarm water.

It seemed that no matter what you said it wouldn't get through this man, especially since it seemed he was running on pure instinct, and you began to dread your future even more. You were chained in what appeared to be an underground labyrinth with nothing but candles to light your surroundings, a bed directly beside you and some blurry sketches pinned to the wall was the only thing you could see, and you were glad for that. The room you were in was sectioned off, but you had spotted a stainless steel gurney and an array of medieval looking tools when you were first carried down here. Worse, was when Vincent disappeared for a bit and the smell of burning flesh and muffled groaning filled the air, and you had dry-heaved when you caught the faded scent of one of your friends before the loud clanging of pipes and the hiss of a machine seemed to erase the scent.

You knew then that whatever happened, that you were the lone survivor of your group, and that had caused the first meltdown that lead you to scream and thrash around like a woman possessed. All that accomplished was having Vincent race to your side, a soothing yet croaky purr rumbling in his chest that you felt more than heard, and pet over you until you exhausted yourself. The feel of a plate being placed gingerly on your lap dragged you from your thoughts and you looked down to see that the Alpha had managed to get closer and place the sandwich on your lap, before looking at you expectantly. This close you could see his lone blue eye, bright and creepily intense, and you noticed his habit of cocking his head to the side to move his long black hair out of his field of vison. You wanted to bang your head against the wall as he glanced to the sandwich to you and back again, his intention clear, and you cursed his stupid Alpha instincts that seemed to want nothing more than to "take care" of the Omega nearby.

You briefly wondered if he even knew what he was doing.

"Fuck you," you hissed with as much venom as you could muster, before picking up the sandwich and taking a pointedly large bite, silently praying that you would choke and end this horrible nightmare.

His reaction was instantaneous. Long fingers stroked over your hair, his eye crinkling at the corners which you figured must mean he was smiling, and that strange purr filled the air again. You wanted to spit the food in his face, the mask would block your attack but the message would be clear, however you were swallowing and shoving the sandwich in your mouth without much direction from your brain. It seems hunger, and the subconscious need to hoard food in preparation for your Heat, won out in the end. You were busy licking the crumbs off your fingers when that same plastic cup was shoved under your nose and you wasted no time in snatching it and chugging. You had peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, but you made sure your displeasure was shown by the was you glared daggers at him the entire time.

The fucker didn't even flinch.

He just chirped happily and continued to pet over you until you finished. When those long overly warm fingers drifted to your throat, you jerked away and hissed, but your anger was quickly replaced by ice cold fear as he fisted your hair at the nape of your neck and forcibly yanked you closer. Some strands of hair were pulled free at the harsh movement and you whimpered at the stinging in your scalp. You stayed completely still as he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, not wanting to entice his anger any more, and his entire body seemed to slump against you as he breathed in deep. His own spicy Alpha scent flared in response to your pre-Heat scent and you felt your stomach roll and twist into knots. His long hair brushed against you as he moved closer, broad shoulders blocking out any light, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

You had a sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse from here on out.

[localhypnofruit]

Hey DST fans. Here are multiple paragraphs about WX-78 as a system because I cannot contain myself any longer.

When it comes to WX-78, there are three parts. WX (current host and protector), Woodrow (trauma holder and ex-host), and Waggy (caretaker?). WX and Woodrow are very hard to tell apart since they act very similarly and sometimes even blend together. Waggy acts the most different out of the three, but only shows up when the system (bodily and/or mentally) is running on empty and neither of the other two are around.

How to tell Woodrow apart from WX: Woodrow speaks with fewer robot terms than WX does. They still have a distaste for organic life but still calls things by their names (which includes survivors, though still calling them organic as an insult- Ex. "fleshling Wilson"). They also move less rigidly than WX despite the body not being fully accommodating for those types of movements. Woodrow also can occasionally be found sitting for long periods looking at themself or "brooding" due to thinking on/re-experiencing past events, and taking less care of the body than WX would. Some survivors even call them reckless or irresponsible for lacking "their" usual self-sufficiency. When it's just Woodrow piloting, they tend to have trouble seeing far-away things. Along with this, they can rarely be seen with a square light inside one of their usually empty eye sockets.

More about WX: WX is obviously more rigid in movement and (usually) speech. They use nicknames for animals and survivors in a typically demeaning way, and holds themself with pride over organic life. They think more on self-preservation than Woodrow. Though they do attempt to take care of themself, they often forget or don't do things they should for their pride. They're also capable of understanding what's best for the group better than the other two, even if they don't like caring for organics. WX also holds a fascination for the moon that Woodrow doesn't have.

Waggy... Not Exactly Wagstaff: Waggy shares a fascination with the moon like WX, but doesn't respond to the body's name. He typically goes off on his own endeavors, but has the most friendly demeanor compared to the other two. He's unaware of his own predicament and just winds up being curious about all that's around him and how he can benefit from it. Waggy takes the most care of the body to a selfish degree, even tricking others into giving him more than he needs. If the demeanor wasn't obvious enough, he causes the body's optics to form a large white pupil in one eye socket. This abnormal amount of light makes him practically blind to things not in front of his face. Thankfully, again, Waggy rarely shows himself unless there are specific circumstances with the system.

Memory Issues, Huh: None of these three are aware of being a system, nor do they know of each other's existence. The only way they'd figure that out is if another survivor were to point it out to them, and even then they likely wouldn't acknowledge it. Woodrow and WX share most of their memories with each other (aside from the ones of the past that Woodrow holds), so most gaps in memory are from when/if Waggy shows up- as Waggy shares no memories with the other two.

There are still plenty of thoughts I'm thinking about this but this post is already too long and this is just a general explanation of the system on its own.

[teddymoon06]

Desperate measures

Title: Desperate Measures

Y/N’s POV

The air inside the base was stifling. Every day seemed to drag on, the threat of monsters lurking outside and the tension among the survivors gnawing at my nerves. I knew Kang Seok-chan didn’t trust many people, least of all me, but in a world like this, trust was a luxury few could afford.

Seok-chan was always one of the strongest among us, not just physically but mentally. He kept his distance, rarely showing any emotions. But I had caught glimpses of him watching over the group, his eyes calculating, always planning.

Lately, though, the pressure had been mounting. Resources were running low, and arguments between the survivors were becoming more frequent. It was only a matter of time before something snapped.

And that’s exactly what happened tonight.

A fight broke out between two of the residents over a measly can of food, and that’s when I decided I needed a break from it all. The chaos, the fear, the constant threat of death—I just needed to clear my head. I thought about sneaking out quietly, slipping past the guards, just to get some fresh air.

So I did.

The night was cold, the wind biting at my skin as I moved through the ruins outside the base. I hadn’t gone far, just far enough to escape the noise. But the dark streets carried their own dangers. The sounds of monsters echoed faintly in the distance, sending a shiver down my spine.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t be out for long, that I’d head back before anyone even noticed I was gone. But, deep down, I knew this was reckless. I just didn’t care at that moment.

Kang Seok-chan’s POV

"Where is she?"

The words left my mouth, cold and controlled, but the rising panic underneath my calm exterior was impossible to ignore.

I stood in the main hall, my eyes narrowing as the residents fidgeted nervously. They didn’t have to say anything; I could already sense something was wrong.

One of the residents stepped forward cautiously. "Y/N… she’s not here."

I cursed under my breath. I had been keeping an eye on you, always from a distance, always making sure you stayed safe. This world was too dangerous to take unnecessary risks, and you had just gone and done exactly that.

"How long?" I asked sharply, trying to rein in the frustration building in my chest.

"A while," they answered nervously. "No one saw her leave."

Of course, no one had seen you leave. You were good at slipping away, even when I thought I was watching you closely. But now, you were out there, alone, with monsters prowling the streets. And I couldn’t let that slide.

Without wasting any more time, I grabbed my gear, not bothering to explain myself to anyone. They knew better than to question me when I had that look in my eyes. I was going after you, and I’d bring you back.

Y/N’s POV

I didn’t go far—at least, that’s what I told myself. But the further I walked, the more disoriented I became. The streets all looked the same, the crumbling buildings casting long shadows in the moonlight.

I felt a chill run down my spine, and not from the cold. There was something out there, lurking just out of sight. I could feel it.

The sudden snap of a twig behind me made my blood run cold. My heart leaped into my throat as I spun around, my breath catching in my chest. For a moment, I saw nothing but darkness, but then my eyes adjusted. In the distance, barely visible, a monstrous figure moved, its grotesque body shifting unnaturally in the dim light.

Panic surged through me, and I did the only thing I could think of—I ran.

The streets blurred as I sprinted, my footsteps echoing through the empty city. I didn’t know where I was going; I just knew I had to get away. My lungs burned, my legs ached, but the sound of the monster’s growls behind me kept me moving.

Suddenly, I stumbled over a piece of rubble, crashing to the ground. Pain shot through my ankle, but I bit back the scream threatening to escape my throat. I had to stay quiet. If I made too much noise, it would find me.

I scrambled to my feet, limping forward, the sound of my heartbeat loud in my ears. I had to keep moving. I couldn’t stay here.

Kang Seok-chan’s POV

I moved through the streets with purpose, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of you. Every noise, every distant growl set me on edge, but I pushed it aside. The only thing that mattered was finding you and getting you back to the base.

Why did you always have to make things so difficult? I wasn’t blind to the way you felt trapped inside those walls. I had seen it in your eyes, the way you looked out at the world beyond, like you were craving some kind of escape. But this wasn’t the time for that. Not in a world like this.

A part of me was furious with you. Furious that you had put yourself in danger, that you had made me feel like this—worried, scared, angry. I wasn’t supposed to care this much. I had sworn not to let anyone in, not after everything that had happened.

But here I was, running through the streets, trying to save you.

As I rounded the corner, I spotted something in the distance—movement. My heart raced, and I crouched low, my grip tightening on the weapon in my hands. For a moment, I thought it might be one of the monsters, but then I saw you.

You were limping, your face pale with fear, your eyes darting around as you struggled to move forward.

I felt a surge of relief so intense it almost knocked me off balance. But that relief was short-lived when I noticed what was following you—a monster, its grotesque form closing in fast.

Without thinking, I ran.

Y/N’s POV

The growls were getting louder. I could feel the monster getting closer, the terror building inside me with every step. I was trying to move faster, but the pain in my ankle was too much.

Just as I thought it was over, a figure appeared out of nowhere.

"Kang Seok-chan?"

He moved so fast, his presence so commanding, that I could hardly process it. One moment, I was on the verge of being caught, and the next, he was there, his weapon raised, his expression hard and determined.

The monster lunged at him, but Seok-chan didn’t flinch. With a swift, practiced motion, he struck, taking it down with brutal efficiency. It fell to the ground with a sickening thud, and the world around me went silent.

For a moment, I just stared, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my mind trying to catch up with what had just happened. Then Seok-chan turned to me, his eyes blazing with fury.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. I had no excuse, no explanation that could justify what I had done. I had put myself in danger, and worse, I had dragged him into it.

"I—" I started, but he cut me off, his voice low and dangerous.

"You could have been killed." He stepped closer, his eyes locking with mine. "Do you even realize how close that was?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in my eyes. "I’m sorry," I whispered. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Save it," he snapped, his voice cold. "We’re getting out of here. Now."

Kang Seok-chan’s POV

You were crying. I hated it. I hated seeing you like this—scared, vulnerable. But more than that, I hated the way it made me feel.

I was supposed to be angry. I was supposed to be furious with you for leaving the base, for putting yourself in danger. But all I could think about was how terrified you looked, how close you had come to dying.

I wanted to yell at you, to tell you how reckless you had been. But instead, I found myself reaching out, pulling you into my arms.

You didn’t resist. You just stood there, trembling, your face pressed against my chest. I could feel your heartbeat, fast and unsteady, and it took everything in me not to lose my composure.

"Don’t ever do that again," I whispered, my voice harsh but soft at the same time. "I can’t protect you if you keep running off like this."

You nodded against my chest, your hands clutching at my shirt like you were afraid I’d disappear. "I won’t," you whispered back, your voice barely audible. "I promise."

For a moment, we just stood there, the world around us fading into the background. It was only the two of us, standing in the middle of the ruined city, holding onto each other like it was the only thing keeping us alive.

Then, slowly, I let you go.

"Come on," I said, my voice rough as I tried to regain control of my emotions. "We need to get back to the base before

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

I swear rank is gonna get me in trouble lolol and fuck tht asylum map i never see it!

Rated Explicit | Warning: ploy ship of josecarl x reader

You know that texture! You grip the edge of the counter in front of the monitor in the security room in the White Sand Street Asylum.

This is not a place you have ever seen before and others tried giving directions and tips about this place, but it is a large map. Rarely is it used, but the match is here today. Along with a selected group forced to wear costumes for this match.

Aesop, Norton, Eli, and you all dressed like patients of this time. You suspected Joseph would also have an outfit to match this weird theme.

The Hunter is dressed like a doctor which is actually scary to think about if this was an actual running hospital with Joseph as the medical director, oof.

“Enjoying yourself?” He knows answers based on how tight and wet you are from him only teasing your clit with these gloves. “So needy.”

You try not to lose focus on where the last survivor is.

Hard to do as Joseph is behind you on his knees fingering you with gloves that are exactly like Aesop’s gloves.

“Perhaps we should turn on the intercom to tell the grey little mouse you are fine.”

You whimper, tears in your eyes from overstimulation. He has been toying with you since eliminating Norton and Eli, his attention immediately going to you the second he got Aesop to use his coffin to save himself.

“Only one cipher completed, quite the unlucky match for them,” Joseph says as the monitor screen switches to normal multi-camera view showing the Embalmer running around trying to figure out his location in this maze of mental hell.

“Please, please, merci!” Crying out as he brushes against that lovely sweet spot inside of you, curling and abusing the spot he knows too well.

“I taught you one word and you use it well, mon chéri.” 

“Gl-gloves!” Trying to form words.

“Something I added to be… Immersive. Seems you rather like them with how wet you are.”

Because it feels like Aesop's gloves! You found comfort in those things, it is that texture you often feel holding your hand or face when he kisses you with his mask on.

“Joseph, ah, Aesop…”

“Should be here soon after he finishes the final cipher.” Pulling his fingers out and standing up, “Speak his name.” Leaning over you to turn on the intercom, “Nice and loud for our grey little  mouse.”

The cry of his name in a long moan as Joseph fucks you in the monitor room is so shameful, your cheeks burn and your mind is becoming numb.

Though this relationship with Aesop includes Joseph as a third to assist in your sexual needs, you both realize Joseph can have moments of… Being rather… You are not sure what to call them outside of inspiration.

Fucking you while he knows Aesop can both hear and walk into the sight of you being an absolute mess.

“No, no, his name, not mine.” Correcting you after slapping your ass, “Good.” As you chant Aesop’s name.

The gloves, the texture of his pants, the sterile clean smell of that costume.

It is not hard to picture Aesop, that is Joseph's intention as he knows you would always want the other but respect his boundaries. Thus why Joseph is the third, he can satisfy himself with you and enjoy a comfortable consensual voyeurism.

“They're going to cum, Aesop.” Speaking up, pass your babbling nonsense, “I shall leave them at the exit gate closest to this location.” So calm as if he is not railing you much for his enjoyment.

When you cum it is your lover’s name on your tongue, not Joseph’s, your legs giving out and he pulls out to watch you fall to the floor with his cum staining the already unclean floor.

[perpetualexistence]

Remember Total Drama Action: Best Game Ever?

In case you don't, it was a flash game that came around when Total Drama Action was airing live. You play as an intern who got to interact with the cast on TDA. You could make alliances with contestants by performing tasks for them, and certain alliances would damage your relationships with others. You'd also perform tasks for Chris. You also had constant enemies that you could beat with weapons that you could upgraded the more tasks you did for Chris. A fact I'd COMPLETELY forgotten about until now. When it was live, you'd get new tasks each week, and you could save your progress by making an account on Cartoon Network.

When I was watching TDA and way, WAY before I was in the fandom, and before I even knew what fandoms WERE, I remember playing it. My favorite character actually used to be Leshawna. I barely even remembered Noah existed, sweet little naive child I was. As a result, I of course immediately made an alliance with her, and thus got Heather as an almost instant enemy. It was great, and I've got very fond memories of it.

Why do I bring this up?

Well, thanks to @wheredidalltheusersgo, I managed to find a working link of the game: https://www.numuki.com/game/tda-best-game-ever/

You can only play as a guest since the original server is long since gone. But as I've found through trial and error, the site actually DOES save your progress even if you close it.

So obviously I had to play it again. I was having so much fun I started taking screenshots because of how wild certain things were. I thought you guys might enjoy them as much as I did, so I figured I might as well post them here.

I'd also completely forgotten you could customize your character. Got to make sure she looks Fresh for FreshTV.

Perfect. We're serving off-Izzy vibes and are rocking a fedora. Time to get through this tutorial shit so I can talk with the besties.

Cue me doing a bunch of fetch quests for Chris. Most of them require going into little studios based on each of the episodes. I'm pretty sure when it was live each studio was closed until the corresponding episode aired, and then would open up once the episode released. In this version though, they're all open.

There's also a lot of beating critters up with a stick. Like for the alien studio they're guys in alien costumes, for the beach it's a bunch of crabs and sharks, etc. You can avoid most of them by running around them, though you only get money for beating them. Which you of course need to get newer outfits to look Even Fresher. So death to all who oppose me I guess.

Through me trial and erroring if this game did save, I accidentally screwed myself out of getting into an alliance immediately after I was done with the tutorial. Once you get started on one of Chris's tasks, you have to do them to completion, and they usually come in groups of threes. No big deal though. Just have to do the last one for this second wee-

Jesus CHRIST Heather, you seriously take no survivors.

Either way, tasks are done, now time to choose an ally. The options include all of the TDA contestants, plus Geoff and Bridgette. None of the peanut gallery for that season sadly.

I could just do Leshawna for old time's sake. Or I could have this be the start of my villain arc and go with Heather. Hmm, decisions decisions...

Well, I already look like off-Izzy, might as well pair up with actual Izzy!

Wow your pixels are so crunchy, Izzy. Especially compared to my character's.

Still, I knew I made the right choice with you, Izzy. Out for blood from the get go. Never change. Time to go ruin Heather's day.

Heather's are even CRUNCHIER.

Also, is that genuine gratitude? From Heather? Receiving what she thinks is just a regular gift box?

Guys, I just might be the monster here.

And after killing some crabs for Izzy, my rampage of terror shall continue! Somebody's really got it out for her ex.

I didn't take screenshots of it, but after completing each of the antagonizing tasks, both Heather and Justin came up to us swearing that we would pay. Which means now the top right of my screen has this on it:

At least here the pixels are a lot less cronchy. Still, Justin's angry face is Sending Me. I can't explain exactly why. Maybe it's because it highlights just how much of his face is CHIN.

Still, I have done what is required for my new bestie, time to reap the rewards.

Yeah this feels about right.

And that's all I did before I decided it was time to take a break before I got in too deep! (I already am, but shhhh don't tell me-)

If you guys are interested in seeing more of my shenanigans, let me know. I'm probably going to keep playing and taking screenshots as more wild things happen.

But for now, I need to actually go eat dinner. I seriously need food, the allure of nostalgia was just too strong.