#i was making noises that have not been uttered by human beings before :)

[skitskatdacat63]

Yes these have all already been posted, but 2023 Vettonso comp post for me because I'm going to have an emotional breakdown

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

The First "I Love You" - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You tell Adam that you love him for the first time, the first of any of his wives to tell him that. Your confession of love leads to Adam showing you just how much he loves you back.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pie, Adam being his usual insufferable self, SMUT, MDNI

The world outside of Eden's garden was a dangerous one, but your husband never failed to keep you safe. Adam had told you stories of the garden and how he lived there with Eve, years before your creation as his third wife. His tales of the place he described as Earth's own heavenly paradise where your every need was met always enamored you; for you too wished you could experience it with him by your side.

The possibility of that happening was long gone as soon as Eve bit into the forbidden apple, but without the actions of your predecessors, you wouldn't have come to be. In a way that even you admitted was a little fucked up, you were grateful that things happened the way they did, and you were grateful you got to meet the love of your life.

Adam was an asshole with an ego that was far too big, but at the end of it all, he was the same man who kept you safe during the day, and who held you at night, keeping you warm despite the cold night, just as he was in the present moment.

You snuggled up to him, your head laying on his chest while his hand absentmindedly combed through your hair; the two of you attempting to get some sleep, gazing up at the stars in the night sky. You certainly weren't in the Garden of Eden, but being with him was like your own personal paradise.

You looked up at him. His eyes were half-lidded and threatening to close from his quickly growing need for sleep. He yawned, pulling you closer, an action that earned a gentle smile from you. You leaned up, kissing him softly.

"Fuck was that for?" He questioned. "You tryin' to fuck, babe? Usually, I'd be thrilled, but I'm exhausted as shit right now."

You shook your head. "I just wanted to kiss you, is all." You replied, smiling at him warmly. He gave you a curious look, unfamiliar with the concept of a kiss that was more chaste in nature. Whenever he kissed you, or his previous wives, in the past it was in the throes of a lustful exchange.

"...Why? Do you want something else, or...?" Confusion filled his voice in a rare moment where he wasn't his usual confident, boisterous self. You shook your head. "I wanted to do it because I love you, Adam." Those last four words played on repeat in his head. "I love you, Adam."

The phrase "I love you," had been uttered by a human before; he had said it to Lilith, and then Eve, but never to you. Yet here you were, the first one to say it to him, all of your volition. The feeling in his heart was indescribable to him, something he never felt before, and it felt better than anything else. Knowing that the one he loved felt the same for the first time ever made him feel almost euphoric, and he was determined to get as much out of that feeling as possible.

His lips crashed against yours in a passionate kiss. He climbed on top of you, moving his lips down to your neck where he sloppily kissed and nibbled, earning a light moan from you; one of his favorite noises.

"Let me show you just how much I love you back," he said, voice low, his hands moving to your thighs. "You want that, don't you? Tell me just how much you want that, sweetheart." Your legs spread instinctively as he loomed over you, the pale moonlight of the night reflecting off of him and giving him an alluring glow.

"Adam, please," you breathed out, pulling him down, your faces nearly touching. "I want you so much. Make love to me, fill me up, do whatever you want to me—" He silenced you with another kiss, pushing into you slowly. You moaned into him, your arms wrapping around him in an attempt to get as close to him as you possibly could, savoring the intimacy of it all.

His thrusts were slow, yet deep, and the pace had you feeling every single inch of his cock inside of you. It was a welcome contrast to the usual way he fucked you; with quick, rough movements and an eagerness to reach only his climax and not yours. It seemed for once he was fully enjoying the pleasure shared between you, and in no real rush.

"Say it again," He told you, burying his face into the crook of your neck as his speed increased just slightly. "Say you love me, baby." With your mind clouded with pleasure you barely heard him, your only focus being on the way his cock fucked into your pussy. Unsatisfied with your response, he grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to look into his eyes filled with arousal, love, and a twinge of desperation.

"Say. It." He growled, each word followed with a sharp thrust that hit your sweet spot head-on.

"I love you—fuck! Adam!—" You threw your head back, arching your back as he rewarded you by speeding up, thick cock stretching you out perfectly with each movement. "Love you—fuck, yes!" You let out a loud moan as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion.

"Gonna fill you up," He groaned, the sound of his hips smacking against yours filling the air. "'I'm gonna get you pregnant, have you do what those other unfaithful bitches couldn't do for me. You probably want that more than anything, to be my perfect little wife who only loves me."

You only nodded at his words, practically drunk off of the feeling of his cock fucking into you so deliciously, your mind clouded with pleasure. Your nails dug into his back as you attempted to ground yourself, your orgasm barreling towards you; its arrival sure to be at any moment.

"Gonna cum—" He warned, moaning out your name in a way that made you even wetter than you already were. "Y-You gonna let me fill you up? Let me–oh shit—" He moaned again as you wrapped your legs around his waist, burying him in deeper and locking him in place at the same time. There was no pulling out now, not like he was going to anyways.

"Loveyouloveyouloveyou—Ah! Fuuuuck!" He growled, his hips stilling, warm cum spilling deep into you. The feeling of him filling you to the brim sent you over the edge, your climax consuming you.

You two remained in silence for a long couple of moments, looking into each other's eyes in a shared adoration before he pulled out, laying next to you. You closed your eyes, satisfied, yet tired.

"Come here," He said, voice gentle, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Let's do that shit you always want to do after I fuck your brains out."

You furrowed your brows in a slight confusion before quickly realizing what he meant. You let out a giggle. "You mean cuddle, Adam? You usually just go to sleep afterward. What changed?"

He rolled his eyes in response to your question, trying to hold back the smile sneaking its way onto his face. "Trust me, I'm going to sleep, babe. Might as well hold onto you so you don't sneak off or some shit like all fucking women seem to do."

You ignored the implications of his comment, snuggling up to him. "I love you, Adam. I mean it. I'm not going anywhere."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth in his heart from your words. "Love ya, too. Now go to sleep, the man needs to get his rest."

You closed your eyes, the feeling of him tracing imaginary patterns into your back lulling you to sleep. You loved him, and he loved you, even if he was still struggling to fully accept it.

[colourstreakgryffin]

AS PROMISED I HAVE COME BACK WITH A REQUEST IN MIND. AND YES IT IS HUSK RELATED (≧∇≦)/

so you know how cats come to you immediately when you say 'pspspspsppspspsps'? yeah, that. but with husk (๑˃̵　ᴗ　˂̵)و

look at the cute little miao miao with his popcorn ≧﹏≦

Big definitely doing this. Ommgg! That pic is so precious! Husk canonically hates his cat traits but not today, beloved! Anyway. Let’s get going and play around with Husk some more! Sorry, this is a bit short!

Husk- Pootie-Kitty

It’s so unbelievably cute… the soft purring, the fur ruffling

You respect the fact your boyfriend despises his current sinner’s cat traits and the cat anatomy he has but you can’t help yourself. You know you should and you know you shouldn’t do what he dislikes…

but then again, Husk is also not as mad about being cat-like at your hand as compared to any other person he knows trying to make him behave as the feline he is

“Husky! Husky! Pspspspspspspsp~!” After a few silent painful minutes of absolutely nothing whilst walking through the empty but colourful and magnificent hallways of the Hazbin Hotel, both yours and your boyfriend’s workplace, you decide to use the classic cat call to see if Husk will come out

Himself and his ‘owner’, Alastor had a big fight over being contracted to him and it caused Husk to hide away in pure utter rage and agitation and a pinch of fear over how bad the confrontation ended. Husk hasn’t come out from wherever he is for hours now. It’s already nighttime and you want to bring him to bed. You decided to let him have some time alone but it’s been way too long and it’s becoming concerning

He hasn’t given even a single bit of response to you, despite after you begun tinkling beer bottles, cooing out his name, offering him his favourite, snuggles. Everything that usually has Husk approaching you. He isn’t for it, just making your concern grow even stronger for him

He isn’t listening… so, you’re going to have pull out the big guns!

“Hussskyy~! Pspspspspspspsssppspsps! Come here, baby”

You aren’t sure where he came from or where he was but after a few more seconds, you paused in place in the middle of quite the long hallway in the redemption building and speaking out to literally the air. Husk came padding out from around the corner in a somewhat fast pace, his cute originally sharp thin black pupils of his nice glowing golden yellow eyes is now wide and rounded, his tall tip-fluffed ears drawn back like his big perked-up wings as if curious about what you’re going to do next

Just like a normal cat, Husk’s quickly padding over to you right after hearing the ‘psspspsps’ noises, as if a lightbulb was switched on. His hearing is quite strong, even at his human-technically elderly age, and whilst he could hear your voice from his little hiding spot clear as day

He didn’t want you to see him in his most weakest, vulnerable moment, out of shame, but right after he registered those sly little calls of yours, his cat instincts kicked in and he was walking out into the hallway against his wish. As soon as he stops before you, his conscious is back into control and his pupils shrink to ordinary narrowed thinner state

Even if Husk is annoyed when realising he just went full cat mode, he’s purring. You can hear the purring underneath his breath, he always purrs when you’re around and he purrs happily at seeing you again. His cute striped feather-tufted thin tail flicking a bit faster, almost on the verge of wagging

All of it is physical signs of how much he adores you and how deep in love he is with you. That, even whilst he despises having been courted into acting like a cat, though your intentions aren’t to embarrass him, he is most okay with you doing it

What is that you need to discuss? Is something going on? Is there snuggles involved?

“There you are, love. Is something wrong? I haven’t seen you since 1pm. I’m worried”

[volturissideslut]

Hi! Just read your Marcus x reader fic where they get compared to Didyme.

I was thinking maybe a Poly! Volturi comparing Reader to their ex/late partners and Reader shuts down. They don't mention it, but it really hurts cause they've always been a replacement, so they leave Volterra. The Volturi don't realise for a while.

Feel free to ignore this if it's too repetitive or you've done one like it before.

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖞)

Angst, no comfort. Pure angst, literally no fluff at ALL. Bad relationship, couple of swear words in there, let me know if you want a part two of making it up <3

It's not like you were the second choice

They had been adament that they wanted you, that you were their true mate

So why were they acting like this now?

After almost a year of being together, they were starting to fall out of the 'honeymoon phase'

Had it always just been a phase? Was this doomed from the get-go?

It started with little snippy comments about acting proper. You were human, not raised in the fine luxury and manners they were, and apparently that showed in your actions. And apparently the way you dress too.

It's like they were moulding you into their exes, it it was making you miserable

And it's not like you didn't try to tell them, you did. Only to be shut down. "Cara mia, I'm working. This is not an appropriate place to discuss this" Aro told you, despite being within the privacy of his study

Caius was no better, in no mood to 'entertain you' and your 'whims' as he put it, brushing you off with a sigh

Marcus, too, was no use, disregarding the emotion and making it perhaps worse by saying that didyme would have taken of the constructive criticism

So there you stood, looking at yourself in the mirror. The big dress, the light makeup, the haircut, even the fucking posture just want you.

And so you left.

Silently, seeing as communicating clearly wasn't an option

How long had it been when they realised you were gone? Three days at least

Honestly, Aro had assumed you were annoyed with them and wanted space, telling his brothers suck. It had never crossed his mind that you had left

I mean, the clothes you wore every day were still there, all the gowns and dresses still in place and -

Where were the clothes you brought with you?

The ones they insisted you wouldn't wear?

Caius walkers into your personal room with a huff, intending to talk some sense into this tantrum you've been throwing, and instead intruding on Aro's realisation

The grounds are searched and Mar3is informed

It is pure and utter panic

Chaos as they look for you

Demetri was called back from his mission early to search for you and you were in another country

Marcus was practically having heart palpitations, he can't lose another mate. "Why would she do this, Didyme would never scare me like this"

And he pauses

So does Aro

And so does Caius

And for the first time, they truly hear themselves

Caius is the first one to remember you bringing it up. "Did she talk to you about it too..." the proud kings' voice is for once delicate and quiet

"... I made her leave" Aro practically folds in half, having to grip over where his hear would be in his chest and lean over because of the burning sensation. It aches, it physically aches him to know he messed up this badly - he didn't give you the time of day

"... I told her I don't have time for this" Caius' fist is buried in his hair, gripping in stress and nearly ripping the strands out of his head. His hands are jittery, shaking, and his hair is tussled - a perfect relection of his inner turmoil

"... In the very moment she asked me not to compare her to Didyme anymore, I told her Didyme would take the criticism" is it possible for vampires to be sick? Because I think Marcus is about to be. His eyes sting and he makes a gagged choking noise like he's dry heaving. Like his fight or flight has chosen freeze and the rising anxiety makes his stomach churn

A knock on the door is what pulls them away

Instead of coming to the turbulent kings and taking them with him, it seems Demetri picked you up on his way back instead and brought you right to them.

There are bags under your eyes, and your skin is sickly. Your cheeks are stained with dried up tears and your eyes are bloodshot like you cried so hard you broke a vessel

They rush toward you and Demetri takes that as his cue to leave

Marcus ever so gently holds your face, eyes scanning you for any physical harm, and when he finds none he feels so much temporary relief he almost collapses into himself. "Thank goodness you're okay, I couldn't bare to lose you-"

"what, like you did Didyme?" you spit back with more venom in your voice than their combined fangs have ever produced in their millennias of life

"No, no" Caius' voice has never been so gentle, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist

"Oh, so I'm gone for three days and suddenly it's about me and not your exes?" there is spite in your voice, but it still wavers with how upset you are

Exclaiming "three days?!" was a big mistake on Aro's part, but in that moment he was so full of concern he hadn't realised it would only worsen the situation

"... You didn't know?" and the look on your face is absolutely heart shattering

And they have no words, nothing to say. Because there is no words, and there are no excuses.

"I was gone for three days, and you didn't care enough to notice?!?" your angry now. And you have every right to be. But they have no idea how to fix what they've done

[wizardrousactivity]

They Promise. Part I

Next>>>>

Synopsis: After the break up with your two partners, you find out you're pregnant. Causing you to fall into a depression and bankruptcy, a month after you give birth they show up at your door. Pleading for you. CW: Pregnancy, depression, break-ups, reader is fairly young. (early twenties) so [age gap] hurt/comfort It’s been about 10 months since König and Simon had left you, knocked up and depressed. You were breastfeeding your month old while sitting in your kitchen, eating up the last of some spaghetti you made. - everything felt empty, sultry and lazy. Spending most of your time weeping in your room until the baby screamed, rushing over to soothe it whenever you could. You needed to care for this baby, he’s all that you have. Your fingers trace over his small hands, rubbing them softly, it gave you comfort that you had another breathing - living human besides yourself in this house. Kissing his forehead you gently lowered him into the crib, looming over the wooden bed before making your way back to the kitchen. Till you hear a knock at your door, stopping you in your tracks. Staying cautious at who could be there at such an hour, you turn on your heel and peek through the blinds. A man the size of a grizzly bear and another man roughly his height. You can’t recognize the both of them till you see the familiar sniper hood and skull mask. Anger boils in you, a slight pang of guilt whirling in your stomach when you think of them seeing the baby. - Wrapping your hands around the handle, a lump growing in your throat once you open it to meet their eyes. Both of them are almost at their knees when you appear at the door, still the same. So perfect, so pretty for them. But they can’t forget they left you, sad and depressed for the entirety of 10 months.

 - Then suddenly you’re back to the first 5 months, trying to stay content with your situation so as to not stress out. You cried almost every day, rubbing your belly and thinking of what was growing in there. The shock was too much for you, causing you to nap through the day just to escape everything. It took a while to realize that it wasn’t the answer to anything, you accepted the baby. But you couldn’t accept the break-up yet. The sound of Ghost’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, a deep gruff voice almost full of guilt. “We need to talk.” “What the fuck is there to talk about?” You retort, you were surprised they even came back. Leaving you deserted so coldly, with a baby they didn’t even know about. Tears build up in your eyes, dripping down your face immediately.   "Liebling- please.." König  interrupts, his hand reaching out to rest on your shoulder till you swat it away. Voice weak and dry. "Don't fuckin' touch me!" His heart pangs with guilt, he needed you. They needed you. The months they spent without you were cruel, half of the girls they met only being hookups to fuck and leave. Crack whores showing up at their shared flat almost every week. Everything goes chaotic until the baby begins to shrill, crying out for his mama upon hearing the noise. Cursing under your breath in panic - rushing upstairs to soothe him once again. König  and Ghost follow you upstairs, stopping in their tracks to stare at the tiny child you are holding in your arms. Patting it's back to calm it down. "Y\n?" König  begins to speak, dumbfounded by the baby. "Where did he come from?" You scowl, look at him with utter disgust. "Its my baby. You guys left me when I got pregnant." Memories begin to flood with your first 3 months, throwing up every morning, nobody was there for you. The food was the hardest part, you barely had any money to spare during that time. You still don't. Guilt boils in their stomachs, watching you care for it with such gentleness. Gentleness they'll never experience again, only touch starved and lonely again.

"Can I hold m'?" Ghost asks, making his voice more gentler around the premise of this now sleeping baby - holding his hands out. Swallowing, you hand him the baby. "What's his name?" He says as he gently engulfs the baby, holding it with ease and security.

"____, that's his name." You dryly respond, licking your lips and putting your hands together. He notices your nervous gesture and hands it back to you. Sighing heavily Ghost puts his hands on your shoulders, rubbing circles in them softly with his thumb. The action making warmth grow in your stomach. Finally speaking amongst the silence, your voice comes out deprived and quiet. "You guys know I can't forgive you after..." Your voice comes to a stop, tears beginning to trickle down again.

"We'll prove it to you then, give us some time baby. We promise." König  makes a grunt at that, putting his hand on your jaw and making you look at him. "Sounds good, nicht?"

[squishycheekanon]

Human!Techno x reader

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, humanTechno being a grump, grumpy guy-sunshineish girl. George complaining (no hate). Touch starvedness. I didn’t mean for there to be a size kink but there is one.

You’re confused, nothing new there, your head swirling from your long week and silly meetings at work. Nothing was more tedious than listening to George drone on about utter nonsense, mindnumbingly stupid complaints that were pointless to point out.

But even after getting up at four am every morning to work late into the night you still agreed to hang out with the gang at their shared house, at first you thought it was idiotic so did Techno maybe that’s why you two and a few of your other friends didn’t join in on the whole living together fiasco.

As much as you loved your friends thirty plus people in one house, no matter how big, was a recipe for disaster. Apparently not. Two years later and they had all managed to make it work setting up chore schedules, and bathroom schedules that seemed to make the house run perfectly.

Still you couldn’t be more glad to end the night in your own apartment snuggled up in your large bed, which is why you’re confused as to why you agreed to hang out tonight knowing full well that Wilbur wanted to have a piss up.

Pretty much everyone had a drink in their hands expect for you. You instead, after having half of the sangria Quackity had made for you, had claimed the little area in the back corner of the big living room. Head tipped back again the sofa, eyes closed and pressing into something warm.

Techno had arrived half an hour after you did, his week had started off great, but by the end of it he couldn’t help but feel a little agitated. He hadn’t seen you the whole week and as much as he’d never admit it out loud, and definitely not to you, he’d missed you.

You were the only person he could truly relax around and he needed that. Has done since he met you. Ten years ago it was, you had been stood up, sitting at a bar quietly crying to yourself when he bumped into you pouring his whiskey on the rocks all down your back, soaking your dress and pulling a squeal from you. A squeal he still teases you for. But he spent the rest of the night doing everything he could think of to make you smile and laugh to make up for it. It worked and you’ve been friends ever since.

Techno weaved his way through the huge hallway into the large kitchen to grab a beer from the double door fridge offering small nods to those who greeted him on his way to the massive living room area. His curious eyes scanning the space until they landed on you, the corners of his lips turning up slightly at the sight before him.

With a shake of his head he sat down next to you perhaps a little too close but when you sighed so softly pressing yourself into his warmth he relaxed against the leather sofa. “Long week?” He asked watching with a knowing gaze as you nodded. Knowing because this would be one of the nights he’d have to get a very sleepy you into his car and all the way up to your apartment and into your bed.

Techno dragged his gaze away from you to watch Wilbur try and teach Tommy and Tubbo how to play poker. At that point Phil and his wife arrived, Phil immediately coming over to Techno giving him a bro hug and saying hi to you which revived a thumbs up and a lazy smile. No matter how hard you try to open your eyes they were just so damn heavy you couldn’t do it, Phil smiled anyway glancing at Techno when he huffed at you.

“Take her home dude.” Phil patted Techno’s shoulder making the latter nod passing his unopened beer to Phil before picking you up. It was meant to be bridal style but you clung to him subconsciously wrapping your legs around his waist. He adapted a big arm around your waist and another under your tush, glaring at those who made whooping noises or whistled too loud making you whine softly onto his neck.

“Alright bun we’re going, we’re going.” He soothed, the words feeling a little foreign on his monotonous tongue.

“Tec!” Tommy was quick to stop his beefy uncle hooking your little handbag onto his shoulder, the sight was enough to make Tommy snicker to himself as he walked away. With a roll of his eyes Techno left the large house rather happy he had managed to skip the get together.

—

You thanked Techno ten times over in the morning when you woke in your own bed, you knew exactly who got you there. You felt ridiculously bad resulting in you spending the whole morning and most of the afternoon baking him sweet treats while you waited for his reply text to see if he was coming over or wether you’d need to drop them at his.

Music played through out the kitchen, your cherry covered apron wrapped around your oversized T-shirt clad body as you iced the cupcakes to look like little Minecraft piggys giggling as you did so.

“Well isn’t this a sight.” You jumped back at the sound of Technos voice, looking up to see him grinning at you.

“What the fuck Tec!” You huffed dropping the icing bag to place your hands on your hips, he simply held up the spare key you’d given him before slipping it back into his pocket. “Dick.” You scoffed instantly regretting it when Techno gasped loudly, overexaggeratingly.

“Excuse you missy! I carry you home-“

“You drove.”

“Risk my life getting you up those stairs-“

“You always take the elevator.”

“Almost die trippin’ over the pile of dirty laundry-“

“It was one sock.”

“And this is the thanks I get?! Unbelievable.” He huffs crossing his muscular arms over his rather burly chest. You suppose you’ve never stopped to think about how big your best friend is, how good looking-

“Those better be for me.” He grumbles coming further into the kitchen freezing when he rounds the island you’re icing the cupcakes on to see your exposed legs. Clearing his throat and shaking off whatever that was, it’s not like he’s not seen it before. Hell he’s seen you in a bikini, this is nothing but he swears that’s his shirt as he walks closer.

“Yes they are Mr.Grumpy.” You smile when he pinches your hip slightly, his hulking form compared to you standing behind you, hovering over you as you work to get the pig just right. What you don’t expect, it really does take you by surprise and a warmth spreads in your stomach when he gently undoes the apron sitting on your hips only to redo it tighter.

It’s a simple act of helping but it has your cheeks warming like this man hasn’t done it before, like it’s new but it isn’t. “Thanks.” You internally praise yourself for not stuttering. Techno doesn’t even notice the slight tremor in your voice too focused of the that fact that you smell so good. Like vanilla.

Well maybe great minds think alike because his musky scent is now all your mind can focus on, it swirls around you stinking up the area around you, bursting your precious bubble replacing is with his cologne. Cinnamon and hint of tangerines? An odd combination but it smells so fucking nice on him, you just wanna bury your face in it.

“You missed the eyes.” He chuckled, eyes scanning over your face while you blink out of your little trance.

“Oh right.” You laugh stiffly, nervously. It makes Techno frown, he’s never heard you nervous around him. Others, yes. Him, never. That’s how it should be, yet you are. It makes him lean forward placing both palms on the worktop, essentially caging you in.

“What’s the matter bun?” He asks gruffly and as if by instinct your thighs press together, a small wiggle of your hips to create some unknowingly needed friction. His voice and that nickname, both of them usually so sweet and calming suddenly have a strange effect. Maybe it’s just you simply being touched starved? The loneliness catching up with you?

“Nothing.” It’s a blunt reply but it’s all you’ve got, you don’t dare turn around. How can you? Then you’d have to stare at his gorgeous face, you already feel his careful gaze burning holes into your head.

“Now I know that’s not true.” His breathy laugh skims over your skin making you shiver, he notices his hands sliding to your hips to turn you around, thumb and index finger keeping your chin locked so you have nowhere else to look but him. “Tell me bun, what’s troubling you? The long week?”

His voice, his eyes, his whole demeanour is too sincere it has a whimper slipping from you. The noise enough to make you both freeze, Techno’s eyes darkening.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You admit honestly, fists tightening in frustration. You hadn’t felt like this in a while always too busy with work to sit and wallow in your feelings, maybe that was a good thing because right now with Techno so close; someone you trusted and knew cared for you; your body was taking control, letting you natural instincts take over.

You needed him, and Techno understood. He understood the look in your eye from what he’d seen in his own. Moving a few inches forward he wrapped his arms around your waist, one hand sliding up to tangle itself in your hair soothingly. Before you could even think about freezing up, “Relax bun, I got you.” He encouraged making you melt slipping your own arms around his muscular form.

“What do you need from me?” He asks after a few minutes feeling you grow restless in his hold. He knew you needed more but what he says next takes you back slight, “Do you need an old school finger fuck and make out session on the couch?” He asks jokingly though there is an air of seriousness to it. Especially with what he says next, his beautiful eyes sparkling with want, “Or do you need to sit on my face and let me lick you until your cum runs down my jaw?”

He squints when you whimper gripping his arm tighter, his head tilting slightly as he looks you over “Or maybe you just need a good fuck?” It takes you a second to comprehend but his hand’s already sliding up your leg, his rough palm against your soft skin.

“Mmmhmm, yeah, I think that’s it. Here, lift my t-shirt up a little so you can slide these panties off.” You blush at his words but do as he says, watching in almost shock when he drops to his knees large hands sliding up your things guiding you to open your legs slightly.

“Oh god your thighs are so soft bunny.” He murmurs against your skin, his nose dragging over the part where your thigh and your stomach meet. “And this pretty pussy, I can’t believe you’ve kept this hidden Bunny. So selfish.” He chided playfully.

The grin broad as daylight disappeared between you thighs, your head falling back, hands seeking purchase on the kitchen countertops. He placed a pressured kiss right on your clit listening to the hitch of your breath. Techno swears he’s never heard a sound so pretty than the moan he pulled from you when he wrapped his lips around little nub.

He wants to work night and day to make sure you never stop making that noise. Techno watched your wetness trickling down your thigh quick to lick it up not letting any go to waste. It’s as if his first taste transformed him from the composed grump of a man you knew to a starving man who had a three course meal laid out in front of him, your eyes rolled back, sinful moans echoing in the room.

He moved his tongue like he was possessed, licking into your clenching hole as if he was digging for something before closing his lips around your clit and sucking it so hard you swear it will be bruised tomorrow. His harsh and continuous actions on your cunt had one of your hands grasping onto Techno’s hair, your back arching as you started a slow grind on his tongue.

“That’s it Bunny make yourself cum, use my to tongue.” He hums into your weeping entrance, but you’re so focused on the feeling of euphoria coursing through your veins you don’t hear him, all your senses being taken over and before you know it you’re cumming, drenching the lower half of his chin though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, slurping down all you give him, trying to pull more from you.

Though with a push of your hand against his head and whine of sensitivity he conceded rising from his knees instantly pulling you close into his hold, lips pressing against your own.

With one roll of his hips he’s inside you and not giving you a second to comprehend it. No, he’s already pulling back and slamming into you over and over again watching as you arch your body into his.

Techno is swift and slick with how he manages to pick you up, placing you on the worktop and deliver a hard thrust quickly after leaving you short of breath.

His large hand slides up over your throat applying slight pressure to push you down against the counter. Then up to your mouth, two thick fingers slipping inside letting you moan and whine around them, saliva dribbling down your cheeks. Neither of you care so engrossed in the feeling of being fucked so thoroughly.

Your moans down right pornographic, when he hit that spongy rough patch inside you. Striking it over and over again, Techno had never looked more happy than when he watched your head fall back, eyes rolling with it.

“Fuck, yes bun clench around me like that, take all that I’m giving you like a good girl.” They way he grunted the words into your ear before sucking your earlobe into his hot mouth had you whining around his fingers. White hot pleasure engulfing your messy form, nothing had ever felt better than this moment.

Your body felt like it was burning with each thrust of his hard cock, all you could do was lie there on the kitchen counter and dribble around his fingers while he fucked your pussy ruthlessly. If this was his version of a good fuck, you’d happily have it everyday.

The coil in your lower abdomen tightened and tightened, until you shattered on his cock, cumming harshly as the waves of pleasure rolled over you so intensely, your walls clenching around him tightly. He snapped his hips into you quicker chasing his own high, wanting to fill you up desperately.

“Please Tec, cum inside me!” That did it for him, absolutely finished him. He groaned thrusting into you so deep as he finished inside you just like you begged him to.

“Fuck bun, you did so good for me. Just relax, breathe, I’ve got you.” He soothed blinking away the last remaining blur of his orgasm, focusing on you and the aftercare you not only needed but deserved.

Cupcakes forgotten about Techno picked you up and carried you to your room laying you on your bed then helping you remove his shirt.

“So fucking pretty bun.” He shook his head staring down at your body, you were ready to disagree absolutely sure you looked like the mess he’d certainly fucked you into but the way his eyes darkened as they raked over your body had your mouth closing.

“Now, before I start running you a bath. I need another taste.” He groaned kneeling in front of the bed, grabbing your ankles to pull you closer to his face.

“But Tec you already-“

“No but’s bun, you’ve been keeping this fucking delicacy from me for far too long. I’ve got a lot of pussy worshiping to make up for and I’m sure she would agree.”

Tags:

@victory-is-here

@lillianastuff

@simply-vulpecula

@itsberrydreemurstuff

@megnotfound

@vanivivs

@cherryblossomdelusion

@dreamwvrld

@fionamk1001

@angelicadiabolus

@bloodgoddarlin

[heavenlyysstuff]

A Sign From Eywa.

NETEYAM.s x avatar!fem!reader

summary , your first encounter with a na’vi.

a/n , older Neteyam. Basically Jake and Neytiri all over again, this is the first time humans have come to Pandora. Jake is full na’vi in this.

Italics is speaking na’vi

It was just a few hours ago you were in the safety of the lab, where multiple avatars just like you were waking up. You didn’t plan to be out so long, you were just sent to gather some samples with some scientists before you shortly got separated.

And now here you are.

Silence is even more common now, with the lack of yelps and grunts from his attack, all you could hear was the distant sounds of the forest, and the burning wood of your makeshift torch. You take a step to reach for it, but he gets there first.

The second the flame is in his hand he tosses it into the river stream, being rid of your only source of light.

“Hey, What are you doing?!” You speak the first words, wary to be quiet. He turns to you, looks you up and down before grunting and storming of.

“I…wait!” You whine, taking some quick steps to catch up, now only just behind him.

“Do not follow.” He keeps walking.

“What?” You utter in almost disbelief, “…You saved me back there, thank you.” You refer to the small creatures that almost resembled rabid dogs.

He huffs before halting his walk, you collide into his back but quickly take a step back as he turns around, “Go away. Your fault.”

You stutter on your words for a second, “My fault? They tried to kill me!”

“Your fault!” Emphasising his words as he furrows his eyebrows and looks you in the eyes, they soften for a moment, but too quickly for you to notice.

“…alright, sorry, for whatever I did.”

“They did not need to die. You’re like a baby, making noise, don’t know what to do.” His tone remains stern, you feel like a little kid being scolded.

“We’ll if you liked them so much why’d you save me?” You sas back.

He straightens his posture, processing your words, “why save you?”

“Mhm.”

He’s silent again for a moment, and his face slowly softens when he looks to you again, “you have a strong heart.”

Your stance relaxes, taken back by his sudden kindness, but just as quickly as the compliment came,

“But stupid. Ignorant like a child.” You huff, can’t help but quietly laugh, covering your mouth as to not seem so rude. He rolls his eyes and starts to speed walk away once again.

“Hey wait!…” you jog to catch up as he starts to walk across a trees root that stands high from the ground, you don’t have time to hesitate as you only care for his answer, “if I’m such a child maybe you should teach me.”

“No, sky people cannot learn, they cannot see.”

“Then teach me to see!”

“Impossible.” He doesn’t stop his stride.

You stop for a second as you nearly take a wrong step, but immediately get back on your feet to follow him. “Hey, where’d you learn English? A school?” Your the closest you’ve been to him as you nearly fall backwards off the side of the roots.

His hand grasps bicep and makes you steady, “you’re like a baby.” He curses under his breath, finally standing still.

His eye are only held on yours for a moment before a glow above takes his attention, you follow his gaze.

Small white wisps lower themselves towards you, hovering over your shoulders and head, you flinch at the unknown creature, but the male steadies you again, “stop!… Atokirina’…”

His hand relaxes on your arm, “Atokirina’…” you visibly calm down at his infatuation with the floating creatures, as more come and hover over your arms.

Your breath shudders, quickly glancing at him then back at the wisps, “what are they..?”

“Seeds of the sacred tree, very pure spirits.” He takes his time with the answer, clearly admiring the creatures as they slowly part from you.

When they all depart into the darkness of the forest, you turn back to the male, “what was that about?”

His eyes dart to yours as you break him out of his trance, “follow.” then rushing to grab your forearm to pull you with him, “come!” He ushers.

You follow him for what is really only a few minutes, “where are we going?” You shout, he’s much faster than you.

He doesn’t stop to answer, not turning to face you, just continuing to run to the unknown destination. “What’s your name?” Another question as to get an idea of who exactly you’re travelling with, he still doesn’t answer.

Just as your look up from your feet and up to him to continue following, a bundle of rope with rocks gets thrown harshly to your ankles, tripping you and ultimately making you fall off of the platform to land on the ground.

“Shit!” You hiss in pain at the fall, You don’t see it, but the male who had been guiding you turns to see your state and hisses in realisation, turning around to come get you.

When you untangle the ropes around your feet, you look up to see a group of… horses, or creatures that somewhat resemble a horse, they are all mounted with Na’vi.

You quickly stand up, turning to escape through the glowing bushes when another Na’vi emerges from it, armed with a bow. Even more make their presence known as they all come out from hiding and aim at you.

They all form into a circle around you, and at this point you can’t do anything but surrender, putting your hands up to show it.

The male Na’vi you acquainted with jumps down from the high branches, grunting at the landing, then looking towards his people. “Mawey na’vi, mawey!” He shouts in sternly, and the people don’t pay too much mind to him.

Until a female gets off the horse creature, her posture confident and face stern, “what are you doing, Tso’ha.” The male grunts.

“Demons are not aloud here. You know that.” The female states. You note her importance to the people around her as they look to be following her every command.

“There has been a sign.” He sates back. “This matter is for the Tsahik to deal with.”

The woman stays silent and looks to be processing the information, even if you don’t know what they’re saying, you feel like she isn’t going to be so violent now, and you note yourself to thank the male when you get the chance. “Bring her.” She says to the na’vi. And suddenly your arms are being grabbed by the many people, forced to move forward.

You quickly look towards the only male that you had known, he doesn’t spare you a glance that you can see, he rushes in front of the people that manhandle you as the horses gallop to lead the way.

It’s not long before your arms feel numb against the harshness of the grip the na’vi have on you. You groan at the lack of hospitality. But thankfully it looks like you’re close to the end of your long journey as the na’vi lead you under the large form of a tree, this looks like the entrance.

Once you look up, you see a crowd of na’vi, they look towards you in curiosity and you finally feel the sets of hands on you release. You rub your biceps and hiss at the pain.

You still feel your long briad being held behind you, also sensing a knife close to your neck, it’s probably best to stay calm.

The crowd of people makes a clearing around you and the male in front of you. For some reason your glad you have someone you recognise, even if you don’t truly know who he is, he still brings some comfort.

“Sir.” He says, with a tone that you recognise to be calm. He brings his hand up to his forehead and then down.

Another, older male comes closer towards you. Circling you for a moment, you bow your head slightly in respect. This male must be a higher up, you assume when you scan his attire.

He backs away from you, walking up to the na’vi that had brought you here in the first place. “What is this, Neteyam?”

The male only a few feet away from you exhales, looking towards the ground, “I was going to kill her, but there was a sign.”

“I have said that demons are not aloud here.”

He signs once again, slowly turning his face to see you. “My father is deciding weather to kill you.”

“Oh, great.” You whisper to yourself sarcastically. You look around you to distract yourself, but a strong voice pulls you out of the trance.

“Step away, I will look at this alien.” A woman yells from above, walking down towards her people. Based on her clothing you assume she is also in higher power. You also can’t help but notice how pretty she is, is she and the other higher up male together? They seem like they’d be a perfect couple.

When she finally reaches you, she circles around you just as the man did, grasping your long braid for a brief moment which makes you shudder, as well as twirling your tail. The she stands in front of you. “What are you called?”

She makes you feel nervous, somehow, being in her presence makes you feel intimidated. “Y/n.”

She takes in your appearance, seemingly looking over your clothing in disapproval. “Why have you come here.” She demands

“To learn…”

“We have tried teaching sky people before, it is hard to fill a cup that is already full.”

“Oh trust me, my cup is empty.

“What are you.”

You hesitate, trying to come up with the best answer, “I was in the navy… a warrior, of the… beetle clan.” They don’t exactly pick up on your small lie.

“A warrior? I could kill her easy!” You recognise the female from before, you don’t know what she said but you have a feeling it’s a retaliation against your words, how did she understand that? You hear a few yelps of agreement form other na’vi, but it’s shut down by the higher up female.

“No. This is the first sky warrior we have seen… we must learn from it.” She sighs, turning to face her son.

“You will teach her. To talk and walk as we do.”

“Why me? That is not fair—”

“Is has been decided.”

The male turns to look at the ground and hisses, his mother isn’t phased.

The woman turns to you again, “Impress me. Or you will be leaving just like the other demons.”

You sigh in relief and bow your head to thank the woman.

It wasn’t long before you were roped straight into the introduction of the na’vi ways, that started with clothing.

You tug and the small bottom of your clothing and are wary with the placement of your top. You’ve never worn something so revealing, but you suppose this would be nothing out of the ordinary for na’vi.

You are guided by the only familiar face into a crowd of sitting na’vi, you try your best to make way through without trodding on any tails.

Finally you sit down, thankfully next to the male you had began to know, he begins eating. “Y’know, I never got your name.” You prompt conversation.

He slows his chewing before swallowing, then glancing to you, “Neteyam.”

“Nateyem…” you repeat to feel familiar with the foreign sounds.

He cringes at your pronunciation. “Neteyam.” He says, emphasising each syllable.

“Neteyam… it’s nice to meet you, Neteyam.” You smile. To be completely honest, you are beyond thankful for his welcome, even if he was a bit harsh, your glad you didn’t die within the first day of being in your avatar.

He furrows the space where his eyebrows would be, and gives a smirk, before returning to his food.

[reddeaddamnation]

"Possession vs Obsession" - Sub-Zero x reader x Scorpion- Chapter III

Summary: An arranged marriage between clans in the name of peace ironically disturbs the peace of the two brothers who find themselves in a new feud. This time between themselves. Betrayal and heartache had been destined for them since she entered their lives. Y/N of the Shadow-weaver clan, promised to Bi Han, future Grand Master of the Lin Kuei, stands in front of the difficult decision- to end the war between their clans or end the war within the Lin Kuei temple.

"Outworld scum." Bi Han growled quietly watching the four armed creatures settle around a campfire, where some kind of meat was roasting. They sounded animalistic, talking in sounds only a beast would make. They didn't suffer from Tarkat. No, these beings didn't look like Tarkatans either. They had human like arms, long legs with backwards facing joints and elongated faces with jaws of a wasp or beetle. They had small, atrophied bat wings, which seemed to be useless, as they only walked. "We have to destroy their camp and kill them."

Bi Han briefly explained that they posed a threat to Earthrealm, as they poured in bunches out of some kind of portals and kidnapped lonely travelers and helpless people from their homes in villages. In front of the ninjas at the moment were only a dozen. Thankfully, from their position up on a cliff, they remained unseen, so they could create a plan. At least that was what Y/N was hoping.

"I will not be standing around you at all times like over a child." He glared at her briefly "So I hope you can fight and not hold me back." During their day of travel to this location, he had not uttered a single word to her if she had not started a conversation. And even then, he still replied with as less words as possible. It was getting on Y/N's nerves at this point. "You won't even hear a yelp from me." She glared back at him. "Come on then. Let's see if you're worthy."

The man jumped down, followed closely by Y/N, who took the form of a mist of shadow to safely land behind one of the beasts and slash it's throat. Black blood oozed out of it and the guttural noise it made startled the rest who immediately jumped from their places to attack. Conjuring spears from shadows, two were impaled straight to the ground. Sub Zero punched his way through several and smashed one's head with an ice hammer.

Y/N disappeared again, evading swords slashing at her and passed through the small croud, confusing them. Again, appearing from behind, she impaled two more on her shadowy blades and threw them to the ground. She turned around to see one of the monsters raising its sword to strike at Bi Han and with lightning reflexes, she threw a shuriken at it, making it stumble just in time for her companion to notice. He briefly looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite make out before finishing the job.

A scream gave out the position from where the next attack would come from and she managed to grip the armed hand that was swinging at her by the wrist. She could not protect herself from the punch that followed tho, making her let go and stumble backwards, allowing the sword to slash her arm. A kick to the stomach sent her flying back.

Y/N raised a figure of a robed shade skeleton, which flew right into the mouth of one of her own attackers. Moments later, he exploded in a heap of black blood. She could not escape, however, from the surprise attack from behind her back. An arm wrapped around her throat and another held onto her arms. Her attempted kicking was futile. A blade flashed in the side of her eye, pressing into her throat and drawing blood.

A chill ran down her spine then. The creature froze in place, quite literally at that. Its head was frozen and crushed, making both of them drop to the ground. When she regained her breath, she looked up at Bi Han, ready for a mouthful about how he wasn't going to save her and whatnot. That did not happen. He hesitantly extended his hand for her to take and pulled her up from the ground. The unexpected behavior caught her off guard.

"Are you hurt?" He asked quietly, looking at her face... anywhere but her eyes... meek like a kitten. She shook her head no. "Just some cuts and bruises. Nothing serious." Bi Han's eyes lingered on the deep cut on her arm which was bleeding quite a bit. "You're bleeding!" He stated, raising his voice, just barely. "I said I can handle it!" Y/N insisted.

Attempting to step away, she felt light headed all of a sudden. Bi Han noticed her stumble and quickly closed the gap between them to catch her before she fell. Her wound was deep...deep into the muscle and close to the bone... and bleeding. Fast. There was no way they would make it to the temple in time. He needed to stop the bleeding. Or he would never hear the end of it from his father and brothers...

"Bi Han..." the girl looked into his eyes with her own, half lidded, weak... He laid her down next to the fire to keep her warm. Gripping one of the metal rods from inside it, he pressed it to the wound to cartherize it. The smell of burning flesh and blood filled his nostrils. Y/N shrieked in pain, digging her nails into his bicep. "Listen to me, assassin." He commanded through gritted teeth, wincing from the pain "Stay with me. Don't give up."

Sub Zero threw the rod aside and ripped a piece of his cloth to wrap it around the wound. Thankfully, the bleeding had stopped for now. He held her close to his chest, allowing her to rest as much as needed before they depart. "You are a good fighter." He spoke "I underestimated you." Just to keep her listening to his voice so she stays conscious "And I thank you for saving my life. I return the favor to you." Just to stay conscious...that's what he thought... "You risked your own for mine..."

[heesdreamer]

SILENCED (1)

MASTERLIST

GENRE ➩ enhypen zombie apocalypse au!

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

WC ➩ 10.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Riki.”

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually the groans got quieter and you could hear the light splash of a stream, catching sight of the other boys huddled together before the saw you.

“They’re here.” Jake was announcing when he picked his head up and saw the three of you approaching. He stood up and rushed to meet you halfway, checking Sunoo and Riki for injuries before his eyes landed on you.

His gaze trailed down to the gun clenched in your hands and for a second you thought he’d take it from you, demand you leave or maybe try to kill you here and now so they didn’t have another thing to worry about. Instead he took a step closer and briefly scanned over your body, similar to the way he was doing to the others.

“I’m okay.” You breathed out and you weren’t sure why you said it, just wanting to get his concerned look off of your frame as soon as possible. He nodded his head but lingered on your for a second before turning and walking back over to the others.

You followed behind him to see what the boys were surrounding, watching as they all pointed at a crinkled map and spoke in hushed voices. They carried bags on their shoulders and you vaguely noted that Jungwon’s was full of the guns he was always taking such intense care of.

“We’ve been that way man.” Jay was sighing and shaking his head and he pushed Jake’s finger away and moved it further down the map. “From here to here it’s not clear, dead ends or there’s just nothing left.”

“Well we can’t go north.” Sunghoon was countering and you could see a large red X over the area he was referring to. You wonder how long they’d been planning an escape plan with no luck.

You listened to them talk for awhile with a sick feeling in your stomach, wondering if you should help and throw out the idea that was brewing in your mind. On one hand this was your chance to escape considering they had no home to even protect anymore, you could sneak out or hold the gun in your hands to one of their heads until you were far enough away that they wouldn’t follow.

This could be your only opportunity to be back on your own, not owing any sort of debt to a group that was dealing with their own conflict.

Riki was looking back at you suddenly with a worried expression and that thought was immediately out the window as you let out a small sigh, upset at yourself for what you were about to do, before stepping up towards the boys.

“I know a place.” You were rushing out and they all turned to look at you. Heeseung’s eyes were softening at your sudden want to help and you nodded at him. “It’s a few hours south but I stayed there for a few weeks before I kept moving away from that area.”

“You think it’s still there?” Jungwon was asking, his first time speaking to you directly since you’d arrived to their group. His voice wasn’t as harsh as his glare though and he seemed genuinely curious, not suspicious of your motives.

“It was gated.” You shrugged and bent down, bumping into Heeseung’s side and causing him to sway in his crouched position. You were touching the map and felt relieved to see the area you were referring to wasn’t crossed out or circled. “It might not be but it’s worth a shot. Plus we don’t have many options.”

“We?” Heeseung’s voice was soft from beside you and you turned your head to look at him, flushing slightly when you realized how close to each others faces you were.

“Yeah.. we.”

——

[imagine-darksiders]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart.

Chapter 23 - Evading Sunrise.

Summary: Who better to know what a human needs than one who used to be human themselves?

[I'm still alive! Woo! Just overwrought! I'm playing in a sold-out show from Jan 16th and rehearsals have been 1900 to 2300 every night, bar the weekend, so my writing time is greatly diminished. I've also recently come into the family business, which isn't what I thought I'd be doing with my life, but hey-ho, I haven't got any other option, so I'm also bogged down with learning that whole setup. These little moments where I can write and read all your kind, encouraging comments are becoming more and more precious to me. xxx]

---------------

There is a kindness that the Universe could easily grant you, were it so inclined. Just a small thing, effortless even, hardly a difficult feat for the Powers that be, if They had so much as a shred of empathy.

The Universe has taken much from you, and were it a little kinder, it would take one last thing.

… It would take your ability to dream.

Death knows all too well that for as long as humans have been unwitting players on the cosmic chess board, they’ve been left to stand utterly alone, un-helped and unacknowledged by an indifferent Creator.

Why should you be the exception?

Why should you be granted a tiny mercy by the very Being who gave you a mind to dream with in the first place?

It just seems an unnecessary cruelty, the Horseman supposes, that your own biology should stand in the way of your respite.

It’s been several, long hours since you rolled over and eloped into the un-waking world, and Death has only moved as far as the door, leaning his weight back against the bone-dry wood with an air of resignation that his journey is to be paused until sunrise, at the very earliest. No matter… There’s little sense facing the Chancellor’s dreaded ‘Champion’ in the dark, after all.

You might have smirked and called him paranoid about the rigid stance he’s taken in front of the room’s only entrance, but the soft yet not-so-silent footfalls that keep approaching the door reaffirm his decision.

He doesn’t know if it’s the Blademaster sniffing about or some other undead who has come to gawk at the living, breathing human in their midst, but there’s something undoubtedly amusing about feeling wood push against his spine for a few seconds before the presence on the other side meets the resistance of a Horseman’s immoveable body weight.

What follows is the distinct sound of those same footsteps hurrying off down the corridor, making every attempt to be stealthy, but failing miserably.

It would be less amusing if any of their attempts were to wake you up. In fact, the only reason Death hasn’t ripped the door open and threatened to skewer the nosy stranger is currently sound asleep just a few feet away from whatever ruckus that would cause.

Or you were sound asleep. At least until a few minutes ago.

Death’s forefingers tap aimlessly against his bicep as he frowns down at your face. You’ve scrunched your features up into a tight grimace, nose wrinkling and the corners of your mouth twisted south towards your chin.

You’re still asleep. Just not soundly.

The pitiable whimpers you’ve been uttering for a while now indicate a troubled mind, though the Horseman can’t say he’s surprised. It’s disappointing, to be sure. He’d have thought you’d be far too exhausted to be plagued by dreams tonight, yet evidently, you’re not that fortunate. Which is a crying shame, because while Death doesn’t believe in luck per-se, he thinks that if such a thing were to exist, you’re more than overdue.

“Hmm, mnn,” you murmur through closed lips, tossing your head to the right.

Above you on the headboard, Dust retrieves his beak from under an ebony wing and cocks a gaze at you, crooning out a soft, inquiring noise from his throat.

“Shhh,” Death breathes, earning a sleepy glare from the crow, though he does at least fall silent, contenting himself to simply watch as you throw a hand out to one side and clench your fist around an invisible force.

“….Mmn, eye…,” you mutter through slightly parted lips.

‘Eye?’ Death’s brow knots under his mask, yet he isn’t left wondering for long.

“… Eideard?” you suddenly croak, “… C’m’back!”

Ah… So that’s where your head is at.

Lowering his eyes to the ratty blanket, Death releases a sigh that’s been building in his chest for a few minutes now.

Your legs have been steadily working to kick the covers off the bed, never settling, as if you’re trying to run from something.

The clack of a beak draws the Horseman’s gaze once again to Dust, who now has a rather expectant look aimed his way.

Death can’t help but be reminded of that night in Tri Stone, when he’d remained stolidly outside on the bench whilst you stifled your sobs in the Makers’ Forge.

He recalls that Dust had been rather scathing about his inaction. The Horseman hadn’t cared for the bird’s judgement then, and he’s even less appreciative now.

What is he supposed to do? Wake you? At least if you’re dreaming, you’re getting some rest.

Sleep, he’s learned, is something that’s essential to a human’s sustained survival.

Not for the first time, he considers the benefits of having an empty chest, hardened and calcified through centuries of existing in an indifferent universe.

It means he has nothing to steel when you suddenly fling yourself over onto your side with your mouth hanging open, releasing a short, hitching sob that catches in your throat, and an arm that stretches out towards something unseen by the Horseman, your fingers spreading rigidly until they quake with the strain.

… The gentling of Death’s expression goes unnoticed, even by him.

He’s nearly shocked when his boot slides forwards ever so slightly, scraping across the floorboards as if to carry him away from the door and towards you.

Pausing, he cocks a brow down at his own leg, half expecting it to explain itself.

What he doesn’t expect – but perhaps should have – is the loud and jarring gasp that suddenly floods into the little human on the bed with the frantic desperation of one who’s been underwater for far too long, and you’ve only just managed to reach the surface to take a breath before your lungs collapse.

Death’s eyes flick towards you just in time to witness your silhouette lurching up off the mattress, a garbled shout tumbling from your lips as you clutch feverishly at your chest.

“Karn!?” you blurt out, whipping your head back and forth to search through the darkness of Draven’s quarters for a maker who isn’t there.

It would be easy for Death to remain still and silent, to wait until whatever grasp your nightmare still has on you to finally slip loose on its own… He needn’t step in.

It would be easy…

“…Hhh…” Grousing silently to himself, the Horseman pushes away from the door and takes a decisive step towards you before he can begin to overthink his actions.

“Y/n,” he mutters, not loud enough to be startling, but just loud enough to catch your attention.

Even still, you flinch, whirling your torso in his direction and letting your hazy eyes land on the pale, ghostly mask looming above you in the dark.

For several seconds, you merely stare up at Death, the hand on your chest crumpling your shirt as you gather the flimsy fabric into a tight fist.

Death doesn’t elect to break the silence again. After another moment or two of watching you gulp down another lungful of stale air, his patience pays off, and you swallow thickly, croaking, “Death?”

The Horseman’s chin dips down. “Yes.”

“Is… Karn here?” Your voice sounds so fragile, poisoned by a grain of hope.

Going very still, Death allows a beat to pass, giving himself time to think of an answer.

Perhaps… you think you’re still in a dream.

Quietly, he offers a concise response, one that hopefully doesn’t cause you any more distress whilst bringing you further out of the idea that this isn’t real. “Karn…” he begins, “…remained in the Forge Lands.”

He watches you physically deflate. Not from relief though. Relief doesn’t douse the sleepy kindling of hope that had momentarily lit the contours of your face.

Solemn, a little more awake, you slowly ask, “Is… Eideard…. Is he…?”

“… Gone,” is Death’s only reply.

A breath shudders out of you as you let your gaze drift down to your fingers, twining over themselves in twists and knots. “Oh…” you breathe, “I… thought I…” But your sentence trails off before you can finish it.

So, Death says it for you. “You thought you saw him,” he ventures, “In a dream.”

And with that, whatever strings have been holding you taut are promptly cut, sending you flopping back onto Draven’s mattress with a sorrowful ‘whump,’ still very much awake and positively quaking hard enough to cause the wooden bed frame to shudder in tandem.

That’s the thing about dreams, Death supposes, after a point, they’re the perfect nesting ground for ghosts.

His brother, Strife, would confide in him, many eons ago, that he could still see the faces of their fallen brethren behind his eyelids whenever he tried to rest. Death had only told him that it would pass, if given the time to. He hadn’t the gall to tell Strife that he too could see those same, hateful eyes and blood-filled mouths just as clearly.  

Eideard isn’t the only person you’ve lost. He’s said it before, but it bears repeating; you’ve also lost your family, your friends and every other human on Earth.

Your dreams, much like Death’s, are full of ghosts.

Drawing your hands up towards your face, you press the heel of each palm to your eyelids and grind down hard until a kaleidoscope of colour sparks to life across your vision, not unlike fireworks blooming across a cold, November sky.

Shakily, you blow out a dry, unsteady whoosh of air and groan, “Fuck…”

Death purses his lips, privately concurring with your brief assessment of the situation.

Then, in a motion that’s steeped in tiredness, you drag your focus back over to the Horseman, rolling your head to the side and adding, “You’re still here…”

“Yes, I’m still here,” he utters, quiet as a breath, only to balk at the dulcet quality in his tone. Clearing his throat to rid it of the uninvited tenderness, he promptly tacks on, “I told you; someone has to keep an eye on Dust.”

Damp-cheeked, you crane your neck back to send an upside-down glance at the crow roosting on the headboard above you.

A single, glossy eyeball stares back.

You’re fairly confident that Dust hasn’t done a damn thing to warrant any of Death’s baseless assumptions.

With your gaze still locked on the bird, you sigh, “You two can go, if you want to…”

At that, the Horseman knows he’s going to refuse before he even gives you a verbal response.

This isn’t the first time you’ve offered him an ‘out,’ a convenient excuse for him to duck from the room and escape the burden of bearing witness to your downward spiral.

You’re asking, in as quiet a hint as you can manage, for the privacy to cry without an audience.

… If it weren’t for the mysterious footsteps padding about outside…

“It would be in your best interest for me to stay,” he offers, earning a weary sigh from your side of the room, as if you’ve by now figured it would never be that easy to get rid of him.

Already, his keen eyes have picked out the slightest gleam of tears gathering behind your lashes. The next breath you try to draw in sticks to the back of your throat, yet before your face can crumple completely, you roll yourself over onto your opposite side, facing the wall – deliberately angling your body away from the Horseman, who watches on in silence as you hike your shoulders up towards your ears.

Drawing his brows together underneath the mask, Death glides silently closer to your bed and peers down at the human-shaped lump quivering under the covers.

 All is quiet for a time, until at last…

“… I’m sorry.” Your words seep out of you in a thick, watery whisper. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

‘You didn’t sign up for me,’ goes unspoken, but somehow the idea still hangs between you both like cold, falling snow.

It seems an odd thing to say, Death muses, considering that in a sense, he did sign up for this. Hell, he all but stamped his signature on that contract when he carried you through the portal to the Crowfather’s realm.

“Well… Neither did you…” he returns truthfully as he turns around and sinks onto the mattress at the foot of the bed, draping each forearm over a knee. The old wood doesn’t even creak as he settles down, nor does the straw bend beneath his illogical weight, much like the desert sand hadn’t swallowed him up to his calves as it had yours.

He hears the blanket rustle behind him as you twist your neck around to spare him a glance over your shoulder. If you’re at all shocked to find him suddenly sitting so close to you, you’re either too tired or too polite to say a word about it.

So, you turn back to the wall without comment, and although you attempt to bring a hand up to press a sweat-slicked palm across your mouth, such a meagre covering of skin isn’t enough to contain the grief that starts to pour out of you.

But just as you’d offered Death the unquestioned freedom to seek vicinity to you, the Horseman doesn’t try to interrupt or diminish this sombre moment with talk or awkward attempts at comfort.

It stirs a memory in him, of a much younger Nephilim, trudging through a silent, windswept battlefield alongside the only other three who had escaped the Battle for Eden. Not a word was said between them as they left the dead behind, but Death had offered them proximity as well. They said nothing of it, they hadn’t even accused him of hovering. There was an unspoken understanding, in that instant, one that passed silently between all four of them; Death would be there if they needed him.

With a slow blink, the memory fades, and he’s left frowning gently at the dull, rotten wood of the wall adjacent to your bed.

You’re an intelligent human… He wonders if you’ll be able to infer what he’s doing by sitting at the edge of your bed. Death may be many things, but he is not cheerful by nature, and cannot thusly cause cheer in others. He can only sit. And wait. Listening, watching, offering freedom from interference, both from himself and others who would seek to disturb you now when you need to grieve.

Dust, predictably, affords your need for privacy about as much consideration as could be expected from a bird. That is, none whatsoever.

A sleepy caw is all the warning both you and Death receive before the crow hops down off the headboard and lands on your pillow with a soft rustle of feathers.

Of course, you flinch, but Dust – undeterred – simply invites himself into the space between you and the wall, strutting surefootedly over the rumpled blankets until he reaches your chest.

Exasperated, Death opens his mouth and is about to openly scold the crow when Dust turns himself about until the tip of his sharp, grey beak is pointed down at your sombre face.

If you’re at all worried about having it so close to your eyeballs, you don’t show it, though Death knows the corvid well enough to recognise that Dust would never hurt his new human friend who coddles and praises him like it’s going out of fashion.

Birds…

“H-hey,” you warble miserably, swiping at your eyes with the back of a wrist and trying to pluck up the willpower to give a tear-blurred Dust your most convincing smile, “Hey, boy. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

In response, the crow cocks his head at you, and follows up with a gentle croon that raises the small, downy feathers on his throat. Then, without bothering to give any sort of warning as to his intentions, Dust gives his beak a single clack and stretches out his neck, gathering up a few strands of hair around your forehead and dragging them through his beak as if to smooth them into place.

Death almost slaps a palm to his mask.

You can’t help yourself. A wet giggle blurts out of you, momentarily disrupting Dust’s ministrations. He croaks down at you flatly before returning to his task of taking your hair and grooming it with a gentle beak.

“Dust!” you blubber out another laugh, reaching up to try and dissuade the crow by pushing your hand into his feathered breast. For your trouble, he pulls away and administers a soft nip to your knuckle, barely strong enough for you to feel it.

Offering him a watery smile, you prop yourself up onto an elbow, and in one, smooth motion, you raise your free arm and scoop the bird against your chest, burying your nose into the ebony plumage right between his wings. He’s large, far larger than any crow you’ve ever seen on Earth, so it’s more akin to hugging a small dog than any kind of corvid….

Wow… You miss dogs…

As if he can sense your sudden spike of anguish for a species who was likely wiped out alongside your own, the crow nuzzles his head under your chin, tailfeathers flicking back and forth several times as he contents himself with his new position.

Death’s brows shoot up his forehead at the display, wondering how he could have missed the moment you and his crow forged this bond without him even noticing. Was it during the brief few hours when Absalom pulled him into the Tree of Life?

Or perhaps it was always there, and he just hasn’t been paying attention.

“Of all the crows I could have been saddled with,” he gripes under his breath, aiming a half-hearted scowl at the little he can see of Dust’s beak poking out over your shoulder, “It would be the one without a single ounce of pride.”

“Oh, leave him alone,” you sniff, your voice muffled by sleek, black feathers, “He’s trying to cheer me up.”

The Horseman grumbles something to himself, then raises his voice to huff, “He has to be good for something, I suppose.”

When you don’t reply beyond giving a click of your tongue, Death hesitates, his eyes roaming in every direction except for your face as he clears his throat and asks, “Is it… ah, working?”

There’s a speculative pause, interspersed with the odd sniffle as you take a moment to calm yourself down and recover from the embarrassment of once again crying in front of the sepulchral Death.

At last, you take in a deep, weary breath and pull your nose from Dust’s back, gazing warmly down at the crow. “Yeah,” you decide with a small nod as he pulls his beak from under your chin and peers back at you, “Yeah, it’s working.”

If only a little, but sometimes a little is just enough.

Dust’s head swings around to peer at Death over your shoulder, smugger than a bird has any business being.

The heartache of waking up to a world without Eideard in it is just as fresh as the heartache you feel when you open your eyes and remember your world is gone. That sort of grief, unquantifiable, is hard to shift by the efforts of one, friendly crow, no matter how noble his intentions.

But for Dust’s sake, you try to shoulder the sorrow a touch more easily, even going so far as to sit up properly, still holding the bird to your chest and giving him a gentle squeeze. It’s a word of thanks, silent but poignant. Slowly, you place the crow down on the mattress beside you.

This time it’s your turn to clear your throat. Scrubbing tiredly at your eyes, you untuck your legs from the scratchy blanket and roll them over the side of the bed, pulling yourself forwards until you’re sitting beside Death, hands clasped daintily in your lap.

Amber eyes flick sideways and find in the gloom that your cheeks are still damp and blotchy from shedding so many tears.

Behind you, Dust flutters back up onto the headboard, head held high and proud, pleased with himself for a job well-done, and feeling he’s absolutely deserved another nap.

You breathe a sigh, holding it in your lungs and then blowing it all out again, glad to hear that it’s devoid of further tremors. “So… I don’t suppose we can pretend you didn’t hear any of that?”

Death half turns his torso towards you and replies, “Any of what?”

Without thought, you smile appreciatively and lean across the bed, giving the Horseman’s thigh a companionable pat. “Good man.”

It seems as soon as you touch him, you’re pulling away again, the moment passing too quickly for you to feel the way his leg jumps underneath your palm.

Death’s eyes are wide beneath his mask and affixed to the spot on his thigh you’d just touched without ceremony, without a single remark, like it was an entirely normal thing to do.

Certainly, you’ve touched Death before, and he’s touched you out of necessity, mostly. But here, in this dingy room belonging to an undead, the Nephilim takes particular note of the casual gesture, and he’s once again reminded of who and what he is, and what an outlier you are to touch the Reaper without fear.

Is that all it takes? Pretending he hadn’t heard you pour your grief out onto a stranger’s pillow makes him a good man?

Is that… how you see him…?

No. It was just another throwaway comment, meant to lighten the solemn mood that had taken hold of the room.

For a distracted moment, Death wonders if he can really feel the warmth of your skin through the leather of his trousers, or if it’s just a figment of his imagination. Whatever it is, it robs him of any witty remarks that might slip out to disrupt this tender moment.

A good man…

“You should try going back to sleep,” he offers absently, tearing his eyes off his leg to look down at you. The imagined warmth in his thigh has travelled to his chest, which is odd, given that you didn’t lay your hand anywhere near it.

Heaving a sigh, you ask, “How long do you think until sunrise?”

“Mm, at least another several Earth hours,” he says, “Plenty of time still to rest.”

Your fingers clench into fists around the blanket beneath you. “Plenty of time to dream…”

The old Nephilim’s mask turns to face you properly, eyes of liquid gold and sunset orange illuminating the darkness of his sockets. “Dreams cannot hurt you,” he says with conviction, partly because he knows they can’t, and partly because nothing, not even a nightmare could hurt you with a Horseman keeping watch.

“But they can make you sad…” you point out.

Hesitating, he has to take a second to remember that sadness can be potent enough to hurt a human. “I suppose they can,” he concedes reluctantly.

“That hurts, sometimes,” you whisper, drawing your knees up onto the bed and folding your arms around them, clinging tightly, eyes downcast to the floor, “Waking up and realising the people in them aren’t here anymore.”

Shifting his weight to prop a hand on one knee, he leans forwards so that he can meet your faraway gaze. “That pain will fade, given time,” he offers, echoing a conversation eons past.

After a second, your eyes slide sideways and align with his, and he can’t deny the glimmer of triumph that raises his chin at the sight of your gentle smile.

“I hope you’re right, Death,” you reply, “I really do.”

“You’ll find I’m not often wrong twice in as many days.” He’s referring to his… miscalculation with the heart stones and the Guardian, of course.

Did that really only happen yesterday?

“Cocky,” you snort, swiping a finger under the still damp corner of your eye, “Nice to know great, big Horsemen can make mistakes too though.”

“Is it?” he scoffs. He’d have thought it’d be daunting that the Nephilim whose charge you find yourself under isn’t actually as infallible as he’d like to claim.

“Yeah,” you hum, giving him a thoughtful look, “I guess to err isn’t just human, after all.”

Death waits, bracing himself to balk, to feel a spike of offence run through his veins at being told he shares a – rather undesirable – quality with humans. He waits, and feels-

… Nothing. No contempt. No disdain or disappointment. Maybe just a touch of surprise.

“I’m gonna miss them,” you murmur, derailing the Horseman’s train of thought.

“The makers?”

“Everyone,” you stress, “The makers, Blackroot, Warden…”

Coughing lightly into a fist, Death has to peel his eyes away to avoid looking at you when he says, “I’m sure they’ll be…. of a similar mindset.” Honesty, vulnerability, words that have real significance don’t come so easily to the Horseman. If they did, he’d tell you that those makers are going to miss you more than you could possibly know.

Chewing on your lip, you idly kick an ankle against the side of the bed and ask, “Do you think I’ll ever see them again?”

In response, Death huffs out a short, soft laugh, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “Do I think you’ll see them again?” he echoes, “Y/n, I’m almost certain of it.”

“… Wait. Seriously?”

“Don’t I seem serious?” he blinks languidly.

“Yeah, it’s just… that sounded like optimism. And coming from you, that’s… I mean…” Squinting through the dark at him, you fold your hands in your lap and ask, “Are you feeling all right?”

The Horseman’s lips quirk up, though his voice retains a gruff and unimpressed melody as his shoulders jump with a brusque harrumph. “You must be feeling better if you’re already poking fun,” he grouses, assessing the miniscule glow of humour tucked around the corners of your mouth.

“I am, actually,” you shrug, flicking a glance over his mask and tipping your head with a knowing smile, “Maybe Dust isn’t the only one who’s good at cheering me-“

Three, gentle knocks on a nearby surface of wood break through your sentence like hammer blows ringing off an anvil.

From one blink to the next, the Horseman is inexplicably on his feet, flinging a strong, sinewy arm out in front of you, all at once alert and suspicious, whilst behind him, you scramble off the bed with far less grace, fighting to find stability for a moment before you square your feet and send a wary glance over his appendage at the room’s entrance.

“Hello?” you call, swiping furiously at your cheeks to rid them of what little trace of tears might still cling to your skin.

Death doesn’t turn to face you, but you’d be hard-pressed to miss the disgruntled sigh that slips out from under his mask at your tactical blunder.

You’ve all but announced that you – a human, need you be reminded – are in here.

A voice from outside calls out, muffled behind the thick layer of wood. “… Lady - Ah, I mean, Y/n?”

The tension doesn’t seem to drain out of Death nearly as fast as it drains out of you.

Draven.

Before the Horseman can stop you, you’ve already ducked underneath his arm, reaching up to distractedly smooth down your bedhead as you call out, “Oh, Draven, uh, coming!”

You hear your name uttered in a growl behind you, but you wave off the ornery Nephilim with a flap of your hand, twisting about to face him as you make for the door, hissing, “It’s his room, Death. If he wants to come in here, he has every right to.”

Realising your hand is reaching to pull the door open, Death surges forward, intent on getting to it before you – ‘just in case,’ a voice at the back of his head whispers – but he doesn’t make it halfway to you when you grab the brass handle and tug the rotting wood towards you, letting dull, green light spill into the quarters and creep up the opposite wall.

A familiar silhouette looms in the doorway, framing the space with broad shoulders and a tattered shroud that’s been pulled low to half cover a skeletal, ghoulish face. From your angle, standing at least a foot and a half shorter than the figure, you can see up underneath his hood.

You regret your haste to open the door, simply because you aren’t at all ready to witness the grim and ghastly visage of the Blademaster this early in the morning, but you stamp down on the temptation to reel back, and instead school your expression into a friendly smile. “Hi, uh, again.”

Draven’s luminous, blue eyes flare brightly as soon as they land on your face. There’s something held between each of his hands, though you hardly spare them a glance because, ever the gentleman, he’s already halfway into a low, sweeping bow when he suddenly stops short, bent so that he’s staring you directly in the eye.

It’s decidedly unnerving to have so much scrutiny on you, especially when the undead’s jaw suddenly locks up tight and his browbone snaps together as if you’ve offended him somehow without even saying a word.

“Uh-“ you start to say, only to find yourself interrupted when Draven rises to his full height again, unfolding at the waist and aiming a frigid glare over the top of your head. Coincidentally, an icy presence appears at your spine, pressing in close enough that you notice the hairs on the back of your neck start to prickle.

 A growl rolls out through the gaps in the undead’s hollow cheeks. “Y/n,” he addresses you, his voice hard as stone, “Has this devil done you a discourtesy?”

“W…What?” you blurt.

Ferocity bleeds from his lipless mouth as he glares at the Horseman who drapes you in shadow, pale blue eyes aiming to douse the liquid fire hanging ominously in the darkness behind you.

“Her eyes are scarlet with salt,” he accuses.

Raising a hand to your face, you prod tenderly at the raw skin beneath your eyes and realise with a sinking sense of shame that you must still look like even more of a mess than you did when the Blademaster first saw you. “Oh, no. No, Draven, it’s fine,” you sigh, dragging a hand down your face, “Just… Look, it’s just been a rough night.”

The undead’s glower lifts the moment he rips his eyes off Death and returns it to you, his forehead puckering with concern. “But, you’re-“

“- I’m all right,” you reiterate, crooking one corner of your lips into a tight smile that all but pleads for him to drop the matter. You’re mortified enough.

The look on your face must be adequately pitiable, for Draven’s stance relaxes by a fraction, and as his arms slump from their guarded poise, you hear something clunk woodenly by his waist, rousing your curiosity and tempting you to lower your gaze to his hands.

If you thought you weren’t ready to see the Blademaster at your door, you’re doubly unprepared to see what he’s carrying.

Clearing your throat, you bob your chin at his hands and ask, “What’ve you got there?”

“Hmm?” Begrudgingly peeling away from the Horseman, Draven follows your line of sight, blinking down at a little wooden bowl and cup he’s clutching in each hand. Suddenly very sheepish, the undead ducks further into his green hood, “Forgive me, I was going to leave these by the door, but… then I heard voices.”

“And what were you doing skulking about so close to the door that you could hear us talk?” Death asks, hardly bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

You turn to give him a quick, pointed glare over your shoulder, one that he ignores.

“Just as I said, Horseman,” Draven retorts, “I thought the lady might be hungry, so…” He offers out the cup and bowl for you to see, giving you an apologetic look. “I’d have left it outside for you to find when you emerged, I… didn’t want to disturb you while you slept.”

Before you can reply, a voice at your back pipes up.

“You were going to leave it outside?” Death scoffs, “Where anyone could have tampered with it?”

Ignoring the Horseman, you peer down into the proffered crockery, your stomach gurgling eagerly as a waft of steam drifts from the bowl and rises into your nostrils. Never before would you have thought you’d be so excited about something so beige.

A simple, brown stew is balanced on one of Draven’s large palms, lumps of what you presume is meat bob about near the surface, and a single slice of fluffy, white bread floats at the centre, drawing a rather embarrassing flood of saliva to the front of your mouth. In his other hand, the small wooden cup is clasped like a chalice of ambrosia, though the only thing that wets its interior is crisp, clear water.

In your eyes, he may as well be holding out a gourmet dish that only the wealthiest of men would deign to touch.

“Draven,” you breathe in awe, reluctantly dragging your gaze off the food and peering up into the undead’s hollow face, “What’s all this for?”

Puzzled, he tilts his head at you, as thought the answer should be entirely obvious.

“It’s… for you,” he says, pressing the bowl and cup closer to your wringing hands, “I assumed you’d want to eat when you awoke. It’s not much, just some pottage I scrounged up.”

You begin to reach out, unfurling your fingers to take the unexpected gift when all of a sudden, chilly fingers wrap around your wrist, and before you can utter a sound, Death tugs you tidily back into the room, taking your place in the doorway, and peering down at the undead. “Where did you get it?” he asks, ignoring the disgruntled huff you aim at the back of his head, “Is this safe for human consumption?”

Draven’s lipless mouth pulls into a sneer. “Do you think me a fool?” he accuses.

“I think you an undead who we’ve only just met,” the Horseman replies coolly.

The Blademaster leans back on a heel, appraising Death with an expression that borders on impressed. “A fair point,” he concedes. Seconds later, Draven yields a nod. “It’s safe, Death. Believe it or not, the King entertains more than just the dead in his court, some of whom still rely on sustenance to get them through the day. Supplies are not as scarce as they would seem at first glance, and I may be far-removed from humanity, but I still remember my way around a cooking pot.”

Then, wordlessly, he holds the bowl and cup out towards the Horseman, tipping his head to one side with an expectant gleam in his fearsome, blue eyes.

Death’s attention flits between Draven and his handful several times, squinting dubiously at the dull, brown slop. For a few uncomfortable seconds, the Horseman subjects your potential meal to a good, long glare, and then at last, to your relief, you watch him raise his hands and grasp the edge of the bowl between his thumb and forefinger, doing the same with the cup.

He doesn’t take them immediately, too busy giving the undead a threatening growl. “If she eats this and something happens-“

“-I’ll be meeting the business end of your scythe?” Draven guesses, quirking a brow bone as he relinquishes the crockery and drops his arms to his sides again.

Death’s eyes narrow to thin lines of fire, prompting the undead to let out a chuckle and raise his hands up in mock defeat. “I understand, Horseman, I understand. I’d be overprotective as well if I had a lady like her under my care.”

Half hidden behind the Nephilim, you suck a breath in through your teeth as your grim companion bristles like a cornered cat, almost doubling in size with the amount of indignation that swells his shoulders. You’ve only known him a week or so, but in that time, you’ve already learned that being accused of caring is pretty low on the list of Things Death likes to Hear.

And sure enough…

“I am not overprotective,” the Horseman seethes, but with such an air of petulance that whatever threat his tone might have been trying to imply is completely undermined. Not to mention there’s something curiously un-threatening about the sight of him clutching a bowl of stew that - not thirty seconds ago - he was giving the stink-eye.

Even Draven doesn’t seem all that worried as he casts a knowing look at you around Death’s shoulder, his ghoulish features scrunching into a wink.

“No?” he asks, cocking his head to one side and sliding his gaze back to the wall of Nephilim standing before him, “Well, in that case, when the sun rises, I’m sure you won’t mind if I treat the lady to that tour I offered her.”

He’s chancing his arm, and he damn well knows it. And because he knows it, he’s already watching for the precise moment when Death recognises that he’s just stepped right into a verbal trap.

Unseen by the human in their midst, Death’s narrow eyes are now almost indiscernible within the congealing darkness of his sockets, and it’s only thanks to their preternatural, fiery glow that Draven can tell they’re open at all. They float inside the pitch-black pits that have been carved out of an ivory mask, unnatural and eerie, like two strips of flame streaking through the night sky.

If someone were to strike a match in the air between he and Death, Draven is almost certain the spark would set off an explosion that could blow the Eternal Throne clear through the stratosphere.

Two options lay out before the ancient Nephilim: Allow yo u to go with Draven in the morning, proving the smug undead wrong in his judgement of Death’s character. Or refuse the offer on your behalf and prove him right.

Begrudgingly, Death concedes that the undead’s tactics have successfully tripped him up. Rare as it is, it’s somewhat refreshing to be kept on his toes. Not that he’s in any way pleased to be cornered like this… Not least because he has a reputation he’d like to keep intact.

“She’ll consider it,” he says shortly.

There. It’s neither a yes or a no, and vague enough that Draven’s expectant gaze darkens with disappointment. Death is tempted to smirk triumphantly. Just because he stepped into the trap doesn’t mean he won’t know how to get out of it. He’s almost offended that the undead thought it would be so easy.

But the acquiescing look on Draven’s face doesn’t linger for more than a blink before it’s gone.

“I hope she does,” he hums, leaning sideways once more so that he can send you another secretive smile around the Horseman’s bulk, a smile that you find yourself readily reflecting. It feels like there’s a connection there somehow, between you and Draven. Human and ex-human. It’s something that Death isn’t privy to because he isn’t and never was human.

You wonder… Hell, you dare to hope that Draven might just… get you. There’s common ground in your humanity. The soul that sits lonely in your heart reaches out for the tiniest promise of companionship, softening you to the undead in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Right now, as you share amusement at the Grim Reaper’s expense, you find Draven just that bit more bearable to look at. Even the swords and broken blades that jut from his person like morbid adornments don’t seem so gruesome.

“I will consider it,” you promise, prompting Death to heave a disgruntled sigh whilst you breeze over his complaint, “Thank you, Draven. Really. This…” This act of immense kindness, though it might have seemed so mundane if it happened on Earth, has done wonders to warm your heart after feeling your very soul freeze over after your nightmare. But how could you possibly put into words the comfort he’s brought you? Rather than overthink it, you merely give your head a tiny shake of disbelief and let out a soft laugh, “This means… so much to me.”

Laying a hand across his concave chest, the undead dips his torso into a shallow bow and replies, “For you, it was no trouble at all.”

To your own surprise, the chivalrous little display turns you shy, and you start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly, avoiding his searching eyes as you smile down at the floor near Death’s boots.

Clicking his tongue, the Horseman shifts to stand sideways in the entrance, sweeping an unimpressed glance between you and Draven.

You may have averted your gaze, but the undead certainly hasn’t.

From head to toe, you’re all but poured over like a scroll of parchment in an angel’s library. Shameless in his observation, Draven’s cadaverous eyes carve tracks across your face and roam down the length of your body, whilst Death goes mostly ignored.

The Horseman is no fool. Though the very notions of romance and attraction have forever eluded him, he’s old and worldly enough to have at least encountered both in some way, shape or form. Besides, even a dunce would have to be trying exceptionally hard to miss what’s right in front of his nose.

You’ve caught the Blademaster’s eye.

And there’s the rub. Demons, he can put his scythe to, corrupted constructs and bloodthirsty bugs can be slain to keep you out of their gullets. Even Karn and his, at times, glaring attachment to you were innocent enough, as if the youngling was more starved for meaningful friendship than companionship. But an amorous undead? Death doesn’t have any protocol for manoeuvring around that particular minefield.

Once again, if there is such a thing as luck, the Horseman would be cursing his own. Isn’t it just typical that in such a vast and limitless Universe, his path would somehow carry you right to the Blademaster – the only other sod in Creation who shares your origins? Musing on that, Death can’t help but wonder if there truly is some unseen, omniscient hand guiding you along your journey.

Whoever the puppet master is, they’ve got a sick sense of humour.

Draven was Human – famously unpredictable species, a stereotype you continue to substantiate – but more to the point, he’s an unknown, and Death doesn’t especially like dealing with unknowns.

“Well then,” he announces abruptly, causing you to jump and reminding him that he’s allowed the undead to linger for a few moments too long, “If there’s nothing else…”

The skin around Draven’s jaw stretches as he opens it until the holes in his cheeks are thin and long, but before he can utter a word, Death says, “Wonderful,” and with a deft swing of his elbow, he bumps the door closed, giving the bottom of the wood a kick on its way to make sure it slams firmly shut. The room is once more plunged into that grimy, too-green gloom.

“Oh, that’s real nice, Death,” you snap, “The poor guy gives me a meal and lets me sleep in his bed, and you slam his own door shut in his face.”

“… That’s it,” he grumbles, turning to face you and pressing the bowl and cup into your hands, careful not to spill its contents as you splutter out a weak protest and fumble awkwardly with the woodware, “Tomorrow, you’re coming with me to the Champion’s arena. Not-!” he quickly snaps when you open your mouth to speak, “- to fight. You’re to watch from the sidelines.”

Looking down at you through the dark, he can tell you’re torn between continuing to berate him and diving into your newly acquired meal. Your eyes flit back and forth between him, the bowl, and the door, through which you can already hear the fading footfalls of your gracious host.

You’ve bulled yourself up at Draven’s expense, lips twisting into an unhappy frown, but it isn’t to last. Not with how desperate you are to fill your belly with something warm and cooked. Venting out a huff, you begrudgingly expel all the hot air from your lungs and lower yourself down onto the edge of the bed, lifting the stew to your lips to blow at the steam that drifts from it. “How do you know I’m not considering Draven’s tour?” you challenge.

It’s a good thing you’re pointedly ignoring the Horseman in favour of tipping back the bowl, because the look he shoots you is venomous enough that it would have stung had you caught it head-on.

“Just... Just eat the damn stew,” is all he bites out.

Well… You’re only too happy to oblige to that request.

You try not to wolf down the whole thing in one go, but as soon as the thin, watery gravy touches your lips and washes onto your tongue, you’re almost bowled over by the sheer influx of taste. At this point, after surviving on little else but water and the strange jerky Thane gave you, you could have eaten a rice cracker and called it filet mignon. Several bursts of flavour warm the inside of your cheeks and seep over and under your tongue. A piece of meat slides between your teeth as you slurp it up and you bite down on it hard, finding the strip tough and chewy, but oh so mouth-watering.

You spare the briefest of thoughts to its creature of origin, though the moment soon passes when you swallow, letting out a groan that might have been embarrassing if you weren’t so sure you’re justified in making such a sound. Privately, you make a mental note to thank Draven profusely in the morning, though whether that’s before or after you apologise to him for Death’s behaviour, you haven’t yet decided.

“Holy-“ Pausing, you lower the bowl and sweep a finger over the corners of your mouth, delicately removing the gravy gathered there, “-Shit, this is good.”

He almost asks if it tastes strange or off in any way, but with the Blademaster's words still ringing in his ears, Death stuffs them down with the rest of his wounded ego and begins to grumble nonsensically to himself. In fact, he's so busy muttering under his breath and glowering at the door that he doesn’t even pause to throw a withering glare at Dust when the crow hops onto the bed again and struts up to you with the confidence of a bird who knows you’re a pushover.

Only too happy to reinforce that confidence, you deftly scoop a chunk of meat into your palm and offer it out for the bird to peck at.

“Overprotective…” Death scoffs heatedly, “The nerve of that…” His mask abruptly whips around towards you, giving you pause with your cheeks full of stew. “Do you feel I’ve been overprotective?”

Putting aside the fact that you’ve never seen Death get this riled about a jibe before…

Swallowing thickly, you draw out an unconvincing, “No?”

The strange glow of his irises flicker for a second – a twitch of an eyelid? “Well, if I seem that way, it’s only because you’re so damnably adept at getting yourself into trouble,” he complains, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall with a decisive thump, “And frankly, I’d rather avoid having an angry group of makers hunt me to the ends of the Universe if something were to happen to you under my watch.”

It’s not just a lie meant to preserve his pride. Not entirely…

“They wouldn’t do that,” you tut, bemused, tilting the bowl and taking another, long slurp of the stew, manners be damned. You never thought you’d eat a cooked meal again.

His chest rumbles moodily. “They would.”

A wordless peace lingers in the air between you then, disturbed only by the sound of you chewing through toughened meat and the gentle sloshing of stew as your fingers chase the pieces around their bowl. You pretend not to notice the quick, attentive glances being sent your way.

Dust throws his feathered head up towards the ceiling, his beak wide open around the hunk of meat you offered him. In a rather unappetising display, the crow gulps it down with a few bobs of his neck.

“Nice,” you grunt, pulling a face.

You don’t put your bowl down until every last piece of the stew is gone, and even then you have to fight back an urge to lick the interior clean, mindful that present company might find that habit a bit too uncivilised not to comment on. Even with the Earth and its civilisation far behind you, you can’t let go of table-manners. It would be laughable if the reminder of your lonely humanness didn’t carry so many undertones of despair.

Breathing a soft, satisfied sigh, you bend down and drop the bowl on the floor with a clunk, instantly exchanging it for the cup of water before you sit up again to watch Death glower at the doorway as though he hopes it’ll burst into flames.

There’s a rigidity to him that doesn’t suit the late hour and the warmth in your belly.

Casting your mind about for a way to free him from whatever monologue he must have rattling away in that enigmatic head of his, you take a swig of the water, regarding the Horseman ponderously over the rim of the cup.

“So,” you say, smacking your lips as the lukewarm liquid slides down your throat, “What do you think the chances are that Vulgrim’s delivered my message?”

Luminous eyes blink slowly, roving from the door to land on your face.

He visibly hesitates, then asks, “What would help you go back to sleep faster?”

Your deadpan stare is ruined by an unseemly snort and flutter of your lips. “Just humour me, wise guy.”

“Very well…” Death grunts, “Chances are slim.”

“… Don’t know why I bother.”

Despite your tone, you’re secretly pleased when his broad shoulders slacken as he chuckles, unfolding his arms and resting each hand casually on his hips instead. “Given how often you’ve surprised me so far,” he sighs with an air of begrudging acceptance, “I suppose it wouldn’t be so shocking to learn you’ve actually convinced the demon to go through with your favour.”

“I surprise you?” you smile.

 “At every turn.”

“Aw~”

“That’s not a compliment.”

“Oh.”

It is. It absolutely is. But he’ll be damned if he lets you know what a luxury surprises are for a being who was confident the Universe had nothing new to throw at him. He’s already far too soft on you as it is. Paying you compliments paves a slippery slope towards irrefutable fondness.

Dust would be insufferable.

“Now then,” he coughs gruffly, more to disrupt his own thoughts than to get your attention, “You should… try and get some more rest. I’ll wake you at sunrise.”

All at once, what little levity had been draped around your shoulders sloughs away. He’s right. You should try and sleep a little longer. Moments like these, moments where you can stop to catch your breath, could well be few and far between in the coming days.

“Death? Will you…?” Your voice catches and you don’t finish your sentence aloud, working your jaw up and down wordlessly as a sudden but subtle wave of shame washes over you like an ebbing tide. ‘Stay’ is on the tip of your tongue. But you realise it’s a silly question to ask, even if a very small, very vulnerable part of you desperately wants to seek reassurance from the dour Horseman sharing this space with you. Death has given no indication that he plans to stray far from your side.

Bottom line? You’re afraid to fall asleep again, much as your overwrought mind craves a few more hours of unconscious bliss, and your arms feel heavy as lead when you lower the cup to the floor, setting it down beside the bowl.

If you sleep, you might dream, after all.

And your dreams are full of ghosts.

Fingers twist searchingly into the blanket you’re sitting on, squeezing and clenching until they ache. It grounds you, at least a bit.

You don’t really notice that Death’s mask is tilted to one side, watching your hands closely until he shifts, easing himself through the gloom until he’s only a step away from the bed. It’s sometimes convenient to forget what he is, when your heart misses home so badly that it wants to find humanity in everything around you, including Death. It’s easy to forget that he’s older than you could probably comprehend, that he’s wise enough to hear a human’s unfinished plea and be able to predict how it ends.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he assures you.

Relief unwinds your hands from the fists you’ve curled them into, like roses blooming from the bud.

Soon, you’ll be awake, and the tragedies of yesterday will be saddled to your back alongside all the rest, but you’ll carry them with you as best you can. You don’t have a choice, after all. You followed Death to the Land of the Dead.

When the sun rises, you’ll rise with it and face the consequences of your choice.

[hardly-an-escape]

Bleach | Dream/Hob | 1067 words | rated G for @domaystic day 07: stained clothes

tags: retired Dream, laundry mishaps, tooth rotting fluff, religious Hob Gadling (but only incidentally), Dream is learning how to human, Hob Gadling is a good boyfriend

Hob looks mournfully at the sweater in his hands and gives the spot another little scrub. It’s futile. He knows it’s futile. He’s been doing his own laundry for about a hundred years by now, after all. Still, he rubs halfheartedly at the spot, just one more time. Just in case.

You never know, do you. Miracles still happen. Some of them could be laundry-related miracles, possibly. There’s probably a patron saint of doing the wash. Hob casts his mind wildly back to catechism classes of centuries past. Veronica, maybe? The story with the veil? Or Clare of Assisi – had the Poor Clares been laundresses or is he thinking of a different order? He sighs and offers a quick prayer to both of them. Just in case.

He may not have been to church in a month and a half, and he hasn’t been Catholic since the 16th century, but every little bit helps. He sighs again and scrubs at the bleach stain, which doesn’t look back at him accusingly so much as it simply exists, accusingly, on the sleeve of Dream’s softest, most favorite black cardigan.

The front door of their flat bangs open and he hears the jingle of keys and the thump of Dream’s shoes being deposited on the boot tray.

“I’m back! They didn’t have the tea we usually buy,” Dream’s voice calls down the hall. “So I got Barry’s instead. Is that alright? I couldn’t remember if you like that brand or not. Why are there so many kinds of tea, Hob? I stood there looking at the shelf for ten minutes. You’d think at some point humanity would have said, oh, I think we have enough kinds of tea now, but –” he trails off as he begins to put the shopping away, his dear, deep voice disappearing in the rustle of shopping bags and the rattle of cabinet doors. 

Hob walks slowly down the hallway from the airing cupboard to the kitchen, sweater held in both hands before him, feeling like nothing so much as a man carrying the body of a beloved pet cat to its owner.

It isn’t that Dream will be angry – far from it, in fact. Dream will be, as he always is, endearingly grateful for the fact that Hob does his laundry, as he is for all the little caretaking tasks that Hob has taken on as Dream learns to be human. It’s just that now, as he learns to be human, Dream’s emotions lie so close to the surface. He feels everything with the depth and intensity of a child: pride when he successfully does the shopping, pain when he stubs a toe or burns a finger on the kettle.

Disappointment, when something goes wrong. Sadness, at a loss or a failure.

Hob has watched him weep over a broken teacup and crow with utter joy after winning a game of cards. And this was his best sweater, his softest, most favorite cardigan, one of the first pieces of clothing that had truly been his. A cardigan Dream had chosen, thoughtfully, in the department store; not just stolen or adopted by osmosis from Hob’s wardrobe. Which now sports an accusing, unmissable bleach stain right on the upper side of the left sleeve.

Dream pauses in his activity when Hob appears in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately, seeing the look on Hob’s face. “What happened? Are you hurt? I can’t take you to A&E, I’m not allowed to drive the car yet. Hob? What’s wrong?”

“It’s your sweater,” Hob says dismally, holding it up for inspection. “It’s got bleach on it.”

Dream makes an adorable, sad little noise and gathers up the cardigan, cradling it like a wounded animal.

“I don’t know how it happened,” Hob says, not meeting his gaze. “I did that load of towels and socks yesterday, I must’ve spilled some bleach on the edge of the washer when I added it, and I guess the sleeve got dragged through it somehow when I put the colds in this morning, and I am so sorry, love, I know it’s your favorite and I will buy you a new one,” he rushes on, “I will buy you six identical sweaters so this never happens again, I –”

“Hob.”

Dream’s voice can still, at times, attain a certain measure of its former power and gravitas, through mere timbre alone. Hob’s eyes immediately snap up to meet his gaze. Dream’s eyes are huge and blue and watery and human and still the most beautiful thing Hob has ever seen in his long life.

“Hob.” More gently now. “It is just a sweater. Why are you so worried, my love?”

“Well, I mean. It’s not just a sweater. It’s your favorite,” says Hob. “And I want you to, to have nice things. Your favorite things. I know it’s hard, to be human. It’s hard for us normal humans, and I can’t imagine how much harder it is for you sometimes, and I just… I want nice things for you. Because, because I love you,” he says lamely.

Dream looks at him for a long moment, those blue eyes glistening, and then very deliberately casts the cardigan aside onto the pile of shopping bags and steps into the open circle of Hob’s arms.

“My love,” he says tenderly into Hob’s neck. Hob sniffles a little and indulges in the softness of Dream’s hair and the smell of his shampoo. “It is just a sweater. And you may buy me another, even six, if you so wish. And you may stain every single one with bleach, many times over. It will be, as you like to say when I make mistakes, very human of you.”

He pulls back just enough to rub their noses together and murmur his next words into the warm curve of Hob’s mouth.

“I find I like being human, because I am being human with you,” he says. “And you take the best care of me that anyone ever has. And no number of stained sweaters could possibly change that, I am sure.”

“Well then. If you’re sure,” says Hob, and kisses him. “I will get you a new one if you want, though.”

“Or perhaps I will add more bleach stains. And embroidery. And sequins. I have been looking for a new art project.”

“Or that,” says Hob, and kisses him again.

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

i love your monster au so much!!

pls consider the twst charas reacting to yuu cracking their joints and being like

"did you... just break your bones.....?" or "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU OKAY??????"

or or them reacting to yuu telling them how dangerous human bites are like,,,

"did u know human bites are the second most dangerous animal bite?? (after mosquitos!) because of the amount of bacteria they carry? yeah lol sometimes ppl who get bitten (mostly by children) have to get that limb AMPUTATED bc of infection :))"

"what........ the. fuck???"

these have probably been mentioned before, but i'd love to see you elaborate or share your thoughts on them! it's not a request, but you can write something about it if you want to! :) <3

Technically the human bite one was touched up on in this ask here, but as for the other one...

It’s amazing how—despite the fact that cracking joints is healthy for us when we’re out of sorts—there are so many people who are shocked or recoil when they hear someone seemingly crack and pop every single joint in our body. XD

Humans are weird even to themselves, let alone to monsters who know next to nothing about us hoomans. :V So let’s take an extra crinkly Yuu and toss them in amongst these monsters, shall we?

////-------------////

It was another normal day at NRC, the sunlight streaming in through the clean windows of the freshly renovated Ramshackle Dorm. Stirred from their slumber, Yuu slowly sat up—minding Grim as the chimera continued snoozing beside them—and yawned. Despite the bed being comfortable, they still woke up stiff and tense. Without a second thought, they put a hand to their chin and—

K-r-r-ack!!

“Mrah!?” Grim yowled as he jumped, staring at Yuu in horror as they repeated the process on the other side and earned more pops and cracks. “What the heck was that?! Are you okay!?”

“Mornin’ Grim,” Yuu greeted, stifling a yawn before twisting their back—earning a multitude of creaks and pops. “Just slept a little funny last night and woke up stiff, so I’m getting the kinks out.”

Kk-krk-krk-pop!

“Okay, I’m ready!” Hopping out of bed, they started getting ready and asked, “So what do you want for breakfast today?”

“…I think I lost my appetite,” Grim uttered.

“Okay, breakfast sandwich to go it is, then.”

///

Krk-kk-k-kh!

“Gah! Yuu, what the hell?!”

“Are you okay?!”

“Human! Are you injured?!”

“Wot the hell?!”

“Urk!?”

“Can’t the Great Grim eat his breakfast sandwich in peace?!”

“Sorry guys! I just woke up really stiff this morning and needed to stretch.”

Ace looked at them in horror as he said, “Are you kidding me? Everyone thought you broke your arms and legs with all that cracking you did at PE this morning! How can you still be making more noise?”

“What? I was just loosening up a few joints with some stretches so I could keep up with everyone!”

“Coach doesn’t even chase you as hard as he chases us around the track, yet you’re the one who sounds like a crumpled soda can,” Epel commented warily.

“Is this normal for humans?” Deuce asked in concern, forelegs shuffling nervously as they made their way towards their next class. “It sounded like it really hurt…do you need to see the nurse?”

Yuu shrugged and said, “No, I’m fine, really. It only really hurts if you try to force it and don’t let the muscles relax first. Back home, we have people called ‘chiropractors’ who do the cracking for us when we’re in too much pain to move a certain way. Don’t your joints crack and pop too?”

“Well yeah, whenever we stretch it can happen sometimes,” Ace answered. “But if it’s constant clicking like what you’ve been doing, it usually means that something is wrong like an injury or something.”

“Oh.”

“In canine monsters, it usually means that there’s a torn ligament or it’s bone rubbing against bone,” Jack explained. “My father experienced that once before, and it took him a while to heal after he got the problem fixed.”

“Oh wow…sorry, I didn’t mean to make you guys worry so much,” Yuu said, thinking back to the grape incident as they entered the classroom together. “I’ll try not to do it as often, okay?”

“If you have to do it, then don’t do it before or after I eat!” Grim said.

“You’re still eating the breakfast sandwich I made even though you complained about losing your appetite this morning.”

“As if the Great Grim would ever let good food go to waste…”

//

Class began as normal, Yuu listening to Professor Crewel as he instructed them on what was on the agenda for the day as the homework assignment was collected. For the most part it wasn’t bad, but today Yuu was feeling more tired than usual after the workout from this morning. As they sat at their desk, they shifted a little uncomfortably. There was some tightness in their upper back, and no amount of shoulder rolls or slight stretching could ease the pressure.

Out of the corner of their eye they saw one of their monster classmates begin to stretch, stretching his arms over his head as he yawned before settling back in his seat. Maybe that was the kind of stretch they needed to do…worth a shot anyway!

Raising their arms and interlocking their fingers, Yuu straightened their back and curved as their arms bent back—

CR-AK-KK-K-KH!!!

The whole classroom fell silent, multiple pairs of eyes turning to face Yuu as they sat frozen in their seat with arms still stretched over them. Even Yuu was stunned by the sheer volume of the cracks that escaped their back, faintly making out their friend’s expressions as they stared in open mouthed disbelief and horror. That was the loudest crack they’d ever heard their body make! At this point Yuu was afraid to move, looking like some comically stretched out statue.

Before anyone could ask if they were okay, Yuu asked, “…am I dead?”

///

Despite the sheer amount of panic and concern the class had over their wellbeing, Yuu was given the all clear by the medical researchers after a quick x-ray revealed that they had not—in fact—broken any bones. It was during a discussion with the researchers that it was discovered that chiropractors were in fact a thing in Twisted Wonderland. But given the fact that most monsters don’t use it as often as other medical practices such as acupuncture, it’s become a rare practice that very few still teach.

[silveryclear]

STNAF Coraline AU ch.3

MDNI ALL CONTENT REGARDING STNAF IS 18+ AND SO IS THIS BLOG

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 3

You walk down the rest of the the stairs of the porch, looking in the direction that the shape headed for. You walk to your right and see the distinct figure of a cat in the near distance. You chuckle. One of Other Friend’s cats must’ve escaped his watch, you better bring it back to him before it runs any farther.

You approach the cat slowly, making your presence known in order not to spook it. You notice, however, this cat has one eye in the middle of its face. Chucking it up to it being just a dream, you don’t expect your subconscious to keep track of every plot hole it creates.

The cat turns to look at you, it’s eye seemingly piercing into your soul.

“Hey there… what’s your name?” You coo softly as you kneel down to its level.

The cat stares at you, it’s gaze unwavering. “You are the first human to ask for my name instead of naming me yourself. This pleases me.” A smooth, potent voice slips from the cat’s tongue.

Your eyes widen and fall on your butt. “Y-You can talk??”

It licks its paw and rubs it along its ear, expressing no reaction to your bewilderment. “It appears so.”

You continue staring at the cat in disbelief.

It sighs. “My name is Scrim. Why do you seem so surprised, human?”

“I guess I wasn’t expecting you to talk…” You admit as you pick yourself up and pat away the dirt from your clothes. “I don’t recall Other Friend’s cats speaking…” You narrow your eyes softly, observing. “And you… don’t have buttons for eyes like Other Friend’s cats have…”

“Indeed I do not. That’s because I am not one of his creations. I am myself.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “One of his… creations?”

Scrim only stares at you and you start to feel that same unsettling feeling from the first dream you had, come back.

“What do you think this is, human?”

“A dream, obviously.” You roll your eyes at the obvious.

“Hmm. Of course.” Scrim chuckles in amusement before waking towards the house, you following quickly behind. He jumps on the railing and is eye to eyes with you. “Do you wish to keep dreaming this dream?”

“I was hoping this would be my last.” You chuckle nervously, finding the question to be odd. After confessing to Friend, you hope your mind wouldn’t have to cope this way anymore.

“Very well.” Scrim gazes at you with mirth and you fail to comprehend what your dream is trying to communicate. “If you ever find yourself needing my assistance, I am one whisper away.” Scrim says before climbing up the roof of the porch. It turns back to look at you. “He approaches.” Scrim whispers. “Be smart, and stay safe, human.” Those are the last words it utters before scampering away.

Just then, the entrance to the manor opens and Other Friend looks good outside in concern until he finds you by the steps of the porch. He smiles in relief. “Hey sweetheart. You’ve been outside for a while and I thought I heard some noise. Is everything okay?” His tone suddenly turns colder. “Were you talking to someone?”

You gulp and smile softly at Other Friend, hoping you’re convincing enough this time. “Everything is fine! I was just talking to myself. It really helps me process things rather than just keeping it all in my head.”

Other Friend smiles brightly at that. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. How about we eat some dinner together and then we get ready for bed?”

“Sounds good.” You feel slightly anxious at the thought of entering the house again. For some reason, Scrim’s words kept repeating in your head and you decided to keep his talk with you a secret until you understood what it meant.

You enter the house while Other Friend gazes lovingly at you from behind as he remains by the entrance. He then turns and gazes outside of the manor one last time, his button eyes cold and suspicious as he senses for any movement out of place. He grips the doorknob hard enough to make a slight dent, releasing some of his murderous aura before turning around with a bright smile and closing the door behind him. “Sweetheart~! How does pancakes for dinner sound~?”

“I’m gonna finish cleaning down here. Feel free to get ready for bed, I’ll be there soon.” Other Friend says with a sweet smile.

Wordlessly, you nod and walk up the stairs, feeling his piercing gaze follow you with every step. While walking down the hallway, you recall the events of the dinner.

You were sure Other Friend could sense that something was different, and he made sure to keep himself at a distance from you while you feasted on his delicious pancakes— something you appreciated greatly. You had a nice conversation with him, finding it so easy to talk about anything and everything with him. He’s so sweet and gentle just like your red-headed best friend. But he was really attentive to your needs and that only made you even more confused about your feelings.

He gives you a concerned look. “Are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?

You can’t tell him how you really feel. How can you tell him that you wish it was your Other Other best friend that made you pancakes and you had a fashion show with?

You sigh. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed this…” You murmur softly, staring at your almost completely eaten plate of pancakes.

He furrows his eyebrows and his button eyes gaze at you with what you can asume is sympathy. He places is large hand on yours.

“Hey… you know you can tell me anything, right? I’m your best friend.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he says the same words that Friend had uttered this morning. You brace yourself for that inevitable phone call that usually follows this conversation…

Yet, it never arrives.

Instead, Other Friend gazes you expectantly, waiting patiently for you to vent your troubles to him.

And you felt your heart skip a beat. You ignore the pangs of guilt that wrack your stomach and decide to indulge in this desire to be closer to Friend— no matter how ephemeral it may be.

Because, fuck… you miss this too much.

You smile brightly at him, placing your other hand on his. He raises his eyebrows softly in surprise. “I’m actually feeling much better. Thanks Friend… I really appreciate everything you did for me today.”

Friend grabs your hands and brings them towards his lips, kissing them gently as he gazed at you with affection. You couldn't help but blush at his gesture. "Always~" He smiles softly. "I'd do anything for you. Anything." He whispers with so much conviction that you find almost... frightening. As if he'd do anything for you, no matter the cost.

Consumed by your conflicting thoughts and feelings, you hadn't noticed you've walked past your room and now stand in front of a door at the farthest end of the hall. Curious, you attempt to open the door only to find it locked. You find this strange. You try to recall ever seeing this door outside of this dream during your exploration, however, nothing came up. You hear the voice of Scrim echoing in your mind once again as an unsettling feeling overtakes your body.

You were just about to turn around and head back to the bedroom when you scream as you come face to face with Other Friend standing uncomfortably close. You clutch your chest and try to steady your ragged breathing as Other Friend attempts to soothe you.

"I'm so sorry for scaring you, sweetheart..." He coos and rubs your back gently. "I was so worried when I couldn't find you in your room."

Other Friend gently walks you back to your room and tucks you in with the little bunny rabbit plushie. Other Friend places a kiss on your forehead and strokes your hair. However, you can't stop thinking about everything weird that keeps transpiring.

Right before he can wish you good night and walks out the door, you speak up. "Wait. Why was that door locked?"

His smile tightens as he stands eerily still. His expression quickly softens, speaking to you with the same affectionate tone. "Oh! It's a secret~" He giggles. "Don't worry, it won't be like that for long. I'm just preparing something really special for you~"

"I see..." You chuckle at this, thinking that this is something both Friends love to do. "Can't wait to see what you have in store." You lay down and clutch the sheets and the plushie closer to you. You sigh and close your eyes. "Even if this is a dream..." You murmur as you slowly doze off.

Other Friend stands by the doorway, his face lighting up in amusement from the last words you uttered.

"Of course... a dream..."

Oh you're too cute. So smart, yet so naive... How he yearned to be the plushie that got to sleep in your embrace; yet in a way, he was.

He chuckles softly, making sure not to wake you up. "It certainly feels like a dream come true for me~" He whispers to himself. He turns off the light and looks back one last time. "And I have a feeling it'll be one you'll never want to wake up from~”

The door shuts behind him with a soft thud. From where he is standing, Other Friend turns his head, eyes landing on the same door at the end of the hallway. The air around him suddenly turns colder as he grins sinisterly.

Everything is falling into place.

Already approaching the climax of the story, hope you guys are ready for what comes next~

Chapter 4

[flyingcakeee]

Little thing I wrote before I passed out yesterday

Can be interpreted as a friendship or ship, your choice really.

Yeah so what if Max was hard on himself and Logan had only recently learned how harmful it is to be super hard on yourself?

Max has never been the one to truly understand and respect motivational talks. Just say you're going to do it, no need to truly hype yourself up like you're in a zombie apocalypse movie and you need to make some seemingly impossible jump to get away from said zombies. Max has lived by one motto and one motto only since ‘23 Baku, don't let anyone else win. Yeah, sure, some rookie got a sprint win, but that's not the real deal. Max wasn't given the right car in Singapore, he'll never let Singapore again. His teammate took two wins from him, Max won't let him win ever again.

Max promised his dad “I'm the only winner” and he would stand by it. That was all the motivation Max ever needed, “only winner”.

>~<

Monaco, May 25th, 2024

Max fucked it all up.

Monaco is all about precision, being exact and never more or less, no mistakes allowed. Qualifying had started 8 minutes prior when Max finally got out to do his flying lap that would no doubt put him into Q3 if it worked as such.

No heroics into Saint Devote, the wall is spared from any touch of the RB20. Beau Rivage treats Max with kindness, a breeze to fly through. Massante doesn't hold any hidden traffic, nothing to ruin Max’s lap. Casino is as simple as ever and the Mirabeau hairpin yields to Max’s power. Portier is fine, the tunnel after is simple as it can be. Max flies through the Nouvelle Chicane, a spectacle to all the fans who watch. Tabac, Max run’s wide. A quick correction fixes him for that turn, runs him into the wall at Swimming Pool, taking his front left tyre off and ending his quali before he can even set a time.

Max couldn't set a time.

Red flags were waved and Max opted to walk the track back to the pitlane, hanging his head in embarrassment and anguish as he did so. It was a slow walk, marshals long since giving up to stop him. The Monegasque streets have never seemed so quite to Max until now, nor have they seemed this long.

When Max returned to the pitlane, crews looked at him with utter pity, all stepping away as he slowly trudged his way towards the RedBull garage. All but one person.

A flash of white and dark blue stopped Max in his tracks, the white, red, and blue helmet stopping in front of Max and the hands of the man gently grasping his shoulders. Max looked up into the eyes of the North American, unsure where this extremely reserved and quiet rookie got the courage to stop him, the Max Verstappen.

“Pick yourself up, Max,” the American started, the only noise Max could hear for miles on end.

Of course, it was a motivational speech but he couldn't bring it in himself to push the young driver away.

“Don't let one bad qualifying session define you. Trust me, I've let every session I've ever done define me and you see where I've ended up, nearly losing my seat and only getting as high as P11. If the race doesn't go well either, it's fucking Monaco. Anything can happen, Monaco can be unforgiving to any driver. Just pick yourself back up for the race tomorrow and then pick yourself up more for Canada. Don't be too rough, we're human. We can't be perfect, that includes you. Who cares if you lose one race and win the rest, it's better than your record last year still.”

Max felt himself completely focused on the Williams driver. Somehow, he felt he could listen to this motivational speech. Maybe it was the fact that Logan quite literally put his own problem into it and told Max to not be him. Maybe it was the fact that it, indeed, was Monaco, an unforgiving track to even the best drivers. Maybe it was Logan’s hands on his shoulders grounding him, keeping Max there with Logan and not wallowing in self pity.

“You'll be fine, don't let your name get to you. Don't be Max Verstappen all the time, you need to just be Max as well.”

The Floridian removed his hands, a quick pat and smile to the Dutchman before he moved over, allowing Max to finish his walk to the garage. Max gave a small smile back and continued on his way, the message replaying in his mind for quite a bit of time.

>~<

Monaco, May 26th, 2024

Max forgave Monaco, Monaco forgave him back. The top step of the podium became Max’s home, only he could be standing on the top step at all this year. He distinctly remembers seeing Logan give him a curt thumbs up when he was about to do his interview, not actually walking over to talk on the contrary.

“Fantastic recovery performance from you, Max!” the reporter said with excitement, wanting to hear how Max would agree.

“Yeah, it's been a while since I started that low down,” Max joked. “I have to thank my crew for repairing my car so quickly. Couldn't be up here if they weren't working so hard.” The ‘thanks to Logan for giving me a little motivational speech yesterday when he saw I was upset’ went unsaid, Max unsure if he should be thanking another driver in this condition.

“You and another driver, Sargeant, exchanged words after your crash yesterday. Any chance you can tell us what was said there?”

Max laughed, “That's between Logan and I, it was a very private conversation.”

>~<

This time, Max promised to listen to Logan’s motivational spews and not promise his father an always Q3 quali result promise. Plus, Max did Alex a favor and made Logan socialize more.

[jesssssssssica]

helpless dr3 & ln4

never in lando’s life had he ever thought that he would feel the spark for someone, the spark that is the tell-tell sign of finding ‘the one’ and yet here he is, feeling the spark for the stranger across the room. what started as a night out to celebrate his second podium in a row turned into a night he would never forget because that was the night he met you, the love of his life. 

he had never thought that in one night he would find himself feeling helpless for a person he didn’t even know and yet now look at him, infatuated with the most beautiful girl in the world. he knows now that he will never be the same, never wanting to look at another girl that wasn’t you.

he recalls how the night started, himself standing in the corner of room, away from all the noise and the sweaty crowds of people, which to the surprise of many was a comfort to him. somedays you would find him behind the dj stand having the time of his life, but today just seeing his friends having fun, was enough for him and to this day he’s grateful that he chose to stay away because maybe he would’ve been to busy to see you. 

he then remembers watching daniel dancing around, hands flailing in the air with no care in the world. oh how he wishes he had the confidence of danny, being able to capture the room in minutes but at that moment in time he was fine with just laughing at the stupidness of his friend.

and then you walked in. 

and time stopped.

he had never seen such a beautiful person, never seen someone that could take his breath away in seconds, someone that managed to light up a room by their smile. never had he been more entranced with a human in his life and he loved it. 

in lando’s eyes, the only way to get your attention was to try and dance his way towards your direction, just like daniel would. so that’s why he was shimmying his hips, finding refuge in max, who was a midway point from his original spot to you. 

“mate what are you doing?” max laughs, not seeing lando ever act this way.

“what do you mean i’m dancing?” lando asks, thinking nothing of it.

“oh dancing yeah? i like your dancing. hey daniel! come check out landos ‘dancing’!” 

“oh i don’t think that’s necessar-”

by the time lando goes to finish his words, daniel has already made his way over the pair, slapping his hands on both of their shoulders, chest pumping from all of of his dancing and singing,

“go on then mate, dance.” 

“stop it! i’m not dancing for you two, i’m dancing for her,” he points at you, causing both of them to turn in the direction that he’d pointed at, max turning quickly back around and daniel taking a little longer to stare at you.

“she’s pretty” daniel utters, max nodding in agreement.

“she is, go get her lando!” he says before shoving him, though lando doesn’t get far due to the grasp daniel has on his shirt.

“i can see the worry on your face, so i’ll say something to her put in a good word for you.” daniel promises, walking off, charming smile painted on his face.

lando watches in fear, palms sweaty wondering what daniel could possibly do, seeing you laugh at whatever he’s saying. what would he say? would he mention the fact that he was an formula one driver or would that make her want to stay away? would he say that he had eight podiums and no wins before comparing his performance to his thirty two podiums and eight wins?

no, that wasn’t like daniel. 

daniel wouldn’t sabotage this for him, not when he knew that this time lando really was feeling something for this girl. 

he then watches as daniel grabs you lightly by the arm, causing lando to stifle a breath thinking that this was it, daniel would get the girl and he would have to watch on the sidelines and he would have to just get over it but then you looked at him and he was unable to think. 

he feels as though he’s gone to heaven and the angel is now guiding him through it, looking beautiful through it all. he feels helpless, falling through the air watching the clouds, which now look like your eyes, the same pair that he could stare into for hours on end. 

due to him standing close enough to the moving pair he can hear everything they’re saying, 

“where are you taking me?” she says, voice enchanting him once more.

 “i’m about to change your life.” daniel says stopping for a moment to wait for her reply.

“then by all means, lead the way.” she jokes, though in lando’s head, he hopes that her world will hold some truth in the future.

then she’s standing in front of him.

all he can feel is his sweaty hands brushing the sides of his trousers. 

all he can smell is the sweet vanilla of your perfume.

all he can hear is his beating heart thumping against his chest. 

until he opens his mouth and introduces himself.

“lando norris. nice to meet you.”

“well done on your podium.” 

“if getting a podium was what it took for me to meet you, then i would’ve done it three weeks ago.” 

forgetting about daniel and max’s presence i jump a little when i hear max’s voice again.

“we’ll leave you to it.”

one week later and they’ve exchanged a thousand messages, chatting away as if they’ve known each other for years. ever since that night, they’ve become attached to their phones, constantly checking their phones whenever they get a notifications, smile beaming until they realise that it’s not the other. 

the other day daniel had joked about needing a third, which then caused lando to take him out of the race, not taking the joke too lightly. 

a month after that, he was now clutching a bouquet of lilies, standing in the airport waiting for you to round the corner. the sunglasses he’s wearing manage to hide his identity and his eyes of panic, though he doesn’t know why. he’s excited to see you of course, he just worries that you won’t like him anymore, worrying that he’s not going to be the same lando that was messaging you. 

but then you appear and all his worries wash away, focusing on your beautiful smile instead of his anxious thoughts.

because now he knows, he knows that you’re truly his or else you wouldn’t have came.

and now he’s helpless.

authors note: this is poo but oh well. i feel bad because the banner has danny in it but danny doesn’t really feature in this. part two in the works though lovelies!

[flowers-for-the-grave]

Morning Sunshine, Evening Moonlight

Scott blinked back at the tears. He couldn't risk it now. He was meant to be one of the strongest witches in the competition! The Necromantic Witch! Every one of his competitors either feared him, was stupid enough to make him an enemy, or was an ally. Most feared him. He had taglocks of everyone. Nobody was safe from a curse. Not even Bertha, the...weird being that Scott didn't quite understand.

Case in point, Scott was meant to be powerful. Crying was a sign of weakness. He couldn't afford to be weak.

That wouldn't bring Milo back.

So he wiped his eyes and continued on. He flicked through the Book of Shadows, analysing every word of every line until he understood the ritual perfectly and could do it blindfolded. The chalk on the ground was right. He had the right ingredients. He even had a sacrifice like the book said!

Taking a deep breath, Scott began the ritual.

---

None of the other witches had heard a peep from Scott in a bit. No curses, no pranks, nothing. He hadn't tried scaring Bertha, he wasn't on some sort of journey to collect ingredients or spells. Nobody knew where he was.

Cleo paced back and forth at Spawn. She gesticulated wildly to Bertha as she ranted on end. Scott had said he'd meet her there ages ago. He hadn't turned up.

"What if something bad happened to him? He's my ally! Not to mention he's not...mentally stable," Cleo shook her head. "No I'm sure he's fine. Maybe he's just resting?"

"Scott doesn't have a bed," Bertha helpfully supplied. "He doesn't sleep anymore after Joey and Pris tried getting his taglock."

"Oh. Right." Cleo mentally screamed. She was no closer to discerning where Scott was than before!

"But we could take a look at his base," Bertha suggested, gesturing at the Waystone in the centre of Spawn. "Maybe he's there?" Cleo frowned, but, seeing no other option, complied.

The two stepped up to the Waystone and teleported to Scott's house.

---

Scott's home was silent. Usually there was at least some small semblance of noise. But not anymore. Instead it was just uncomfortably silent. Suffocatingly so.

Bertha cautiously tread on the decayed ground as if it would catch fire at any second. Cleo's brows furrowed. The decay was pretty bad. It stretched incredibly far, almost halfway to the lake. Had Scott's magic caused this?

As the two of them looked around, a chalk circle caught their eyes. In the centre of it stood a figure hidden behind sinister black, gold and crimson robes. A hood was pulled over their head, but Cleo could easily guess that it was Scott. By the look of it, he was performing some kind of ritual.

"Scott?" She said, slowly approaching the chalk circle. In between the red and purple chalk were thin lines of salt. Odd. Scott stood, unmoving and unattentive. There was a swirl of shadows and darkness at his feet, growing and growing. Shadowy tendrils shot out of the depths, sapping the life out of the world around it. The decay on the ground groaned and spread, edging closer and closer to the lake.

"Scott." Bertha's voice was loud and firm, unlike what cleo had heard before. It sounded more...ethereal. Less human and more like an entity of some sort. "Stop this." But Scott didn't seem to be listening.

"I'm gonna try something, but I think I'll need your help." Cleo held out her hand to Bertha, and they readily took it.

She drew nearer and nearer to the chalk circle. With a sharp breath, Cleo stepped over the lines of chalk and salt, careful not to accidentally disturb them. Breaking the ritual could have dire consequences. She reached out and took hold of Scott's hand. Bertha gasped and uttered something.

Before she could blink, Cleo was no longer at Scott's house.

---

He was home. Home with Milo and Maxwell. Home with his family. No more disasters. No more magic. No more death. Instead, he was sat at the table with Milo, both of them happily eating and talking. In his mind, it was like nothing had ever happened. Perhaps none of it had been real. Maybe he'd just been living a nightmare and only just woke up to his actual reality.

Whatever the case, Scott had missed this.

"I love you," he blurted out. "I-I really love you."

"I should hope so," Milo replied with a gentle laugh. He took Scott's hand. "After all, we are living together. How would Maxwell cope?"

"Shared custody?" Scott joked. The duo grinned in the way they only did for each other and burst out in pure, unadultered laughter.

He could almost believe it was real.

The main giveaway was the decay on his hands. The blackened skin that flickered in and out of existence. A reminder. In the corner of his eye, Scott could see the outlines of two figures reaching out for him and calling his name. He shook his head. This was his moment. This was his time to lose himself and believe that Milo was still alive.

"Scott!" The voices called out. They were incredibly distinct, and he knew them well. Cleo and Bertha. It could be no one else.

"Sunshine? Are you alright?" Milo asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." Scott leaned over and kissed Milo on the forehead. "Just...tired, I think."

"Do you wanna go up to bed now? I can clean up." Milo offered with a smile.

"O-ok. Love you." With a quick kiss on the lips, Scott stood up from the table and left.

"Scott, please," Cleo's voice begged. And Scott could see her now. He could see her hand wrapped around his own. "You need to stop. The decay, i-it's spreading. It's hurting you Scott!"

"But-...I'm finally back! With him!" Scott argued. His voice wavered, and tears pricked his eyes. "I-I can finally be happy again! I can live my life here, with him. I've tried to bring him back for so long. Do you know, Cleo? Do you know how long I've tried? Take a guess! Take a guess goddamnit, and tell me how long you think I've tried! Go on! Please!" Scott felt the tears falling down his cheeks. Cleo's hand wiped them away. Bertha stood beside him, their hand resting on his shoulder.

"Neither of us can imagine. But you need to come back. There's another way. Scott, come back." Bertha's eyes glowed with tender sympathy.

"I can't!" Scott pulled away. "I-I can't live without him."

"Yes you can. Please Scott." Cleo wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.

The world around them fell apart.

---

They were back. Back at Scott's house. Only now, the Necromantic Witch was crying, weeping and wailing, clinging onto Cleo and Bertha for support. They feebly clung onto him, rubbing up and down his back and waiting for him to calm down.

Neither had intended to do this. But they did.

"I'm sorry," Scott hiccuped, his eyes puffy and voice hoarse. "I-I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about it." Bertha responded. "Besides, if it works, I can find a better way to bring back, uhh..."

"Milo."

"Yes, Milo." Bertha snapped their fingers in remembrance when Scott said the name.

"Sure?"

"Incredibly so."

"Okay." Scott smiled at both of them.

Those few seconds with Milo were worth it. Milo may not like what Scott's become, but that wouldn't stop him.

Nothing would.