#anyways anyways . my bones are killing me so goodbye | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joekeeryswife · 6 days

Text

Outbreak Day - J.M

a/n: hello angels! reader is 26 and pregnant and Joel is 36. there is a little twist 😵 best way to describe this imagine is that it’s sad, long and has a shitty ending lmfao. okay anyways, enjoy reading 🫶 please send me in some fluffy requests and some dad! joel requests too!!

big trigger warning this imagine is very gory and descriptive!

“Sarah honey, is that you?” you turned to look at the front door and saw your step daughter Sarah coming home from school. “hey mum” she said as she set her backpack down on the floor. “how was school?” you walked toward her and gave her a small hug and a kiss on her forehead.

“was good. got dads watch fixed but everyone acting weird, cops everywhere, shops closing early. i don’t know just weird” she said making your heart pound a little, you didn’t know why but hearing her say that scared you but you tried not to dwell on it too much. “yeah well it’s probably just people being stupid. we shouldn’t worry too much okay?” she nodded but then groaned making you frown.

“dad told the Adlers i’d go over there to help them make cookies” she sighed, it wasn’t that she didn’t like the Adlers it was just she wanted to spend time with you and her dad as it was his birthday. “look, go there for thirty minutes then say i need you home, i don’t mind you blaming me.” she smiled and thanked you.

“i was going to make your dad a cake but we don’t have the ingredients and i was too tired to go food shopping so he should be brining one home, he’s going to be home earlier today as well” her eyes lit up as you spoke “is it a chocolate cake?” she asked watching you nod. “i didn’t tell him it was because you have been craving one i told him it was because i was” Joel hated chocolate cake but for his girls he’d do anything to please them.

“thank you mum, you’re the best. i owe you one” she said as she turned to go out the front door again to the Adlers house. “no worries honey, if Mrs Adler bakes chocolate chip cookies please bring me one, the baby is craving them like mad” you said as you rubbed your growing stomach. she nodded and said her goodbyes before leaving to spend the worst 30 minutes of her life with the Adlers.

-♡-

“hey baby girl. how was school?” Joel asked as he finally got home, four hours later than expected. “you’re late” she said, completely ignoring his question as her eyes shifted from the TV to him. you had both been waiting for him on the sofa watching Harry Potter and you had fallen asleep not even halfway through the movie. being pregnant had made you extremely tired so it wasn’t a shock to Sarah when she saw you put a blanket over yourself and curl up into a ball on the sofa within the first 10 minutes of the movie playing.

“i know, im sorry. work has been crazy, guys calling in sick, it was just me, uncle Tommy and Dave in today. i meant to phone mum but my phone died” he said as he made his way over to the two of you. his heart melted when he saw you sleeping next to Sarah, you’d never looked cuter. “its fine, we had fun without you anyways” he lifted up your feet so he could sit between you both, careful to not wake you up in the process.

“did you at least get the cake?” she said shyly as Joel got comfortable on the sofa. “oh shit” he put his head in his hands “im sorry honey i completely forgot” she nodded, understanding that he obviously came straight home as soon as he finished work. “mum is probably gonna kill you. she wanted cookies earlier from the Adlers but they were making raisin instead of chocolate chip so i didn’t even bother asking if i could bring one home for her” Sarah said and Joel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his other resting on your legs.

“i’ll get you guys a cake tomorrow, i promise it just completely slipped my mind” she shook her head, indicating that it was fine and she understood he was stressed. Joel felt you stir and you woke up, your hair all over the place and your bones cracking as you stretched from a very good nap. “hi baby” Joel said softly as you looked at him.

he unwrapped his arms from Sarah’s shoulders for a moment so he could give you a hug and a kiss. “i miss you so much” you said as you sat up so you could rest on him instead of the arm of the sofa. “i missed you too. how are you? how’s the baby?” you nodded, still half asleep.

“fine, kicking like crazy” you were only six months pregnant and your unborn daughter was already giving you a hard time. you rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around both you and Sarah, pulling you both into him. “did you bring home the cake?” you asked making him sigh “no, i’m sorry baby, i forgot” you shrugged, eyes closing again as you tried to fight sleep but it was no use.

“i love mum so much but she could have slept through world war 2 and not have been disturbed at all” she said making Joel laugh quietly, trying not to wake you up. to be fair, carrying this baby had knackered you out and he understood that you needed sleep but sometimes you would be halfway through a conversation with him when he got home from work and you’d be falling asleep whilst you were taking. “to be fair, you aren’t wrong there” he ran a hand through your hair gently as he admired you, you were stunning and he loved you so much.

“anyway, let’s try spend some time together tonight, let’s put on a good film, this is shit” Joel said making Sarah scoff and look at him “that is a lie. Harry Potter is the best” he shook his head. “take it back or you work get your present” she said making him gasp. “you wouldn’t dare do that” he said to her, making her give him the ‘try me’ face which made him quickly change his comment and apologise to her.

she grabbed the box off of the coffee table and handed it to him. he unwrapped his arm from her yet again to try open it with one hand without waking you up. he opened the box and saw his now fixed watched that had been broken for three months. “aww baby that’s so sweet, thank you” he kissed her forehead and tried to put the watch on but failed miserably making Sarah help him put it on. “okay now we can watch your stupid old film dad but don’t expect me to stay awake” she said as they both got comfortable again “i wouldn’t dream of it” he smiled at her.

-♡-

green and blue flashing light woke Sarah up from her sleep. she looked around the room confused, she had somehow ended up in her bedroom and didn’t hear any noise in the house. she sat up as she heard helicopters fly over the house and car alarms go off. she quickly got up calling out for Joel as she walked around the house but she only found you in bed asleep, no sign of Joel.

she felt awful waking you up but she had no other choice. she crept to the side of your bed and shook you awake. “mum, can you wake up please?” you jumped awake when you felt her hand on your shoulder. “what’s the matter sweetheart?” you asked but your question was answered when another helicopter flew over the house. “what the hell?” you said sitting up quickly.

you grabbed your phone which was on the bedside table but there was no service. “what’s happening?” Sarah asked as you quickly got dressed out of your pyjamas. you were going to go outside and you didn’t want your neighbours, if they were awake, to see you in your pyjamas so you put on a tracksuit before walking downstairs. “i don’t know baby”

you turned on the tv and heard the broadcast ‘stay home, do not let anyone into your house. we will post more instructions soon’ you frowned, what the fuck was happening? you checked your phone again, this time trying to phone anyone, your mum, your dad, your brother, Joel and nothing. no calls were going through.

the two of you jumped at the sound of Mercy, the Adlers dog barking at your front door. Sarah quickly put on her shoes and went outside to retrieve the dog and you quickly followed, slipping on your trainers. “Sarah i don’t think we should go outside yet. we should wait for your dad” but she ignored you. she walked outside, bringing Mercy with her to take him back home making you follow after her as quick as you could.

“Sarah please come back inside” you said but the curious girl went inside the Adlers house after she heard a glass breaking. “no Sarah don’t go in there” you sighed, you loved that girl but she did not listen. Sarah was quiet walking into that house, making sure to not make any sudden movements as she did. the noise was coming from the kitchen and she quickly made her way there and almost screamed at the sight infront of her.

you were right behind her, you felt sick to your stomach as you saw Mrs Adlers mum chewing on her daughter’s neck with some sort of fungus growing out of her mouth. your eyes widened and your heart dropped, what the fuck was going on? the once disabled old woman looked up at the two of you and quickly stood up screeching and running after you when you told Sarah to run.

you weren’t as quick as you used to be but you were luckily quick enough the run away from this infected woman, she had fallen over the crinkled carpet giving you enough time to escape. “Sarah we need to get back in the house right now” you shouted as you grabbed her hand and tried to pull her into the house but as you did Joel’s truck pulled up.

“get in the truck right now” Joel shouted at you both, he sounded scared and he was never ever scared. this made you feel even more sick than before. he had a wrench in his hand and he quickly pulled the two of you behind him when the screeching sound approached you again. you all looked at the front door to see the elderly woman fall over the steps of her front porch.

Tommy got out of the car with a huge rifle in his hand making your eyes fill with tears, you were absolutely terrified but you didn’t want to show Sarah that you were scared, if she saw that she would feel even more frightened then she already was. you grabbed ahold of her hand and tried to pull her into the truck but she wouldn’t budge. it was like she was frozen in fear.

the old woman’s head shot up, her eyes were black and she started crawling towards you then she stood up and ran towards Joel and Tommy. “what are we doing Joel” without a second thought Joel cracked the wrench on her head making her fall to the floor. you and Sarah both gasped at what he had just done. Joel was never a violent person and this had shocked you.

he dropped the wrench and they both turned to look at you and Sarah. both of your faces were filled with fear and Joel quickly pulled Sarah into him “you killed her” she said, voice filled with fear “i know baby i’m sorry” he kissed her forehead and looked at you. you couldn’t believe what you just saw. you were confused and scared. “we gotta go” Tommy said making you all quickly get in the car.

you were sat in the back with Sarah who hugged you closely “it’s alright honey, it’ll all be over soon i promise” you whispered and you rubbed your hand up and down her arm, trying to comfort her but also trying to comfort yourself. you could feel the baby kicking vigorously “are you okay y/n? you aren’t hurt are you?” Joel asked as he looked back at the two of you. you just shook your head.

you didn’t know why but all this fear made you wish you were back to being a little kid, wishing that your mum was there to comfort you when you were scared yet now you were the adult comforting your child and you didn’t know if you would ever even see your mum again.

“dad-” Sarah said but Joel quickly cut her off “i don’t know” he said like he knew what she was going to ask him. “they’re saying it’s a virus, some kind of parasite” Tommy added making Joel look at him. “does it come from terrorists?” she asked making Joel repeat himself “we don’t know”

“are we sick?” she asked and this time you answered “no, none of us are sick” Joel nodded “of course not” he sounded mad but you didn’t know what at. “why were they blowing things up?” her eyes were filled with tears as she asked all these questions.

“no idea, there’s no phone, no radio” her eyes darted between Tommy and Joel “how do you know?” she asked, voice laced with concern “what?” Joel looked back at the two of you, cuddled up together with you trying to act your calmest but he knew you, you were freaking out.

“how do you know we aren’t sick?” she was practically crying now. “they’re saying it’s mostly people in the city, that’s why they have the highway blocked off” Tommy said but he was quickly silenced when he drove past a burning house of one of his friends.

“the Adlers would take nana to the city, so that’s why they were sick?” Joel nodded “your right, that’s probably why” his thick texan accent was filled with concern but he tried his best to stay calm. “we are going to be fine, trust me” Tommy said but he sounded unsure of what he had just said.

he drive around the corner and quickly slowed down when he saw a small family. “what are you doing?” Joel asked and Tommy just shook his head “they have a kid Joel” Joel quickly cut him off. “so do we, are you forgetting that my wife is pregnant?”

“Joel Tommy is right, they have a kid we should help them” he turned back to you “no, we don’t know them. keep driving Tommy” he’d never spoken this was before and this was definitely not the Joel you knew. you just prayed that whatever this is would go away and you could go back to your normal lives.

-♡-

you were driving through the town, planes flying low, catastrophe everywhere and you were just scared. “right keep going down this way” Joel said as Tommy drove down a side road leading to a whole group of people who were fighting and running away from the danger. “keep driving Tommy” Joel said even though there were people everywhere.

“are you kidding? Joel i can’t just drive through a whole group of people” Joel cut him off shouting “just keep going damn it” cars were crashing into each other, the sounds of people screaming made your eyes fill with tears. the next thing you knew the cinema doors cracked open with a lot more people coming out of it, all of them crying.

“shit” Tommy said as he quickly stoped the car “go go, fuck Tommy go get out of here” Joel said as he looked behind him out of the truck and slammed his hand on the dashboard “i’m going, i’m going” Tommy started reversing back, careful to not hit anyone in the process.

Sarah looked out the back window and so did you, seeing the huge airplane falling rapidly toward the floor. “Tommy, you need get out of here” you shouted as the plane darted toward you. “fuck Tommy go now” Joel shouted but it was too late, the huge plane crashed on the ground exploding into a million pieces.

the huge flame almost blinded you, you felt sickened at the thought of all those people on the plane that didn’t even stand a chance. “oh shit” you heard Sarah say as a huge chunk of the plane crashed into you car and then your whole world went black.

-♡-

“y/n” you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder as you awoke from the darkness “y/n honey we need to get you out, can you get out slowly for me angel?” Joel’s soft voice filled your mind as you sat up, a sharp shooting pain went right through your stomach making you groan. “my stomach is killing me” you said as you put a hand on your belly. you looked out the window and saw Sarah sitting on the floor and Joel crouching next to where you were sitting.

“don’t panic, it’s probably nothing okay?” Joel’s heart dropped when he heard you say that, a pain in your stomach was never a good sign especially when you are pregnant. “can you get out sweetheart? or do you need help?” you just nodded and started making your way out of the car.

once you had gotten out of the car you stood next to Sarah and saw Tommy was on the opposite side “we gotta get off of the street” he said as you stood up right, you right hand still back on your stomach hoping to feel any sign of movement. “Sarah can’t walk, i’ll have to carry her. do you think you can walk?” you nodded again. “shit” you heard Tommy shout as a police car crashed into Tommys now ruined truck.

the car set alight and you were lucky you even made it out of the car that quick before it crashed otherwise you would have been dead and you wouldn’t have wanted your family to see that. “Tommy” Joel shouted as he tried to see Tommys face through the flames. “i’m okay, head to the river and i’ll meet you there” with a simple nod Joel picked up Sarah and pushed you behind him.

“stay close okay?” he gave you a quick kiss before you both started making your way through the side roads trying to find a way to the river. the two of you stopped once you saw a group of bodies with people eating them. “what the fuck” you whispered as you saw this horrific sight in front of you. one of the people shot up, looking at you twitching weirdly.

“go” Joel pushed you in front of him and you both started running through a random cafe. the man chased you, snarling and screeching as he followed. you could hear the man tripping over different things but you didn’t dare look behind you. you could hear Joel comforting Sarah who was now crying as you finally made it outside but you didn’t stop running until a gunshot filled the silent field.

you and Joel both stopped, turning to look back and the now dead body in front of you. “don’t move” you heard someone say next to you as a bright light shone on the three of you. “my daughters hurt her ankle and my wife is pregnant” the man lowered his gun and started talking to his radio “i’ve got three civilians by the river, one of them injured, one pregnant”

you couldn’t make out what the other person was saying but your thoughts were cut short when Sarah spoke up “what about uncle Tommy?” she questioned Joel just shook his head “i’m gonna get you both safe first then i’ll go back for him okay?” she just nodded and you all looked back at the masked man. “yes sir….. yes sir”

he raised his gun “we are not sick” Joel said as the man approached the three of you. “sir, i said we are not sick” with that the masked man shot a round of bullets and Joel heard you and Sarah scream. you all rolled down a small ditch and Joel quickly turned to look at the man who was now approaching him with his gun raised. “i’m sorry” he said but before he could shoot Joel another shot was fired, killing him instantly.

he looked up to see Tommy with his gun raised, he had never been so happy to see his brother in his whole life. “are you okay?” Tommy asked Joel who was just grazed by a bullet and Joel just nodded but Tommys eyes shifted to you who was covered in blood and gasping for air. “oh god” he said making Joel turn around to look at you.

all you could do was feel a throbbing pain in you stomach. Joel quickly got up and ran to you and Tommy made sure Sarah was okay and turned her away from you. he knew Joel wouldn’t want her seeing you like this and it was bad enough he had to see you like this. “no no it’s okay” he could see the blood soaking through your jumper, the once grey colour was now a soaked dark red and it was growing by the second.

“you’re okay, move your hand honey” Joel said once you’d moved your hand, putting pressure on the wound. you cried in pain as you still gasped for air. “i know i know im so sorry sweetheart i am” he said and he pressed harder on the wound to stop it from bleeding out more. you managed to speak through your pain as you grabbed onto Joel’s arm “go” he shook his head.

“go Joel, take” you took a few more deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself down “take Sarah and go” he just shook his head again. “no, i’m not leaving you like this. i can get help and you’re gonna survive this” he said, his eyes filling with tears as he saw your tired but pained expression.

“you know how much i love you, i don’t” you closed your eyes as you breathed deeply again “i don’t want you seeing me like this” you stuttered out. you felt a tear roll down your cheek as you realised what was about to happen to you. “meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me” you could hear Sarah sobbing next to Tommy and you hated that she was even watching you, laying there covered in blood.

“i’m sorry” he said as he sat down next to you, he took the pressure off of your wound and you were grateful he had given up, there was no way you were going to be able to survive this and you didn’t want to prolong it. you just shook your head at his comment. “don’t-”

you felt pain all over your body but you felt tired, so tired that you wanted to sleep desperately. “i love you, i love Sarah. just take her and run okay?” he had tears now rolling down his cheeks, his bloody hand now stroking your cheek softly. “im not leaving you here on your own” you just smiled at him. you knew he wouldn’t leave but you wanted to save him from the trauma of seeing you go.

“i know” you looked at him and he kissed you, one last for however long he has left on this earth. “i love you so much” you heard him say and with that your eyes closed. he sobbed quietly, you were gone and nothing was ever going to bring you back.

you were carrying his unborn child and he wished he could go back in time and taken the bullet instead of you. you were this ethereal soul who didn’t deserve to die this way and he hated it. he hated it so much. he tried his best to calm himself down as he took your wedding ring off of your finger and put it in his pocket hoping to keep it safe. it wasn’t like someone was going to steal it but he took it off so he could have something with him that was yours.

he kissed your forehead and carefully placed your body back on the floor and turned toward Sarah and Tommy, he had tear stains on his cheeks but his expression was neutral. “let’s go” he said, he was emotionless “dad, we can’t just leave her-” he cut Sarah off “i said let’s go” with that the three of them left and never looked back.

122 notes · View notes

gabseyoo · 2 years

Text

REASONS — HAITANI RINDŌ

content: fem!reader, established relationship, tenjiku arc spoilers. word count: 1,5k.

summary: rindō teaches his girlfriend to fight.

You’re going to kill him.

“C’mon! That's the best you’ve got?”

You're certainly going to kill him, spit on his corpse and leave him to the mercy of the crows.

“I’m trying!” You spat trying to free yourself from his grip, you knew he wasn't using his full strength to keep from hurting you, but you were so tired that you couldn't find the energy to even really try. “Don’t piss me off, I can bite your ass from here, you know?”

Surprisingly he burst out laughing, “Don’t do that, feels weird.”

“Somebody did it before?”

“Don’t ask.”

“You know what? Let me go.”

He chuckled before releasing your poor arm, you closed your eyes and remained lying on the floor trying to catch your breath.

“You were supposed to take me down, doll.”

It was the twelfth time you tried to 'take him down', but failed, he always managed to dodge you and it was you who ended up with an awkward lock of your limbs—which was ten times softer than he would do to a real opponent, by the way—.

“Sometimes I really hate you, you know?” You managed to say between your gasps.

“You love me.”

You couldn't help but smile, “Unfortunately.”

Rindou had been insisting for weeks on teaching you jiujitsu, you had refused because you knew how passionate he could be when it came to training. But after many pleas and bambi eyes you agreed only after making him promise to go easy on you.

If this was going easy, what was serious training like?

Morning runs. Goodbye greasy food. Hello two hours at the gym. Set after set of exercises you never knew existed. The damn burpees. You insist, how was that going easy?

You remember complaining to him that you had agreed only to learn to fight and not to full training, but he replied that to fight you needed the physical condition. God have mercy.

However, he seemed so excited that you didn’t have the heart to give up. You tried to look on the bright side and think that maybe it wasn't so bad, you were learning a martial art, exercising and eating healthy; but at times like this, with your body sweaty and sore plus the frustration of not being able to beat him, you just wanted to put an end to this kind of modern torture.

“Doll, you still alive?” Rindou asked and you opened your eyes to find your boyfriend standing with his legs beside your hips and his hands stretched out towards you.

“Sadly.” You sighed and took his hands accepting his help to stand up. “I think you forget that I don't have the same stamina as you.”

“But you did amazing.” He said handing you your water bottle which you instantly opened to drink what was left in it. “Keep it up and before you know you'll be breaking my bones.”

“That sounds tempting.”

“Right?” He took the bottle from your hands when you finished and put it back in its place, “Wanna do one last try?”

You quickly shook your head, resting your hands on your knees to catch your breath, “I think I gave my all for today.”

Your boyfriend clicked his tongue and squeezed your cheeks with both hands, forming a pout on your face, “Just once.”

“Rindou, I’m tired—”

“I’ll let you drive.”

“Okay, but just once.” You said as you straightened up.

You ignored his triumphant smile as you took up position in front of him, mentally preparing yourself to meet the ground again.

But— surprisingly, when you ran and wrapped your arms around him to knock him down, the ease with which you succeeded puzzled you, forgetting the next step to lock his joints, so you just ended up falling on top of his body.

“Oh fuck, you okay?” You asked looking at his face, which had a smile on it.

“I’m okay.” Your boyfriend cupped your cheeks again as he did before, “Well, this deserves a prize, you made me fall, doll.”

“Not as planned.”

“But you succeeded anyway.”

You frowned straight into his eyes for a moment before sighing with realization, “You let me win.”

Rindou snorted, “Of course not.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” You stated earnestly and your boyfriend rolled his eyes playfully, “But thanks, I guess.”

Maybe he didn’t want you to feel bad, or maybe he felt some guilt about how hard you had trained today and he hadn’t given you a chance to win, who knows, but you couldn’t deny that his action filled you with tenderness. You had a soft spot for your boyfriend, you had to admit.

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to punish him for putting you through such a hell in this gym today. How? You don’t know, maybe not giving him head for a week or two will be enough.

His hands moved down from your cheeks to your hips as you sat on his lap.

“You look good in these shorts, you know?”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed him by the wrists to push away his hands that were beginning to caress you inappropriately. “We’re in public, perv.”

You weren’t surprised when he laughed. His laughter was somewhat contagious, so you had to stifle your smile to stand your ground.

“I know, sorry, sorry.” He said taking your hips hard to push himself forward and sit up, stealing a kiss on your lips in the process. “Let’s go.”

After you changed in the locker room, Rindou put his arm around your shoulders as he said goodbye to the gym owner before leaving. You had to walk a bit since his motorcycle was parked two blocks away because there was no parking nearby when you arrived.

“I still don’t know why this is necessary.” You suddenly said in the middle of the comfortable silence. You crossed your arms and looked at him with a half smile waiting for his response.

“What?” He asked while spinning the keys with his finger.

“Teaching me how to fight.”

He withdrew his arm over your shoulders to intertwine his hand with yours, “It never hurts to know how to defend yourself, doll.”

“Well, you have a point.” You admitted caressing his knuckles. “What I mean is— you were very insistent about teaching me. Why?”

“I don’t need a reason.”

“But you look like you have one more specific than seeing me in athletic shorts or spending time together.” He let out a chuckle, squeezing your hand tighter as you crossed the street. “Be honest.”

He flicked your forehead, “You can really see through me, huh?”

“It’s my job as your girlfriend.” You saw him lick his lips and focus his gaze on the ground, you knew he was hesitating, so you encouraged him, “C’mon tell me.”

“It’s really corny.”

“Rin…”

“Well— a few months ago I was thinking, what if someone wants to hurt you and I’m not around to protect you? The streets aren’t that safe, someone could mug you or try to take advantage of you.”

Your heart was melting, could you love him any more? The answer is yes.

“But then I thought of something worse.” You watched as he clenched his jaw, “What if someone tries to hurt you because of me?”

“Why would anyone try that?”

“You know why. You’re dating the Rindou Haitani.” He said cockily, pointing his finger at himself.

“Rindou, you are a gang member, not a yakuza.” You joked, stopping your steps when you were in front of the motorcycle.

“We don’t know what the future has in store for us.” Well, he’s not wrong. “And gang members can be cruel too.”

“You right.” You remembered what happened to Izana and Muto, and with that in mind, Rindou’s words made a lot of sense.

“If anyone dares to lay a finger on you, I’ll break every single bone in their body.” In fact, he did it before, not to that extreme, but he did break the arm of a guy who tried to take a picture under your skirt— so you knew he wasn’t kidding. “But I know I can’t always be with you, the least I can do is teach you how to fight.”

“Well, he would have to be someone very stupid if he wants to hurt the girlfriend of the Rindou Haitani.” You mimicked his gesture by pointing to yourself before kissing his cheek. “Thanks for telling me, I’ll train hard to break the bones of anyone who crosses my path.”

Although you were already imagining that the level of torture would increase, you were willing to make the effort for the sake of your boyfriend's intentions. However, he won’t be getting any head for two weeks. That's a fact.

Rindou squeezed your cheek before saying, “That’s my girl.”

You smiled and stretched out your hand, “Now give me the keys, I’ll drive.”

He seemed to have forgotten your previous agreement since he widened his eyes, you knew he wasn’t a big fan of the idea of letting you drive, but too late— you had already snatched the keys from him and got on the bike.

Your boyfriend sighed in defeat before sitting behind you, “Just don’t run a red light again, please.”

#𐀔 — mar wrote this.#— drabbles #— tr #rindou haitani #rindou haitani x reader #rindou x you #rindou x reader #rindou x y/n #haitani x reader #haitani rindou imagines #rindou scenarios #kanto manji x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers drabbles

809 notes · View notes

ficsforeren · 2 years

Text

Never Let Me Go - Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Strangers-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, Slight Horror & Action

Series Summary: A lethal virus has killed 90% of the world’s population and turns 9.8% into zombie-like, cannibalistic mutants who are extremely vulnerable to the ultraviolet rays in sunlight. You and Eren Jaeger are both survivors crossing paths in the cruel world, but together, you’re able to find some beauty in it.

Chapter Summary: As the sun sets below the horizon, the dead roam the earth once again. With only a few knives and guns in your hands, both you and Eren have no choice but to fight back the Darkseekers. You promised each other that you’d survive this, but Eren has already bid you his final goodbye.

Content Warnings: zombies, graphic descriptions of death and murder, explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, abs riding, dry humping, unprotected sex, corruption kink, praise kink, etc), use of weapons (guns, knives), substance abuse (use of drugs and alcohol), traumatic past, anxiety attacks, depression, crude words, dark humor, sexual assault.

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart on Twitter

The moon is pale and the woods are bone-chillingly quiet.

The trees cast unnerving shadows on the road, swaying from side to side, dancing eerily from the night breeze. There are no screeching owls, no buzzing insects, no yelping frogs. Everything is silent, as if someone has muted the sounds of nature, or turned your ears deaf. The absolute stillness raises the tiny hairs on your nape, causing your inner voice to turn clamorous in your head, louder than a lion’s roar. It reminds you of the death reaper waiting on your doorstep, maybe with flesh between its teeth and dark blood dripping down its chin.

Ghosts whisper through the wind and Eren’s rapid heartbeat is the only gravity that keeps your thoughts together. You both cuddle close in the rear middle seats, lying down with your bodies facing each other, your temple almost brushing against his collarbones. You thought it would be better to hide in the backseat but Eren reminded you that the last thing you wanted to have was trapped inside a car with a zombie as it would leave you with barely any space to fight. At least this way, you can kick the door open and run if you need to.

Your machete sticks close to your spine while your fingers curl around one of the handguns Eren has lent you. He has placed the shotgun underneath the seat, where you can both easily retrieve it in case of emergency. It holds eight shells in the magazine tube, which is not much but it serves as a reassurance. Hopefully, you won’t need to use it.

None of you dares to speak, not even in sign language. The car windows are too wide but you’ve covered them with clothes and any fabric you can find so they won’t detect your movement from the other side. But the moonlight still seeps through the little holes, painting your skin white and making you feel even more vulnerable with every intake of breath. You don’t have the bravery to take a peek through the glass. All you can do right now is just stare at the same spot of Eren’s shirt, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.

In a desperate need to soothe yourself down, you close your eyes and rewind the moment you shared with him before you both climbed into the car.

“You sure you don’t want to take my magazine?” Eren asked as he offered his spare handgun to you. “I still have three left.”

“No, I’m better with knives anyway. You can make better use of them than me.” But when you held his gun in your hand, it added more comfort than you’d expected. “I really wish we don’t have to use this.”

“We’re not going to,” he consoled you with a smile. But no matter how sweet it was, it wasn’t enough to wash your anxiety away. The sunset was stunning, possibly the most beautiful one you’d ever seen. The sky was ablaze with its fire, streaks of orange painted across cerulean blue. Under different circumstances, watching the evening sun with your lover would’ve become one of your most cherished memories but you felt like you couldn’t breathe. A certain ominous feeling shrouded you like a thick fog, erasing whatever hope you had left. Your heart was thrumming in your ears, your stomach tied in knots.

What if… this is it? You gloomily mused. What if this is the part where we die?

“Hey,” Eren’s gentle call snapped you back. “Can you re-do my hair?”

You were stunned to hear such a mundane question during a moment like this. Searching his eyes, you wondered if he felt just as terrified as you were. But even if he was, on the outside, Eren was fearless—relaxed, even, unlike how he was when he first discovered the truck blocking your path. His boyish grin refreshed your memory of the time when you were about to enter the supermarket in search of food. You remembered how you had accidentally placed your lives on the line back then too, even almost losing him in the process. But you survived, didn’t you? Maybe you could survive this one too.

‘Maybe’ is such a terrifying word. No guarantee, no certainty, only false hope.

“Sure thing, Rapunzel.” You forced yourself to be at ease, even when the load in your chest only got ten times heavier. “Squat down.”

“Why don’t we do it like this?” Instead of lowering himself, Eren scooped you up in his arms, lifting your feet off the ground. A startled gasp escaped you before you tangled your legs around his waist in reflex, your hands circling his neck to maintain your balance. His grin broke wider on his face.

“You serious?” You asked, staring flatly at him. “Did Tom Cruise do this? Are you trying to re-enact his scene again?”

“Oh my God, shut up.” He covered his embarrassment with a roll of his eyes. “I was trying to be romantic.”

“Hmm, yes, I can tell from the way you have your hands plastered against my ass.”

“I’m just supporting your body so you won’t fall.”

“And you can’t do that without grabbing my ass?”

“It’s just easier this way, Princess.” Shamelessly, he gave you a little squeeze, making you yelp in surprise. “That was cute,” he giggled. “I didn’t know you could squeal like that. So very girly of you.”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” But the smile you once feigned morphed into something real. For a moment, you could forget the situation you were in. No, not forget, pretend that everything was okay. Because what if this was your last time doing this with him? Touching his hair, feeling his warmth, exchanging laughter while being in his arms like you were meant to be together for eternity. What if everything was going to end in a matter of hours—minutes, even—and this was the only chance for you to be happy?

Taking a deep breath, you tried to savor every second left.

“Okay, hold still.” Unfastening his hair tie, you carded your fingers through his strands before you tied it up in his usual bun. You patted his shoulders once you were satisfied with your work. “There, all done.”

“Yaaay.” Eren brought you back to the ground, his hands resting a few seconds longer than necessary on your waist before he released you. “Thank you, milady.”

“You’re welcome.”

He had his hand stretched out, fingers stroking the side of your face before he, as predicted, tucked your hair behind your ear. Seeing you bite your lip to prevent your grin from breaking, he asked, “What?”

“Nothing,” you answered. “It’s just… You do that a lot.”

“Do what?”

It was adorable the way he was so oblivious about it. “This.” You gestured to his hand that still lingered on your strands.

You weren’t sure if it was the sunset that painted amber on his skin or if he was simply flustered at the realization. “I’m—I’m sorry.” He retracted his hand immediately, alternating to rubbing his nape to stop him from touching you again. “It’s just…” Landing his eyes anywhere else but yours, he watched his shadow on the ground stretching out underneath his feet. “I can see your face better that way and…” He paused, a few seconds longer than necessary.

“And?”

“You just look…” His gaze slowly drifted back to you. “So beautiful to me.”

The way he vocalized the words, the sincerity and the softness of it, made your stomach flip in delight but you kept your grin impish. “Do I look beautiful enough to make you want to kiss me?”

He noticeably gulped. “You want me to kiss you?”

You shrugged. “If you want to.”

“God, I want to.”

In the blink of an eye, his fingers held you firmly by the side of your jaw, lifting your face as he brought his head down. His mouth crashed against yours with enough force to make you stagger on your feet, stealing a gasp from between your lips. He was pushing you against the side of the van, your spine glued to the door, your chest to his. Circling your hands around his body, you raked your fingers down his back, nails scraping against the fabric of his red leather jacket as you separated your mouth to welcome him inside. Eren was an excellent kisser, not simply because of the way he moved his lips but the way he conveyed his feelings through it, pouring his passion, affection, and devotion all at once. You could feel his emotions every time he kissed you. When he was happy, when he felt lonely, when he was needy—you could always tell. But right now, you could feel none of those three.

There was only fear. Fear of the dark, fear of dying, and ultimately, his fear of losing you.

He ended the kiss just as sudden as he started it but he kept his face close enough for his breath to caress your cheek.

“Eren—”

He kissed you again, effectively swallowing your words even if it was as light as a feather. The sudden change of vigor in the way he touched you made your chest constrict. It was the kind of kiss that you imagined Romeo had planted on Juliet’s lips when he kissed her for the last time before he took his own life in the name of their love. You felt your heart shrivel, sadness bubbling in your chest.

This wasn’t a kiss. This was him bidding his final goodbye.

Eren gathered you in his arms when it was over, his lips brushing against your temple once before he placed his chin on top of your head. He turned pensive, letting the silence take the lead of the conversation for a moment before he rediscovered his voice. “We should go inside,” he murmured. “It’s time.”

“Just a few seconds more.” You tightened your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. With your eyes closed like this, it felt like you were at home—protected and safe, drowning in the bliss that only he could offer. “Hold me just a few seconds more, Ren…”

Eren shut his lids too, relishing in the strawberry scent of your hair. “I would hold you forever if I could…”

Your forever didn’t even last ten seconds. You broke away and he rewarded you with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“So nervous I’m about to pass out, honestly,” you said, which he reciprocated with a small chuckle. “You?”

“Well, let’s say I’m glad I’m wearing my brown pants if you know what I mean.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Humor vanished at once the second you both stepped inside the car. Eren locked the door, exhaling a deep breath before he faced you with his jaw set. “And now we wait.”

“And now we wait.”

Eren laid himself down on the seat, his legs bent on the knees before you joined him and cuddled close. Swatting the bangs out of your eyes, he whispered, “We’ll survive this.”

“I know.” And you both knew that you were lying to each other. Nothing was certain. It was strange how you felt much braver when you were on your own, as you only had to think about yourself. Only had to fear your own death. If everything fell apart, you just had to plant your own bullet in your head and case closed. But right now…

“Please don’t die,” you pleaded, landing your forehead on his chest. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.

As much as he wanted to promise you so, he couldn’t. “I promise you I will never let you go,” Eren said instead. “I’ll protect you with my life.”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, don’t say that. I want you to focus on saving yourself tonight.”

“But—”

“If I see you losing focus because of me and something happens to you—I will never be able to forgive myself.” You tilted your chin upward, meeting his gaze with your consuming one. “Do whatever it is necessary to survive. I know how to fight. I can protect myself. So if you want to promise me something, Eren, promise me that you’ll stay alive. Promise me that and I’ll promise you the same thing.”

You knew Eren could see the fear and uncertainty that were written in your eyes, but you didn’t care. You wouldn’t let him say otherwise.

“Okay,” he said, embracing you close but you stopped him before he could.

You raised your little finger in the air. “Promise me.”

His smile was frail but he hooked his finger around yours. “I promise.”

You’re not sure how many hours have passed since you both laid down in that position but it feels like years. Eren suggested you to sleep as he took the first watch, but you couldn’t catch a wink. You’re in the middle of running through your thoughts, going through multiple different scenarios to prepare yourself for the worst when your ears perk up at the slightest noise. The sound of leaves dancing in the wind. The creaking sounds of branches being stepped on. The footsteps on the ground.

Then the snarlings.

You lift your face at the same time Eren tucks his chin, locking his gaze with yours. They’re here. Stay alert. You nod in silence, all your muscles tautening at once as you feel the suspense choking you. The noises grow louder with each second passing by, driving you even more to the edge. You can feel your heart rising to your throat, the weight in your chest suffocating you. Eren shifts his hand from your waist to your ear, pressing his palm against it so he can muffle their eerie growls along with the sound of their feet being dragged across the concrete. You both keep your eyes on each other, communicating in silence and bated breath.

Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. We’ll be okay.

He speaks with his eyes and you chant the words like prayers in your head, hoping your inner voice would sound louder than their wails. Your fingers tighten around your weapon, and Eren does the same with the handgun resting in his right palm. He’s taken the bandage off his hand, wearing both of his leather fingerless gloves just like you, as he can’t afford to have his gun slipping off his grip. None of you lift a muscle. None of you should, because by the sound of it, there are more than three of them outside.

Their footsteps grow fainter, but you don’t let your heart rest easy. Not yet. Not until sunray can pierce through their decayed skin. How many minutes or hours are left till the break of dawn? You wonder anxiously. If they find out we’re here, we’ll—

A hand smashes against your window, hard enough that the sound rumbles through the night like a thunderclap. No matter how much you’ve prepared yourself for it, your body still jolts in reflex. Eren slaps one hand against your mouth, his eyes shaking in horror.

Be still.

You let out a shuddering breath through your nose, eyes closing shut when the same hand slams again, repeating the motion. One of the shirts that you used as a curtain slips off the handgrip, leaving one window exposed. The moonlight drenches your bodies, your presence exposed.

They can see us. The terror in your eyes says it all. Eren, they can see us! What are we going to do?

You see him swallow, his bottom lip quivering. You both try to breathe as little as possible. Maybe if we play dead, they won’t notice we’re here. Three seconds pass by in silence with invisible hands strangling your necks. You wish you could hear their footsteps marching away but what you hear is another thunderous bang.

And the window starts to crack.

The Darkseeker is now hammering its head against the glass, again and again, and again until your biggest fear transforms into reality. Lured by the noises, another Darkseeker appears on the other side of the car, slamming its entire body against the door, growling like a starving beast. The car is being rocked back and forth. They know.

You both sit upright at the same time, adrenaline pumping through your veins. With the ruckus they’re making, they’re only going to attract more of them to your spot. “We need to kill them fast!” Eren shouts, snatching the clothes away from the windows. “Aim for their heads. We can’t afford to waste bullets or we’ll—”

You both freeze in an instant, petrified to your bones.

There are five of them. Then six. Then seven. Then you stop counting.

They’re slamming heads and blood-stained hands against the windows. Without needing words to communicate, you aim the gun to your right while Eren aims to his left. Drawing a sharp breath, you both pull the trigger at the same time.

Two bullets pierce through the windows, tempered glasses shattering into tiny, blunt pieces at once. Eren’s lead makes a nest on its head but he already shoots another one before its body hits the ground, targeting another Darkseeker that tries to break inside through the opening. He’s always better with his aim than you are, and it’s easier to land a clean shot when these corpses are plastered against the window. Three bullets are shot and three corpses lay cold on the ground, cloudy white eyes staring vacantly at the moon.

Though not as successful, you manage to shoot two right in the heads, wasting a couple more bullets than Eren did. But without the glass separating you, they can easily break through. A Darkseeker lunges toward you, its body leaning halfway inside the window before another one follows. The cracking sound of their bones can be heard as they try to fit through the frames, four hands stretching out, clawing against your chest. You shoot another bullet, the metal pierces through its brain, sending the first body to slide down the window. As if triggered, the other Darkseeker drives itself in with more force, its fingers clamp tightly around your wrist, making it impossible for you to point your gun. Opening the car handle with your free hand, you kick the door open with as much strength as you can muster, sending the corpse to fall on its back. You jump out of the car, aiming the gun at its head, and ending its life for good. You’re about to breathe in relief when a zombie jumps from the roof, tackling you down to the concrete.

Eren hears your surprised screech and his blood runs cold but he can’t afford to lose focus, not when a Darkseeker is close enough to spray saliva on his face. He takes a shot only to find that he’s run out of bullets. Cursing under his breath, Eren unlocks the door, pushing it open with brute force until the two of them topple to the ground. With hasty hands, he snatches a loaded magazine from his thigh harness, jamming it into the gun. But a Darkseeker grabs a hold of his leg, yanking him out of the car before he can take his aim.

You are separated, fighting your own battles, protecting your own lives. Eren is facing two Darkseekers at once, while you’re trapped underneath a zombie who’s twice your size. The corpse tries to bite your neck but you push your gun inside its mouth. You pull the trigger but there’s only a click that can be heard. The Darkseeker slaps the pistol out of your hand and you’re panicking. In this position, with your back pressed flat against the pavement, your machete is out of reach. You have a knife glued against the side of your thigh, but you need both of your hands to keep the zombie away.

You can hear gunshots from the other side of the car, and for a split second, you feel relieved, knowing that Eren is still alive and fighting. You try to roll your opponent over to its back, using the same method you used to knock Eren off of you during your first encounter. But the zombie is much stronger, much bigger, and you’re losing your strength. The hands you land on its chest to keep its teeth away from your skin are growing weaker by the second.

Eren, help!

You grind your jaw, teeth-gritting as you try to restrain yourself from saying it out loud. You don’t want him to lose focus, not when his life's on the line. But the Darkseeker’s weight is crushing your body, making it almost impossible for you to breathe. How much longer can you keep this up?

Eren feels like his heart is about to break through his rib cages. He’s taking too long, and you haven’t made a sound. Please, he begs in his head. Please be okay.

Another Darkseeker attacks from his blind spot, wrapping its arm around his neck from behind, getting ready to latch his teeth on his shoulder. Moving purely on instinct, Eren snatches another gun from his belt and shoves its barrel against the underside of its jaw. He pulls the trigger, the shot deafens him as his bullet makes a hole through its mouth before it punctures its brain.

Two more, he breathes out heavily, his ears ringing. Two more and I’ll be there to save you.

With two pistols in each hand, he aims them both toward the Darkseekers’ chests. Usually, he would remind himself not to spend more bullets than necessary but his desperation to save you dulls his ability to think straight. He can’t waste a second. He needs to know if you’re okay. Their movements are too fast and he knows better to aim at their chests instead of their heads as it would reduce the chances of him missing his shots. He pulls the triggers repeatedly, shooting two bullets at the same time, watching the way they drill holes in their bodies. He can’t kill them on his first try but he tries again and again until eventually, the bullets find home in their hearts and they collapse to the ground. Both handguns in his hands are now empty but he doesn’t stop to reload. He doesn’t have time. Eren doesn’t even let himself breathe.

Pivoting on his heels, he dashes toward your spot, his eyes largening in dread when he sees a Darkseeker’s face hovering just a couple of inches from your neck. With that much adrenaline rushing to his head, his brain stops functioning. All he knows is that in a matter of seconds, that zombie will have your flesh between its teeth and it will be over for you both. Instead of jamming another magazine, Eren tosses his guns away and charges forward. He tackles the Darkseeker by its waist, their bodies rolling on the ground, his skull slammed against the hard concrete.

You spin to your stomach, coughing and gasping loudly for air. Blood as dark as the night painted your faces and soaked your clothes but you don’t taste copper on your tongue. You’re safe.

But Eren is not. He’s pinned to the ground, his hands gripping tightly around the zombie’s wrists, trying to fend it off. His hold slips and the Darkseeker sinks its teeth into his shoulder. “Fuck!”

There’s no time for you to look for his gun. Dashing to his spot, you reach for your machete and you plunge it against its back, driving it straight to its heart. Within two seconds, the Darkseeker’s body falls limp above him and the night suddenly turns quiet again. That zombie was the last one of them.

“Eren!” You sink to your knees, using both hands to push its body away from him. With frantic hands and shaky eyes, you hurriedly check on him, forcing him to sit on the ground with your hands fisting his shirt. He hisses, groaning lowly as he places a hand to cover his shoulder.

Your fear coils in your stomach, so much, that you can feel the world shaking before it narrows down to one thing: Eren’s face turning as pasty as the moon. You weren’t even trembling this hard when you nearly had your life taken away.

“Let me—” You swallow thickly. “Let me take a look.”

Eren releases his grip from his shoulder, letting you push back his leather jacket to examine the injury. You hold your breath, screaming prayers inside your head. Please. God, please, don’t let there be bite marks on him. I beg you.

With his jacket falling loose on his shoulders, you drag the collar of his white shirt to the side. Its teeth were sharp enough to tear his jacket apart, but they didn’t impale his skin, only leaving angry red marks on his shoulder. It takes you a couple of seconds to let it sink in before you can finally breathe again.

“Oh, thank God,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cradling his head close. He’s not bitten. He’s not bitten. He’s okay. We’re okay. You can’t form a word no matter how ear-splitting your thoughts are. You just embrace him tightly with all the strength you can muster, teeth grinding as you prevent yourself from crying. Knowing that he’s safe—that he’s still here, warm and breathing in your arms—feels a million times more relieving than the fact that you’re still alive.

A bit baffled by how you act, Eren returns your hug and cards his fingers through your hair. “Princess..?”

“You’re okay,” you say, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re not bitten.” We can still be together.

He smiles timidly to himself. “Still hurts like hell, though.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you try to laugh through your tears. Quickly erasing them away with the pad of your thumb, you pull away, grabbing him firmly by his upper arms. “Why didn’t you use your gun?”

“I was—I didn’t think there would be enough time for me to reload—”

“So you just threw yourself at it?!” You almost bark, startling him with the sudden change in your attitude. “Eren, that was such a reckless thing to do! You’re lucky you’re not bitten!”

“I panicked.” He reaches out a hand to stroke your cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

You can relate, of course. If the roles were reversed, you would’ve done the same thing but it doesn’t change the fact that he almost sacrificed his own life for your sake. “Thank you for saving my life,” you say. “But don’t you ever try to save me like that again, okay? If a situation like this happens again, I want you to run.”

“And live the rest of my life without you? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“At least you could live. You promised me that.”

“It only feels like living when I’m with you,” he says, fingers framing your face. “Princess—”

You stop him by gripping tightly around his wrist. “You’re saying you’d rather die?”

“What will you do then?” He challenges, peering deep into your eyes. “Will you abandon me if that’s the case?”

You tighten your jaw, releasing a harsh breath. Running away from the topic, you swat his hair away from his eyes, observing his features with your gaze turning tender. “How are you feeling?”

“Could’ve been better,” he replies, still a little bit out of breath, just like you. “My palm is bleeding again.” You notice a few trails of fresh blood running down his wrist, staining his jacket’s sleeve.

“Okay. I’ve got some bandages we can use. Right now, we just need…to…” Your words die on your tongue as you look past Eren’s shoulder. There, in the distance, perhaps a few hundred meters away from you, are Darkseekers. There are more than you’ve ever seen gathered in one place. Twenty, no—maybe thirty. And they’re running.

They’re running toward you.

Your adrenaline rush kicks back in, dilating your pupils, and heightening your senses. With your heart rate increasing rapidly, you yank Eren back to his feet. He’s paralyzed by the sight of the Darkseekers sprinting at such high speed he’s never seen humans do.

“Focus!” You snap at him. “Grab your guns and get into the car!”

“How are we going to—”

“Now!”

Eren complies with cold sweat breaking on his temples. But the second he takes a step forward, pain shoots through his entire body like a knife tearing his skin apart. His heart drops as he looks down, eyes glued to his right ankle. Is it broken? Or is it just a sprain? He can’t tell. The only thing he knows is that he won’t be able to run fast. And when you can’t run…

You’re just as good as dead.

Fuck. He tries to fight through the stinging ache, focusing on gathering his guns from the ground and returning to the car. You don’t notice the way he limps as you hasten to the other side of the vehicle. Throwing himself at the passenger's seat, Eren jams the magazines into his handguns, preparing for the worst. You sit behind the steering wheels, shoving your car key inside the hole and the engine blares through the night. You’re going to attract even more of them, but you don’t care. This is the only way you can think of to survive.

“What are you going to do?” Eren asks, fighting the chaos of his fear.

“I’m gonna run them over.” Your voice, unlike his, is surprisingly calm. “Put on your seatbelt.”

“What?!” But despite his protest, he does as he’s told. “There’s like thirty of them—we can’t just—”

“I’m not gonna sit here and die!”

You step on the gas, driving your foot all the way down. The sudden rise of velocity sends you both backward, bodies plastered against the seats, your heart racing just as fast. You’re getting closer to them, your headlights shining across their rotten flesh. With the distance provided, your speed manages to reach seventy miles per hour before— “Hold on!”

A moment of impact. In three. Two.

One.

It’s shockingly jarring and loud when you crash against them, your fingers tightening around your steering wheel so you wouldn’t lose control. Most of the Darkseekers are thrown back, tossed to the side of the road while some of them are hurled forward to the hood of your car. “Shoot them!” you shout, but Eren already has his guns ready in both hands.

One bullet pierces through the glass and the windshield shatters. Shots after shots are taken repetitively, each one goes straight to their heads. Bodies are being smashed under the tires and you don’t slow down. Eren pulls his trigger again but it ends with a click. “Fuck, I’m out of bullets!”

“The shotgun!” You remind him and he unlocks his seatbelt, reaching over to the middle seat to retrieve it.

A Darkseeker crawls over to your seat from the bonnet and you drive your spear point knife through its face. It’s enough to blind its vision but not deep enough to tear through its brain. Its hand latches around your wrist, almost causing you to swerve the vehicle abruptly. “Eren!”

It’s your luck that he’s returned to his seat just in time. Raising the gun in firing position, he takes a shot and its brain scatters apart. Now lifeless, the body rolls off the hood before it falls and meets the earth.

“Thank you,” you vocalize, your body still trembling in fright. “That was a close one.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You are now ahead of them. Those Darkseekers you ran over, they’re not dead, not until they have their heads smashed to pieces. Some of their limbs are crushed, bones fractured, necks bent in the wrong direction, but it does nothing to them as they no longer have the ability to feel pain. They rise back to their feet, chasing after you.

“We’re just gonna have to drive until the sun comes out,” you utter. “How many bullets do you have left?”

Pumping his shotgun, Eren heavily answers with, “Seven.”

“Fuck.” There are no Darkseekers ahead of you but there are more than fifty behind, chasing after your trail, sprinting out of the woods. “How much longer till sunrise?”

He checks on his phone. “Fifty-two minutes.”

Your eyes automatically drift down to check on the lines on the gas gauge. Eren, watching you from the side, notices the way you’re swallowing your breath. “How much fuel do we have left?”

“We have enough,” you say, though the shiver in your voice betrays you.

Eren returns his gaze to the road, his jaws clenched tight. He tries to think of ways, not to save his life but yours. “Okay, listen. If the car stops before then, I’ll go out and distract them—”

“We have enough fuel.”

“—in the meantime, you can run toward the woods and hide—”

“Eren—”

“—I won’t be able to fend them off for too long, but I can at least give you a few minutes to—”

“Eren!” Your scream is blood-curdling, silencing him at once. “We’re not going to die, you hear me?” You keep your eyes on the path before you, forced to reduce your speed to forty miles per hour as it would be risky to go faster than that on a serpentine road. “We’ve got enough fuel until sunrise. And even if we don’t, I won’t leave you.”

“Princess—”

“Damn it, you said you wouldn’t let me go!”

“What I meant was I wouldn’t abandon you!” He shouts back, sounding as desperate and as frustrated as you are. “And that’s what I’m doing now! I’m trying to save your life—”

“Well, I’m not leaving you!” It’s almost a sob that comes out of your mouth, startling you both. You don’t expect yourself to break down to tears, but you’ve only ever felt this scared one time in your life before, and that was on the day you decided to drive your knife through your sister’s heart. “I’m not going to leave anyone again!” Hot tears line down your cheeks, running over the dry blood that coats your skin. “I’m not leaving. I’m not letting you go. I’d rather die than—” You choke, your throat constricting. “I will never…” Losing strength, your voice wavers like something seen through water. “I’ll never let you go, Eren… Please don't do this to me, I beg you…”

Eren’s heart thrums painfully in his chest. Only now does he realize that you see him in the same way he sees you. You both value each other’s life more than your own. It’s better to die together than to live by yourself, shrouded in guilt, drowning in regrets. It’s just not an option you can choose.

“Okay…” he says, wetting his lips. “Okay, we’ll stick together.”

You harshly wipe the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand. “We’ll survive this.”

He nods, chanting the same prayer in his head. “We’ll survive this.”

***

The car’s engine starts to sputter, yet the sun remains still in its slumber.

A wave of panic crashes through you but you don’t let it be seen on your face. You’re not fooling anyone else, however, as Eren takes a deep breath and says, “We need to pull over.”

“No.” To your luck, the narrow, winding road has ended, leaving you with only a straight path to take where you can accelerate your car to the maximum speed.

“Don’t,” he reminds you as you step further on the gas. “If the engine dies—”

Hydraulic power to the brakes and steering die with it. “I know, but it’s not like I’m planning to stop anyway.”

Funny how you criticize him for being reckless when you’re doing exactly the same thing, probably ten times more dangerous. How laughable would it be if you survived the zombie apocalypse just to die in a car crash?

You take a glance through the rear-view mirror, trying to see if the corpses are still chasing after you. They’re far behind now, their presence invisible to your eyes. But it will only take less than twenty minutes for them to catch up, you assume. And what if other Darkseekers are lurking ahead of you? What are you going to do when the car stops?

You’ve only begun to think of a solution when you notice a loss in power. No, you beg internally. No. No. No. Please, the sun isn’t out yet.

Eren inspects your expression closely from the side, not saying a word as he can feel his own dread rising to his throat, but he has expected the worst outcome. Unlike you who’s been drenching yourself with hope, he’s given up a long time ago. Right now, he just wishes he could find a way to save you.

The engine dies and it takes a few minutes more before the car finally puts into a complete stop. With tremors in your hands, you unfasten your seatbelt. “We need to run,” you say through chattering teeth, leaning over to the middle seat to snatch your backpack. “If we’re lucky, we can find another car that works. If not, we can hide in the woods. We can climb a tree or something.” You’re not sure if it would work, but zombies are unable to use common sense as humans do as their brains no longer function. They have fast reflexes, strong instincts but you just need to outsmart them to survive. If you can get to a higher ground where they can’t reach, perhaps you can wait until the sun comes out. And you’ll be okay.

We will be okay.

You jump off your seat, placing back your machete to the back of your shirt before you hurriedly march to his side of the van. Eren steps down with his left foot, supporting himself with one hand on the door before he swings his other leg. As expected, he cannot bear his weight on his ankle. He tries to keep a straight face but you notice the pain that crosses his eyes.

“What?” you ask him, your eyes boring into his. “What happened?”

“I think I broke my ankle,” he utters, stiffening you with his answer.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough for me to be a burden to you.”

You clench your fists. “It’s okay. I won’t abandon you.”

He feebly smiles. “I know.” Which is why this feels ten times worse for me, he adds with regret.

Eren has given up on arguing about it with you. If this is your last moment together, he wouldn’t want to spend it by painting tears in your eyes. He wouldn’t want his name to be spoken through gritted teeth. So he lets you wrap an arm around his waist while he lands his right one across your shoulders. He leaves his bag but he carries his shotgun with him, slinging it securely on his left shoulder. With your lead, he takes a step forward and he stumbles, almost falling to one knee if you weren’t there to catch him. “Sorry,” he says, ashamed for being so powerless. He wanted to protect you and here he is, being nothing more than a liability.

Except you don’t think of him that way, and you never will. He’s your life savior, in more ways than one. He’s the glue that keeps your sanity intact, the gravity that keeps you standing on the ground. Here, being shrouded in his arms, is exactly where you want to be. “It’s alright. Just match your stride with mine,” you advise gently. “One step at a time, okay? No need to rush.”

No need to rush. If only he could find the strength to laugh. Eren nods and he does as he’s told, trying to sync his movements with yours. It’s awkward at first, but once you’ve managed to pass it, you start picking up your pace and maintain it when you both have found your rhythm.

The first sight of lightness comes into view. A small portion of the sun's rays illuminate the sky and the fainter stars begin to disappear. “Twilight,” you sigh in relief. “It won’t take long until sunrise. We can survive this.”

“Yeah.”

Eren’s palm still bleeds, dripping fresh blood all over the pavement. You wish you could stop for a moment and treat it with care, but you have to keep yourself moving. If you can survive for another twenty minutes, you will be safe. Anything else can come after that.

You’re counting the minutes that pass by in your head. Six, seven—twelve minutes have passed. “Just a little bit more,” you keep saying the words to keep yourself sane. Not sure why, but the panic that once has receded comes crashing back in like waves under a heavy storm, submerging you with it. “Just a little bit more, Ren.”

He keeps himself mute, cold sweat sliding down to his chin. Anything can happen in a matter of seconds, let alone minutes. He wishes he could feel safe, but he can’t. He’s terrified.

And when you stop dead on your tracks, your body frozen as if you were icebound to the ground, the fear in his chest doubled by tenfolds.

You can hear their rapid footsteps. They’re closing in.

And they’re closing in fast.

As your breathing turns labored, you take a look at your side. There are pine trees you can climb, but how can you get him up there? You’re not strong enough to pull him up, and he can barely stand on his own feet.

Fuck, what am I going to do?

Eren’s heart breaks at the sight of you biting hard on your lip to the point it almost bleeds as you switch from one scenario to another. “Princess—”

“Shut up,” you snap back, already figuring out what he’s going to say. “I’m not abandoning you.” You spin your head around, facing him. “But we have to run. Can you endure the pain for a moment?”

He gives you two firm nods and you both race as fast as you can. Eren feels like his ankle is about to snap like a twig, crushed underneath the pressure. It’s fucking painful, every step he takes feels like he’s walking on daggers. He groans in agony, and you hold him closer to your body. “I’m sorry, just a bit more.” Their growlings reach your ears, just as strident as your increasing heartbeat but you keep yourself focused.

“Princess!” Eren shouts, terror in his voice. “We can’t outrun them!”

He’s right. There is no other way. Stopping abruptly, you spin on your heels, snatching your machete from your belt. “Then, we’ll fight back,” you say, jaw clenching at the sight of Darkseekers sprinting towards you. They are not as many as they were before, probably ten or twelve, chasing after you at different speeds. But you only have seven bullets and a few knives. Eren can no longer fight and your legs are shaking underneath your weight due to exhaustion. There’s no way you can win this. This is it. This is the end.

You think your body will start trembling in fear, but it doesn’t.

You think that when the grim reaper stands before you, his scythe ready to swing right through your neck, you’ll start pleading for him to spare your life. But you don’t. You’re not afraid of him. You welcome him like an old friend.

Because you’re not alone anymore, are you? Eren is here. And maybe just like him, it’s not death that you’re terrified of. It’s loneliness. It’s the feeling of surviving just to exist, without any purpose, without any emotions. When you met him, everything changed. With him, you’ve found everything you wanted to make your life worth living.

It was a good life, these last five months you’ve shared with him. You were happy, weren’t you?

I was, you smile to yourself. I truly am happy.

So, there you are, standing with your hands steady. You take a step forward, bracing yourself as you shield him with your body. He’s shouting something at you, perhaps telling you to escape or stay behind him like always. His voice rings clamorously through the air, but to you, he sounds like he’s underwater, trying to mouth the words that you can’t hear. Your thoughts are louder, and they don’t speak a word of fear. They only speak of regret.

You wish you could say a word or two, maybe bid him goodbye, or tell him how grateful you are for his presence. For giving you so much joy, more than you deserve. For taking care of you. For loving you. But you’re running out of time.

Ah, you realize, as a Darkseeker, one that runs the fastest among others, lunges himself toward you. I haven’t told him I loved him yet.

Eren’s gunshot blares through the sky as you fall onto your back. The corpse hovers above you, its teeth dripping saliva but you slice its throat with your knife and kick its body away with your knee. Eren takes a few more shots, shooting each one right on the head as you prepare yourself for another. Two more zombies hurl themselves toward you, sending you both to the ground almost at the same time, his shotgun trapped between its teeth, your machete plunged deep into its chest but not quite hitting its heart.

They said during a near-death event, your life would flash before your eyes but now you see that it’s not true. You don’t see your entire past spooling out before you. You don’t see a replay of all the most significant moments in your life. You only see him.

Eren.

You see his smile and his adorable crooked teeth that peek behind his impish grin whenever he leaves you baffled with his witty retort. You see his eyes, emerald with flecks of strength—the kind of green that comes only as summer advances. You see his kindness, his adoration, and the love he holds for you, the fire of his passion that almost burned him whole—the same passion that consumed you just as much only a night ago.

And you wish you could turn back time and respond to his confession with honesty. Because the truth is, all those words he said to you—about how he missed you every second of the day, how he thought about you both in his wake and his dreams—you feel that too. When the words “There’s no life without you,” slipped out of his mouth, you heard them well and you felt it so much within your heart that you wondered if it was you who spoke the words.

Eren gives your life meaning. He gives you more happiness than you could take.

I should’ve told him, is the only thing you can think of when you feel your stamina decreasing fast. I should’ve told him that I’d been in love with him too.

God, I wish I could tell him now.

The zombie is clawing its nails against the front of your throat, your machete stuck between rotten flesh. Maybe it’s time to give up. You’ve fought long enough. Maybe you can use yourself as a distraction. You’re not sure how, but if you can at least give Eren a chance to escape, then it would be worth it. You just need to—

Time stands still. Suddenly, all you can hear is your ragged breathing.

The Darkseekers stop moving. They raise their heads, their white eyes staring straight at the horizon, their jaws hanging low on their faces, black saliva dribbling down their chins. They begin to wail then they run away abruptly, scattering into the woods, desperate to find shades to protect themselves from sunlight. It happens so fast that it leaves you both stunned.

What just happened?

You and Eren are left panting on the ground. The rising sun casts a rosy hue across the morning sky, its first rays lighting up your skin.

Sunrise.

You tilt your head to the side, catching Eren doing the same thing at the same time. Locking gazes, he mumbles out, “We’re alive…” He sounds like he��s in disbelief, his body is still in shock like he’s been trapped in a nightmare for so long and he’s woken up by a slap.

You’re not any better. Perhaps it’s because your heartbeat is slowing down significantly that you start to feel delirious. Or maybe it’s because your adrenaline rush is dissipating so fast from your veins, that it leaves you incapable of thinking straight. Because out of all the words you can say, you find your lips forming the three words you didn’t think you were allowed to state.

“I love you.”

Eren’s eyes widen at once, his breath leaving him as his lips part in a silent gasp. For the first three seconds, that’s all he can do. His eyes shake as they peer deep into yours, trying to unravel your every secret but he realizes he doesn’t have to. You’ve laid everything out in the open. For once, you let yourself be as transparent as the dew that kisses the leaves in the morning. You let him peer into your soul, let him understand that you're saying the words not simply because you almost died with regret for not saying them out loud. You say it because you feel it in your bones. You say it because you love him.

And once he understands that, his expression changes. “I love you.”

You both meet each other halfway, bodies lying on your sides, faces trapped between eager hands as you capture each other’s lips. “I love you.” Tears dampen your eyelashes as you whimper the words, your lips moving against his smile. “I love you.” You sound like a broken record to your ears, but it’s a lullaby that he’ll remember until his last dying breath.

I really love you, Eren.

He responds to each one with the same words followed by a whisper of your name, and you can feel it. This joy, this sense of completion as if you have finally achieved what you’ve been searching for your whole life. For the first time, you allow yourself to feel the happiness that he paints on your lips. You receive the affection that he carves into your heart, and you accept the love he gives you.

You accept the love that you deserve.

***

Eren has survived more near-death experiences than a person could have in a lifetime. Every time he did, he always questioned himself: Why do I have to try so hard to live? Why can’t I just let myself die? What’s the point of surviving when the whole world burns to ashes?

Will it have any meaning if I live through another day?

Today, he finally can answer his questions with yes, I’m glad that I’m alive. I’m glad that I can still bask under the sun, to have air in my lungs, to feel like I still have a soul inside me. To feel like I’m human.

And if he closes his eyes, all he can see is you. You make me feel human again.

You’ve brought him hope, his sense of purpose. Eren no longer lives to survive. He lives to spend every second of every hour he has left with you, creating memories, exchanging love and passion, and neverending bliss. He wants to embrace these feelings for the rest of his life—engulfed with joy, a sense of relief, and endless gratitude. He doesn’t feel like he just escaped death. He feels like he’s being reborn.

And God, it has never felt this good to be alive.

Eren looks to his side, blatantly staring at you with a goofy smile on his face. He’s dumbstruck—no, lovestruck at the sight of you. You’re the woman who stayed with him till the end, the woman who fought till her last breath, protecting him with no fear written in your eyes. You’re the woman that he loves, and the woman that loves him back. The woman that nurtures the flickering spark of hope inside his chest into a blazing flame. The woman that allows him to do the same to you.

“What?” You ask him with your cheeks burning bright, knowing that he’s watching you closely. You keep your eyes on the road with both hands on the steering wheels of your newly discovered SUV. It’s an old Chevrolet with dents all over the car but you consider yourself lucky enough to even be able to find one. It has enough fuel for you both to reach Aspen Pine before noon. You can find another car in the city if you need to.

“Nothing,” Eren replies, still smiling sheepishly to himself. “I’m just, uh… Hoping you’ll say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“You know…” He scratches his nose, the blush that blooms on his face matches the pinkish glow of sunrise bursting through the clouds. “The three words you said to me earlier.”

Your ears are buzzing from how much blood is pooling on your face. An hour has passed since you both confessed your feelings to each other and yet, it feels like a decade has gone by where it becomes awkward for you to restate the words. Funny how you have all the bravery to face flesh-eating monsters, but when it comes to showing affection, you’re curling yourself into a ball of shame.

“What three words?” You switch gears. “Any three words? Like, ‘Shut up, stupid?’ Or ‘You’re so annoying?’ Or maybe ‘Keep saying that and I’m gonna kick you out of my car?’”

He pouts—actually pouts like a child. “The last line isn’t even three words.”

“It is if you split them into four parts.”

“Ugh,” he groans, rolling his eyes. “Princess, you said it, like, ten times in a row an hour ago.”

Your cheeks are replaced by fire at this point. “Well, then you’ve heard enough to keep yourself satisfied for a lifetime.”

“I want to hear it!” You thought it would be impossible for a 193-cm tall brawny man to whine like a three-year-old, but there he is. “Can’t you just say it one more time?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause, it’s embarrassing.”

“Then I’ll say it first. You can just reply to me right after.” He said that but you can see him releasing a shaky breath from the corner of your eye, trying to mentally prepare himself. Although he has thought about them for months, the words still feel foreign in his head, let alone on his tongue. But Eren turns his body to face you, his gaze intense enough to burn holes. “I love you,” he says, sounding too formal and rigid to be romantic. It even feels a bit ridiculous, but you’re too nervous to laugh.

You tighten your jaw, your lips are pressed tight into a white line. You can’t. No matter how much you try, you can’t just say the line like that. It’s just so uncharacteristic of you to do so.

Eren waits with a palpitating heart. He feels like he just confessed to you all over again, not knowing whether you’d reject or accept his feelings. When three seconds pass by in silence, his blush smears right to his ears. “W-why are you not saying anything?!”

“Because it’s embarrassing!”

“But now I look like an idiot!”

“You are an idiot,” you retort, holding back the laughter that bubbles inside your chest.

His face matches the color of his red leather jacket. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m—” You clasp your lips tightly when you feel a giggle threatening to break free. “I’m not laughing.”

“Fine, you know what? I’m not gonna say it again until you say it first,” Eren says with a loud huff, throwing his face to the side and grousing like a child with his arms folded on his chest.

“Fine by me.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. Glaring at the scenery outside his window, he grumbles under his breath. “Whatever. You’re an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot?” You blurt out, your tone full of mirth. “For what, for not saying I love you?”

You fall into his trap. Without knowing, you say the words he wants to hear, even if the rest of your sentence contradicts its meaning. “I love you too,” Eren says within a split second, beaming at you with a boyish grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I wasn’t—oh, shut up.” You spit back, tossing him a bar of Snickers to refill the calories he’d burned. You couldn’t carry much stuff in your backpack during your move, only a bottle of antibiotic ointment, some bandages to treat your wounds, a few bottles of water, some carbohydrate bars, and Eren’s favorite snack: Snickers. “Go get some sleep. Aspen Pine is still an hour away.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll stop by at a gas station to get us something better to eat, then we’ll find a house to stay in.”

“Okay.”

“And maybe by then,” you sigh, noticing that he’s still looking at you with the same dopey look on his face. “You can stop staring at me.”

Eren isn’t listening to you. He hasn’t been for a while. “Okay.”

“Ren.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop staring at me!”

“I’m not staring at you,” he tries to argue. “I’m trying to sleep by staring at you.”

“That’s it.” You snatch back his snickers bar with one hand—which he only took a bite from—and wolf everything down in one try. “There. Now, you can eat air for the rest of the day.”

“Wha—Princessssss!”

***

“I thought we were going to the lake?” Eren asks one and a half hours later as you drive past the final exit sign, indicating that you’re now at the border of Aspen Pine. But instead of taking the right turn as you’re supposed to, you’re taking left, changing lanes, and heading toward a new direction.

“There’s a small town nearby,” you answer, taking a gulp of water. Both you and Eren have finished your first bottles, leaving you only with one more each. You need to make a stop soon. “It’s only half an hour away from here. We need to find some weapons. Going through people’s houses will take too much time. I’m sure they have some guns and spare magazines we can steal at the police station.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Rather than being a good idea, it’s more likely to be the only option you can choose. Knowing that he can barely walk, it would be suicide for both of you to enter uncharted territories without a gun in his hands. You’re not sure you can protect him with your stomach growling and your muscles begging for some rest either.

No houses are in sight as you steer through an empty road, only woods surrounding you, with the sharp, sweet, refreshing scent of pine trees and conifers tickling your nostrils. Combined with Eren’s soft breathing as he falls asleep with his arms crossed and his skull resting against the headrest, you can finally have a moment of serenity to yourself.

That is until you can sense the smell of rotting flesh in the air.

“Eren,” you wake him up with a gentle call. “We’re here.”

The brunette male rubs his eyes away from sleep, squinting them to adjust to the morning light. His body tenses the second his nose picks up the smell. “Darkseekers?” He questions with a frown. “Can’t be. The sun is out.”

You don’t answer him. Slowing down the vehicle, you keep yourself alert to your surroundings, eyes scanning every part your vision can reach.

Welcome to Ash Ville, a road sign says. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay.

You prepare yourself, inhaling and exhaling. You’re about to march into a town you’ve never stepped a foot in, and as much as it is nice to travel to someplace new, you’re shrouded in nothing but dread. If there’s one thing you’re certain of, not every town stays the same as it was before the outbreak. And within a few minutes, you’re about to find out you're right.

Blockades surround the town, made from barbed wires with thorns and spikes, stained with blood and pieces of rotting, human flesh. “They must have taken their own measures to contain the outbreak the second they heard about what happened in other countries,” Eren says, with which you silently agree. “It was smart of them to think that fast.”

The people in this town had built security perimeters, blocking every entrance to get to the city hall except the main gate. One that you assume used to have local officers identifying each person entering the town. The stone walls are certainly strong enough to keep the Darkseekers away, but the black wrought iron fences, which you thought would’ve been impenetrable, are destroyed, pushed with hard enough forces that they tore open the doors.

You decrease your velocity to twenty miles per hour, trying to find a police station or a supermarket nearby as you drive past the gate. A few meters in, you notice something.

The people in this town didn’t die from the outbreak. The virus had never gotten to them.

They were massacred.

Shivers run down your body as you see corpses after corpses lying down on the street. It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this. The virus used to be airborne. Once it was inhaled into your lungs, it would attack your body from the inside, and if you were weak, you’d explode, almost quite literally, within minutes after infection. Blood would seep through your pores and your body would decompose so fast, that it would only take less than 24 hours for your skeleton to show. The blood would turn black and it would stain the pavements as if the night had melted and drenched the earth.

But that is not what happened here. The ground that stands before your eyes right now is painted crimson.

“The Darkseekers must have managed to break through the gate.” Eren’s voice turns deep with regret, his striking viridescent eyes turn dark as they’re painted over by anguish. “To think that they managed to slaughter the whole town in one night…”

A string of questions pops up inside his mind and it shows vividly on his face. What if the Darkseekers never left? What if they’re still here, watching our movements, waiting until the sun goes down before they rip our throats apart?

“Stay within the light,” you assure him, even though your fingers are gripping tightly enough around your steering wheels, enough to turn your nails white. “As long as we stay within the light, we’ll be okay.”

You try to swerve the vehicle to avoid the corpses. You’re not sure how much time has passed ever since the incident, but by the stench of their decaying skin, bodies start liquifying, teeth and nails falling out, maybe it’s been a few weeks. You don’t linger too long to find out.

“Just focus on finding the police station.” You wonder if you sound cold, or seem apathetic to his eyes but Eren doesn’t say a word. The world is cruel but you both have known it since the day you and Eren drove your knives through your loved ones’ hearts. This is nothing new.

It’s a small town that’s brimming with brick storefront housings, chock full of quirky gift shops specializing in crystals and moonstone pendants. The colors are vibrant and warm, and if the world wasn’t ending, this would’ve been a lovely town for you to travel to. But not anymore.

You spot a police station down the road and Eren tightens his grip around his shotgun.

“How many bullets do you have left?”

“One,” he answers. One bullet may seem like it offers nothing but a small reassurance, but knowing how good he is with his shots, one bullet can save a life, whether it's yours or his. Little do you know that Eren only intends to use it to save yours.

“Then wait here,” you order him to stay put as you pull on the handbrake, parking your car recklessly without a care in the middle of the road. There are no bodies around, no corpses lying nearby, and no signs of life. “I’m gonna go inside and check.”

“I’m going with you,” Eren insists almost immediately, his hand ready to lurch forward and seize your wrist if he needs to. It’s to be expected of him, knowing how chivalrous he’s been from day one.

You don’t want to sound harsh by reminding him that with a broken ankle, he will only become a liability to you but he can be just as stubborn as you are, if not more, when he wants to. “Eren, you can’t walk.”

“I’m not letting you go inside alone.”

You turn your face to the side, watching him with weary eyes. You can see the determination on his face, how he’s not going to change his mind as long as you have your life on the line. Of course, it makes you happy to have someone who cares this much about you but still, it would be a terrible decision to bring him along. “Well, I’m not letting you step down from this car with a broken ankle.”

“Do you think I can just sit here and watch you risk your life for us?”

“Do you think I can just allow you to come with me when you can’t even run?”

He clenches his jaw, hating that he doesn’t have any better argument to fight you on it. “I know I’m no use to you right now, but…” It’s heartbroken to see him this way, to see how much he hates himself for being so powerless, for being such a burden, when all he wants to do is to protect you. “Princess, if something happens to you…” he speaks softly, his eyes losing the bravery and determination that filled them a moment ago. “And I’m not there to protect you as best as I can, I will never be able to forgive myself. I’d rather die trying to protect you than to live on my own.”

Although deep in your heart you feel the same way, you answer with a scoff, “That’s stupid.”

“That’s what I want,” he corrects, staggering you for a second from how solemn he looks. “I don’t want to live with regret. Not anymore.”

There’s a pregnant silence with thick tension stretching between you. Eventually, you release a defeated sigh, folding your arms above the steering wheel before you use them as a pillow to rest your forehead on. “Why do you never listen to me?” You ask, sounding much more exhausted than intended. “I’m trying to do what’s best to keep us alive.”

“We’re stronger in numbers,” Eren says, a sudden juvenile grin breaks on his lips, and you’re reminded of the words he said to you when you first met. “Besides, Princess, if we can survive last night, I’m sure we can survive this one too.”

“You’re weirdly optimistic.”

“You’re just too pessimistic.”

The little laughter that you try to suppress sounds more like a snort than anything else, but Eren can see a hint of amusement on your face. “Fine,” you say. “You’re coming with me. But if a Darkseeker shows up and you miss your shot, Jaeger, I swear to God, I’m gonna shave your head. Let’s see if you can still do your cursed Tom Cruise impressions with a bald head.”

Eren shrugs. “He was bald in Tropic Thunder.”

“Oh, shut up.” You land a small punch on his shoulder before you both trade demure smiles. “Well then, should we come up with a plan?”

The plan isn’t much of a plan to begin with, but it’s the best you got. Sticking your machete in the back of your shirt, you jump out of your car and move to his door.

Eren blushes when he sees you stretching out both hands to help him step down from the car. With one hand supporting himself against the railing, he swings out one leg. “I can do it myself,” he says, but right after he finished his sentence, he slips his footing, his body stumbling forward, crashing against yours. You both topple over to the ground, your back hitting the earth with a thud and a painful groan is snatched away from your mouth. Eren has his face buried in your chest before he props himself up with both palms on the concrete. “I’m—I’m sorry!”

“For falling on me like an idiot or for almost motorboating my tits like a pervert?”

His jaw is seconds away from dislocating from his face. “I– I’m not–”

“You’re both,” you answer it for him. There’s a painful throb at the back of your skull that makes your vision slightly unfocused.

“I’m sorry,” he winces. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m this close at kicking you in the balls right now, but I’m okay.”

Eren laughs as he’s reminded of the earlier days when you spent ninety percent of your time together throwing playful banter like this. His smile is so contagious that you find your own lips curving up. It falters once he lays a hand on your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone. His palm, just like his ankle, has been treated with antiseptic and bandage. His blood has stopped gushing out from his wound.

“What?” You ask him, time seems to slow down as you focus your gaze solely on him. You watch his eyes drift down to your lips, his gaze lingering as if they are entranced by the sight. You know that look. “Don’t do it.”

Eren wets his lower lip, whether it’s a sign of nervousness or him just aching to have a taste, you’re not sure. “Why not?”

“Because it’s the most cliche thing ever.”

“To kiss you when we’re in this position? I think it’s understandable.”

It’s harder to stay unfazed under his coy, little coquettish smile, and his seductive whisper than to take a clear shot of your target, but fortunately for you, you manage. “There’s a correct time and place to do this, Er—”

He dives and brushes his lips tenderly against yours—a questioning kiss, brief and timid. Yet, you find yourself holding your breath when he releases you.

“It always feels right to me,” he says, smiling more with his eyes than his lips, a pair of beautiful crescents. “Anywhere with you feels like Paris in the rain.”

“Seriously?” You stare flatly at him. “Trying to woo me over by quoting a line from a mainstream song? Really?”

He knits his eyebrows together, puzzled. “What song?”

“Oh my God,” you groan. “So you’re naturally this corny? I mean I know you are but I didn’t think you were this bad.”

“Is it really a bad thing, though?” He murmurs, lowering his head for another kiss, slightly longer, slightly deeper that you could feel how despite they still feel soft against yours, his lips are a bit chapped from the cold. The saccharine smile turns into a devilish smirk. “Seems like you like it just fine, Princess.”

You knee him right on his crotch, not hard enough to make him cry in agony, but enough to serve as a warning. He grunts with his elbows supporting him on the ground, while you return to your feet and fix your leather jacket. “Stop wasting time and let’s go.”

“You’re not cute at all,” he pouts. He allows you to circle one arm around his waist as he lands his around your shoulder. You both make your way to the station, stopping right before the door where the sun can douse you with its light.

“Ready?” You ask him, grabbing your machete with one hand.

Eren releases you, standing with his shotgun in firing position. He gives you a nod.

Taking a deep breath, you kick the front door open. The wood creaks underneath the pressure, and by your third attempt, it swings open and slams against the wall. You’ve made enough noise to attract whatever is lurking in the dark. All you have to do is wait.

It’s only three seconds in, and a Darkseeker, dressed in a police uniform with black strings of saliva coating its bared teeth, advances toward you. You can hear Eren releasing his breath slowly as he prepares to take his shot. He pulls the trigger, the sound rings like thunder in your ears. The bottom half of its face is blown away, its body pushed back a few steps. But then it stares back at you, its snarl turning into a raging cry before it runs toward you with both hands stretched out. Eren didn’t miss his shot, but he missed its brain.

“Fuck,” he curses, stepping in front of you in reflex. He knows the sun will burn its flesh the second it walks past the door but he still tries to shield you just in case.

“Move,” you tell him, pushing him away to the side with one hand while you snatch a spear point knife from the harness that tightly hugs your thigh with the other. You cast your blade forward, letting it pierce through the air before it lands right on the Darkseeker’s forehead, penetrating deeply enough to rupture its brain. The corpse tumbles back at once, body crashing against the wooden floor.

Eren stares in awe before he gulps. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

You don’t answer him, focusing on finishing your job first. Stepping into the room, you approach the spot where the Darkseeker is now oozing black blood to the ground. You go down to one knee, plunging your knife harder inside its brain before you drive it upward, splitting its head in the middle. You pull it away, wipe the blood on its tattered uniform, and place back the blade in its sheath.

Eren watches you from behind, completely enthralled. “Is it weird if I find you so hot right now?”

“Stop messing around and help me find some guns.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

***

Last night might be the worst night of your life but today? Today feels like God is trying to make it up to you.

You’ve managed to obtain yourself three shotguns, two handguns, and five extra magazines from the station. As the cartridges you found didn’t match the ones he owned, Eren tossed his old pistols away and decided to use the new ones instead. “These are lighter, I like them,” he commented with a satisfied grin, tucking his new handguns around his belt.

Your forage for food went well too. There was a minimart nearby that offered bottles of water and a selection of canned foods—which were still gross, in your opinion, but Eren was having a feast. You got your hands on a few bags of chips, a few cans of beer, and coffee–Eren was immensely pleased when he found Corona Extra on the counter that you swore you saw him rubbing his tears away with his hand. With your heart feeling ten times more at ease, you continued with your journey.

You’ve decided not to switch cars, only stopped at a gas station to refill the tank. You drive twelve miles west, heading toward the lake. It’s only one in the afternoon, so there will be plenty of time for you to find a new house and get familiar with your surroundings before the sun sets.

“I’m so excited,” Eren giddily says, munching on a Twinkie. It’s two weeks past its expiration date but he doesn’t care. “Feels like we’re going camping.”

You snort. “Want me to set up a bonfire for you? I’m sure they would love to have a little Jaeger barbecue party.”

“Your sense of humor is disturbing, Princess.”

An hour later, you’re driving down a familiar lane, going through the small neighborhood framed by steep hills and majestic lake views. Tucked into its cozy tree-lined streets are some of the prettiest homes you’ve ever seen—a conglomeration of architectural styles that, while unique, are unified in charm. As much as you are itching to visit the varnish-clear lake to revive your dearest memories, you focus more on finding a place to stay for the night. But then—

“Hey, why don’t we stop by the lake first?” Eren suggests as he rolls his window down, his head peeking out like an excited dog. His hair, tied up with a few baby hairs sprouting out of his bun, is caressed by the wind. “You want to see it, right?”

It’s as if he reads your mind. “I guess we can if it’s just for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, just for a few minutes.”

So you follow his request and fulfill your wish, keeping your engine running until you can witness the glorious luster of the water before you. It’s the same skyline-silver lake where you used to spend every summer making cherished memories and endless laughter with your family. It feels nostalgic, the way the atmosphere is convent quiet, soothing, and yogi still. It’s lined with pine trees and the sky’s magnificence seemed to be emblazoned on the lake, making it look like nothing but a painting. The whiff of mint and the cedar-sweet smell wafts up to you the second you stop and open your door to breathe the fresh air. Feels so good to be home, your lips almost form the words. The idyllic scene still takes your breath away just the same, and when you spin your head around to see him, Eren has his lips parted in awe, looking just as enraptured by the scenery, if not more.

“You want to go out?” you offer him. “Just for a few minutes.”

He mirrors your smile. “Just for a few minutes.”

Climbing out of the car, you help him support his balance by holding him around his waist like before. Eren has his arm resting on your shoulders, the visage of the lake is reflected in his eyes. Sunray adds a golden tint to the face of the lake, and Eren thinks this is what paradise looks like. Untouched by the cruelty of the world. It’s a place with the kind of beauty that is unmatched, except maybe…

His eyes shift to your face again, only to be answered instantly by a gentle smile on your face. “Do you like it?” You ask him.

Eren casts his gaze down when he feels you removing your hand from his waist, only to interlace your fingers together. You squeeze his hand lightly before your warmth seeps through his pores, and he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing. That this is a new beginning, for you and him. That this is finally the place that you both can call home.

“I love it,” he says, almost in a content sigh. He shifts his arm away from your shoulder, his hand doing the same habit of tucking your hair behind your ear. But maybe it’s not a habit. It’s just his favorite thing to do in the world.

And he wants to say something. Wants to describe that even all of this scenery—everything that took his breath away—they’re nothing compared to you. But you’ve called him corny so many times and Eren’s knowledge of romantic phrases is close to none. All he can offer you is his honesty.

“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out while your breathing stops. “I find endless joy when I’m with you, Princess. Loving you feels right as if it’s the reason why I’m here. I feel like I’ve loved you in my previous life, I love you in this one, and I’ll love you again in the next one.”

How can he say something like this? You wonder, turning bashful. So beautifully, so genuinely, so passionately. You could feel the attraction that pulses between you, a magnetic pull drawing you to him. For a moment, he renders you speechless.

“This is the right moment,” you tell him.

He blinks. “Huh?”

Ah, damn it. With your face aflame, you speak through gritted teeth. “For you to kiss me, you idiot.”

“Oh!” The realization only overtakes his features for a second before it quickly turns to regret. “Oh, no, I just ruined it, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

You pull him down by the collar of his jacket, standing on your toes as you plant your lips against his. It’s a bit more forceful than intended, but it delivers the message well. You break away only to whisper, “Stop talking and just… kiss me harder.”

And he does, kissing you with all the passion he feels. The need. The hunger. But Eren keeps his control. He just wants your taste on his lips. At least, for now.

The kiss is different than what you shared with him a moment ago. There’s no elfin grin on his mouth, only parted lips and eager tongue—shy enough to penetrate deep into your cavern but bold enough to glide against your lower lip. There’s no giggle erupting from the back of his throat, only a deep moan and breathy sigh when he feels your fingers dancing across his nape. His right hand slithers around your waist, his other one cups you by your jaw, the leather of his fingerless glove rubs against your skin.

“Be with me.” He maps his way down to your jaw and the side of your neck to murmur the words before he returns home to your lips. “Stay with me.” It’s followed by your name, spoken like praise from a love poem. “Hold me like this and never let me go.”

I need you to promise me this, Princess. I don’t want this to be the last time I can kiss you. I don’t want tomorrow to be the last time I can see your smile. I’m scared. Deep down, I’m always terrified because…

What if death comes to take you but not me?

Eren had hopes before. He hoped for a better life, and he thought if he wished for it hard enough, he could have it. After all, things were really turning for the better, for both of you. But after what happened last night, he realized that his hopes were nothing more but a fantasy he could never achieve. Yes, you won the battle of your life, but how much longer until your luck runs out? It feels harder than ever now to keep on hoping.

Your legs feel weak, and you try to blame it on all the running you did trying to survive. You want to say it. You want to say it back. I love you. I’m so in love with you too. I’ve never felt like this before and it scares me because what am I going to do when you’re gone?

You land a hand on his chest, gently pushing him away just to get a few seconds to collect your courage. “I…” You lick your bottom lip as a way for your body to suppress your jitters. You taste like him. “Eren, I…”

Say it, you idiot! What is so hard about it?! Just tell him you love him!

Your heart is in your ears, and blood rushes to your face so fast that you know it’s going to change the color of your cheeks. “I, umm…”

Eren watches in silence, patiently waiting for the words to come out and it only makes it ten times harder for you to say it. Then his mouth twitches into a smile a second before a tiny peal of laughter escapes him. Flustered, you give him a little punch on his chest. “Why are you laughing?!”

“Because you’re so cute.” He gathers you in his arms, granting you a small kiss on your temple before he rests his chin on your head. “And you’re so transparent. I can literally see whatever thought crosses your mind.”

“Shut up.”

“You want to tell me you love me too, right?”

“Shut up.”

He chortles again and it's the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Eren kisses you one last time before you break away. He feels it. Even if you don’t say the words, he feels your devotion for him in every fiber of your soul. Elation leaps through him and for a moment, all you can think of is the feel of his body against yours, the passion and the ferocity of his kiss.

When it’s over, he leaves you a bit disoriented. “Let’s go find our home, shall we?” He suggests, intertwining your fingers together.

With you, I’m already home. A thought crosses your mind and your chest is suffused with warmth. It’s until you can feel the way Eren’s hold around your hand turns rigid, that you realize you just said the words out loud, your mouth forming the sentence before your brain could tell you to stop. It came out in a whisper like you were mumbling in your sleep, but Eren felt it to his bones.

“I—” You panic, ashamed. “I meant—I don’t—”

Eren pivots on his heels, staggering quite a bit as he takes you by the hand and leads you back to the car. He rubs his nose, visibly abashed, where the color of his tip matches the crimson in his cheeks. “I didn’t hear anything.”

But he’s always been a terrible liar, hasn’t he?

***

Perched on the edge of the lake, there’s a Craftsman-style shingle lake house that peeks out from the towering pine trees that surround it. Even from the outside, the home is striking, designed to merge with the natural world with wood exterior, as well as the landscaping with native plants, blending into the six acres of surrounding forest. It has unfettered lakefront access, with multiple decks made of wood just feet from the shoreline, one of which has a hot tub.

“I think we just hit a jackpot,” Eren mumbles in awe. “This is literally the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.”

You can’t argue with that. It looks like it’s taken straight from an architectural magazine. “Well then, let’s go check it out.”

Knowing how he’s going to be stubborn about not letting you go inside alone, you don’t bother to bicker with him this time. It is your luck that one side of the house is enclosed by a 30-foot-tall wall of windows rising above the lake. It aims to give you a gorgeous view of the waterfront, but you’re thankful for the sunlight that bathes almost every corner of the house.

You enter the residence side-by-side, slowing down your pace to match his steps. Both of you have your handguns ready, scouring your surroundings with alert eyes and taut muscles. Albeit looking a bit abandoned with thick piles of dust coating every piece of furniture and untended plants growing in disorder, the house seems cozy and warm. There’s even a wood fireplace in the living room, and while it’s easy to imagine spending summers here, Eren can’t wait to enjoy a cozy winter night snuggled up with you as you watch the snow fall on the frozen lake. It reminds him of the dream house he often fantasized of sharing with his future wife and two, maybe even three children, where he would—

“What?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow, interrupting his thoughts. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“N-nothing,” he blushes.

“Are you thinking dirty thoughts again? Really? Zombies can literally be hiding in one of the rooms right now, and you’re thinking about what, getting handsy with me in the hot tub?”

He nearly faints. “No, I was just—” He clears his throat, averting his gaze away. “I was just thinking about growing old here with my wife and kids. The house—it’s—it’s really, umm, nice.”

He’s an idiot. And you are the bigger idiot here because he didn’t even specifically state that he was thinking about you as his wife, and here you are, feeling like your head is about to explode from the thoughts of dancing with him in the kitchen as you make breakfasts together, or snuggling close on the couch with books in your hands and a guitar on his lap, and maybe when the kids are asleep, he’ll even trap your body against the window glass, his lips forming filthy words to describe how much he wants to make love to—I need to stop.

“Go check the kitchen,” you tell him in a desperate attempt to distract yourself. “Find if we have food for the rest of the week.”

“What about you? Where are you going?”

Away from you. “I’m just going down the hall.”

“Stay within the light.”

“Stay within the light,” you mock him back, your cheeks still sizzle hot as you make your way to another hallway. You feel safe as you can still feel sunlight kissing your skin everywhere you go but your fingers remain tight around your handgun.

Eren enters the kitchen as ordered, amazed by the sight of maple woodwork, a granite island, and a wine refrigerator that is stacked with top-class brands, ones that he could only dream of having. But that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? This is a dream and he’s living in it with his eyes wide open.

He’s in the middle of rummaging through the top drawers, mumbling a little, “Lucky,” when he locates a numerous amounts of expensive canned foods, and jars filled with cookies and candies.

The joy that sparkles inside him turns instantly into chaos when he hears your scream.

Eren spins on his heels so fast, he might have broken his other ankle but he doesn’t care. Mustering every strength in his body to run to your spot, he ignores the pain that burns his every nerve. “Princess!” He shouts out, his balance unsteady. “Princess, are you—”

“REINER!”

Your scream is loud enough to deafen his ears. “Uhh… It’s Eren, actually.”

“No, I mean, it’s Reiner Braun!” Never has your voice sounded so high-pitched before. Your eyes are so wide open, that he wonders how they are not falling out of their sockets yet.

Eren, still limping, walks closer to your spot with a frown. He looks over your shoulder, following the finger you’re pointing at one of the photo frames that decorate the wall. “Who’s Reiner Braun?” His gaze lands on a muscular man, probably in his early fifty, staring into the camera with a grin warm and kind enough to look unnatural on his bearded face. The man called Reiner is sitting on the couch with two teenagers hugging his sides—Eren assumes they’re his children as they bear striking resemblance to him. His wife, standing behind the couch, has her cheek pressed against the side of his head, smiling beautifully with her arms embracing her husband’s shoulders from behind. The amount of love and happiness they showcase through the picture is enough to warm your hearts, and Eren wonders if someday, he can take a picture with you like this too.

“The guy from Empire!” Your shout slaps him back to reality—a reality where you are now fangirling over another man. “Eren, this is his house! We’re staying in Reiner’s house right now, oh my God—I can’t believe this—”

“All right, chill.” But he can’t help but laugh at the way you’re practically jumping on your feet, drowning in your excitement. “What’s Empire? A boy band? That dude looks too buff to be wearing skimpy clothes on stage.”

You restrain the urge to slap the photo frame against his face, only because you care too much about the picture. “A rock band. He’s the drummer. They were pretty cool, my dad was obsessed with them. Instead of letting me listen to Justin Bieber, he kept shoving their albums down my throat. Thank God, though. Justin Bieber’s music is shit.”

“Hey!” Eren raises a finger in the air, stopping you. “Do not insult my man.”

“You were a Belieber?”

“I am a Belieber,” he corrects with a proud look on his face.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Why would I? He’s my pride and joy. I used to spend hours, just… You know, biebing.”

“Oh my God, don’t talk to me.”

Taking the picture off the wall, your gaze softens as you recall your old days, reminiscing the time. “We used to jam to their songs every morning as Dad drove me to school. I think they’re in their seventies now, so they’ve retired for a while. Too old to be playing on the stage, I guess.” You place back the frame, shoulders sagging forward. “I wonder where they are now.” Are they still alive somewhere? Are they dead? Or worse, have they turned into one of them?

Eren, noticing the sadness that radiates off of you, lands a hand on your head. “Was Reiner your favorite member?”

“I like all of them. Their frontman was, like, the younger version of Kurt Cobain. Too bad he died in a car crash. Poor guy, he was so young too. So talented. And hot.”

The hand that’s been lightly stroking your hair stops. “Hotter than me? I doubt it.”

“Well, obviously—” You stop when realization dawns over you, whirling your head toward him so fast, it leaves you a bit dizzy.

Eren blinks uncomfortably at the sight of you scrutinizing his features. “W-what?”

“Now that I think about it, you kinda look like him.” The second the words break free from your mouth, you feel like you need to wash the filth off your tongue. “But ugh, that is so gross. I can’t believe I just said that.”

Eren just casually takes in what he wants to hear and ignores what he doesn’t want to hear. “Wait, so you’re saying I’m hot? Like rockstar level hot?”

You kick him in the shin and walk away.

The more you tour around the house, the more surprised you are by its grandeur. There are five bedrooms and six bathrooms inside–one of them even has a Japanese bathtub where you can spend your time relaxing while indulging yourself in the scenery of the lake. There’s also a spa and sauna, a fully-equipped gym, and a game room with an endless collection of comic books and action figures, a massive billiard table, and an old Pac-man arcade machine. With all that, you might never want to actually go out on the lake, opting instead to take advantage of all these luxe features.

Checking the room one by one, you notice one thing. The linens on the bed used to be crisp white but they’re painted with yellow stains as they haven’t been used for months. But judging from the way the room is very organized–no pencils on the table, no creases on the sheets, no sweaters hanging in the standing coat rack–maybe the room hasn’t been occupied in years. In one of the photo frames you find on the table, you see the happy family attending their younger child’s college graduation, celebrating it with hugs and kisses. Maybe she’s moved out of the house?

The next room has a more masculine vibe to it. Instead of salmon pink, the walls are painted gray. His son seems to be taking after his father’s hobby, with drumsticks signed by popular musicians decorating his shelf. There’s an entire wall dedicated to the Gods of Metal, with posters of Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath plastered against it. But just like the previous room, this one seems like it’s been abandoned for a while.

“Seems like it was only Reiner and his wife who stayed here,” Eren comments as you head toward the last room–the master suite. “Or maybe this is just their vacation house or something.”

“Why would the front door be unlocked if they weren’t here?”

Eren is still musing to find the answer when you curl your hand around the doorknob and push it open. You’ve prepared yourself for the worst, maybe one or two Darkseekers turning their heads toward you, but what you see is even worse.

Eren, who’s following close after you, lowers his gun. “Well, I guess we found our answer.”

Reiner and his wife—what’s left of them anyway—are lying down on the bed, their bodies are now dry, but still decaying very slowly. Bile rises to your throat as your nose picks up quickly on their stench, and if it was your first time encountering dead bodies, you must have vomited your insides.

Seeing you turn pasty, Eren clamps his fingers around your wrist and leads you outside, closing the door behind him. “You okay there?”

“I’m fine,” you say, inhaling as much fresh air as you can into your lungs. You loosen up your collar and hurriedly make your conclusion. “I think we can stay here. We’ll have to do something with the corpses later but… For now, we can rest.”

Eren nods. “I think I saw a door leading to the basement. Should we check it now or…” He stretches out a hand, caressing the side of your face with delicate fingers as his eyes droop in concern. “Do you want to take a break? I can do it on my own if you want to.”

He sees right through me, doesn’t he? You're trying your best to appear nonchalant but Eren always picks up every hint of distraught that bubbles inside your chest. “No, it’s—” You clear your throat. “Let's go.”

What Eren doesn't know is that you’re not saddened by the fact that the man who inspired you, who you so deeply admired as a kid, has passed away.

You’re crushed by the fact that it wasn't the virus that took him. It was the pills, taken from the packer bottle that sat on his nightstand, its lid still open as they didn’t find any reason to close it. They didn’t find any reason to do anything at all instead of swallowing down the pills and plastering a smile on their faces as they drifted away to sleep only to never wake up again. It’s acetaminophen, you know for certain, even without reading the label, as it was the same one that took your aunt’s life to free her from depression. It was also the one you considered taking, as a way to escape your fear of reality. Ten pills of those and death would take you on a journey.

Reiner and his wife didn’t die with black blood staining the sheets.

They died holding hands.

***

The basement, it turns out, is not a fucking basement.

It’s a soundproof media room with a Bang and Olufsen sound system, a wine cellar, a shelf full of Blu-ray DVDs, a karaoke player, and a music studio where you can locate the same set of drums Reiner used to play a few times in his concert decades ago. They have placed carpeted floors over wooden flooring, the walls are covered by textiles and porous materials to absorb the sound. The cabin-style basement is even completed with another fireplace plugged directly into the wall. It’s the electric kind that doesn’t need a ventilation system but still mimics a traditional wood-burning fireplace. The dancing flames might not be real but they can exude just as much warmth as the usual ones do. The rustic wood furniture is aesthetically pleasing to look at, providing a much more comfortable, warm atmosphere compared to the living room you saw upstairs.

“Look at this couch.” Eren, completely forgetting that he has a broken ankle, throws himself carelessly on the L-shaped sofa. As expected, he winces from the pain but it’s soon replaced by a long, drawled-out moan the second he feels how soft it is. He shifts around, trying down several positions until he lies down on his stomach. “Oh my God,” he sighs in bliss with one cheek pressed against the leather, his hand sliding up and down in a way that is almost similar to the way he caressed your legs two nights before—not that you should think about it. You’re sure by the size of it, the couch can fit more than eight people. Hell, you can even have three Erens lounging with their legs stretched out and you will still have room to sit.

“I don’t ever want to move out again,” he mumbles deliriously.

“From this house?” You can’t help but smile, folding your arms in front of your chest as you lean your back against the wall.

“From this couch. I’ll eat over here, cry over here. I’ll pee all over it if I have to, I don’t care. You’re my baby now.” He’s actually talking to the couch, nuzzling his face against it. “I’m never gonna walk away from you, Sofi.”

“Sofi?”

“Sofi the sofa.”

“Hmm, figured.”

“I was going to name it Coochie the Couch but then I remembered that it’s like slang for something completely different.”

You snort. “You’re probably gonna name our child the most basic name like Jack, or Bobby, or something.”

Wait.

Did you say your or our?

Your eyes quickly dart back to his face, and it doesn’t take long for you to know that yes, you clearly said our, you giant idiot.

“Your,” you correct hastily even though you know it’s no use now. Eren heard it well and now he looks like he’s about to burst with joy. The only choice you have right now is to disappear from the face of the earth. “I’m—” You scurry away. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

You take hasty steps toward the stairs, shouting stupid, stupid, you’re so stupid, inside your head as you do. A moment before you close the door behind you, Eren’s voice rings in your ear.

“Irene if it’s a girl.” You stop at once, feet shackled to the ground. You don’t allow yourself to throw a look over your shoulder no matter how much you want to. “And Jace if it’s a boy.”

Your fingers are curling tight against the side of your jeans, your face catching on fire. Irene and Jace… Fuck, those names are actually cute. And now you can’t help but put faces to their names, a little girl with the same brown hair and green eyes, and a tiny, tiny boy who looks like a spitting image of him. They might have your smile, but that’s it. The thought of it is so fucking cute, you can feel your heart clawing its way to jump out of your chest.

“Go take a shower, you stink,” is the only thing you can say with a dysfunctioning brain. Exiting the basement, you press your backside against the closed door. Your palm drifts up to conceal the bottom half of your face. You can almost quite literally feel your skin burning.

Fuck, this is so bad.

It’s bad that I want it too.

***

Your house is the only one that’s located near the lake. You’re separated by a few miles from the other houses, where you can only hear the sounds of rippling water and swaying branches that are kissed by the autumn breeze, and the anthems that the frogs sing. Once the sky is ablaze with the fire of the setting sun, you close all the curtains, turn off all the lights, lock all the doors and windows. You can barely do anything with the 30-foot-tall wall of windows, but as long as you remain within your room, they won’t detect any movements from the other side. The windows are made from tempered glass, highly durable and resilient to impact, which adds to your reassurance even though you knew, they wouldn’t hold them back for long if they used all their strength to tear them down. But as long as they don’t notice you’re there, you should be safe.

“I think we should both stay in the basement,” you suggest, “It’s a perfect place to hide, soundproof and all.”

Eren’s heart jolted at the offer but he affirms with a steady nod. He’s not sure what he is so nervous about—it’s not like this is going to be the first time you share the room with him. Is it because you’ve told him you loved him too? Is it because he can tell you’ve been secretly visualizing yourself growing old with him in this house, just as much as he has? Or is it really something as simple as the way he can smell that addicting strawberry scent from your hair, your body fresh and warm from the shower you just took; or the way you look so cuddly wearing an oversized sweater with sleeves too long for your arms?

“Can you please, umm…” You scratch your cheek, avoiding his gaze. “Stop staring at me like that?”

A flush creeps up his cheek. “S-sorry.”

Eren walks past you, still hobbling on his feet as he takes a seat on the couch. Just like you, he just finished taking his shower, rubbing off all the dirt and blood that coated his skin. He wears his hair loose, seemingly a bit longer now with the end of his strands stopping an inch below his collarbones.

Trying to shake off whatever this awkward tension that surrounds you, you decide to treat his injury, just like you did a moment after the fight ended. Grabbing the emergency kit, you go down to your knees before him, carefully checking on his ankle. “Does it still hurt?” You ask as you unfasten his bandage, wanting to change it to a new one as it is damp after the shower.

He winces at the touch, even when you’ve tried your best to be gentle. “A little.”

Swelling and bruising around the joint, there are splotches of black and blue sketched upon his sun-kissed skin, tracking down toward the sole of his foot. You apply cold packs to the injured area, hoping it will decrease swelling and pain. Eren watches you with unblinking eyes, entranced with the way you seem almost motherly as you treat his wound. The flames from the electric fireplace cast amber on your skin, and you seem so pretty, glowing underneath the dim light. And when you raise a hand to push a lock of stray hair behind your ear, Eren almost groans, feeling utterly disappointed that he’s not fast enough to do it himself.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice, even if it’s softer than usual, still startles him as he’s been daydreaming again. “It must have been painful to move around the whole day. When did this happen exactly?”

“Umm… I’m not sure. Probably when I tackled that Darkseeker away from you.”

“Probably? Did you not feel pain when it broke?”

“I only noticed I broke it after I was sure you were safe,” he mumbles out sheepishly. “I was… too busy thinking about you, I guess.”

Ah, damn it. You rise to stand on your knees only to flick him right on his forehead.

“Aaw!” he hisses. “What was that for?”

“For being embarrassing like always.” You return to your kit, rummaging through the box to find a new roll of bandage. “You should take some ibuprofen,” you suggest, wrapping it around his ankle to restrict him from moving it too much. “It’s a painkiller, but it will also keep inflammation down. Lie down on the couch.”

Eren, noticing that you turned bashful by his words, follows your command with a little smile breaking on his lips. It turns out that the couch has a metal frame and a memory foam mattress underneath its seating cushions, and it feels even comfier than the actual couch itself. You’ve brought more blankets and pillows with you, transforming the couch into your prime sleep spot, hopefully for the next few weeks. Months, if you’re lucky.

You place a pillow underneath his leg, elevating his ankle, and two more on each side to keep it trapped. “Try not to move too much,” you say, draping a blanket over his body and pulling it up until he has his shoulders covered. He already looks funny this way, a 6.3-feet tall muscly man, shrouded by a quilt like a child, but you decide to tuck the blanket underneath his body, transforming him into a cocoon. You beam at him with a cheeky grin which he reciprocates with a pout.

“Happy now?” He asks, jutting out his lower lip as if he didn’t look childish enough before.

“Immensely.”

“How can I cuddle with you if I’m like this?”

“Who said we were going to cuddle?”

His jaw drops, nothing but disappointment gleams in his eyes. “We weren’t?”

You slam your pillow once against his face, muttering, “Go to sleep. The sun’s down in ten minutes,” before you move to your other side of the bed, sighing in bliss once you feel just how comfortable the mattress is. You let your muscles unwind, closing your eyes and taking a moment to thank whatever supernatural forces it is that have kept you breathing to this point.

You can’t hear anything from inside the basement. Not the wind that caresses your windows, not the pit patter of raindrops, not the snarling or the sound of branches cracking under their feet. The tranquility of it all seems eerie at first, but once you focus on the steady sound of Eren’s breathing, you finally can believe that you are safe.

“Princess,” Eren whispers, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?”

“It’s hot,” he says, struggling to break free. “Can you help me get out of this? My balls are literally sweating right now.”

You restrain the urge to laugh only because you have to stay quiet. Rolling to your side, you help him loosen the fabric around him. “There. Now, you can—“ Eren pulls you into his arms without warning, using more strength than necessary that you end up with a little “Oof!” breaking past your lips once you land your face on his chest. He lays on his side, his strong, long arms wrapping themselves around your shoulders.

“I thought you said you were sweating,” your voice is muffled by the thin layer of his black sleeveless shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“Yeah, but now I’m cold and you’re so warm.” He buries his nose in your strands, not so secretly inhaling your scent as he embraces you tighter.

Back when you were a kid, you used to have a huge teddy bear plush sitting on your bed. You called it Mr. Cuddlesworth, and you talked to it every night, tangled your limbs around it, and stayed like that until morning. Your mother used to wash it often as you tended to drool all over it, and every time she took it away, you would find yourself staring vacantly at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You only managed to stop being attached to it when your dad accidentally gave it away to your cousin one summer, thinking that you didn’t need it any longer. You were devastated. It almost felt like you lost a family member. You even bought a new one to replace it, the same kind, the same brand, the same color, and size, but it didn’t feel the same.

Until now. “Mr. Cuddlesworth,” you accidentally mumble out loud, sighing against the fabric of his shirt.

“Mr. Cuddlesworth?”

In a desperate attempt to conceal your shame, you bury your face deeper in his chest. Eren’s chuckle reverberates deep where you can feel its vibration directly on your skin. “Who’s Mr. Cuddlesworth? Your ex-boyfriend?”

“My teddy bear. But yeah, my ex-boyfriend too, I guess.”

“What, I’m your teddy bear now?”

“Well, you’re big and you’re warm and you’re so cuddly and–” You catch yourself, ending your line abruptly with a pout. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“Holy shit, you need to stop, Princess.” He hugs you in a way a child would hug his favorite doll. “You’re literally the cutest person I’ve ever met. But you’re also so strong and badass at the same time. How is that possible?”

“S-shut up.”

“See? You just got ten times cuter now–ouch, stop punching me! Show Mr. Cuddlesworth some love!”

“Ugh, I actually hate you.”

“And I love you too.” He catches your hand, filling the spaces between your fingers with his. That gentle brush of his lips against your forehead, the way his voice turns delicate, calms you down until you’re back to your previous position. “Wish we could stay like this forever,” he murmurs with his eyes closed, sounding more like a confession than a mere wish. “Just you and me.”

In different circumstances, you might pinch his nose and reprimand him for spouting out corny lines like usual, but right now, especially after what happened the night before, you feel like he’s saying the words you’ve been chanting in your head. So, instead of pushing him away, you rest your forehead on his chest, fingers curling against the front of his shirt as you breathe out, “Me too.”

And that makes him think. “Princess… Did you see the way Reiner…” His voice falters, unsure if it’s okay to continue but he feels you giving him a timid nod.

“They were holding hands,” you echo his thoughts. “They killed themselves.”

“Why do you think that’s the case?”

“Maybe they were too afraid. Maybe they felt it was better to die in their sleep than to have the virus rupture their organs from the inside. Or worse, be turned into one of them.”

Eren grows exceptionally quiet. It takes him almost a minute before he can form a response. “Do you think it’s right for them to do it?”

“No,” you say, and you feel guilt residing within you from telling such lies, as it was the same option you had considered taking months ago. “I think it’s wrong that they gave up before they tried to fight back.”

“Maybe the reason why they didn’t fight back is that they couldn’t afford to lose one another.”

“You think it’s better to die with your loved one instead of trying to survive for yourself?”

“I think it’s an understandable choice,” he answers. “It’s a nice way to die.”

A nice way to die? You feel your heart plummet to your stomach. Exhaling heavily, you rest your palm on his cheek. “Why don’t we just focus on living for now?”

“You’re right.” Eren naturally leans into your touch, lips curving up into a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Shit got depressing real quick, huh?”

For a moment, you consider stopping the conversation there, but there’s this fear that builds up quickly inside your chest, that you need to let out before it starts smothering you. “Eren… You remember what I told you, right?” You question him with your voice and your heart close to breaking. “Do whatever it takes for you to survive. With or without me. You promised me that once, and I want you to promise me that again.”

You can still see it, see the way his whole body is on the verge of screaming, “I would stay with you until the end, no matter what happens,” but his lips are pressed in a tight line, mustering all his willpower to contain the words from breaking free.

Because you are crying on his chest. Softly, weakly, like a little child trembling in fear. It all comes so suddenly too, startling you both. “Why are you crying?” He strokes your hair a moment before he brushes his thumb against your cheekbone, wiping away the stain.

The more you feel alive, the more you fear death. The more happiness he gives you, the bigger the pain he’ll inflict when fate cuts your bond for good. And with him sounding like he’d rather die with you than survive on his own, you fear death more than ever. But instead of telling him these words, you fist his shirt and lock your lips together.

Eren, stunned by the action, still has his eyes opened until you part away from him two seconds later. “Princess?”

“Hold me,” you whisper, hand sliding past his shoulder before it rests on his nape. Make me forget about everything. Remind me that at this moment, we’re still alive. That you’re breathing my breath and I’m breathing yours. Drown me with whatever you have until I can escape my fear, just for tonight. “Just… hold me close, Ren…”

Eren lowers his head until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. His hand slips through your strands, fingers tangled and pressed against the back of your skull. You have your eyes closed and so does he, and for a few seconds, you stay in that position with your foreheads glued to each other. Then he kisses you softly on the lips, pouring all his love into that one kiss until he burns you with it. And just like that, he fulfills your wish.

He’s alive. You both are. And you stop thinking about the number of days you have left. Even before the outbreak, everybody has their days numbered, so why should this be any different? All that matters now is that you’re living this exact moment with him where your heart feels so full and your body invincible from the amount of joy that surges through you.

This. This moment right here. This is what matters the most.

***

AN: Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reading! Sorry it took me a while to update this, but I hope it's worth the wait 😭 There will be a bonus chapter where Eren's gonna take you out on a date hehe please look forward to it!

Thank you so much Aleks, Coi and Ben for beta-reading this ❤️

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza thanks so much for reading, lovelies ❤️❤️❤️

#eren smut #eren fluff #eren x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren jaeger fluff #eren yeager fluff #eren x you #eren #eren jaeger #eren yeager #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #never let me go canon

672 notes · View notes

versegm · 2 years

Text

"Ah, this is rather bad, isn't it?"

Rin would disagree. Failing an exam is bad. Losing your wallet is bad. Getting skewered by fifty fucking noble phantasm and having half your limbs torn off as a result isn't bad, it's fucking disastrous.

"In hard times, it's important to focus on the positive." Their voice trembles a bit from the swords lodged through their lungs, but their tone is even. Casual. As if this were normal. Every step leaves a trail of blood behind, their flesh is hanging torn from their body, the smell of viscera is churning Rin's stomach, and they're talking about it like it's the weather.

"What fucking positive??" She barks, readjusting her grip on Berserker's shoulder. With one leg, they can't walk unless she's supporting them. "What is fucking wrong with you?? Why do you always act like everything is fine?? You could have died!! You should have died!! Just... Fuck!"

She rounds the corner and leans against the wall. They don't have much time- the blood might as well be a giant neon sign spelling we are here, come kill us!!- but she figures they might have a few minutes. "Okay. Okay. We need a plan. If you got anything, I'm all ears."

"Do you think Solomon was right about the baby?"

"Huh?" She turns to Berserker. They're staring at her like her response is the most important thing in the world. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Solomon. He's a great guy, you know? But one time, two mothers fought over who should get a baby, and he suggested cutting it in half. Do you think he was right?"

"Are you shitting me? We have other priorities at the moment!" Rin grits her teeth. Right. Right. Madness enhancement. Madness enhancement. Getting angry, she has learned the hard way, will not do jack shit to ground Berserker any more in reality. "People die when they are cut in half. That was no solution at all. It would just hurt the baby and both mothers."

Berserker looks down for a moment. "... Yes, I suppose only having a half would hurt." They wiggle a bit. At that cue, Rin sits Berserker downs. They still don't look at her. "But I can't do both, so this will have to do. It probably wouldn't be good for you anyways. Flesh isn't that solid of a vessel."

"Yeah, that's why we stick to gemstones." She kneels next to Berserker. She opens her mouth to speak some more, but they bring a hand to her cheek, staining it red.

"Don't blame yourself too much about it, alright? I was going to end this way. I died long ago. You could have never saved me."

"... Don't say that." Something swells in her throat. "We'll make it out somehow, okay? We'll survive this, and get the grail, and I'll figure out a way for us to have a conversation that makes some fucking sense, and it'll be great. I'm not leaving you."

Berserker smiles. It's softer than their usual one. Less joyful. More nostalgic.

"No. I suppose you're not."

Servants are faster than humans. This fact apparently still applies to those who are half-dead already. Rin does not see them move. She feels pain blossoming in her stomach, dimly registers that the hand has left her cheek, and thinks: oh.

"Goodbye, girl who is not Ishtar." It hurts, hey lean forwards to kiss her forehead, it hurts, it hurts, "I wish I could have learned your name."

They look up to the sky. "Guardian of the scales, heed my call-" And everything past this turns into white noise, drowned by a torrent of pain.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts it hurtsithurtsithurts it's in her guts it's in her bones it's in her teeth a burst of wind a twirling gust a hurricane she can't hold it in it's too much it'll kill her it'll kill her it'll kill her.

There's a horrible, sickening sound, a drawn-out howl like an animal being dragged to slaughter. It take her a moment to realize it's a voice. It takes even longer for her to recognize it as her own.

She collapses on the ground. There's something inside of her. There's something inside of her something under her skin something inside her head it's not her it's foreign it's bad wrong dangerous she wants it out she wants it out she wants it out. Her nails claw at her own throat. She has to draw the blood she has to drag it out she has to reject this thing if it fucking kills her.

She hears another voice. Its sound alone feels her with disgust and rage. She latches onto it like an anchor, trying to drag herself out of this agony. She blinks rapidly, recognizing first gold, then black, then a person.

"What a shame. You mongrels can't even entertain me right. I suppose putting you out of your misery would be a mercy."

Gilgamesh.

Fury fills her every pores, more than she ever thought she could feel, more than a human heart could ever possibly produce. It's a hatred bigger than her body, the kind that make the blood boil and the teeth grow. The stars reside in her ribcage (not, that's not true,) Venus echoes her voice (not her voice, not her feelings, not her body, not her, not her, not her-) and every inch of her (her) want him dead.

He leans in. Raises a dismissive hand. the Gates of Babylon open.

"An Gal Ta Ki Gal Šè!"

Fired at point-blank range, Maana obliterates Rin's hand, the nearby building, and Gilgamesh.

#fate #my writing

219 notes · View notes

steddie-as-they-come · 5 months

Text

blame it all on human nature - chapter 1

ao3 link

this is the living hawkins au!! my friend said i should crosspost onto tumblr bc i worked for two solid months on this fic and she's been noticing how sad i get when i don't have comments :( tumblr's always a lot nicer to me when it comes to comments so hopefully you enjoy!!

A jolt of fear goes through their heart as Eddie’s eyes go blank.

“No,” they whisper, coming out like more of a breeze. “No!”

They hardly even notice as the group stands and leaves, too focused on Eddie.

Magic floods through him, and he gasps to life, then just as quickly releases it.

“Wake up, please!” they beg, watching hopefully as he coughs up blood, then gritting their nonexistent teeth as he goes limp again. “You are not going out like this, Edward Munson!”

And they slam more magic into his body, hitting him with everything they’ve got and then some.

Around the edges of the town, trees begin to turn brown and die. They siphon that power, that life force, feeding it all into Eddie.

He begins to seize.

They just keep going, feeding as much magic as they possibly can into his body. His skin glows, veins igniting with a deep bloody crimson light, illuminating the Upside Down in flashes like lightning.

They’ve never felt as relieved as they do when Eddie’s eyes open, pure white.

His heart’s irregular, but beating, and they slow it down, keeping a steady flow drip, drip, dripping into him like an IV.

They will not let him die down here, in a place they have no control over.

His eyes dim from their white glow, returning to normal, then regaining clarity. He blinks hazily at the reddish sky.

They wait, more magic at the ready, just in case Eddie needs it.

Thankfully though, he stays awake this time, his mouth moving as he mutters inaudibly to himself.

They metaphorically sit back, breathing heavily. It had taken a whole day to get him to stay stable.

Hopefully Eddie stays that way.

Hawkins doesn’t think they could bear it if they truly lost him.

☆Friday, March 28nd, 1986☆

Whoever came up with the notion that the Upside Down is the reverse of Hawkins was wrong.

Not completely wrong, but not correct either.

The Upside Down is less of a mirror dimension, and more under Hawkins’ skin. The blood and bones to the Rightside Up’s hair and follicles.

Gross metaphor, but Eddie’s always been too good at describing things.

As he lays there, bleeding out, mouth metallic and ears ringing, he regrets a lot of things. He regrets jumping in front of the bats, but not enough to wish it was Dustin instead. He regrets diving down after Steve, but if he hadn’t, Steve would be dead. Probably. Actually, he wouldn’t put it past Wheeler and Buckley to save him without any Eddie help.

Most of all, he regrets not getting to say goodbye to Wayne.

He gags on the blood coating his throat.

The skin on his fingertips is raw from playing his guitar, and Eddie, despite knowing it’s a bad idea, stretches to reach the neck of his guitar lying a few feet away, gritting his teeth through the pain.

He relaxes when he gets the guitar in his hand. He always feels more confident with his guitar in his hand.

Confidence does fuck-all for him right about now, but it’s nice to have regardless.

The ground beneath him is rising and falling. Slowly inflating like a pair of lungs, then deflating just as slow. It would have been unnoticeable if Eddie had anything else to pay attention to.

“Hello?” he chokes out. His inner DM is berating him. Oh yeah, good going, Munson. Yell out to the possibly-alive creepy murder dimension. This is how Jeff got killed like four campaigns ago.

I’m basically dead anyway, he thinks to himself. Dustin would call this science.

He struggles to sit up, breathing hard through the white-hot pain rippling through his abdomen, white-knuckling it around the frets of his guitar. The steel strings biting into his flesh help ground him, and after a couple minutes, he can see again, now dizzily sitting up.

“HELLO??” he yells, louder. “ARE YOU OUT THERE?”

He pauses, decides, Fuck it, and calls, “I CAN HEAR YOU BREATHING.”

That one gets a reaction, but not the flurry of demobats he was expecting.

Eddie almost drops his guitar.

“Wayne?”

Because that is Wayne, sitting in front of him, his edges blurred and fuzzy like TV static. He smiles indulgently at Eddie.

But when he speaks, that isn’t Wayne’s voice.

Or, isn’t only Wayne’s voice.

“Hello, Eddie.” Not-Wayne says, hundreds of voices layered over top of each other. It’s giving Eddie a headache, listening to all of them.

“Your- your voice-“

“My name is Hawkins.” He lays a hand on Eddie’s knee, and a prickle of warmth runs from his touch through Eddie’s body. Surprisingly, Eddie’s injuries don’t hurt as much anymore.

He still doesn’t understand jack shit about what’s happening, though. “Wayne?”

“Hawkins.” Way- Hawkins doesn’t look upset, just patiently waiting for Eddie to understand. “Like the town.”

Eddie stares at Hawkins, and his world recontextualizes.

Like when you’re staring at an optical illusion of a black and white image, and all you can see is the vase, and suddenly you can see the pair of faces instead even though nothing changed? It sorta feels like that.

Hawkins is…Hawkins. The town. Alive and breathing, relatively, sitting in front of him in the form of Eddie’s uncle.

You know those days when you’re like “This might as well happen?”

Yeah. Eddie’s having one of those days.

Eddie decides to start small, grasping for little things about Hawkins to ask about. If he jumps into the whole living-town thing, his brain will explode.

“Your voice-” he starts, trying not to offend the probable-deity.

“I speak with the voice of everyone in Hawkins,” says the voice of everyone in Hawkins. If Eddie focuses enough, he thinks he can hear his own voice in there, and that isn't migraine-inducing at all. “I took the appearance of your uncle to make you comfortable, but I can change if you'd like.”

Eddie blinks and Gareth is sitting there, the same expression on his face that had been on Wayne's, and Eddie inhales with a shuddering breath.

”What...are you?” hehe asks, and then berates himself. So much for being respectful.

“I am the embodiment of Hawkins. The town takes care of its people, Eddie, and I am the town.”

As much as he can (his abdomen still kinda hurts from being, oh, I don't know, ripped to shreds ), he does a little seated bow, trying to show respect to the town he's lived in for basically his whole life.

Hawkins laughs, and Eddie hears Dustin's snorty giggle come to the forefront of the cacophony of voices. He smiles in spite of himself.

”Oh, I don’t care about that, Eddie. I've decided I really like you. Can't have you dying here.“ Those are weird words to hear out of Gareth's mouth, but Eddie waves it off. Might as well happen.

“Wait, decided? Did you not like me before?” he says before he can stop himself.

To his-their credit, Hawkins looks ashamed. ”No, not at first. I don't normally have any sort of feeling for people. I had two types of people in my mind at first. People from Hawkins, and people not from Hawkins. Obviously, the people from Hawkins ranked higher than the people outside of it.“

”That sounds a bit biased,“ Eddie jokes, testing his luck.

Hawkins laughs again, and this time it's Jeff's low chuckle at the front. ”I'm aware.“ They trace a line through the bloody dirt around the two of them, and say, ”I didn't know I could like anyone more than my standard feelings to my citizens. Until Will.”

Eddie tilts his head, cringing at the way his matted hair brushes his neck. He pulls off his bandana and ties it back up, hoping to pull the strands off his neck, but he still needs to shower, badly. There is definitely blood in there. “Will?”

“Byers. He went missing in 1983, do you remember that?”

Eddie did. He noticed the way Jonathan Byers had been hunched over that week, and the way people were afraid of Will when he had returned, calling him 'Zombie Boy'. Personally, Eddie thought it was a metal nickname, but the kid probably didn't think so.

“Yeah, I do.” Eddie says, picking at his jacket cuff. “He's your favorite?”

“He was my first favorite.” Hawkins says. “His friends soon joined, though. Mike Wheeler, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair-”

Eddie feels his lips part. “Wait, you're telling me that three of my party members are basically clerics - favored by a god - and I didn't know??”

“Not just three.” Hawkins says, smugly smiling. “Erica Sinclair was a delight - I always thought she was so funny!“

Eddie pats his pockets, wishing for a lighter and a cigarette. ”Seriously? And none of them told me?“

”Oh, they don't know.“ Hawkins says flippantly, and Eddie jerks his head up to stare at them.

”They don't know?“

“No. Even the rest of my favorites - Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley Eleven, Jim Hopper, Joyce Byers, Max Mayfield - none of them have ever seen me. Just you.”

“I'm one of your favorites?” Eddie asks.

“Well, of course! Funny, brave, and so passionate - what’s not to like?”

Words fail Eddie for what has to be the first time maybe ever, and he leans back on his hands, staring lazily up at the reddish sky.

“What do I do now?” he asks softly. “I didn’t think I’d make it when I went to be the hero.”

Hawkins stands, brushing themself off, and offers a hand to pull Eddie to his feet. “First, we’re gonna get you out of here.” They make an exaggerated show of looking around in disgust. “Nasty in here.”

Eddie picks up his guitar, cringing at the blood caked on it. “Yeah, about that- isn’t this place part of you?”

Hawkins shrugs, striding down the street. “It’s more like my blood and guts are down here. Can’t control anything, sorta like how you can’t control your blood flowing through your veins. I could heal you, though, since you’re from the Rightside Up.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Eddie slings his guitar over his shoulder and follows Hawkins. “Where are we going?”

“There are some open portals here and there. I’m taking you to the closest one. I’ll be able to protect you much better if you’re with everyone else and on the side of Hawkins I can actually control.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Eddie says hastily, speeding up to walk besides Hawkins, careful to step over the vines and plants that are all linked to Vecna. Even if Nancy and Steve killed the fucker, Eddie doesn’t wanna risk it.

Hawkins and Eddie walk down the street together, Eddie jumping potholes and stepping carefully over vines.

“So, uh, Hawkins...“ Eddie starts, not quite knowing where he's going with this. “Do you-”

He's interrupted by a chorus of screeches from high above.

Demobats.

Hawkins looks unfazed for a few seconds, then their eyes widen as they realize. “Shit, you're mortal, sorry. We gotta be more careful. The only thing I can do down here is heal you.”

“It was appreciated the first time around,” Eddie says, “but I’d hate for you to have to do it over and over again.”

Hawkins laughs at him. “Yeah, I don’t really want to do that either. Luckily, there’s a portal this way.” They don’t appear to be walking any faster, but Eddie suddenly has to jog to keep up.

Eddie wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at his trailer without seeing Chrissy’s bones breaking in his mind. He looks up at the hole still suspended in midair, this time without any helpful sheets or mattresses (or Dustins) to help him through it.

He is not letting that stop him from getting out of this hell dimension, though. Eddie takes hold of some of the wreckage of the trailer, trying to drag it over and prop it under the rift.

“Hey, Hawkins.” he grunts, pulling the crumbling kitchen counter towards the gate. “Mind givin’ me a hand?”

Suddenly, Hawkins is leaning over his shoulder. “What are you doing ?”

“Getting stuff to stand on, because I want out of here, what’s it look like?” He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. Don’t yell at the deity, dumbass, they could change their mind about wanting you alive.

Luckily for him, Hawkins just snickers. “You don’t need that. Come here.”

He and Hawkins huddle below the rift, and Hawkins wraps an arm around him and extends the other to the Rightside Up.

Eddie’s about to ask what they’re trying to do, but he doesn’t make it through the first word.

The branch of a tree, a living, green tree, leaves on it and everything, spirals into the Upside Down, curling around Hawkins’ arm. Then it retracts, pulling them both into the Rightside Up.

Eddie stands up, brushing himself off. “That’s a pretty handy trick you’ve got th-“

For the second time in as many minutes, his words crawl back down his throat to die.

Hawkins is on fire.

Hawkins the deity stands next to him, looking out over the town.

“We-we killed Vecna, I thought.” Eddie says, eyes tracing the fiery X crossing the town. “He wasn’t supposed to open more gates.”

“Max died.” Hawkins says solemnly, and Eddie spins to face them so fast his hair whips him in the face.

“Red? Little Red?”

“Not permanently. But Vecna possessed her, and before they could save her, her heart stopped, opening the last gate. She was revived, but she’s in a coma.” They sigh sadly. “I’ve done what I can, but the town being like this hurts me.”

Eddie picks his way out of the trailer wreckage. “That sucks. But we’ll figure this out, okay, Hawkins?”

There’s no answer.

Eddie turns to look.

Hawkins is gone.

That’s the trouble with gods, Eddie thinks to himself as he steps through the wasteland that is the trailer park. Just because they’re omnipotent means they just do whatever they want. He manages to get past the debris, thanking everything he can think of that he was wearing sturdy shoes.

Eddie marvels at the carnage as he finally reaches the street.

It’s…not that bad, actually.

Sure, the Hawkins Volunteer Fire Department is probably working overtime, and some very unhappy families lost their homes in the wreckage, but it isn’t as apocalyptic as Eddie imagined. There’s no bodies, nor an abundance of screaming.

Honestly, people are mostly ignoring it? Maybe ignoring isn’t the right word, but there’s a woman on a bike, and a line of cars all carefully swerving around a fiery crack in the road, and a man peeling papers off of telephone poles.

Eddie peers closer at the latter.

“Uncle Wayne!” he shouts, sprinting directly towards him.

Wayne doesn’t get any time to react before Eddie slams into him full throttle. They were touchy before, but it’s never been like this, more like pats on the shoulder here and there. But Eddie thinks he gets a free pass for this one, after hitching a ride with God out of hell.

Wayne coughs. “Hey, the hell’re you-“

He stares.

Tears well in his eyes. “Eddie?”

Eddie hugs him. Wayne wraps his arms around him and hugs back.

“They told me you were dead.” Wayne mumbles into his hair. “That little friend of yours, Dustin. Said you were a hero.”

Eddie nods against Wayne’s shoulder. “Should’ve seen it, Wayne. Played the most metal concert of all time.” He knows they probably look strange, sitting in the middle of a scattered sidewalk, torn pieces of Eddie’s own MISSING posters scattered around them.

Eddie has never once cared what anyone else thought, besides Wayne.

He feels like a four-year-old again, sitting against Wayne’s side as he cries and asks when his mother will come back. Wayne hadn’t said much, but he’d run his fingers through Eddie’s knotted hair until Eddie cried himself to sleep.

Wayne’s running his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

“Your shirt.” he whispers, and Eddie looks down. A rust-red stain has spread across the whole of his Hellfire shirt.

“It’s alright.” he says, reassuringly. “I’m not even hurt much.” It’s not a lie at all. Whatever Hawkins did to him, he feels better than the day he was born.

Wayne’s fingers tremble, and he glances over Eddie again, drinking in the sight of him.

“C’mon, kid, my back can’t take this.” he whispers, still gripping Eddie’s arm when they stand up. Like he thinks Eddie will vanish if he lets go.

They wobble unsteadily to their feet, and Wayne reaches in his pocket. “Dustin gave me this,” he says quietly. He pours Eddie’s guitar pick necklace into his cupped hand. “Figured you’d want it back.”

He’s trying to play it off, pretending like he wouldn’t have wanted to keep the necklace, but Eddie can see right through him.

If Eddie had really died, Wayne would have carried this thing around for the rest of his life.

“Thanks.” He clips it back around his neck, feeling instantly more comfortable as the familiar weight of it falls against his chest.

There’s a nicer looking pickup truck parked by the curb. Nicer than Eddie’s old van, anyway. To Eddie’s surprise, Wayne unlocks it.

He ushers Eddie into the car. “Government put me up at this hotel just outside town.” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat of the unfamiliar car. “Since the trailer’s torn apart ‘n all.” He pats the dashboard. “Truck was from the government too. Guess they really want me to keep quiet.”

Eddie buckles himself in. He normally wouldn’t bother, but he’s had enough near-death experiences this week.

The ride is silent, but Wayne keeps glancing over at Eddie as they drive.

A movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention as they near the edge of town.

A young girl stands there, arms crossed disapprovingly.

“Pull over!” Eddie says quickly. Wayne jams the brakes and looks at him wide-eyed. Eddie unbuckles and sprints over. “Lady Applejack! Why are you all the way out-“

He stops short.

Erica Sinclair’s outline is fuzzy, like a badly tuned TV.

“Hawkins?”

“Where are you going?” they say, and Eddie barely controls his flinch at the many-layered voices of the deity.

“My uncle is staying at a hotel out…of town.” He realizes why Hawkins is here. “Hey, I’ll come back. Tomorrow, alright?”

They glare, just like Erica would, and Eddie smiles. “Seeya, Hawkins.”

He jogs back over to Wayne, who’s looking at him, concerned.

“Sorry.” Eddie apologizes. “Saw one of my Hellfire kids.”

Wayne nods, but he’s still looking at Eddie. He starts the car again, and the two of them pull across the town border.

Eddie can feel it, when they leave the town. He gets a little bit colder, and his previously healed bat wounds begin to ache. He props his foot up on the dash, hoping the pressure will casually relieve the pain.

It doesn’t, not really, but Eddie can’t find it in himself to care very much. He’s alive. Wayne’s alive. He doesn’t need much else.

Graciously, Wayne lets Eddie take a shower first when they get to the hotel, and Eddie practically dives in. He sends a mental apology to the hotel owners, because he is almost definitely going to stain this shower.

The warm water does wonders for the blood crusted in his hair and the Upside Down gunk streaked across his skin. Eddie thinks he may never leave this shower. He hasn’t been properly clean since…god, before Chrissy. Sure, he dived in the lake, but Eddie’s seen some of the shit that goes into Hawkins’ lake. He’s not counting that.

He gets out of the shower and just stands in front of the mirror.

There are no scars from the bats.

Something that almost killed him should’ve left some kind of mark. It’s like a violation of natural order that he’s unmarred from that. He pushes his hand into his side where they had been. It aches, like he’s got his finger on a bruise, but there’s no visible damage.

A droplet of water runs down his finger and drips on the floor, and he shakes himself from his trance.

He pulls one of the towels from off the rack and dries himself.

It feels like a crime when he has to slide his gross t-shirt and jeans back on. He leaves the leather jacket draped over the chair, and practically falls into the bed.

He’s out like a light.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #living hawkins au #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction

22 notes · View notes

nothingtoseehere1-2-3 · 2 months

Text

the true meaning of strength

A/N: Hi! It's me again back with another pairing....this is an Akaza x F!Y/N pairing, and I hope you enjoy!

warnings: profanity and some violence and slight manga spoilers idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ not to mention character death and also HEAVY ANGSTTTTT ;-; so if you don't like really really sad stuff then ✨goodbye my friend, keep on scrolling✨

Your footsteps echoed throughout the vast forest and leaves crunched beneath your feet, a flickering lantern clenched in your sweaty palm.

Suddenly...

BOOMF.

Your body collided with another, causing you to stumble backward, trip on a twig and fall backward onto your bottom. You look up to see a man, standing at five foot eight towering over your small frame. His hair was a light pinkish-orange color, his entire body covered in strange blue markings. His eyes were irregular, the sclera a light blue that reminded you of the sky. Engraved in his yellow pupils, was the kanji for 'Upper Three'.

Oh, wait.

Shit!

This was a demon....an upper rank demon....Upper Three, at that! You weren't sure what to do...run? Talk to it? Oh, why would you think of having conversation with a killing machine?! You scrambled to your feet, running a few feet back in the direction where you came, only to stop short when your lantern's light flickered out completely. "Dammit!" You swore out loud, then squeaked slightly and turned to face the demon that was still there behind you.

"Why are you outside so late? It's dangerous....especially for a woman."

Um. Weird. He was concerned? Okay....

"Um, I was actually going home......before I bumped into you....." You trailed off, still sort of uncomfortable you were making conversation with a man-eating demon.

"Very well." The demon suddenly walked away, leaving you flabbergasted. You didn't get his name, but that shouldn't matter...you won't see him again...

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

Dammit.

That was your first thought after seeing the demon again, almost six weeks after your first (quite embarrassing) encounter. You didn't even know why you were pissed off, you didn't have anything against him personally! Yet!

He seemed to notice you, and turned around.

"You again..."

You blink, taken aback by the underlying attitude.

"Um yeah it's me again. Anyway I never got your name. Who even are you??"

You might have said too much. Shit.

"I am Akaza, Upper Three of the 12 Kizuki."

"I'm Y/N L/N."

He nods. You decide to ask something you've been pondering for a bit...

"Why didn't you kill me? I'm a human, and you're supposed to kill humans..."

"I don't hurt women."

Oh.

Okay.

Good to know. You manage a small smile, and can't help but giggle at the pink blush that spread across the demon's--Akaza's--cheeks.

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

(Time Skip)

As the weeks passed, you and Akaza became closer. Weeks turned into months, and you two became best friends. You were able to bring light back into his life even after the death of his betrothed, Koyuki, when he was human. You two spent every day together, either to run around in the starry meadows, or to look at the moon, or just talk. It wasn't long before Akaza began catching feelings for you, and he wanted to tell you, more than anything, but didn't have the courage to.

On the day he decided to finally tell you, it was a dreary, rainy day with fierce weather. You didn't dare leave your house, for the unforgiving conditions would surely seep through your kimono like it was paper and chill your bones. As Akaza trudged through the rain on the roads and in the woods' clearings, his skin was crawling with a bad premonition, the same sensation he had just moments before finding out Koyuki had died all those centuries ago.

He sped up now, scared for your wellbeing. Even several yards from your home, the rainwater on the ground was mixed with red...mixed with blood.

Bursting into your home, he was met by a gruesome sight of your home destroyed, a demon sitting above your lifeless form, eating away at your flesh as the blood pooled on the ground.

His eyes widened in horror, his breath hitching as he took in the scene before him...

He just lost another loved one. First his father, then Keizo and Koyuki, then you. This wasn't fair, he might have been a demon, but this was too much.

The only thing he thought, as he looked down at your body with tears streaming down his cheeks, his sobs echoing throughout your now-empty house, is that he failed to protect another person he loved. He didn't even get to tell you he did love you! But if he was even a fraction of how strong he always said he was, he knew he'd have to keep moving, not to give up because of your death.

No matter how much it may hurt.

#akaza #kny akaza #kny #demon slayer #x reader #x y/n #angst

9 notes · View notes

love-kurdt · 2 months

Text

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 1

word count: 6,469

warnings for this chapter: lots of sexual content!! underage drinking, mentions of drug use, roofie mention bc college, internalized homophobia, maaaajooorrrr depression. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I’d probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I’d given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen this coming. I had been spiraling for a long time. It all started over summer break between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I never even wanted to go to college in the first place. What was the point of spending tens of thousands of dollars on a creative writing degree when I could just freelance and eventually get published? But my father insisted that I at least attend a state school with cheaper tuition, claiming, “You can’t run on ink and espresso, son. You have to put in the work and have the credentials to show for it.” On the bright side, it was a miracle that Dad had enough confidence in me to allow me to pursue writing at all. But I was on thin ice with my father, had been for years, so I agreed to at least think about college.

My friends chose their respective schools fairly quickly; Dustin had gotten in with a full ride scholarship to Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Max and Lucas went to UCLA as sports science and physical therapy double majors, El went to Vanderbilt University in Nashville to pursue a degree in therapy, and Will… Will went to Chicago. Which school he went to, or if he went to college at all, I didn’t know. To study what, I had no clue. Where he lived within the city, I hadn’t the slightest idea. That’s what happens when your ex-best friend up and leaves without so much as a “goodbye.” I considered the day Will left to be the day my world stopped turning and time froze. So I took off my watch and hid it in a shoebox under my bed with the rest of my mini-shrine.

Dr. Owens and his team had arranged government-mandated counseling for all of those involved in the Vecnapocalypse. A year in, though, I didn’t see a point in going anymore. I was healed. I was fine. I was ready to move on with my life. Well, everyone else in the Party was ready to move on. Why wouldn’t I be? It probably hadn’t been the best decision on my part to stop going to therapy, but without Will in my life, I didn’t have much of a reason to stay in Hawkins at all, and I really didn’t feel like dredging up my past once a week to pick apart as if I were in an anatomy lab practical. Besides, I didn’t feel like arguing anymore with my dad. So, I begrudgingly packed my bags and headed to Indianapolis, killing two birds with one stone.

When I got to campus, I was assigned to dorm with this guy named Elvis (yes, as in Presley). Aside from his stupid ass name, Elvis Kuiken was a good roommate. He was a senior who kept to himself most days, when he wasn’t working. He was clean, at least by my standards (which were on the floor, literally and figuratively speaking), and he was also part of a fraternity. He’d always bring me along to parties, all in the name of the formative freshman experience. What this “experience” primarily entailed, I came to find out, was alcohol. Weed, too, no doubt… but extra emphasis on alcohol.

I didn’t want to admit it, at least not to others, but I became a lot more withdrawn since my falling out with Will. I wasn’t as outgoing, as daring, or as extroverted as I used to be. I was used to being an outcast of sorts, so not much changed there. Except now, where I used to have the confidence to at least approach people and introduce myself– “Hi, I’m Michael! Do you want to be my friend?” “Yes.”– I couldn’t do that anymore. It was like my communicational skills had completely disappeared. But during my first party, I took a shot of tequila and must’ve made at least ten acquaintances within the three hours I was there. If only Troy could see how popular I was now. He’d piss his pants… again. It was like a light flickered on in my head; the more I drank, the more sociable I’d become. I took this epiphany and ran with it.

One time back in— September?— or something, I had been at a party for a few hours, and came up with the idea to try every single type of liquor to ever exist. I picked up a shot glass and stood at the counter for a good fifteen minutes, downing shot after shot. I woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache, unsure of how I even got back to my dorm room. But then I looked to my right and saw Elvis’s head resting on my very shirtless, hickey-covered chest. Oh. That’s how I got home. I wasn’t able to wear any shirts with collars below my clavicle for days. I didn’t hate it, though. In fact, that wasn’t the last time my roommate and I hooked up. Stumbling through the door, making out in the dark, and whispering each other’s names into otherwise complete silence until the sun came up became a regular occurrence.

Christmas break arrived, and most of my time back in Hawkins was spent trying to avoid Will. And from the way I saw it, Will was everywhere. He was the art on my bedroom wall. He was the yellow sweater that hung in my closet, probably the only colorful item in my entire wardrobe that I hadn’t thrown out, because it was Will’s sweater. He was the shea butter soap on the bathroom counter. He was the hot cocoa mix in the kitchen cabinet. He was the D&D box buried underneath my bed that I neglected since Eddie’s death in 1986. He was the Party. So I didn’t leave my basement for the entirety of mid-December to the beginning of January, with the exceptions of family dinners and sleep. I won’t lie, I was a little bit ashamed of how I’d handled things with the Party. I definitely shouldn’t have iced everyone out. My friends made various attempts to get the Party back together, and always invited me, but I’d always have some kind of excuse as to why I couldn’t hang out with them. They eventually stopped calling.

One Saturday afternoon, I was sprawled out on the couch watching Star Wars: Episode VI– Return of the Jedi, and Nancy and Jonathan came barrelling in through the basement entrance, practically swallowing each other whole. I missed the feeling of being in love. I’d cleared my throat when it started to get a bit too steamy, causing the lovebirds to jump apart in shock. Nancy smoothed her skirt while Jonathan lifted a hand into the air to greet me. I nodded back in acknowledgement. This silent interaction had me wanting to crawl out of my skin. All I wanted to do was ask Jonathan about Will; how Will was, what Will was doing, if Will had met anyone, if Will remembered me. It was like Jonathan could read my mind, because he said, completely unprompted, “He still thinks about you, Mike. He hasn’t forgotten you.” I actively committed those words to memory.

I ran into Joyce during a last minute school supplies shopping trip to Melvald’s on my way out of town. It was bound to happen at some point, what with Joyce owning Melvald’s now. I’d expected it to be awkward, but was proven wrong when Joyce practically jumped the counter to engulf me, her honorary third son, in a hug. She’d pulled me all the way down to her level, so I was bent at almost a 90 degree angle, but I didn’t care.

“How’ve you been, sweetheart? How’s Indy treating you?” she asked. That was a loaded question. It would be spectacular if your son hadn’t left, but whatever.

“It’s treating me well, I’m mostly taking my gen eds right now, but I’m always writing my own material when I’m not in class,” I grinned, trying my best to not let it look fake or forced. Joyce seemed to buy it.

“I’m so glad to hear that. You know, I always knew you were going to become a writer,” Joyce smiled, and I nodded, staying as neutral as possible. I knew where she was going with this. “I remember it as if it were yesterday,” bingo, “that in the mornings after your sleepovers, you and Will would sit at the dining room table with your eggs and maple syrup and work on your comics for hours. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” I replied wistfully, “I do.” I glanced down at my shoes, trying not to let any tears escape. The amount of crying over Will that I’d done just within the time I was back home was pathetic. But Joyce didn’t seem to mind in the least, because she reached up and ran her thumbs over my cheeks, where a few stray tears had traveled down against my will.

“Oh, honey,” Joyce held my face in her hands, eyes filled with compassion, and pulled me into another hug, holding me close. I had always loved Joyce, but this mutual understanding led me to reserve a special place in my heart for her.

We engaged in a little more small talk before she personally walked (dragged) me through the store with my shopping list to retrieve the items I needed. When she checked out my items at the counter, she grabbed a pen and post-it note, wrote something on it, and handed it to me. I held it up to eye level with a shaky hand.

“That’s Will’s phone number, he’s at the American Academy of Art,” she whispered. My eyes widened, and I breathed, “Thank you, Ms. Byers. So much,” before heading out the door to my car. I sat in the parking lot for a solid fifteen minutes, causing myself to fall behind schedule, but I had Will’s phone number. That was a good enough reason to be late, in my book.

After what felt like a fucking eternity, I was finally able to return to campus. I’d set my suitcase down next to my bed, and took a minute to collect my thoughts prior to unpacking. All of a sudden, Elvis clumsily tripped over his own feet through the door, sheepishly grinning at me, having just been startled. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, followed by a quiet, “hi.” Seconds later, we were all over each other.

It was around this time that I finally came to terms with the undeniable fact that I was exclusively attracted to men. I’d always believed my sexual preferences existed as a strict ratio of 70:30, with 70% being women and 30% being men. I’d always been aware of my attraction to guys (Will); I’d been sure of that for as long as I could remember. The confusing part about it all was when El came into the picture, and everyone and their mother expected us to start dating. I was, like, twelve at the time, so of course I went along with what everyone else wanted. That backfired majorly when El confronted me with tears in her eyes, asking, “But… you don’t love me anymore?” and my impulse response was, “I don’t even think I loved you romantically to begin with.” It took a long time for me and El to repair our friendship following that conversation, and to help me bullshit my parents into falling for some half-baked reason as to why my “sweetie pie” and I broke up so suddenly.

When I started my… situationship with Elvis, though, I began to question my 70:30 ratio. Elvis, to put it simply, was hot. He was taller than me, just by an inch, but it didn’t stop him from calling me “short.” I found that hilarious, as I stood at a staggering six foot three. Elvis had tanned skin, blonde hair which he kept in a preppy side part, and bright eyes that captured the essence of the bluest sky. He had full lips, a chiseled jawline, and a lean yet muscular build with the likeness of a Greek statue. Elvis had the most gorgeous hands. I particularly liked when those hands pinned my wrists above my head. I also liked when those blue eyes bore into my soul in the way that only one other pair of eyes had ever been able to do within my mere eighteen years of life. And I loved when that chiseled jawline, rough from lack of shaving, rubbed abrasively against my neck.

Elvis was adamant on there being no strings attached. He made sure to remind me every time we did anything remotely sexual, but over time, those words began to lose their potency, like watering down vodka to make it go down smoother. My wide eyes and “yes, of course, I understand”s were slowly replaced with absentminded “mmhmm”s. I figured that as long as Elvis never picked up on my social cues (or lack thereof), and as long as he never knew about me secretly developing more-than-fuck-buddies feelings for him, I would be in the clear. But eventually, something in Elvis had melted away, and he started calling me “my boy,” “love,” and “sweetheart,” amongst other gross (sweet) pet names. I assumed that Elvis had caved and given up on whatever rules he’d set for himself.

Regardless of the apparent stability in our situationship, my mind dwelled in a constant state of disarray. I knew I was not straight. I wasn’t even sure if I was bisexual. I became more conscious of who caught my eye in public, and what I wanted out of the people I interacted with. I discovered I didn’t feel the same way about curves, boobs, or soft lips as I felt when I saw a pair of broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, or a tapered waistI felt different.

Part of me resented myself for being different. I hated the idea of being a target, whether it be for my family, the government, or society as a whole. I'd tried to change. I hooked up with a few girls over the course of a week, “just to see something,” but I'd spent the entire time wondering when it would be over so I could go home. All of those girls either got bored, weren’t satisfied, or got mad that I couldn’t get it up— if not a combination of all three— and left. I scared myself a little when I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

When my encounter with the last girl fell through, I decided I didn’t want to live my life in sexuality limbo anymore. I ran all the way back to my dorm hall, hauled ass up the stairwell, and let myself into my room. Elvis spun around from where he sat at his desk, and could barely get out a “Hey, man,” before I was ripping Elvis from his chair and pulling him in, kissing him with all my might. It didn’t take long for Elvis to reciprocate my advances, kissing back with equal intensity and pushing me back until we hit the side of Elvis’s raised bed frame. I huffed a laugh against Elvis’s lips before hoisting myself up backwards and onto the mattress, watching as Elvis chased after me. He pushed his knee between my legs, and I took the hint, wrapping my ankles around Elvis’s hips. “I want to be with you, baby. With strings, all the strings,” I had told Elvis before pulling him down for another searing kiss, and… that was when my memory cut out for the evening.

I woke up the next morning, hangover hitting me like a truck, to see Elvis already awake and dressed, lifting boxes onto a trolley that was stationed in the middle of the room. Through squinted eyes, I noticed Elvis’s side of the room was essentially bare, save for the dorm furniture, which belonged to the school.

“What’s happening?” I croaked out, and Elvis dropped the box he was holding onto the pile with a loud thump. “Too loud. Headache,” I whispered sharply through gritted teeth.

“It always is too loud, isn’t it?” my roommate laughed wryly to himself, not making any effort to be any quieter. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and ignoring the fact that I was naked and in Elvis’s bed, the only thing that hadn’t been packed up yet.

“What the fuck, Elvis? What are you doing?”

“I’m moving out today, remember?” The two young men finally gained eye contact, and I felt my stomach drop like I was on a roller coaster. “I’m graduating in a few days and need my stuff out by this afternoon.”

Move out was today? Vecna must have been back with a vengeance, because how else would time move so quickly on its own? Sure, Elvis mentioned in passing, like, a few weeks ago, at most, that he was leaving soon. But it still didn’t make sense, because it was only… What, March? No, The Phone Call™ was a while ago. Was it April? My mom called me at least a few weeks prior to wish me a happy nineteenth birthday. Plus, weren’t commencement ceremonies scheduled for the weekend of– “What’s today’s date?”

I watched the blonde in front of me unsubtly scoff with impatience. “It’s May 1st, Mike.” I could only blink back at Elvis in response for a few seconds while I tried to process the fact that my brain was capable of skipping over whole months of my life. There was no way it was May 1st already.

“No,” was the only word I was capable of saying.

“Yet here we are, baby,” Elvis sneered as he whipped his comforter off of me, leaving me exposed and humiliated. “Time flies when you’re blackout drunk. I suggest you try and get your drinking under control, before you end up having to drop out.”

It was like Elvis was a completely different person, completely different from the man who had fucked me senseless the night before. What did I do to deserve this? I didn’t do or… say anything? Oh no. Now I knew what was going on. I drank too much, opened up, and blurted out loud that I wanted to be in a relationship with Elvis, who didn’t feel the same. my face was on fire with embarrassment.

I scrambled off the bed and ran to get dressed while Elvis pulled the last of his sheets off the cheap university mattress. He didn’t fold them, and instead balled them up and shoved them in the trash. I could barely breathe. I merely stood there and watched as my gorgeous Greek (actually Dutch) god of a roommate left our shared room for the last time. Well, I seemingly dodged a bullet. What an asshole.

I was sad that Elvis was gone, but it didn’t completely destroy me the way Will leaving did. What it most likely came down to, in Elvis’s instance, was a horrible case of internalized homophobia. I was very familiar with this mindset; I'd fought a gory, gruesome battle with my own mind for my entire adolescence, at war with myself to prevent acting upon my ever-growing romantic love for Will. But one day, my feelings finally retaliated, and my life immediately went to shit.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?”

“No, Will, I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

Comparing the two inevitably led to some old memories resurfacing to haunt me, but I felt strangely lucky. I'd been let off easily. Despite the way I stood completely stupefied in my dorm room, I knew this was temporary, and had full confidence that I'd be able to recover from this pretty quickly. Said confidence was probably the only thing that saved me from losing my mind. Well, that, and the pressure to pass my classes distracted me for a few days. Without having done much studying at all, I army crawled through my finals and barely made it out alive.

About a week later, I moved out of my dorm hall and into an apartment about two miles away from campus. It was a pretty nice place, considering the rent he (my father) paid for it. I got a job at the local coffee shop… which I lost before the month was up, because he never showed up to my shifts. I'd been shocked when Ted insisted upon co-signing the lease, because I didn’t think my dad would be willing to help me stay away from Hawkins. On the other hand, though, it made sense when Ted told me flat out that he wanted me out of the house. I didn’t blame him; I'd been referred to by my father as a “leech” on multiple occasions during my stay over Christmas break, which pretty much tracked. I felt a little guilty about that one.

I appreciated the independence, I truly did. It was a great feeling to have my own room again, to have a more comfortable desk chair to sit at while I drew up plans for a new fantasy novel starring a gay protagonist, to have a bathroom to myself, and most importantly, to have a full-sized refrigerator to fill with all the alcohol I could ever want. But sometimes, late at night, I would catch myself getting a bit too sad.

The entire summer was an endless cycle. I would wake up and make a pot of coffee. I'd sit down and write a chapter or two of my book, and stick to doing that for a few hours. I would check the time (on my wall clock, of course) and take a lunch break, which was usually a box of Annie’s shells and white cheddar. After I'd haphazardly tossed my singular bowl and fork into the sink to be washed later, I'd go back to writing. This wouldn’t last long, because I'd get distracted after smoking a joint, and probably end up staring at that one photo of myself and Will from senior year (Jonathan captured the moment: I had, by some miracle, perched myself up on Will’s handlebars, and Will struggled to hold his bike steady because I was laughing too hard) that sat framed on my desk. I'd snap out of my trance ten minutes later and mentally kick myself for staring for so long, which led to grabbing some form of alcohol and getting wasted, like all my potential. I would make one last attempt at writing and fail miserably. I'd stumble into the shower, and drag myself through my apartment until I found my bed. Most nights, I would end up crying myself to sleep, staring at The Painting™, which I'd tacked up on my bedroom ceiling as a form of self-punishment. It was a sad way to live, really. So I vowed that when the school year started up again, things would be different.

That was how I ended up at the library in late July, browsing the mythology section, squinting at titles printed on spines while my lips formed a straight, thin line. I knew I was officially a hermit when even the library gave me social anxiety. I'd just pulled a rather old looking book off the shelf when a tenor voice behind me caught me off guard.

“Never thought I’d see the day that book would leave the shelf. You must’ve had to brush off, like, a hundred years’ worth of dust just to get to the cover.” I twisted around to put a face to a voice, and was pleasantly surprised when I met eyes with a short guy (well, to me he was short; he was probably, like, 5’9”) with dyed, firetruck red hair that fell over his forehead in a sweeping motion. I liked how he wasn’t afraid to be bold.

“You’re definitely right about that,” I smirked, setting the book down and watching as the growing pile teetered from side to side on the table’s surface. I couldn’t decide where I wanted my story to go next, let alone if I wanted to continue with my current plot at all, so I'd planned on taking a bit of inspiration from… well, everything.

“So you’re into mythology?” the guy asked, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaning against the bookshelf as I focused my gaze down. He had pretty eyes. They were hazel, but not too green, not like–

“Yeah, I’m a creative writing major, and I’m trying to expand my horizons a little,” I replied, sitting down at the table. “Like, not to discount the genius of Tolkein, because he literally founded my childhood, but sometimes it’s good to go back to the basics and draw inspiration from there.”

The guy shrugged, and sat across the table from me. “Nothing wrong with that. I think it’s really smart, actually. Or else stories end up getting repetitive and dull.”

“Exactly!” I pointed both index fingers in the guy’s direction, as if to say, “Finally, someone who understands!” I struggled with this concept lately; the uniqueness factor. It turned out that having a male protagonist who just so happened to be romantically attracted to other males wasn’t enough reason to get a book to sell. I needed something else, something of substance, and something that wouldn’t remind readers of other books they’d previously read. “Are you into writing as well?”

“No,” the guy shyly smiled, “I’m just into guys who write about mythology.” Pardon? Was this masculine male-dude-man hitting on me? In public? I wasn’t complaining, but I hadn’t necessarily picked up on any hints. Although, the dyed hair should’ve been a dead giveaway.

“Oh. Um, I– wow, okay,” I stuttered, diverting my eyes to my books for a few seconds to process what was being said before returning to an expectant pair of hazel eyes still looking right at me. “I’m Mike, Mike Wheeler.”

“Wyatt Bowman.”

I cleared my throat. “Are you free in an hour, Wyatt?”

“Yeah, why?” Wyatt raised an eyebrow, causing me to huff a nervous laugh, tapping my Ticonderoga pencil against my spiral-bound notebook at the same speed my knee bounced up and down underneath the table.

“I just gotta take some notes from here, then I was thinking we could… hang out, or something?” I glanced up hopefully at Wyatt.

The corners of Wyatt’s mouth curved upwards as he repeated, “Or something?”

I nodded, confirming our silent sub-conversation.

“Cool. That sounds like a good plan,” Wyatt said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table as he rose out of the seat and headed for the exit.

“Cool,” I whispered back, reminiscent of a certain afternoon in a certain town in California in a certain room with a certain boy that made me feel a certain way. But that was the past, and I believed I was ready for the future.

When I started seeing Wyatt Bowman, we’d established that our relationship would not be serious. We were, in a small amount of words, friends with benefits. And we were actually friends. We could hang out without getting all hot and heavy. And I didn’t have any objections; I actually preferred the idea of friends who sometimes had sex over the label-less, no strings arrangement that Elvis and I had. It left less room for loopholes of chronic insecurity and self sabotage. It also, in turn, left more room for exploration.

I met Wes Butler in August at my first ever visit to an actual bar. I'd been sitting at the counter with a few of my female friends (Ruby, Alexis, and Julia), and had just received one of the fruitiest cocktails I'd ever tasted when a piece of eye candy, who might as well have been dressed in nothing, lightly tapped my shoulder and asked me to dance. Of course the girls encouraged me, not really giving me an option in the matter, but hey, good dick was good dick. It didn’t really turn into much else; once we’d had a few rounds of unnecessarily loud sex in a supply closet (ironic, but typical), I bid goodbye to my friends, tossing my condom wrappers in the trash on the way out.

I met another guy, Walker Brooks, in September at an off-campus nerd rave. He looked a lot like Eddie Munson, which may or may not have been coincidental. We left the party not even an hour after it began to go to Walker’s dorm. We fucked in between Lord of the Rings themed bedsheets, and I had to endure an excruciating hour and a half of Walker speaking Elvish rather than English. Afterwards, he invited me to join the University of Indy D&D Club, of which he was, of course, the Dungeon Master. I politely declined.

On a particularly difficult October night following being roofied followed by some unwanted advances, I slapped myself awake with one hand as I unsteadily held my handlebars with the other, biking back to my apartment. My grip slipped, and the front wheel hit the curb, which sent the bike to come to a screeching halt and throw me over the handlebars, tumbling onto the concrete. Warren Blakely, one of my classmates in English 101, watched me fall, stopped me from biking again before I hurt myself even more, and asked me what exactly had happened. Once I told Warren what had gone down, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. Over the next two months or so, Warren kept me safe and let me take control back over my own life. Warren and I had a special bond. If I didn’t still love Will, and if I didn’t have such extreme trust issues, I would have absolutely dated Warren if provided the chance. But I couldn’t, not until I got over Will, so I ended things with Warren. This specific relationship put things into perspective for me. In the end, none of these men I slept with would ever be Will Byers. So I'd either have to get over Will, or find someone better.

On the nights I wasn’t at parties, I was at my desk, writing letters to Will. It was kind of cathartic, honestly. I'd rip a piece of college ruled paper out of my notebook, just like old times, and write letter after letter saying things along the lines of:

Dear Will, I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry that I love you. I’m sorry I did what I did to you. And I’m sorry I can’t take it back. I wish we could be best friends again. I wish we could have late night walkie conversations like we used to. I want nothing more than to play D&D in the basement with you for the rest of our lives. Love, Mike

These occasional letters became a part of my nightly routine… whenever I wasn’t too fucked up to focus my eyes on my own handwriting. And recently, it was more often than not that I couldn’t actually fall asleep without drinking. I wasn’t even of legal age yet, and wouldn’t be for another two years.

I stopped attending my classes halfway through the semester, so it wasn’t a surprise when my grades plummeted. My mailbox became inundated with letters from the registrar’s office, advising me to withdraw from the classes I was failing before the pass/fail deadline, but I couldn’t care less; so, not only did I fail out of my classes, but I couldn’t even retake the classes even if I wanted to, because my record forced me into the red zone. And the entire time, I couldn’t feel a thing.

If someone were to ask me what time it was, I wouldn’t be able to tell them. First off, I would look down at my watch and realize that said watch was not on my wrist. I would then ask myself why my watch was not on my wrist, then I would remember, oh yeah, Will has a matching one, and I was dead to Will, so I didn’t wear the watch anymore. Time was just a construct, anyway. In the end, I'd probably mess around with the person asking and say some shit like, “It’s 420:69.” I was drunk, though, so I was allowed.

I was at some frat party, spending what was my last official night as a student at the University of Indianapolis with the brotherhood of Alpha Lambda Dickhole. I was seated on some musty couch, stained with whatever the fuck that was, with an empty glass resting between my legs and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. I'd given up some time ago on trying to pace myself. Some kind of synth-infused rock music vibrated across the floor, and I could feel the bass reverberating in my bones, which would normally make me want to get up and dance, but I wasn’t particularly in a celebratory mood; I was only halfway through my sophomore year, and had just dropped out.

“Hey, by any chance do you know the time?” a deep voice asked, and I lifted my gaze up from my lap to a muscular brunette. I blinked a few times in an attempt to form a coherent sentence.

“I, uh– I don’t—” I stuttered, lifting my bare, watch-less wrist up to show to the guy, who merely lifted an unserious eyebrow and chuckled. He took my hand in his and let it down gently before sitting next to me on the couch.

“It’s all good, man. I was just using that as a reason to talk to you.”

I was surprised someone clocked me that quickly. But then again, I was wearing insanely tight jeans that I'd cut right above the knee paired with a floral print shirt. I wasn’t exactly being subtle. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” the guy laughed, extending a rough, calloused hand. Did he lift weights? Or play guitar? Or both? “I’m Carter, by the way.” At least his name didn’t begin with a W. Or maybe it did, but the W was silent. Wcarter. Ouah-carter. Wah-carter. Double-you-carter. Dub-yuh-Carter. Cart… Chart… Astrological chart. I made a mental note to check my horoscope. What was I thinking about originally? I couldn’t remember.

Jesus. I was hammered.

“I’m Mike,” I replied, taking the guy’s— Carter’s— hand, but Carter didn’t shake it. He instead let our fingers intertwine, anticipatorily slow. Okay. I could be good with this.

“Do you maybe want to get out of here, Mike?” Carter asked, and I felt a blush rising to my face.

“Sure, yeah,” I breathed, and let Carter pull me up out of my sunken spot on the couch, down some hallway, and into an empty bedroom. I scoped out the place and noticed a photo of Carter with a dog framed on the desk; this was his room. I exhaled in relief. I didn’t want to have sex in someone else’s bed. Never again.

Carter pulled the door closed and locked it, turning around to face me before looking me up and down. I gulped. I hadn’t realized before, because it was so dark, but in the lamplight, Carter’s resemblance to Will was uncanny. He was a few inches shorter than me, and had a muscular build– that much I knew already. Thank god he didn’t have a bowl cut. He had a strong jawline but a subtle softness to his features. His lips were a light pink, the upper one a bit thinner than the lower one. The most similar feature they shared, though, was their bright green eyes, full of life, and something else I couldn’t name… intention? Vulnerability? Yearning?

In my inebriated state, I didn’t notice how close Carter had gotten until I felt two hands snaking their way up my shoulders and joining behind my neck, pulling me down until our lips met. I couldn’t move fast enough, lifting my shaking hands to rest on Carter’s waist, pulling him into my chest and deepening the kiss immediately. Carter was more languid in his movements, while I was more firm and calculated; this felt strangely antithetical. It probably had to do something with my increased tolerance. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but if there was one person who knew how to repress their feelings with a series of bad decisions, it was me. Mike Wheeler. My life was already on fire, what more could possibly happen to exacerbate the flame?

The two of us made our way over to Carter’s bed, where we quickly undressed. Carter kissed down my body, and I ran my hands through Carter’s hair. Then he went down on me without warning.

“Ah!” I yelped in surprise, my exclamation becoming a moan almost instantaneously. This was good. This felt nice. This is exactly what I’d imagine–

“Will…”

“Excuse me?”

And with that, the night was over. Carter stopped what he was doing, got up, muttered a “fuck you,” and left without another word. I felt the world zeroing in on me. I could just picture what I’d write in my next letter:

Dear Will,

I said your name while another guy had my dick in his mouth. Do you believe me now?

Love, Mike

next part

homepage

#byler #byler fanfic #byler fic #byler tumblr #mike wheeler #will byers #will x mike #mike x will #mike wheeler x oc #mike wheeler is 6’3 and i will die on this hill #stranger things #stranger things fic #thisismetrying1

12 notes · View notes