#i'll start this au properly eventually but this came to me late at night and i ran with it

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

( "Immoral Immortality" — 1K words )

Immortal au writing made by my sweetheart @sukis-artchive based off this comic while we were chatting on discord

⚠️ Warning for violence and blood

—

It started off like any other night. Perkeo preferred the night shift. It was dimmer, quieter, and over all just less to handle. Well...

"Goodnight Pear..."

Moon's voice came from behind them, though thus wasn't the first and far from the last. Perkeo didn't jump at the sound or the menacing words. They quite liked the nickname 'pear', and as for 'goodnight' it wasn't meant to sound like a threat. Merely Moon greeting them, as he couldn't say "good day".

"Hey Moon"

Perkeo sounded happy, yet looked a little tired.

"How have you been?"

Moon had been doing well lately, (Perkeo knew this) but that didn't nothing to ease their mind.

"G-g...g-Gh-ooooD-"

His voice box glitches out. Perkeo refrains from sighing. They knew this would happen eventually, but the short peace with Moon doing well felt good. Too good. They were so close to fixing him. If only he could have held out a little longer. Moon isn't to blame though, he doesn't know.

And so Perkeo repeats the process they made, down to a tea. They learned how to buy the most time by doing this over, and over, and over again. Funny how similar that was to their 'life'. They always had a 2nd... or 87th chance to try again. Maybe get better results.

"Moon?"

They ask hesitantly, as always.

"Are you alright?

They learned not panicking at his silence results in less of a mess.

His pupils turn to red pinpricks, Perkeo isn't surprised, yet their heartrate still spikes. Some things never change.

A bead of sweat starts to form on their cheek, they know what's to come.

Moon reaches out to caress their face. Perkeo has learnt to accept fate.

...

"...Moon?-"

"Moon?"

"...Moon?"

"Moon!" Moon snaps their attention to Perkeo.

"Are you even listenin' to me? Geez." they hold a tablet, bangs barely cover what appears to be a small bandage.

"Sorry, Starlight, my mind was over the moon..." He looks around, getting his bearings, trying to remember what was happening... before that.

"Uh-huh"

The noise pulls him out of his thoughts, he doesn't even know what "that" was. Unable to recall it properly. Strange.

"So what were you saying?" He feels bad ignoring his friend, even if it was accidentally. What's wrong with you?

"I said we're done, you doofus, now go charge because we have a long day tomorrow... I'll close everything."

'All done'? Ohhh it must have been maintenance of his software, that's what the tablet was for. And it explains his forgetfulness, he was always like this after 'check ups'. But he trusts Perkeo.

He gets up off the desk, and reaches to grab them. "I'll leave it to you, then~ nighty night, friend. Sleep well."

He mutters a 'see you tomorrow' under his breath, as they bonk heads. His hand gently holding the sides of their face, fingers threading through their fluffy hair. He doesn't register their rigid posture. Or the slight tremor that courses through their whole body. Not even the small frown gracing their lips.

He walks off to charge, just as they had said.

Perkeo sighs, placing the tablet down. They had held the screen cautiously out of view from Moon the entire time. And start to utter Sun's cleanup chant "Clean up, Clean up".

They had luckily knew thought ahead to leave out the disinfectant. They had never been so grateful that the DCA cannot enter behind the desk, as they look down. Even through the curls falling into their eyes, they can see the crimson smear on the side of the furniture.

Their smear.

A bloody handprint slid across the hard surface.

Perkeo shivered as they walked around the desk. Trying not to look at the red mark. It was so painfully obvious among the bright colours of the daycare. The smell of iron becomes stronger as they get closer. Their stomach twists uncomfortably at the scent.

They reach for the disinfectant, grabbing it as a shudder runs through their body. They ignore it and get back to work. Hmmm, they'd get used to it, eventually.

Grabbing a small cloth, they dab it with disinfectant and get to work. Nose scrunching, they slowly build up the courage to touch the blood. Why is this so hard?

not like it's the first time.

Suddenly the feeling of sickness overwhelms them. They crumple a bit. The sight of their hand lining up perfectly with the print made them gag. It wasn't a pleasant sight, they forgot this would happen.

Memories flash back to them. Of all the other times they made the mistake of touching the handprint like this, instead of wiping it clean immediately.

Then, just like every other time, the other Memories come back.

Well if you can even call them that. 'Memories' sounds happy. Perkeo knew that the connotations don't mean anything though. They've been through too much, and learned that the bad experiences are also 'memories' in a sense.

Their body spasms, as their chest rocks with sobs. They'd never get used to extreme pain. Not even with how many 'deaths' they experienced.

It hurt so bad.

—

Their eyes were swollen and puffy with streaks from their crying. They learned that the only way to live longer was to not fight it. It would toy with them as much as possible, before going for the kill.

It tore into Perkeo like a feast, slicing them with sharp claws. They had been oh so gentle before, Perkeo may never get used to the change.

They didn't want to give it the satisfaction of a scream. It would only make it hurt more then. Perkeo remembers that.

They let it mutilate them. It scratches them, punctures them, drags them by their wounds and hair, pulls them apart. But this was a friend, Perkeo knew it was worth it. It'll all be over soon.

They find some comfort in that, feeling empty otherwise. The small voice of preservation that they thought they long since killed was barely a whisper.

...no....run...

Huh, now that's a surprise. Perkeo thinks, too late. The voice was warning them. Their body even knew what was to come at this point. Oh the irony, the vessel who puts them through this wanting the pain to stop. The only reason Perkeo sticks around here is because of their immortality. If it wasn't for their body, Perkeo wouldn't need to die.

Nothing, not Perkeos experience, nor all the past pain inflicted upon them, could prepare them for what's to come. Perkeo always blocked out this part, it's happened before.

They let out a single cut off screech. Their vocal chords still not fully healed from the last time.

As Moon forces his hand into their socket, violently ripping out their eye.

Blood splatters everywhere, the eyeball bursting in his grip. Perkeo crumbles to the ground.

...should have listened.

The little voice chimed, as Perkeo finally backs away from Moon, for the first time that night. Bad idea, and Perkeo knew it.

Though their immortal side has given them an aloof disposition and immeasurable tolerance. Instinct always found a way to persist.

They knew backing away would make it worse, but it hurt too much now for them to do anything else. They knew this would lead to it ending quicker.

Moon grabs them, claws digging into their flesh. They manage to make it behind the desk, his fingers raking through their skin before losing its grip. They try to pull themselves up, bloodied hands smearing the desk as they use it to push themselves up. They grab the tablet and force a shut down.

Hmmm, this is one of the first times they didn't die...

It takes them hours to fix up themselves and clean the mess, but when they finally do dread starts to well up again. Moon was shut down, but absolutely covered in Perkeos blood. Atleast this time Perkeo remembered to not leave any handprints on Moon. It made this so much harder to clean.

The dread still doesn't subside when they finish, as they pick up the tablet. Connecting it to Moon, they replay the footage. Watching their torture always made it worse.

Deleting the files, they reboot him.

They sigh.

"Hopefully this time we can last a little longer."

[make-it-mavis]

Warm Blooded

TURBUG AU 7420 words Characters: Make-it Mavis, Cybug-Turbo (my redesigned version) Content Warnings: Mild blood

Premise: Turbo lost his memory and most of his mind in the cybug transformation, and Mavis has been working tirelessly to bring it back. Taking a chance, she tries something new to jog his memory, but things don’t quite go as planned.

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

The tunneling caverns under Sugar Rush were cold.

Not as cold as the Sundae Mountains, for sure, but the chill had just sharp enough teeth for Mavis to shiver where she curled. The sleeves of her smock were not as long as they once were, having been torn away in fierce encounters. What little bedding she had managed to save after being overthrown was meant for a warmer climate: A roll and light blanket, what she used to sleep on in the circus tents when she could not spend the night in the royal chambers with her royal partner. The king had been so invitingly warm without fail, and just the memory deepened the cold until it reached right into her yearning heart. Her mind relentlessly conjured up images of him lying against her on the hard butterscotch brittle earth. Although she had very little left to lose, she would have given it all just to have him there with her.

But, technically, he was.

A safe distance away, Turbo lightly slept. She had been watching him from where she lay for some time. The light may have been dim, provided only from a tight fissure in the roof of the tunnel, but she could see him perfectly. Him, and his massive size. His numerous legs. The long tendrils of his tail. The giant T-shaped horn. His long body curled around itself peacefully, as if he had never been anything but a giant insect.

Yes, he was there. It just did not quite feel that way. Not just yet. But she was not about to give up. She knew he was in there, and she would draw him out by any means necessary. There were just some nights where the grief of losing her old way of life would grip onto her and squeeze until it hurt. Oft times, this grief was what drove her to keep taming him. But she could only long for the old days so much. Even if she got him talking again, even if his memories returned, nothing would ever really be the same. Not in the way she wanted. Her heart would only continue to break if she did not learn to embrace reality.

Turbo was there. He would just never be her size again. Never be small enough to wrap her arms around. Never have a mouth small enough to kiss. Nevermind sleeping with him, which had to be physically impossible. None of this was ideal. But through it all, she had to remember to count her blessings.

He was alive. He was learning. He was improving. He was not a tragedy, he was a miracle.

So, she knew there was only one thing to do with her grief, no matter how hard it was. She had to go spend some time with him and remember that she was not truly alone, and that was wonderful.

Mavis pushed herself to her feet, sore from a day's worth of running around with her bug friend. Even with the blanket draped tightly around her shoulders, leaving the body heat she had amassed in her bed was harsh. Just another reason to be close to the heated cyborg creature.

She set her eyes on what might as well have been her husband, and she slowly crossed the tunnel to him. She did not bother to sneak, for his senses were too sharp, and just as well, she wanted to avoid all chance of startling him. 

Thankfully, his great yellow eyes opened while she was still a modest distance away. She paused, searching his face. Turbo had not quite remembered normal facial expression yet, but Mavis was getting good at reading him anyway. His lids were not open wide enough to show his whole red, slit pupils, and he had not lifted his head from where it rested on his crossed, rake-like hands. Both were good signs, both signaled that he was calm and not threatened.

But she did not forget her manners. Even if she was the one teaching him, while she was in his space, he was definitely in charge. She could not let him believe she was challenging that. Turbo had enough power issues before he was a 40 ft. long monster with a throat full of saw blades.

So she crouched there in his sights, averting her gaze in a submissive display. Docile as he may have been that night, she still heard the quiet whir of his mechanical neck extending the short distance so he could check her out. She closed her eyes and felt the glowing proximity of his head, which was easily bigger than her, even without the horn. He sniffed her all over, which felt like hot, repetitive blasts from a hair dryer. Once he had deemed her fit to proceed, a nudge from his nose tipped her gently back onto her butt. When she opened her eyes, she saw him withdrawing his head to rest it right back where it had been before.

Mavis licked her dry lips. "Hi, T," she said lowly, smiling through her melancholy.

Turbo merely gave a brief, beastly chuff.

Taking that as another good sign, she rose to her feet and slowly approached until she stood just short of his tail that curled around him and its two long whiskers that twitched sensitively at her proximity. If she stepped over, she would officially be breaching the coiled circle that he had made of himself. And although he had given nothing but relaxed body language, she had trained enough dangerous animals in the circus to know to never push it. And he was, without a doubt, the most dangerous of all -- she had the scarred face and milky, blind eye to prove it.

So she looked at his face, reading just a hint of curiosity in his slightly widened eyes.

"I'm really cold," she told him. "Will you let me in and quit hoggin' all that body heat?"

Turbo, unsurprisingly, made no verbal reply. But he did offer her a slow, relaxed blink, which was permission enough for her. Freezing, but unafraid, she stepped over his tail and entered into the circle.

Immediately, she could feel the air around her warming up. His entire body radiated heat like a furnace, almost giving the impression of shelter. It drew her in effortlessly. The fact that she was surrounded by one huge temperamental monster who had quite nearly killed her once before was a decently loud fact in her head, but she was so cold, and so lonely, and he was the only company she had. Risks be damned.

Finding a comfortable place to sit with him was often a challenge, but she was not picky that night, and crossed over to just past his shoulder. His burgundy shell would have sported a sugary purple shimmer if the sunlight touched it, but in the dark, it looked almost black. It stripped away whatever sort of familiar candy appearance native to Sugar Rush he still had, and left no doubt of the cybug code he carried. Ignoring the awful memories the sight brought up, Mavis carefully lifted her hand and laid it flat against his shell.

As always, he was hot. Just shy of burning. And his new, mashed-together hulking mess of code made her feel overwhelmingly small. But she still felt him somewhere in there, and that much was a comfort. It meant her efforts would be worth it one day.

The rest of her body erupted in goosebumps in envy of the heat on her hand, so she turned and rested her blanketed shoulder against him. Exhaustion and dreariness weighed her muscles down until she sank to the ground and found herself in some sad, uncomfortable attempt to cuddle close to what was left of her partner.

From inside his body, she heard the same old chilling tale of Turbo's strange fate. Clicking, whirring, scraping, hissing, the music of a synthetic creature that was coded to kill like clockwork. But still, somehow, she also heard the great rush of lungs filling and shrinking, the motion of which rocked her gently with his breathing. She wondered just how much of him was still organic, and how it was still functioning around the machinery. As cool and as intriguing as that concept may have once been, it was upsetting to think about when it came to him. What if he was in pain? How long could a creature like that live?

There was one sound, however, that put a bittersweet pang in her chest. His heartbeat. Somehow, it sounded the same, like an idle engine rumbling away. Only now, it seemed multiplied tenfold. Maybe Turbo really lived to see his heart become an engine for real. What a concept.

In the dark of the cavern, his warmth blunting the bite of her chill, and that familiar, soothing heartbeat rumbling at a near aggressive volume… she shook. Her head bowed in the same vicious grief she had been battling since that dark day in November, the grief over the loss of their old lives. Looking at herself in this vain attempt to chase what she lost brought her almost to the brink of tears. She had to be brave. More than anything, she had to be brave. 

But Devs, life had turned so bizarrely painful.

Mavis was jostled out of her morose trance when the massive body she leaned against shifted slightly and emitted a deep grunt. Oddly enough, she had almost forgotten about him. She looked to see Turbo's head lifted a bit off his hands and pointing curiously at her. He was not angry, but he seemed confused, bordering on uncomfortable. Their new relationship had not exactly crossed into regularly snuggling territory just yet.

But there was an easy way to help it along. To help herself along in the effort to enjoy the new normal. 

Just talking to him.

Feebly, she smiled at his huge, questioning face. "I'm not used to sleeping anywhere so cold anymore," she told him calmly. "Not since the old, old days, before you n' I were even a thing. Then I got spoiled from sleeping with you. And, I mean, the castle was warm, and the circus was warm… but you were like my own personal heater. I guess you graduated into a furnace, huh?"

Turbo did not emote. He did not even blink. But that was not necessarily bad. 

Her smile grew a bit more genuine. "You used to make fun of me, y'know. I get cold at a slight breeze. It probably has somethin' to do with my sparse code, but you'd pull the race card and say I was a warm-blooded human. Y'know, whereas you were hot-blooded. Demon, and all. You'd brag about how you'd never get cold, just one of the many weird things you bragged about. Then I'd tell you that not everyone had a space heater for a heart, and you'd call me racist."

Turbo finally blinked, and she chuckled.

"Then I'd say I was racerist, and you'd punch me in the arm. Remember that?"

His head tilted a bit. Of course, the only answer could have been 'no'.

She gave one soft, sad chuckle. "I figured. It's okay. You will eventually. I promise."

It was an irresponsible promise to make, but she had been making a whole lot of those ever since she found him. She was certain they meant nothing to him, but they meant everything to her. She would find a million ways a day to swear to herself that she could save him. It helped keep her optimistic, anyway.

Laying her cheek back against the hot metal of his shell, she became wistful over the sound of his heart again. Her gaze fell downcast in a mournful way, but a smile still tugged at the corner of her mouth. There was a warm nostalgia there, and she followed it as best as she could.

"Your heart sounds the same, you know," she muttered softly. "Just bigger… Almost as big as you thought yourself to be. I've always… well, I've always liked the sound. It was unique. I love unique. And… you're more unique than ever, now, aren't ya?"

Turbo lowed quietly. His face still showed no clear emotion, but it was nice to hear him responding.

"Exactly," she sighed in mock understanding. "I like you a lot, big guy."

His tail flicked once at the praise.

Sucking on her lip a bit, Mavis looked down at her anxiously twisting hands. Another bittersweet memory had surfaced, and it slowly fell from her mouth as a nearly pointless ramble. Just like the rest of her monologue.

"You'd usually make fun of my heartbeat, too… Say I sounded barely alive, heh," she paused. "But… there was one time, after too many drinks, when you passed out on me, and you mumbled, uh… that my heartbeat sounded like the whoosh of wings flapping. Like a little eagle in my chest, you said."

Turbo's head lifted a bit higher and his brow furrowed slightly. His tongue darted out a few times with audible slurps. He was really confused now, but he was clearly thinking -- an encouraging fact. It urged her on.

"I wouldn't expect you to remember that, even before… all this," she told him. "I never told you, either. I mean, it was just so corny. But… all the same, I've remembered it this long. It… I dunno, I liked it. I've always been a crazy free-flyin' bird at heart. I had my wings, and you had your engine… sorta two sides of the same coin, if you squint."

She gave him a small, rueful smile. "I wonder what you'd think of my heart now. It'd probably just sound real tasty, huh?"

That curiosity suddenly but softly possessed her. Maybe he would not understand… but maybe hearing it would remind him of their intimate moments and jog some memory deep in his subconscious. A long shot, perhaps. But there was a chance, and she was loathe to pass those up when they arose. 

So, slowly, she stood. "Do… you want to hear it now?"

Turbo tilted his great, horned head and merely blinked at her. Not quite a yes, not quite a no. Not quite safe.

Regardless, she carefully stepped forward, putting her life on the line like she did every day. Her tools were still back where she had been curled in the cold, so if she were to misstep and set him off, she would be defenseless, and he would most likely kill her instantly. The danger was noted, but willfully ignored as she walked right up to his crossed, deadly claws.

The intimidating creature's gaze was fixed on her, his head hovering just a bit higher than hers. He was within reach, so she took a chance and slowly raised her hand. But, as expected, his eyes narrowed and he pulled back from her touch, his lip curling to flash a monstrous, curved golden fang. A low warning growl even rumbled from his throat. Still not a fan of having his face touched, unfortunately.

Promptly, she lowered her hand. "Okay, okay," she said, hushed. "I won't touch you. I promise. Look--" she dropped the blanket from her shoulders and crossed her arms behind her. "See?"

Turbo dropped his lip, but he did not drop his suspicious glare.

She smiled up at him, trying not to look too pleading. The whole idea was a long shot. She could not be disappointed if it failed. She reasoned, "All I'm askin' is that you listen to my chest for a sec. You can do that, can't ya?"

The suspicion in his eyes leaned a touch closer to perplexity, but her request apparently seemed doable. Curiously, he lowered his huge, monstrous head. Mavis focused on breathing evenly and remaining still, but she was unafraid, even as the beast encroached right into her space. For good measure, he took a moment to sniff her again, his nose just a hair away from her body as it searched her up and down, like he thought he could catch the scent of any ulterior motive she may have been hiding. Thankfully, he found none, and slowly began to turn his head.

Turbo had no real ears anymore, from what she could tell. Not in the traditional sense. His helmet had become fused to his head after the transformation, like just another plate of armor. But between the cords that ran along the side of his head, she could see very thin slits in the helmet, shallow divots that held fine metal mesh like a microphone. To say that his hearing was unnaturally sharp would have been all too true. She just hoped he could pick up the sound in her chest with it.

His head turned fully, and with unsure curiosity, he inched it closer and closer to her body, until he was quite nearly pressing against her. He waited, and Mavis could feel her heart pounding with anticipation. Her muscles were coiled, prepared to leap away if things went sour.

After a few moments that felt too long, he withdrew. Head lifted a bit higher, he looked away from her gaze, his eyes seemingly far away as he contemplated. Mavis held her breath.

His eyes twitched. His nose wrinkled. She jumped as he sneezed sharply and suddenly, the sound of which echoed through the caverns. He blinked hard and fast, as if there were sand in his eyes. Mavis wisely took a few steps back as he propped up squarely on his massive elbows. Things were definitely going sour. Turbo groaned harshly, slashing a clawed hand against his helmet with shrill, metallic scrapes and shaking his head in distress, causing some loose cords hanging from his neck to clatter. 

Not good. Not good. Not good at all.

As carefully as possible, Mavis backed away from him, leaving her blanket behind. It was better to be cold than eaten or slashed to pieces. She just managed to step over his tail before it slapped against the ground angrily. However, she did not manage to make it out of the danger zone before her heel kicked up a loose piece of brittle, and his gaze snapped to her. She froze.

Then another sound began to echo down the cavern halls -- a deep, menacing growl, pointed right at her.

"...Okay," she breathed, slowly showing him her empty, raised hands.

It did nothing to help. His lips lifted to threaten her with jagged teeth and pincer-like fangs. Nodes lined along his sides began to dimly glow an electric yellow, and matching in color were two circles on his forehead, giving the chilling impression of a second set of eyes.

The cybug in him was less than pleased.

Her need to flee turning more and more urgent, Mavis resumed backing away, putting as much space between her and the angered beast as possible. But the beast was not keen on letting her get away.

She had barely a second to react, and the agile sprite took it. Narrowly escaping death, she leapt out of the way of a huge, bladed hand striking the ground where she stood. The sharp fingers curled and carved deep gashes into the ground as he pulled his hand back and stood on his four hefty insect legs. He remained low, hands down and back arched, poised for attack.

Here we go again, she thought with a sigh.

She could not run. His prey drive was too strong. All she could do was hold her ground, dodge, and attempt to reason.

"Turbo," she called out to him calmly but forcefully, "you don't wanna hurt me!"

A swift swipe of claws claimed otherwise, but Mavis managed to spring clear of the swing. Righting her footing, her hair thrown haphazardly over her face, she stared down the snarling monstrosity she was faced with. He truly was terrifying. He would have barely fit in the circus ring, and his growling was deeper and louder than her lion's ever was. He was a lab experiment gone horribly wrong, the severed head of her partner fused to cables and wires that piloted a mismatched body right out of any decent sprite's nightmares. The terrible sight stole moments of Mavis' breath and set painful coals alight in her chest. But it was not fear that he struck in her heart.

It was frustration. Anger. The very same that would arise in a heated argument that did not potentially endanger her life.

He was making things so hard for her. He had to be better than this.

"This isn't you, and you know it!" Mavis shouted boldly. "This is just that big, brainless parasite! You're letting it win again! You can't let anyone win! You're Turbo!"

The creature skirted closer to her in a flash, rearing up his front half and towering over her. Four gargantuan wings shot from the chutes in his back like glowing helicopter blades, and they only served to make him look bigger when he spread them out. His glow burned brighter, he brandished his claws, and he let out a piercing shriek that drove painfully into her brain. She clapped her hands over her ears, nearly crumbling with the sound. But when it was over, she straightened up and looked him right in the eye again.

Manners no longer had any place in that tunnel. He was big and scary, but he could not use that against her. In her look, she cast a challenge. She cast the resolute fact that she could not be intimidated.

"Yeah. Go on. Try again." She spit on the ground. "You don't scare me."

The huge, glowing, slitted eyes, filled with something urgent and primal, held unbroken contact with hers. His long body swelled and shrunk with heavy, hissing breaths. Mavis was fully prepared for him to continue his needless threat display, but his momentum seemed to rein in for a few beats. Snarling simmered down into growling. Wide eyes narrowed. His wings quivered in a hostile, frustrated sort of way, creating a low hum in the air, but he made no move to strike.

Mavis breathed deeply and licked her dry lips. This was, at least, a turn in the right direction. Maybe sinking to her knees and turning her eyes to the ground would have made it all end quicker. But no matter how tired she was, she could not roll over. That was not the Mavis he knew. Not the one he would remember.

So she merely nodded slightly at him, blinking against the light of his eyes. “Yeah. S’right. I know a hissy fit when I see one.”

Turbo’s growl deepened and sharpened, but he began to withdraw, lowering his body back down closer to the slinking position he mostly took. Mavis’ head began to swirl as her spiked adrenaline began to cautiously fall. She had expected more push back, especially from her snide comment, but he seemed to be backing off already. That had to be some manner of good sign, she assured herself. Maybe his memories of her had deepened just the tiniest bit, and held him back from harming her. Maybe. Even if his tense, restricted body language betrayed his temptation to.

“See?” she sighed, pushing her hair from her face, some strands sticking to her sweat. “You know you don’t wanna hurt me.”

If Turbo could have spoken, he may have made protest to her tone. Perhaps he would have told her that she could not tell him what he knew. Or, at the very least, cussed her out.

What the mute king actually did was furiously rake his hand through a tall stalagmite nearby, sending almond brittle shrapnel hurtling towards Mavis, whose guard was lowered just a touch too far. Failing to dodge in time, Mavis yelped and threw up an arm to protect her face. The barrage of impacts staggered her and sank her to the ground, where she painfully caught herself against the earth with her palm. It had all happened in a flash, but by the time it had passed, and the rolling rubble had fallen silent… Mavis understood his message clearly.

Unsteadily, she sank fully onto the ground, held up only by an elbow. For a moment, she remained there, her body rigid with pain while she pressed a hand firmly against her throbbing head. The hit she sustained there was not serious, she could tell that much, but its sting still made the corners of her eyes well up. So much that the image of Turbo was foggy when she dared to crack her eyes open and look.

The glow of his body had been extinguished, but his eyes were clear, and they were wide and round, further away than when she last looked. He was flitting about, scurrying and pausing, growling and huffing. Just when it seemed that he could not decide what to do with himself, he tore off down the tunnel, leaving only the echoes of his skittering legs in his wake.

Mavis was raw. Bruised in both body and mind. As much as she tried to shrug off the ache, she was deeply disheartened. She supposed she had only herself to blame for getting hurt, like any other animal attack. But therein laid the depressing truth -- he was still more animal than Turbo. Every attack only served as a reminder. He had come along way since he sliced the vision out of her eye, but he still had such a long way to go.

She would never give up. Ever. But there were times, especially when she lay alone with pain he inflicted, that the effort to save him felt unfathomably gargantuan. And at those times, she felt unfathomably small.

So that tiny Easter Egg remained there on the cavern floor, letting the sorrow pass through her until regret followed, along with reasoning, and resolve. The situation was mostly on her, but her wounds would heal, and she would carry on and do better. That mindset had carried her thus far, and she would not soon let it go.

Mavis rose to her feet, a sharp pain still shooting over her head. When she took her hand away from it, she found her palm smeared with blood. She sighed. That was just great. The wound was not any cause for concern, but the amount of blood from a scalp wound would have led one to think otherwise. She knew it would be some time before the bleeding stopped.

Briefly, she checked her body for any other blood drawn. There was a gash across her forearm that was trickling red -- that much would need attention. But apart from a few other shallow scrapes, she was fine. Worse had been done before. Worse was likely yet to come.

She looked around at the empty cavern. All was silent. Any sign of Turbo's presence had faded away, along with any reason she had to stay in the cold.

She could hardly bear another moment in that place anyway. Packing up her bed roll and bags, she set out for warmer air.

An amount of time passed that no one bothered to measure.

Mavis was almost asleep. Rest was so close, teasing her so painfully, but holding her just above the edge, in the territory where thoughts blurred and dreams made small talk. With her eyes closed and her brain bobbing as if in water, she could almost see the red, shining body of her licorice lion lounging close by. She was petting him, her hand running over the black fronds of his mane. His tail slapped gently against the ground, and he rumbled contentedly… What a good boy he was. 

But his rumbling grew louder, until he was lowly bellowing, and the sound became far too real to sleep through. With a jolt, she shot fully awake.

The deep wild of the candy cane forest spread around her, where the trees grew thick and dense and towering. Their higher branches, the ones that stretched taller than the cliff she was nested under, glistened beautifully in the warm sunlight. Mavis was no longer cold, and the ambient sound of candy corn crows cawing in the distance brought back memories that warmed her further. But she was by no means comfortable. She was sitting on her roll, leaning against the unyielding rock candy cliff face. Her forearm was bandaged, but she was still holding gauze against her pulsing head. She must have been doing it for so long, she quite nearly fell asleep. Checking the gauze, she found it gruesome, but a quick dab on the clean side found the wound dry. Finally.

Another small shock jolted her system as the sound that woke her up returned. Restrained, tentative bellowing echoed out of the cave entrance next to her, the one that was more like a narrow crevice that only she could fit through. 

Now, who could that have been?

Scooting over carefully, she peered into the crack, into the darkness. As the entrance passage was a bit twisted and uneven, it was hard to see him. But those eyes in the dark were unmistakable. They watched her from a little ways in, curious and adamant, as far as she could read. With a weary sigh, she leaned the good side of her head against the edge of the opening. Despite being irritated at losing her moment’s peace, she was undeniably relieved to see him calmed down.

“Well?” she spoke to him quietly, but she knew he could hear. “Have ya come to apologize, or what?”

She heard him click a few times, like steel clacking together. So far, she had not been able to quite translate those sounds, but his eyes were speaking a bit more clearly than they had been earlier. There was tightness in his lower lids, speaking to frustration or distress, presumably from the fact that he did not, and could not, fit through the hole to reach her. He did not understand why she was shutting him out, but he clearly wanted her to stop. He really was clingy for such a territorial creature.

“You hurt me again, y’know,” she said lowly, regretfully.

Turbo’s gaze fell just a little bit lower, surveying the rocks. It could have been nothing, but she still noted his choice not to look at her.

Idly, she herself looked down and began picking at nicks in the rock candy beneath her. She sighed. “It’s not your fault. I know I freaked you out. And… I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I just can’t. I can’t be sorry. If this is gonna go anywhere, both of us are gonna have to get real uncomfortable. I wish that wasn’t the case, but…”

Lifting her gaze, she still found his pointed away. “But you can’t freak out at me like that,” she said firmly. “You just can’t. You’ll kill me. I’m the only one who can save you. I know you don’t understand that right now, but, y’know, Devs forbid you figure that out after I’m already dead.”

Turbo chuffed, and then his long, sharp fingers jut into the passageway in attempt to reach her. They fell short of Mavis by a fair bit, only serving to scrape and clack against the rock candy and shave off fresh, fragrant powder. Mavis did not move at all, merely watching with what would have been interest if she was not feeling so blue. Turbo gave up with a frustrated trill.

Mavis folded her arms, letting her eyes follow a distant cinnamon squirrel as it scurried from branch to branch, expertly avoiding the double-stripes. Without looking at Turbo, she told the open air, “You were in love with me, once.”

She paused. There was only silence, apart from a distant caw.

“I know I’ve told you that before,” she continued. “I know it probably means nothing to you. It’s okay. It will someday. But I can tell you for sure… if I died, you’d miss me. You wouldn’t even know why.”

There was a quiet growl inside the cave, one that carried no hostility. She chanced a glance at him, and found inquisitive, but guarded eyes watching her.

“I bet you miss me already,” she said with one twitch of a smile. “Or… miss knowing who I was. Bet it’d be nice to remember why you haven’t eaten me yet, huh?”

Turbo huffed, his eyes narrowing in what might have been vague agreement. At least, maybe to the last sentence.

Mavis sighed again through her nose. Slowly, she slid her flat palm against the ground a little more into the cave, as if he were sitting right next to her and she could tentatively brush her fingers against his. But as it stood, even his huge claws could not reach that far.

“I miss you,” she muttered. “More than… everything. That’s why I push things too far. That’s why I do anything, I guess.”

Turbo’s eyes were trained on her. It was obvious enough that he did not understand, but if she squinted, she could see him trying to. He wanted to know, but just could not. That was nothing she could have held against him.

Clearing her throat, resolving to move on from the heavy, emotional nonsense she had been presenting him with, she pushed to her feet. Her head became fuzzy once upright, but she had suffered more than a few bonks to the head in her years, and just powered through as she gathered her things. With her bed roll under her arm and her bags over her shoulders, she snaked through the tight space in the rock. The transition into the Sugar Rush caverns would have felt not unlike stepping into a refrigerator, if not for the huge furnace waiting for her right at the entrance.

Turbo stood the moment she entered, but did not immediately stray from his spot. Mavis paused to look at him, and found herself standing there longer than intended. She just got caught up in studying his face and the way its contours were painted by what little sunlight managed to pour in from the split in the rock. As this was the tunnel’s only light source, the rest of his body was blanketed out of sight in the shadows. All she could see of him was the part that still looked like her partner.

Her heart bubbled over with boiling, toxic affection that spilled hotly into her guts. 

“...Hi,” she breathed uselessly.

Her partner merely chuffed in reply. But the way he looked at her slowly stole her coherent thought, as it often did. This look did not come from the cybug, nor did it come from the Turbo she knew. It came from the Turbo that had been maturing since the day his memories were stolen away. The Turbo who had no idea who she was. What that Turbo thought of her exactly, she could not have been sure. But he looked at her as if she were an old riddle, one both intriguing and vexing, both charming and maddening. As if he were certain that he would figure her out one day, but stopped believing that day would come soon.

Like she was some soft obsession.

She swallowed, continuing to speak even as his eyes distracted her. “Uh… I’ll go find you some… cherries… tomorrow. We can call that my apology.”

Turbo’s head tilted, and she cleared her throat. Looking into the yawning darkness of the cave, she said, “It’s seriously bedtime now, though. I’m gonna delete if I don’t recharge.”

She had moved barely a few paces before Turbo gave a passing groan and crawled past her. His pointy legs clicked in a spidery way as he wandered around, scoping out the best place for him to situate himself. Those big eyes, glowing like low headlights, spread enough light in his search that Mavis was able to easily find a spot for herself before he was even done. He had always been the pickier one, anyway.

With all of her things laid out, she knelt on her bed roll and paused. She could just barely see Turbo’s body with the help of his glowing eyes and the faintest light from the crack, but she watched him finally pick a spot not all that far from her. He circled, scratching away any debris or sharp points. Then he circled again, and again, until he finally folded his legs and laid his body down. He yawned widely, and the harsh yellow light in his throat cast outlines over the surrounding lumpy floor before dropping it all back to darkness again.

Pondering how he still managed to be cute, Mavis laid down, preparing to fight the cold for a restful sleep again. The earth was hard and unforgiving, even under her bedding, but she was used to it by then. So much that she sighed with relief as she became horizontal. Joints popping as they settled, she blinked hard and realized that Turbo’s headlights were pointed her way.

She smiled sheepishly at him. “Goodnight, T,” she called tiredly.

Turbo grunted.

Thinking that was the end of it, she closed her eyes, but then Turbo groaned again, a bit more insistently.

“Uh huh,” she replied. “And sweet dreams.”

With that, she rolled over, ready to succumb to sleep. Her eyelids grew heavy, nearly glued shut. Almost immediately, she felt the world turning to jelly around her.

But it all snapped back into solid, unforgiving rock when Turbo's clicking startled her awake. 

"Uuugh," she groaned without rolling over. "Turbo! Shut it!"

For a few moments, she heard nothing. Then came some shifting and shuffling, presumably as he made himself more comfortable.

That was when three metal claws wedged beneath her, and the ground swiftly sank away. Before she knew it, she was being carried, bed and all, cupped in both of Turbo's hands like a cramped cage. 

"HEY!" she snapped. "WHAT GIVES?! PUT ME DOWN!"

Turbo did not obey, not immediately. In the dark, she could not see where he took her, but the skittery ride was short. It could only have been his own sleeping space. Then, just like that, he released her back onto the ground, where she tumbled like a dropped ball.

Exhausted, in pain, and confused, she was in no mood for Turbo's weird antics. Mavis sprang to her feet and pointed a stiff finger right at those glowing eyes.

"Don't do that!" she scolded. "Whaddaya think I am, some kinda doll? Y'gotta ask before--"

Her thought was cut short as Turbo crawled in a swift circle around her, paused, and circled again, before she just barely managed to see his body nestle down against the ground. The earth hissed and crackled as he made himself comfortable, and just like that, he was curled around her like a dragon protecting its egg.

A bit too tired to think clearly, she did not move at all. “Uh…” her eyes slowly shifted around, “what’s going on?”

Turbo’s eyes turned to her, his head still lifted off the ground. He seemed expectant, like he actually meant for her to sit down. Mavis was processing this when his Turbo-like impatience showed through, and two huge fingers pressed down on her shoulders hard enough to force her to kneel. Her knees landed on her bed roll, so she followed through with the motion and sat, tentatively picking up her blanket. 

Mavis could not ignore the way her heart was racing. This was something entirely new in their strange, broken relationship. A level of trust not yet achieved. She knew that trusting him was still likely unwise, but if he trusted her, she absolutely had to return the favor. It was the only way progress could be made.

“You…” she muttered, “...you sure? I mean, I’ll stay if you want me to, but…”

Turbo’s reply came only in the action of him lowering his head to the ground, a fair bit closer to her than she expected. His eyes narrowed as he watched her, blinking slowly in a contented way.

“...Huh.”

He chuffed.

“...Okay,” she breathed, smiling a bit with an incredulous chuckle. She situated herself a bit more comfortably, and laid herself down again, parallel to his head. “Alright. As you wish, your majesty.”

In the darkness, his glowing eye peered at her sidelong, its fiery pupil a bit dilated and relaxed. Those slow blinks quickly became more frequent, until he closed his eyes and left Mavis in the dark, aware of his surrounding body only by the whoosh of his hefty breathing and the heat it emanated.

Yes. Yes, that heat. The longer she stayed there with him coiled around her, the less she felt the cold, black cavern surrounding them. He was like a heat lamp, filling her mind with images of hot baths and warm beaches and cozy bedrooms with the man she missed so dearly.

But he was there… and he was so close.

And amazingly enough, after the silence had carried on a while and Mavis felt sleep carefully knocking at her door again, that silence was broken by Turbo’s head shifting a bit nearby. The sound occurred again and again, growing closer each time, until the breath from his nose washed over the ground by her feet. Mavis could hear her own heart pounding… which made her realize just which part of his head he had chosen to move so close.

“Are you…” she whispered, her mouth twitching into a smile, “are you listening to my heart again?”

“Mmlah,” he put a bit of his deep, crackling voice into his vague protest.

Laughter left Mavis softly and carefully, the sound glowing like candlelight. The night had taken a turn she would not have dared to expect. Suddenly, all the stress and the bleeding really did seem worth it. Something must have gotten through to him. Bless the Devs.

“So, what do I sound like?” she asked, not expecting an answer, and not receiving one.

He was so close now. Even if she had two good eyes, she would not have been able to clearly see him, but by the sound of his breathing, she knew he was within arm’s reach. It was so tempting. It would be so easy to lift her hand and lay it against his helmet, or stroke the bristly ruff of silver fur that circled behind his head. To just touch him, even just somewhere close to his face. She reached her hand up…

...But lowered it to the cold ground. He was already showing so much trust for her. She could not rightly break that trust and push him again. Besides, even just lying so close to him put a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with his body heat.

With a wistful sigh, Mavis prepared to tell him what she tried to tell him once a day.

“I still love you, T.”

The barest sliver of his eye cracked open, lazily glancing her way.

“No matter what you look like. No matter what you remember. But I’ll never give up on you. At least remember that for me.”

Turbo’s eye closed again, and a breath that seemed a touch longer than usual blew out from his nose. Mavis was not sure how much of that he could understand, but she had a feeling it was enough.

“Goodnight, Turbo.”

At last, Mavis closed her eyes and surrendered to the pull of sleep. Tired as she was, it did not come swiftly. That was not so unusual. But that night, the scars on her old, battle-worn heart did not flare with the pain of bittersweet memory. After all, why would it? In the end, she had gotten what she had been kept awake longing for at the start of the evening -- the warmth of her partner sleeping soundly beside her.

Even after all that, there was one last noise that caught her attention. There was a stirring, as soft as a whisper. It was steady, it was rhythmic, and as faint as it was, it was close by. It was just confusing enough to keep her awake, searching her mind for what it could be.

It took a fair bit of contemplation before Mavis realized it was Turbo’s tail lightly twitching, and a fair bit more to realize its tempo matched the beat in her chest.

[heartandfangs]

THE WORLD ENDS WITH YOU — CHAPTER ONE.

—A dark series surrounding your involvement with seven vampires and the struggle of your survival during the zombie apocalypse. GENRE Zombie Apocalypse AU, Vampire AU, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Slowburn Romance, Unrequited Love, Dark!Enhypen, Angst, Some Fluff, Action, Supernatural, Eventual Suggestive/Smut Content PAIRING f!Reader x Heeseung, f!Reader x Sunghoon, f!Reader x Jay, f!Reader x Jake, f!Reader x Enhypen CHARACTERS Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, Ni-Ki, future character's to be added WORD COUNT 3.6k RATING WARNING 18+ for violence, gore, murder, death, life-threatening situations, manipulation, abuse, degradation, morally grey characters, heavy swearing, dark themes, and future suggestive content. Do not interact if any of this triggers you or if you are a minor. SUMMARY As a lone human survivor taken against your own will, you become hostage to seven vampires whose hunger for blood continues to abound with the undead that plague what was once modern-day society. In order to survive, you agree to their pact that requires you to not only assist the seven vampires with luring in your own kind for sustenance but also to live in a symbiotic relationship with their group in exchange for shelter, food, and basic human necessities. During your extended stay, you begin to sense the growing unrest concerning their missing leader and clashing beliefs over their nefarious operations. With each passing day, their weaknesses that become apparent to you only aid your plans of escape— so at what point did a head-strong outsider like yourself begin to feel something other than hatred for a group of people who could feel nothing? AUTHOR'S NOTE This is a work of fiction and is inspired by the characters Enhypen members portray in their artistic universe and music videos. A lot of it is also inspired by some of my favorite media and my own conceptual ideas. I'm not a writer but I'm starting this story for fun and a creative outlet as a stressed-out, full-time worker. I have no solidified update schedule since my life is busy and unpredictable BUT feel free to let me know if you are interested in future installments as I actually find it quite motivating. Respect my boundaries; I'll do the same on my end, and we'll have fun around here! Likes, comments & reblogs are always appreciated. Welcome to my insane brain! © 2021, Heart and Fangs. All rights reserved. Do not translate or post anywhere without my permission. (Chapter One Under Cut)

CHAPTER ONE

Desperation clawed at your insides upon spotting a corner street Pizza Alvolo establishment not far from where you stood under the shade of surrounding buildings within the city. Its windows were intact, unlike the surrounding shops. How odd. Perhaps any looters that came before you were polite and just used the front door to avoid drawing the attention of hoards? Regardless, it felt like providence from God.

Your shadow stretched across the pavement, debris crunching under your worn black combat boots. The sun would set soon. You marked on your wrinkled map that there was a hoard you avoided about three blocks down from your current location; this was a part of town on the outskirts that you had yet to venture into.

But you were willing to take your chances for some food and shelter. If the sinks had running water you’d stay the night, it’d been too long since you had a proper shower.

You accepted the low probability of there being any sort of food left that wasn’t already expired or picked through… but at this point, you treated a can of diced tomatoes no differently than the antidote that could cure the virus.

The burning sensation of the hollow pit in your stomach felt sickeningly nauseating as you bitterly recalled late study nights spent stuffing your face with pizza that your mom would graciously buy on her way home from work.

“___, careful! Chew properly now!”

She’d set down a glass of water beside your plate and firmly pat your back when you got ahead of yourself and choked at the dinner table. “Why do you wait so late in the day to eat? There’s ramen in the pantry for a quick meal. You’re home all day, don’t starve yourself.”

“School,” you’d simply say and clear your throat before diving back into the cardboard box for another hot slice of pizza.

Skipping lunch was just way more time-efficient for your packed student schedule despite attending class remotely— plus you avoided that dreaded post-meal grogginess. It was a luxury you could afford when your priorities in life were surviving university and landing a good internship that could put your mother’s mind at semi-peace.

As you stood amid a city that had fallen after the start of the outbreak, self-preservation was the only thing that was driving every fiber of your being since it all went to hell. Your mother was always busy at work to help provide for you but she cared in her selfless ways. Now, she was—

Your chest ached as you blinked back tears and willed away memories of your not-so-distant past life. If you were honest with yourself, a mental breakdown was imminent with all that you’ve endured until now but survival instincts kept your emotions at bay. It wouldn’t do you any good to shut down in your current state.

You lost track of how long it’s been since you’ve eaten a decent meal that wasn’t canned and cold. How many weeks has it been since you’ve had to sleep inside an abandoned building every night with your back against a cold concrete wall and a knife in your hand? You’ve constantly been on the move with no one to help within a miles radius, just you, the crumbling city, and the ravaging undead.

Finishing off your last ration of canned spam four days ago nearly broke you and your water supply was a constant struggle. You never imagined finding yourself in a situation where you would have to go more than a day without food and the body aches you were experiencing for the past few days was not a good sign. Traversing from the suburban neighborhoods, every liquor store and grocery market you’d passed by on your way to the inner city had been looted completely or overrun by the hoards.

Stopping on your trek for anything aside from sleeping only caused you to panic about staying in one place for too long. Were people aware of your presence while you had no idea they loomed in the area? Would you encounter someone who wanted to steal everything you owned, loot you and leave you for dead?

Running into other people was something you’ve avoided because of their unpredictability, you refused to trust anyone while you were out here. Common sense was a resource you couldn’t afford to lose with hunger and fatigue setting into your body.

The danger of the unknown is always imminent, so you were constantly on the move. It’s not like you were ever trained in the art of survival like those contestants who would show up on those national geographic shows in the wild. No, you were relying on pure instinct at this point.

The grueling pace that you were traveling at had its consequences and you grew hungrier and weaker by the day. You couldn’t catch a break since this all started...

The shifting of a shadow far down the street drew your attention and made your breath catch in your chest. Your eyes darted to the tall buildings and piles of cars in search of whatever it belonged to. Your brain was unable to dismiss the movement so you kept your eyes peeled and began to approach the shop cautiously, fingers unstrapping the velcro at your thigh to unsheath your small, dull kitchen knife.

You wish you were being dramatic but you felt like you could kill anything for food. Maybe it was just a bird flying through the area. Sulkily wishing for a rabbit or game to pop out from the wreckage, you tried peeking into the glass facade of Pizza Alvolo.

The display cases were empty of course, but nothing looked too ravaged in there. Fantasies of food popped your mind and your mouth watered at what the storage room might hold. As the sun slipped under the horizon, the cool night air sent a shiver across your skin, spurring you on to begin rummaging for your dinner, unbeknownst to a pair of eyes locked onto your back from afar.

—

The kitchen doorway was open and allowed the moonlight to shine through part of the room, however, there wasn't enough of it to see further back in the kitchen. You remained quiet in the doorway, trying to detect any movement or sounds. Silence followed once more, so you began your looting process.

Dropping your backpack to the floor, you removed a lantern from it along with a matchbox. After adjusting the tea candle in the center of the lantern, you struck the match and pressed it to the candle wick to aid your vision in the dark, damp kitchen. The pantries were the first thing you tried, and you attempted to rummage as quietly as you possibly could.

After opening one and then another, each cabinet you swung open with a creak was empty save for some kitchen spare kitchen utensils and stacked dishes. Absolutely nothing to eat. Nothing. Feeling hopeless, you slammed the last one shut in frustration.

You would survive this night without food again, you would do it if you had to. Finish searching the place.

Your eyes landed on a pizza cutter on the counter which you pocketed; that then gave you the idea to find a knife sharpener for the dulling kitchen blade that you’d taken from your own house. You found the tool on the far end of the counter and began to sharpen your knife like you’d watched your mom do before starting to cook a rare homemade meal for a special occasion, like your birthday… The memory nearly brought you to your knees; you braced yourself against the counter, your grip on the silverware shaky. You were just so hungry and so very alone.

Just keep moving.

It made no sense to check a fridge with the electricity being out in the whole city, but you spotted it behind you and yanked it open. Then your eyes widened as you felt cool air release from the unit along with a dim light shining across your dirt-stained skin.

On a large silver tray with parchment paper under it sat a whole pizza, toppings, cheese, and all. Your jaw dropped in disbelief. There was an actual whole pizza sitting in front of you.

There was no electricity for nearly three weeks now you calculated, so how was this possible? Was there a backup generator running in this block? You should’ve checked the lights but you just assumed they didn’t work. Doing a double-take you poked at the crust; it was cold to the touch.

“Oh my god,” you nearly sobbed aloud.

The crashing of glass startled you to your core, your knife clattering to the floor. You immediately shut the freezer door, pressing your back against the side of it, hidden from the moonlit entryway of the kitchen.

Thuds of heavy boots and voices began to fill the front of the store and the candlelight across the room still flickered dimly to your horror. You had to blow it out or else risk getting discovered. You scrambled across the tile in a flurry and blew the candle out with a huff. You were barely able to press yourself into the shadows of a small nook in the wall next to janitor supplies out of view from the doorway.

Of course, you had locked the door behind you, but you weren’t counting on a group of psychos breaking in and making this much of a ruckus at night time.

“Was demolishing the windows necessary?” a gruff male voice asked, sounding exasperated. “Now anyone within half a mile's radius who’s too curious for their own good will come running, including lurkers.”

Someone else replied, “Jay. Were you going to sit there and pick the lock? No? I didn’t think so.”

“No, I was going to move on to the next block. Because that’s our plan.”

“Was our plan,” the other man corrected.

Despite your blood pulsing in your ears, you continued to listen as the man named Jay insisted. “We already had our rations for the week. If Heeseung finds out you’re going behind his back like this--”

“He’ll what? Kill me?” The other man chuckled out loud, a carefree lilt to his tone as though he didn’t give a rat's ass that the sound would attract any undead stragglers in the streets. “Are you gonna tell on me if he even gets back?”

Jay sighed lowly and said nothing further. Seems like you weren’t the only one out here who was craving something to eat. At least they had rations; you had nothing, yet.

“I’m starving, I might as well bring that pizza back as well.”

Pressing further into the shadows, heavy footsteps approached ever closer. A man’s silhouette appearing against the wall just a foot from where you hid. His shadow was distorted but his body shape almost looked like it could belong to a model. It shifted across the wall and you stopped breathing altogether, finally able to see who intruded. There was a pause in their conversation that didn’t sit right with you but they just as soon resumed talking.

“Isn’t it the last pizza?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. And how many of the bags are left?”

You peeked over your shoulder to the fridge, which to your horror, had cracked open, a sliver of light illuminating the floor and a pair of black scuffed boots. The brunette’s short hair was parted down the middle and his profile was rather refined; he was handsome you faintly noticed despite all of the adrenaline pumping through your system. You didn’t like how the few words he had spoken already put you on edge, it had something to do with his cocky demeanor.

“Looks like two weeks worth for all seven of us.”

Jay groaned at the ceiling.

“Shit.”

“Damn.”

“Fuck.”

The two shared a hearty laugh despite their circumstances.

“I need all of that on a mug,” Jay said, momentarily peering over his shoulder.

“At least Jungwon’s nice enough to grow you some corn.”

“You’re right, I have that to look forward to at least.”

As the man pulled open the door, your eyes immediately went to the massive sword strapped to his back; it was over half his height and you could tell he stood at an intimidating height. Your fingers gripped the wooden handle of the pizza cutter, readying yourself.

The other man came into view as well; he wore all black with multiple blades strapped to either of his clothed thighs. He was a bit leaner than the other and nearly the same height. Just as good looking, from the side at least. You took them both in; tall, armed, and dangerous. Your mind raced for what to do next.

Remain hidden and continue watching? Make a bolt for it? Attack? They were going to steal the pizza that you found. Your pizza. You couldn’t let them, and you wanted to believe you stood a chance despite all odds.

The man with the sword bent over to pick up a translucent bag filled with red liquid from the bottom section of the freezer that you hadn’t noticed before. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be in the shape of a… blood bag.

You deduced that they may have more resources at their disposal. Were they staying at a hospital?

The man tossed a bag in the air before catching it and shoving it into a satchel.

“Don’t worry Jay, I’ll share some with you when we get back to the precinct.”

Wait.

“Nope, You’re not gonna drag me into your bloodlust escapades.”

Wait, share?

“You’re already guilty by association, might as well go all the way.”

“No. You better find a way to make it up to the kids. Might as well take back all of the bags. This place will be crawling with lurkers by dawn thanks to you. Now hurry up, I can hear them approaching!”

Were they feeding on human blood? Cannibals? Occultists?

Unable to tear your eyes away you gasped. Both of their heads slowly turned to the dark corner that you couldn’t have shrunk further into.

“By the way, the door wasn’t locked last time we were here,” Sunghoon said, a touch of excitement coloring his voice. He tilted his head back as though to sniff the air.

“I’m well aware,” Jay sighed. “Don’t Sunghoon—.”

The man was suddenly staring down at you, his elegant features half cast in shadow, the other in the moonlight, like he was wearing a cracked porcelain mask. He just.. apparated in front of you.

“Why not?” he gave you a small smile.

Swallowing your scream, you slashed at his chest without hesitation. His reaction time was unlike anything you’ve ever seen, his movements were a blur. Next thing you knew his hands were closed around both your wrists, your back pressed against his chest, but you refused to loosen your grip on the slicer.

“Hello to you too, princess. What were you going to do, pizza slice us to death?”

“Let. Me. Go,” you struggled against him, glaring at his accomplice who merely shook his head while packing away the remaining blood bags into his satchel. Your mouth would’ve watered at the sight of him sliding pizza slices into zip lock bags if your life wasn’t in danger. “That’s mine.”

Jay’s eyebrows rose at your claim. “Oh?”

“You were as quiet as a mouse back here. You’re not staying nearby, are you?” Sunghoon glanced down at your hefty backpack curiously.

“Why don’t you let go of me then we can talk? The way you ask so many questions is so annoying,” you blurted out. Jay was unable to hold back his laughter at your off-handed comment. Sunghoon scoffed drily in amusement and his grip only tightened.

“Well, I’m sure you have a lot of questions yourself—”

“Imagine living with that,” Jay rolled his eyes.

You bit your lip to keep from saying anything else as you tried to control your breathing. Jay studied your frustrated expression and your overall disheveled visage, from your scabbed knuckles to your torn jeans and ripped denim jacket.

In such proximity to you, Sunghoon noted that under that layer of dirt and grime, there was a rather addictively sweet scent on your skin. He gave Jay a knowing look, but you were completely oblivious to the exchange.

“You’ve been on the streets for a while, haven’t you?” Jay asked.

Yes. For too long, you wanted to confide.

But you couldn’t be honest with this stranger, not while your stomach bubbled in anxiety, your heart feeling like it was about to erupt from your chest. Not while you’ve hardly slept a wink in the past weeks. Not when you were already so famished and vulnerable, and at the will of two men who could easily overpower a girl like you.

“What do you want?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“You.”

Sunghoon felt you stiffen against him at his answer. The sound of lurkers growling and rasping on the streets could be heard. He twirled you around to face him and reinforced his grip on your trembling wrists. You winced as the pizza slicer fell to the ground with a clatter. “Come back with us to our hideout with us, princess. We’ve got everything you need to survive out here.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you sick freaks!”

With that, you rammed the heel of your boot against the man's shin and snapped your head back against his chin, hard. His grip on you loosened and you took the split-second opportunity to slip out of his grasp, rushing to the door. The man named Jay was to your right, and you were surprised at how he stood rooted to his spot a bit taken aback, but he wore an amused expression as if he were impressed.

To your dismay, you were yanked back by the waist and thrust up hard against the wall by the throat. A mix of pain and anger flared through your body.

“Sunghoon!” Jay shouted.

“You’re testing my patience, princess. In case you’re not aware this is ground zero. There’s a lot of them out there amongst other things and you think rushing out is a smart move right now?”

“I’d rather be eaten by those mindless zombies than become dinner for cannibals like you,” you bit out, gouging your jagged dirt-caked nails into Sunghoon’s forearm. He hissed, but you couldn’t tell if it was in pain or pleasure.

“Especially a freak like you,” you dared to say, raising one of your brows.

The stunned look in his eyes shifted to something you recognized as hunger as he inclined his chin.

“We’re not that uncivilized.”

“Sunghoon,” Jay warned, gripping his partner’s forearm. His eyes were fierce as he glared at the other, then they met yours, rooting you to your spot from the sheer intensity of his expression.

“Listen closely to me. It’s going to be safer with us. I know how it feels to be starving, to not know where you’re going to lay your head at night or have your next meal. To have lost everything. You’re a survivor,” he said and you wouldn’t admit out loud how the word resonated with your whole being. “Let us help you.”

“I don’t trust you! God knows what you do to people. That’s human blood you were talking about consuming for Christ's sake. Nothing was ever for free before all this shit went down, I know that sure as hell hasn’t changed. Now let me go, you bastards.”

Sunghoon’s dark eyes darted to the outside and he unsheathed the large sword from his back with his free hand. The all too familiar noise of the walking undead was even closer than before.

“You’re smart not to,” Jay admitted. “But there’s more to the story.”

“I don’t need to know more. I don’t want to know more,” you gritted your teeth and clawed at Sunghoon’s wrist.

“Enough,” Jay shoved Sunghoon’s arm away and tenderly replaced his hand on your throat, thumb pressing gradually into your pulse, “We will provide for you, and you’ll provide for us.”

You flinched, Jay’s hand nearly wrapped around your entire throat, but you could tell his touch was different. Still, no one got away with threatening you, not for long. His black eyes regarded your struggling form, almost like voids until they shined red in the darkness.

He firmly pressed his body to yours to keep you from thrashing against him. An unexpected scent engulfed you; reminiscent of light musk and fresh blackberries you used to pick in fields as a child. It was the most delicious scent you’ve smelt since finishing the last can of your peaches.

You gasped as your arms slowly slid down to your sides as your veins began to hum. The pressure on your neck made your eyes flutter and you looked up at him, confused. The color of his eyes made you blink twice. Your knees might’ve given out if his other bandaged hand wasn’t gripping your waist. Would this be your last memory before death swallowed you up?

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“...I’ll try not to.”

His words were ambiguous and laced with something dark but you were suddenly so tired of fighting. It wasn’t like you to stop fighting, but at the same time, it was. You’d just been suppressing it. You were exhausted from the never-ending battle you fought after losing everything you cared about.

Your friends, your family, your future that was supposed to be filled with promise, meaningful relationships, and heart-stopping adventure. Not loss, fear, and loneliness.

Deep inside, you wanted to live, but not if you’d be living like how you’ve been for the past month. Still, you swore that in the end, you would never give in for as long as you lived on this damned earth.

“Okay?”

Your brain screamed back in retaliation, but you were unable to say a word before your vision went black.