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penny00dreadful · 11 months

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Return of The King - Part 3

Is it getting hot in here? 🥵

I'm sorry guys, this is a CHUNKY chapter but in other good news it's finally up on AO3! 🥳

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

“Vampire.”

Steve nodded, squeezing his hips lightly, just once. “I thought so too.”

Eddie glanced down at his fingers again as the feeling started to return to them. The darkness felt close around them, almost cocooning them, not stifling and claustrophobic but safe and comforting.

Even so, even with the safety of the darkness, the firmness of Steve's thighs under his and the laughter that had convinced him of Steve's Stevesness (not to mention the incredible chemical sexual attraction that was almost definitely mutual) he couldn't help that last lingering thread of doubt that there might be something lurking unknown in the background.

Eddie looked up, searching Steve’s eyes.

“Are you still you?”

Steve cocked his head to the side, a slight crease appearing between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean are you still Steve? Or are you mostly Steve but with a bit of Vecna in the back of your mind ready to be activated like a sleeper agent? Are you a part of the hive mind? Are you Vecna wearing a Steve Suit?”

“Uh. Honestly man, I don’t know. I think I’m still me? As much me as there ever was.”

“Can you feel him like Max could?”

“No, I don’t think so? I’d know, right? If I could?”

“You don’t think so?”

“No, I mean when I woke up I could feel something. But not a Vecna something, more like a bunch of small fluttering somethings. Like a swarm or… a cloud?”

“Like the bats?”

“I guess? It doesn't really feel right, though.”

“But no demodogs or demogorgans or Vecna?”

"Nope."

"And you don't feel like this thing is… I dunno. Watching or taking over or something?"

"Not really, it's difficult to describe. It's like," Steve looked around, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say, absently fiddling with the hem of Eddie's top, "it's like it's just a very, very small bit in the back of my brain. I don't think it's capable of watching or taking control. It feels honestly like it's a bit left over from whatever made me like this. Like it's not even really conscious."

Okay. Honestly what other kind of answer could he hope for? Steve's eyes were so sincere, so honest like he always was. He genuinely told Eddie when he didn't know the answer to something. He didn't know what that swarm/cloud was in the back of his head and he didn't think it was an issue.

So Eddie didn't think it was an issue and he moved on.

“When did you wake up?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty difficult to keep track of time down there. But I was…” he gestured around his neck and body, lifting his shirt up to show his unscarred sides and Eddie had to fight himself not to touch. “Fixed. And I didn’t start to feel hungry until I got back here.”

Well… if he was a vampire and he was hungry…

“So, blood?”

Steve ducked his head a little as he smiled. “Are you offering?” God damn it his smile was enchanting. It should be a terrifying thought, the idea of offering himself up for a meal but he wasn’t scared. Not as scared as he really probably should have been.

Evidently he’d been silent for too long because Steve gently pushed him out of his lap and scooted back a little. “Don’t worry about it, man. I’m not hungry.”

Eddie felt his body slump, his weight back on his own legs and just the thought of how nice it had been to be so close left an ache in him. But he didn’t push back.

"I could be. Offering."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You don't want to taste me?" He pouted, batting his eyelashes.

Steve's eyes visibly changed, his honey brown swirling with yellow like cat's eyes as he bit his lip, his entire face hungry in such a sexual way Eddie could feel his body react almost immediately.

Shit, he was really playing with fire here, wasn't he?

"I'm not going to bite you."

Eddie tutted. "Pity."

"Tell me about it."

“Okay well, when did you last eat? What did you last eat? Is Farmer Dan going to find a vampire cow in his pasture in the morning?”

Steve snorted. “No. I ate this morning. Butcher's blood.” He smiled across at Eddie before his face morphed into panic and he held his hands up. “Not, like, the blood of a butcher! I mean blood from the butcher’s shop!”

“Yeah, yeah, relax, sweetheart, I figured.”

Steve’s face tinged slightly pink at the pet name and it made Eddie’s heart flutter, which only made Steve’s blush deepen.

Well shit.

Nope, he needed to get it back under control.

“Are you telling me that Hawkins' famous dead King Steve Harrington stealthed into Barry’s Butchers and stole?” Eddie slapped his hands to his face in mock horror. “You’re a criminal, Stevie.”

“No, that’s not exactly how it happened. I just kinda… walked in the front door.”

“You- you what? No, man. No way, The whole town knows you’re dead. You’ve practically been canonised. People would have freaked out if you just walked in.”

Steve wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Yeah, so I’ve seen. But um… no, I was able to… I don’t really know how to describe it-”

Eddie’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked for him, leaning forward again.

“Oh my god, can you thrall people?!”

Steve shrugged. “Kinda.”

Eddie slapped his hands down on Steve’s knees, physical distance forgotten. “That’s so cool. Thrall me. Thrall me!”

“You- what?”

“Put me under your spell.” Eddie purred. “I wanna see.”

“How do you know I’m not thralling you right now?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thrall me.”

“You’re putting an awful lot of trust in me.” Steve was looking at him like he was crazy but with an undertone of apprehension.

Eddie sat back again and could feel his whole person getting softer. “Well yeah, Stevie. I trust you. You’re a good guy, you’re a protector down to your soul. You’re safe. Of course I trust you.”

Steve’s entire being seemed to inflate with bashful pride. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Eddie watched as Steve’s eyes seemed to worm their way directly into his brain, warm and welcoming and safe.

A different kind of safe than he was used to from Steve, an immediate feeling rather than an earned endearment.

Say "Tears for Fears are musical geniuses".

"Tears for Fears are musical geniuses." Eddie repeated, monotone and bland before immediately scowling.

"Dick move, Harrington."

"Oh, I'm Harrington again now, am I?"

Eddie nodded, crossing his arms and exaggerating his upset face. "You're in the doghouse after that."

"Oh no." Steve pouted, pushing out his bottom lip in mock sadness. "How can I make it up to you?" He blinked his big brown eyes at him, looking so innocent and sincere it lit a hell of a fire in Eddie's belly, the only thought going through his head was corrupt him.

"I'll think of something." He growled feeling his own confidence bolster at the return of the pink blush over Steve’s cheeks. “Pretty cool power though. That’s how you got your blood?”

“That was a part of it.”

“Wait.” Eddie’s smile was starting to split his face, his excitement bubbling through. “There’s more you can do?”

“Yeah. You wanna see?” Some of Eddie’s excitement seemed to be rubbing off on Steve and he sounded almost eager to show off.

“Do I wanna see? Of course I wanna see!”

“Alright.” Steve stood, holding a hand out for Eddie. Eddie allowed himself to be pulled to his feet with a disgustingly hot amount of strength, leaving their hands intertwined. “I’m gonna hide.”

“Well that’s hardly fair. This is your house, you know it inside and out. If we play hide and seek, I’ll never be able to find you.”

“I’m not gonna leave this room.”

Eddie glanced around, there was almost nowhere to hide in here. Maybe under the bed at a push or in the closet but the doors were closed and they would definitely make a noise if opened.

“Where could you possibly-?” Eddie turned back, looking to his side but Steve was gone. He was… what had he said?

The space where he’d stood was empty, there was nothing there and Eddie was having trouble concentrating on the spot where he’d just been.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head trying to get himself to focus. Steve had said something about hiding? Maybe? Quite literally nothing had been moved in the room, there was no flutter of curtains or movement of bedsheets, the doors to the closet were still closed and the bedroom door was only cracked slightly open, like it had been this entire time. If he’d been in here… something would be moved, right?

There was a thread of something in his brain, just beyond his reach. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, like trying to catch smoke in his hands.

Something about it didn’t feel right, there was a release of pressure on his fingers as he moved forward that he couldn’t concentrate on. The only option he really had was that Steve had somehow left through the door…

But he’d…

What had he said?

There was a vague thought in the back of his mind that he should be more worried. Steve had only just reappeared back in his life, back from the dead and was gone again. He should be worrying that Steve had maybe run, or abandoned him or disappeared forever but again, it didn’t feel right.

Just as he reached out to touch the doorknob a pair of arms snaked around his waist, holding him tight and a voice whispered low in his ear “Gotcha.”

Eddie would forever deny the squeak he let out as he was lifted off his feet and spun back into the room, being gently let back down with his heart thundering and his breath ragged, none of which was the result of the surprise of Steve’s sudden reappearance and had everything to do with the feeling of being lifted like he weighed nothing.

He turned back to Steve who had his head cocked to the side and a slight smirk curving up the side of his face.

“You get this cute little scrunch in your nose when you’re confused.”

“You were there the whole time?”

“Yeah. Just like I said.”

Eddie stared at him, trying to keep his brain from going to all of the most depraved of places, thinking up scenario after scenario of how those damn thralling powers could be used.

He had to focus on other things. On the… on the nerdier aspects of vampirism or he might spontaneously combust.

“Sunlight?” He blurted out.

Steve blinked for a moment, surprised, before his smirk softened. “I haven’t been out in the daytime yet, I don’t know.”

“Crosses? Holy water? Consecrated ground?”

“Haven’t broken into a church to check.”

“Garlic?”

“God, I hope I can still have garlic. My nonna would never forgive me.”

“Your nonna? I thought you were Irish?”

“My dad’s from Ireland. My mother’s mother is Italian.”

“So you’re just all around very Catholic?”

"I haven't been very Catholic in a while." Steve laughed.

“Okay. We'll have to re-examine the crosses and holy water later on then. Can you turn into mist?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Can you turn into a wolf? Or a bat? Please don’t tell me you can turn into a bat.”

“I would have assumed you’d think that’s cool.”

“You can?!”

“No, I don’t think I can.”

Eddie huffed, crossing his arms. “It would be cool. It would be so super cool but honestly Stevie, I’m mad.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Out of the two of us I'd objectively make a better vampire. I mean look at me.” He took a step back and spun in place.

Steve tracked the movement closely. “I’m looking.”

Eddie glared, trying to seem haughty and irritated but it was a losing battle against that smile.

“And look at you. What kind of vampire looks like he enjoys golfing?”

Steve’s mouth turned down in an immediate scowl. “I do not look like I enjoy golfing. It’s not even a real sport.”

“Are you gatekeeping sport?”

“No.”

“Sounds like you are.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Yeah, fine. I don’t have a vampire fashion sense. I look more like a-”

“A werewolf.”

“A w- a werewolf?!”

“Yeah. All that hair.” Eddie smirked, running his hand over Steve’s chest.

“Don’t hate on the chest hair, people love the chest hair.”

“Yes they do.” When Eddie finally managed to drag his eyes away from Steve's chest and back up, his gaze landed on his head hair and a horrible thought occurred to him. “Oh shit! Mirrors! Stevie, what are you going to do if you have no reflection anymore?!”

“I have a reflection, don’t worry.”

Eddie sighed in relief, placing his own hand over his heart. “Thank god, I don’t know what I’d do without that hair. I’d never be able to get it right and you’d hate me.”

“What?” Steve laughed. “You’d learn to do my hair if I couldn’t see myself?”

“Well, yeah. It’s important to you, right?”

The laughter stopped abruptly and the smile slipped from Steve’s face replaced by a look that was impossibly soft. “You don’t think it would be a bit… vain? Or like… ridiculous?”

“I think I’m the last person allowed to pass judgement on what makes people feel comfortable in their own skin.”

Steve looked at him for the longest time, so long that Eddie started to feel the need to fidget.

“You’re a really good guy, Eddie. You know that right?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Sweet talker.”

“No, I mean it. It’s why I came to find you first before anyone else.”

“Pretty lucky, you finding me in your bed.”

“Never felt luckier.” Steve flashed that smile that used to make all the girls in school swoon and Eddie’s heart was practically beating out of his chest.

“But uh,” Steve looked down, nibbling on his lower lip. “It wasn’t exactly luck that led me to finding you here.”

“What did you prowl after me from the treeline like a creature in the night hunting your prey?”

“No, dude, that sounds so creepy. I-” Steve faltered, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I followed your… your blood. Your scent.”

“My what? I’m not even bleeding.”

Steve nodded absently. “It’s really potent.”

“Oh god, don’t tell me if I skink,” Eddie hid his face in his hands, peeking out through his fingers. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

“No, you smell like… it’s like…” Steve inhaled lightly through his nose, as if trying to not make it obvious that he was smelling Eddie’s blood in the air. “It’s really difficult to describe. Like trying to describe a new colour.”

The smell must be really god damn strong right now because he could feel his blood rushing through his body, unsure if it wanted to go to his heart or his face or his dick. “Okay, well what’s the first thing that comes to mind? First word that jumps into your head. Go.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered ever so slightly.

“You smell like… October.”

“October.” Eddie deadpanned.

Well that’s definitely not what he expected. He didn’t even really like the taste of pumpkin.

“Yeah, like… leaves falling on a cold morning. Like a log fire. Mixed up with… with sugar and the night and scratchy warm wool all jumbled together into… Eddie.”

Eddie had to bite down hard on his fucking cheek to stop from outright swooning. Jesus Christ who gave this guy the right?

“Uh-huh. Right. So,” he choked out. “That- that’s it then? The thralling and the blood smelling? Oh!” He snapped his fingers. “Do you have darkvision?”

"I don't know what that is."

"Can you see in low light?"

"Oh yeah." Steve glanced around, only seeming to now notice the room was lit by just moonlight. "I can see you just fine."

"Okay so, darkvision, blood smelling and thralling. Cool."

“I also heal quickly, move fast and I’m super fucking strong.”

“Oh.”

Oh no.

Now his brain was full of images of Steve throwing him around like a ragdoll and he was pretty sure he was about to expire on the spot.

Like, he'd guessed based on what he'd seen but having it confirmed was… something else entirely.

“Wanna see?”

“Wh-which part?”

Before he could even blink, Steve was in front of him, gripping him around the thighs and hoisting him up. Eddie was vaguely aware they were moving. Where to? He really didn’t fucking care at that moment, he just squawked like a bird and latched on as tight as he could, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and scrabbling at his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you.”

Eddie couldn’t respond, his- he wasn’t- his brain was in his dick and he was pretty sure he’d dropped like twenty IQ points.

His entire body was rattling with the force of his heartbeat as he was pressed up against the bedroom wall like he weighed as much as a stuffed animal and he was practically panting from everything thrumming through him.

“I have a question for you.” Steve asked, even and measured and frustratingly calm.

Eddie looked at Steve whose eyes were so cocky and self-satisfied it should have been an immediate turn off but he was pretty sure nothing could turn him off right now.

He only managed to breathe out a mmhm as Steve held him there, gently, with only the weight of his body keeping him in place, sandwiched in between a solid chest and a solid wall and with his legs clamped around Steve’s hips and holy mother of god.

“That bandana in your back pocket…”

Yeah, Eddie had completely stopped breathing.

“Does it always stay on the same side?”

Steve wasn’t even looking at his eyes anymore, he was pretty resolutely staring at his lips, his jaw, his neck and Eddie had fucking transcended consciousness, no longer on this plane of existence.

He shook his head, like an idiot before trying to push an answer out.

“I sw-” His throat swallowed suddenly, involuntarily, against his will. “I switch.”

Steve nodded, his eyes still hot on him, low and lidded. "Me too."

Eddie could do nothing but stare with his mouth parted, the puffs of air he was breathing out gently ruffling Steve's hair.

“And how do you like it?” Steve’s hands were slowly crawling backwards, inching up his thighs towards his ass.

Eddie swallowed again. “Rough.”

Steve’s eyes were nearly black but there was none of that yellow colour that had appeared before around the edges. Any colour that was visible was that human honey-brown.

“I could hurt you.”

“I’d like it.”

“No, I could really hurt you. I’m not… I’m not human anymore.”

“You never would though.”

Steve searched his eyes, looking intently for any kind of doubt or hesitation but of course there was none. Eddie had been all in for a long time now. He slung his arms loosely around Steve’s shoulders, running his fingers lightly through his hair and squeezing his legs tighter, bringing the two of them incrementally closer.

“You have to tell me to stop. If I- if it’s too much or too far… you have to tell me to stop. Or slap me, punch me, push me away, anything-”

“I’ll tell you to stop, I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Will you kiss me now, please?”

Steve leaned forward, gentle and careful. His lips were warm and smooth and he was pliant and golden and god damn perfect but Eddie was having none of being treated like a delicate porcelain doll. He bit down hard on Steve’s bottom lip, being rewarded by a sound of surprise before it changed into something darker and the thrill was like a live wire through him.

It was like being hit by lightning the way his whole body tensed from anticipation then went limp, trying to mould himself against Steve’s chest like water. There was a large hand in his hair and another on his ass grinding, pushing and pulling him forward and backward and Eddie was pretty sure he’d never tasted anything so indulgent in his life before.

They were a mess of grabbing hands and desperate tongues and his jeans and boxers were being ripped effortlessly under him, right down the middle so he didn’t have to unwind his legs and holy motherfucking shit he nearly came on the spot from that alone.

He begged Steve to bite him. Begged and pleaded and whined and got downright pissy about it but Steve refused.

“I’m not going to accidentally kill you in the middle of fucking your brains out.”

“It wouldn’t- fuck, Jesus Christ Ste- it wouldn’t-” Eddie was finding it very difficult to string a coherent sentence together in between getting his guts punched out and the rhythmic up and down movement of Steve’s thrusts. “Wouldn’t be a bad way to go- Ah!”

“You’re a menace. Let me be sweet to you, baby.”

“Yeah, real fuckin’- real fuckin’ sweet. Oh, fuck me. T- Tell that to my jeans.”

Eddie was completely lost to the stars, surrounded and invaded by Steve and he’d never been more thankful for anything in his life before.

If he could show himself from the start of spring break a snapshot of this moment, that this is where everything led… sweaty and panting and undone, being wiped down with extreme care with the only thing that was in reach which was some scrap of fabric that had been magicked out of somewhere, by the man of his dreams who was looking at him like he was someone… he’s pretty sure he’d do it all over again.

Just to get here.

Although… Eddie grimaced as he thought a little harder on it.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked as he helped Eddie out of his ruined jeans, dropping down heavily next to him on the bed. Steve’s hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat and he was sleepy and blissed out, blinking at him with those giant hazel eyes.

“I think I would have preferred if you didn’t have to die for us to have gotten here.”

Steve pursed his lips and shrugged. “We’re here now. I think if I hadn't died we’d have gotten here anyway. I’m kind of crazy about you, you know?”

“Oh really?” Eddie grinned, laying back, closing his eyes and stretching out his body like a giant cat, completely comfortable in his nakedness. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Har har.” Steve crawled up the bed, settling down on the pillows next to him.

Eddie reached over to brush a lock of hair back into place. “I’m crazy about you too.”

Steve smiled, turning his head a little to hide in his pillows. “I can tell.”

“Am I that obvious?” Eddie wiggled around, trying to snuggle himself up as much as possible under the covers.

“Yeah.” Steve followed suit, burying himself in deep. “But I can also hear your heartbeat and it’s been singing to me since you swung that bat.”

“I mean,” Eddie shuffled a little closer. His body was so tender. He was going to be so sore tomorrow, he couldn’t wait. “You were a creature of the night creeping up on me to come and steal my seed.”

Steve blinked at him before lifting his hands and holding Eddie’s face softly. “Jesus Christ, you are so fucking weird.” He pulled him forwards into a kiss that was so adoring and sickly sweet Eddie thought he could feel a cavity coming in.

He kept his eyes closed for a second after the kiss was broken, sucking his lips into his mouth.

“Do you sleep?” He asked, yawning.

“Better than I have in years, ironically enough.”

“Good. Because I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake for. And we have a lot of people to see tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Steve turned his back, pulling Eddie’s arms tight around him.

“G’night sweetheart.” He mumbled against the back of Steve’s neck.

“Night Eds.”

~x~X~x~

It was an entirely new experience, waking up slowly, one that he hadn’t had in over a month.

Before this he would jump awake from every little sound in the boathouse and when he was safe again with Uncle Wayne he’d always wake up suddenly, either screaming, panting or crying.

Lying relaxed and easy, opening his eyes slowly and feeling warmth and comfort around him was something he had sorely missed.

Steve was pressed up against his chest and held tight, still passed out and beautiful in the indirect morning light.

Eddie snuggled back in, not wanting to move, not wanting to give this up for anything in the world.

If he hadn’t seen first hand the devastation that the Party was currently experiencing he would have made a hell of an argument for staying here all damn day.

But he’d already been gone for far far longer than he ever had before and they were going to notice. There was no need to send them all into a panic ahead of time, especially when it was going to be an extremely emotionally exhausting day already.

Steve huffed in his sleep, stirring and apparently irritated at the very idea of having to wake up. Eddie gleefully filed it away, delighted that sunshine boy himself Steve Harrington was not a morning person.

He was shoved onto his back as Steve rolled over, draping himself completely over Eddie’s chest and apparently settling down to go straight back to sleep.

“Stevie.” Eddie sing-songed.

Another huff.

“It’s time to rise and shine with Mr. Sun.” He traced his fingers across Steve’s face, outlining his cheeks, his jaw, his nose.

“Mr. Sun can fuck off.” Steve grumbled, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s sternum. “‘M a creature of the night. Mr. Sun is my enemy.”

“We don’t actually know that yet. We’ve gotta get you out into the light to find that out.”

Steve turned his head, poking his chin into Eddie’s chest, squinting and trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was a mess, completely flat on one side, sticking up in every direction in the other. Paired with the unhappy scowl on his face it was the most adorable thing Eddie had ever seen.

“Come on, baby. We gotta go inform everyone you’ve risen from the grave.”

“Just call them here.”

Eddie froze for just a second, regaining his composure quickly but not quickly enough to not be noticed. Steve sat up, hovering over him. “What is it?”

Eddie chewed on his lip, looking up at the concerned look he was getting. “They won’t come here. It’s too- they think you’re dead, first off. So it would be like breaking and entering… or tomb raiding or something. But they’re all not really… in a place to be around anything that reminds them of you. It hurts too much.”

A complicated set of emotions flitted over Steve’s face before he let out a soft “Oh.” slumping where he sat.

“We usually meet up at my place now. Big Government gave me and Wayne a house so that’s nice.” He reached up to push back some of Steve’s wild morning hair. “But I’m going to have to borrow some pants. Some savage got at my jeans last night and I’d rather not arrive home in DIY assless chaps.”

“You’d hear no complaints from me.” Steve muttered, smiling a little as Eddie wormed his way out from under him, wincing slightly as he stood, crossing the room and starting to dig through the drawers.

“Of course I wouldn’t. But I’m just taking these to get home in,” he waved a pair of sweats around “I’ll change into something more fashionable once we get in.”

Steve scoffed. “Fashionable. Right.”

Once Steve had managed to drag himself out of bed and he got dressed, they both stood in front of the closed front door.

“It’s pretty sunny out there.”

“Yeah.”

“No neighbours though. So no one to see if you shrivel up.”

“I won’t shrivel up.”

“Maybe you’ll turn to ash.”

“Oh thanks, now that’s in my head.”

Eddie took Steve’s hand. “You really think you’ll be okay, though?”

Steve squeezed his hand back. “Only one way to find out.” He swung the door open and without missing a beat stuck his hand straight out into the sunlight.

The hand didn’t shrivel up or turn to ash but Steve didn’t leave it out there for too long. “Feels like really intense summer sun. Like a heatwave. But that’s all.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Better than ash.”

“Yeah.”

They both looked out across the front garden again. Eddie’s van was about ten feet away, without a lick of shade in between.

“Think you can make it into the back okay?”

“I’ll just sit in the front.”

“Not that I don’t want to parade you around town sweetheart, but people will see you. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“I can hide. Use my thrall or whatever.”

“Oh yeah, and I’ll wrap the van around a tree when I get confused about where you’ve gone.”

“Well obviously I won’t use it on you.” Steve rolled his eyes, tugging on one of Eddie’s curls.

“You can choose?” Eddie slapped Steve’s hand away, trying and failing to smooth his hair back down.

“Kinda. I can choose who isn’t thralled.”

“Freaky.”

Steve chuckled. “Thanks.”

Eddie smiled back, having to drag his eyes away to check his watch. “Okay. It’s still a bit early to start volunteering at the shelter so Wayne could be home. I might have to pretend you’re not there.”

Steve nodded, nonchalant and entirely too innocent. Eddie couldn’t help but feel like he was walking into a trap but Steve just smiled at him, gentle and easy.

“I’m on to you.” Eddie said as he stepped out of the house and crossed the garden to open the passenger door. He wasn’t, he had no idea what devious thing Steve was thinking up but he didn’t have to know that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

By the time he had rounded the van to pull his own door open, Steve was already sitting in the passenger seat, moving faster than Eddie could see.

He just rolled his eyes, hopping inside. “Show off.”

They didn’t really talk on the ride over, Steve was taking in all the ways the town had changed in the past month, how abandoned it was, the cracks in the earth.

Eddie hesitated at the threshold of his front door, turning to look back at Steve from the hallway.

“Are you not gonna invite me in?” Steve asked with a cheeky smile.

Eddie smiled right back, shaking his head and waiting with his hands clasped behind his back.

It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes now, taking a swift and unimpeded step forward into the house, grinning again.

“Ed?”

Wayne’s sudden voice came from right behind him causing him to jump nearly a foot into the air.

“Are we air conditioning the whole road now? Close the door.” His uncle was waving his hand in front of him in a closing motion, completely blind to the resurrected vampire standing just to his right.

“Right, sorry!” Eddie shot Wayne what he hoped was a bashful smile while Steve sniggered loudly beside him. He closed the front door and whacked Steve across the arm before following his uncle into the kitchen.

It really hit him then how strange it all was as Wayne started informing him of the latest drama at the shelter. It was a very strange sensation, to be standing, talking to his uncle as if it were just the two of them, like there wasn’t an apex predator of a creature standing over his shoulder directly in Wayne’s line of sight but not seen.

It made him feel uneasy, like he was on display in a zoo or some kind of arena. And Steve, ever the meddling bastard, was trying to torture him.

“Marion needs to get her head out of her ass.”

Wayne just shrugged as he knocked back the last of his coffee. “It’s easier to let her think she’s in charge.”

“I don’t know how you hold your tongue around her.”

“Not all of us go pickin’ fights against ‘the man’ for no good reason, Ed.”

“There’s plenty of ‘good reason’!” Eddie threw his hands up. “Marion wishes she-” He inhaled sharply as a pair of hands grasped his hips and Steve ground himself right up against Eddie’s ass.

Wayne cocked an eyebrow at him. “You alright?”

“Uh,” Eddie breathed out as he attempted to jab his elbow backwards, trying to make it look like he was running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I’m-”

That was a terrible mistake. A terrible mistake because as he’d shifted his hair he’d left his neck exposed and there was now a pair of warm lips running gently up and down his skin.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure you’re not comin’ down with something? You look a little flushed.”

“Yeah, you look a little flushed, Eddie.” Steve’s husky voice breathed into his ear and he fought hard not to shudder. He was gonna stake Steve in the heart himself, the prick.

Eddie breathed in, flapping his arms around trying to make it look like a dramatic gesture. “I’m good, don’t worry about it.”

Wayne stared him down for a few more seconds before putting his empty cup in the sink. “Alright. I gotta run. Don’t be gettin’ up to any mischief while I’m gone.”

“No promises.” Eddie laughed, a little hysterically, waving his uncle off. “Bye Wayne!”

As soon as the front door clicked closed he rounded on Steve who had the most infuriating smile on his face.

“Were you trying to fuck me in front of my uncle?”

“Wanted to test my limits.” Steve tilted his head innocently.

“Your limits? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“So I heard.” Steve purred, leaning in close but stopped short, his eyes snapping to the front door over Eddie’s shoulder. “Someone’s outside.”

“Yeah, Wayne. Don’t change the subject. I didn’t know I was starting up with some kind of sex demon-”

“It’s not Wayne.”

Eddie glanced behind him to see the door still closed and no one lurking in the window before looking back at Steve.

“Are you still hidden?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Eddie took a few deep breaths trying to bring the flush on his cheeks down and get himself back under control before he made the few strides necessary across the floor plan of the house and swung open the front door.

Shit.

Robin stood there, with her arms wrapped around herself, wearing a sweater that he was positive she’d stolen from Steve months ago, the same blank look on her face and her eyes on the ground.

Eddie hesitated for just a second before he decided whatever was about to happen, it was better for it to happen inside. He stepped back from the door, letting her in and coming up with a complete blank of how to move forward with this suddenly delicate situation.

After he’d clicked the door close behind her he turned to Steve who was openly staring at Robin, wide eyed and incredibly worried. He looked devastated, letting out a small exhale, a whisper of “Robbie” that sounded so pained and so small.

Robin’s head snapped up with a quickness she hadn’t possessed for a long time, her eyes sharp and alert.

“Steve?”

The colour had completely drained from her face. Eddie had never really understood the phrase white as a sheet until that moment, it was like she didn’t have a single drop of blood left in her head.

Robin swayed dangerously on the spot for just a second before her eyes rolled completely back and she collapsed into a dead faint.

Before Eddie could reach out, before her body could even hit the ground Steve had almost teleported from one end of the room to the other, catching her securely in his arms and clutching her tight to his chest.

“How…” He breathed, turning his panicked gaze back up to him. “How could she see me? Eddie? She wasn’t- she wasn’t supposed to be able to see me!”

Steve knelt down on the ground, settling Robin gently in his lap and cradling her close to him. Eddie just shook his head dumbly in their direction, he didn’t know. He didn’t have any answers. He was just as shocked as Steve was.

Before either of them could say anything else, Robin stirred in Steve’s arms.

The two of them looked down at her with bated breath as her eyes fluttered open, squinting and confused before widening when she realised who she was looking up at.

“Ahoy, sailor.” Steve whispered.

Robin placed a shaking hand on either side of Steve’s face.

“Am I dead?” She croaked, her voice weak from lack of use.

“No,” Steve let out a wet laugh, sniffling immediately after. “No, Birdie, you’re not dead.”

“Oh.” Her eyes darted around Steve’s face, taking it all in before glancing to Eddie, taking in the room behind him then back to Steve as though trying to figure out exactly where she was.

Robin blinked slowly once more before her face crumpled and twisted into a sob and she threw her arms around Steve’s neck.

“I’m sorry. Robin, Birdie, Bobby, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, it was supposed to be a gentler introduction, I swear. You weren’t supposed to see me.” Steve babbled as Eddie tried to quietly remove himself from the situation, to give them some privacy, slowly backing away, patting his pockets, looking for his cigarettes.

“Stevie-Evie. Steve.” Robin implored. “I'll always see you.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 AO3

@romanticdestruction, @darkwitchoferie, @justforthedead89, @didntwant2come, @estrellami-1, @warlordess, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @weeennussy, @studentlife-with-sassyaf-friends

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letstalkwhump · 1 year

Text

Let's Talk Whump

Let's Talk Whump is a series of interviews with the wonderful members of the whump community. I'm Malice and I'll be your host. Joining us today is the one and only @oddsconvert !

Welcome to Let’s Talk Whump! Do you mind sharing a little about yourself?

Hi there, I’m Shannon! I’m a 21 year old psychology and criminology graduate from the UK! My favourite colour is yellow. I basically have a zoo of pets bahaha; I have four cats, a dog, a rabbit, two rats, three fish and two tarantulas (not mine - they terrify the life out of me!)

When I’m not whumping and traumatising my fictional babies, I love to crochet, listening to/playing music (I play piano, guitar, clarinet and ukulele), and I’m currently teaching myself to draw…for whump purposes ;)

What does whump mean to you?

For me, whump is freedom and release. Not only is it enjoyable, almost like scratching an itch? But it’s cathartic, and what I now see as a healthy coping mechanism for managing difficult feelings and a way to navigate my own trauma. Although, looking back, whump has been something that’s always been an interest of mine since early childhood, and has stuck ever since! Like rewinding disney films when the princes get tied up ahahah.

And also the comfort element of whump, I think it also helps me explore wants and desires in my own life. Writing my caretakers and their fierce protectiveness, and unconditional care over whumpees feels like it heals a part of me that maybe needed that at times. It gives you such a heartwarming feeling when you see these characters go through hell and back, and have someone to fall on at the end who will be there through thick and thin, regardless how choppy the water gets.

And how did you find the whump community? What made you want to join?

I used to scour pinterest for writing prompts! I only ever wrote in private, I’ve never EVER shared my work publicly before and never dreamed I would. But the more and more whumpy pins I was saving I was like “hmmm. These all come from the same site! Let’s go check that out” and then I scrolled the #whump tag for endless hours instead of doing my university dissertation. I remember coming across @deluxewhump and @darkthingshappen first!

At first I joined as a faceless, lurking blog. I really wanted to hop in and join all the creators I was loving so far but I was terrified. I think I had a bio as something like “working up the courage to post.” And then some lovely anon sent me my first ask saying they’d love to see what I’d post! And I slowly crept out of my shell and bit by bit started building my profile and adding my name and posting my whump drabbles!

Pinterest whump prompts gang rise up! That’s exactly how I found the community too! Has your view on whump changed since you joined?

I used to be ashamed of liking whump. Like it was some dirty little secret that made me a terrible person and I should keep it to myself. Hide it at all costs. Since joining, and interacting with this world-wide community of whump enjoyers, I realised it’s not something that should be taboo. If anything, it almost feels normal! Look how many thousands love it! And every single whump creator I’ve had the pleasure of meeting has been so kind, supportive and such genuine people!

It really feels like coming home when you find the whump community and realise you’re not a weirdo! Would you like to share your favourite whump tropes?

I’ve definitely discovered more about my whump taste! I used to just purely like captivity whump, usually with creepy/intimate whumpers. That was always my go to. Now? I’ve discovered SO many tropes I never even knew about and love! BBU?! Pet whump, whumper turned whumpee, bad caretaker, vampire whump, sickfics, hero/villain and so much more!

Non-optional, you have to share a favourite piece you've written? Hype yourself up, we want to hear it!

Without a doubt, my first ever chapter of ‘Shattered’ - my bloodbag whumpee/vampire whump series. I’m usually very self-critical of my writing, but I really love how this one came out and how well it was written. I pretty much never get whumperflies off my own writing, but my poor sweet Declan - just living dead and the way Vince is forced to take care of him.

But also honorary mention - my latest chapter of ‘Play Pretend’ . Play Pretend is my baby, and it was the first chapter of this series I had beta’d by my wonderful friend @whumpcereal and I felt like she just took it to the next level and kicked it up a notch. Josh’s fear and exhaustion came to life and I really enjoyed writing his inner monologue!

You weren’t kidding about the whumperflies in “Shattered”! Hot damn! What's your writing schedule usually look like?

Night time for sure! Dead of night - 3am most often ahaha. I’m a night owl, through and through. I’ll try and write in the day and nothing comes and then night comes and I’m like brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, whole chapter done! I usually have some music on in the background, sometimes I make a specific playlist for whatever vibe I’m feeling! And I mostly write when the inspiration strikes, as much as I can get out until the motivation vanishes.

And do you find that the words flow better for somethings than others?

For me, I find it really easy to write my creepy/intimate whumper scenes. For Play Pretend, writing Felix’s deranged and creepy obsession with Josh just comes so naturally (maybe I should be concerned…). The way he’s so unsettling but so adoring with how he speaks to Josh and touches him, I could write it in a heartbeat.

More recently I’ve been trying to delve into the nsfw portions of whump and writing. But I’m a newbie with it, and I really struggle with writing it or making it sound good.

Is there anything you're working on at the moment?

My usual schedule swings around, I update my series in an order. It tends to be, A Taste of Your Own Medicine, Shattered, then Play Pretend - and I’ve just updated ATOYOM so Shattered is up next! I’m primarily working on a flashback chapter with August currently! But I dot in and out of future chapters too.

I also have planned future whump series to come whenever my current ones finish up! But that’s a little while off yet.

Give us some writing advice. Bless us with your wisdom, oh awesome one!!!!!

I WILL SCREAM THIS FROM THE ROOFTOPS - WRITE FOR YOU!

Never ever write based on what you think people like/don’t like. The absolute joy in writing is the freedom in putting the pen to paper, or cursor to doc , and just letting your imagination run wild. Your audience is out there. People that will love and cheer for your writing, and I think you can really tell when an author has enjoyed and had fun with what they’ve written. There’s no good in getting bogged down with what others think.

Write for you, post for you, and if others hop along for the ride - all the better!

Is there anyone you’d like to give a shout-out to?

I love absolutely everyone in this community, I’m gonna tag so many people - my besties alongside some of my favourite blogs and creators. Ily all you talented people.

@whumpcereal @darkthingshappen @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself @whumpsday @for-the-love-of-angst @emmettnet @turn-the-tables-on-them @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @t0rture-me @ha-ha-one @not-a-space-alien @whump-queen @justsomewhumpee @livelaughwhump @writereleaserepeat and I’M PROBABLY MISSING SOME BUT YOU’RE ALL AWESOME

Finally, anything you'd like to add?

The whump community has quickly started to feel like home to me, I have a lotta love for whumpblr and every soul I’ve met here! Thank you so much for having me and to whoever nominated me!

It’s been a pleasure!

Happy whumping, people!

Thank you so much for joining us today, @oddsconvert! And to all you awesome folk at home, have a whump-derful day!

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pinkthick · 6 months

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Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov/Betty Grof

Simon Petrikov & Marceline

Summary: Marceline looked up at Simon with a hopeful expression, her eyes filled with a child's longing for comfort. "At least stay with me until I fall asleep," she pleaded.

Simon's heart melted as he took her little hand in his, the contrast between their sizes a poignant reminder of how fragile she was. "Of course, sweetheart,"

In the eerie silence of the abandoned town, Simon, could still smell the unmistakable stench of decay in the air. The once bustling streets of the town were now littered with signs of a post-apocalyptic world. He could sense a horde of zombies lurking nearby, but Simon's primary concern was Marcy.

Cradling the sleeping child in his arms, Simon hesitated. The chilling thought of something happening to Marcy sent shivers down his spine. Everything could go wrong, especially with the zombies that lurked somewhere within.

Gently, he brushed a lock of hair from her dirt-smudged face and whispered, "Hey, Marcy, it's time to wake up.” Her sleepy eyes blinked open, a small yawn escaping her as Simon carefully put her down. "Why are we whispering?" she asked, still a bit drowsy.

Simon whispered back “Because there are monsters lurking around. Can you be quiet like a little mouse for me?"

Marceline's eyes widened with fear. "We shouldn't go into the town then." Simon kneeled down, taking her hand in his “We shouldn’t, but we need to find supplies.”

She bit her lip, clearly torn between her fear and their necessity for provisions. Marceline whined, "Simon..."

“It'll be okay. We did fine back in the city. Is a little town going to scare us?"

Marceline nodded and said with a hint of determination, "Yes?" Simon couldn't help but look worried, though he didn't voice his concerns. Instead, he reassured her with a gentle smile. "Marcy, as long as I'm here, nothing will ever happen to you."

Marceline, with her wide, innocent eyes, asked with genuine concern, "But what about you?"

Simon smiled gently and said, "I'll be just fine."

Marceline, however, remained concerned and expressed her fear. "What if you get bit and transform into a monster like them? We should go back—"

I’m already a monster.

Simon interrupted her with a uneasy tone. "Marcy, we barely have anything left, and it's almost night. We need to find a little house where we can spend the night."

Marceline, still uncertain but willing to trust Simon's judgment, whispered, "Okay..." She took his hand, and together they approached the entrance of the town. To their relief, there didn't appear to be any zombies in sight, at least for the time being.

As they cautiously entered the town, the eerie silence was broken only by the distant groans of the undead. Simon couldn't help but feel a sense of dread washing over him. Marcy’s wide, innocent eyes stared up at him, seeking reassurance. He offered her a weak smile, hoping to mask his own fear.

They moved stealthily through the deserted streets, avoiding the wandering zombies. Simon's enhanced senses helped him detect potential threats before they got too close. His thoughts raced as he sought a safe haven for his little Marcy.

In the distance, they spotted a seemingly promising house, its windows barricaded and its door tightly shut.

Maybe they could get in.

As they cautiously made their way towards the house, their footsteps muffled by the debris-strewn streets, they suddenly halted behind an alley wall. Their hearts raced as they witnessed a human in the distance, a desperate soul fleeing from three relentless zombies. Simon tightened his grip on the Marceline’s hand, silently urging her to be as quiet as possible.

Simon swiftly pulled the little girl closer, shielding her ears with his cool, unyielding hand. "Shh," he whispered, his voice gentle but firm, trying to comfort her despite the danger surrounding them.

Tears welled up in Marceline's eyes as she watched the terrifying spectacle before her. The relentless pursuit and the agonizing screams were almost too much for her fragile heart to bear. She wanted to cry out in fear but held it in, fearing it might attract unwanted attention. Seeing the tears in her eyes, Simon gently kissed her forehead, his lips cold against her warm skin. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her even closer and pressing her face into his chest, effectively shielding her from the horrifying scene. He whispered soothingly, "It's going to be okay, sweetheart. We'll stay quiet, and they won't find us. I promise."

Simon watched in somber silence as the man, who was now cornered by the relentless zombies, let out a heart-wrenching scream of agony. His grip on his little girl tightened even more, the worry etching lines of concern on his face. It was a stark reminder that, despite his vampire nature, Simon was not immune to the dangers that lurked in this world. Contrary to the popular belief fueled by stories and films, vampires weren't dead; they were very much alive. The threat of infection was real, and he had to be cautious to avoid becoming one of them.

With his enhanced senses, Simon could hear the sickening sounds of tearing flesh and the gurgling growls of the zombies as they closed in on their prey. It was a harsh reality that he had to face, that even as a vampire, he was vulnerable to the horrors of this post-apocalyptic world.

Simon gently wiped away Marceline's tears with the back of his hand, offering her a reassuring smile as he whispered, "We're going to be alright, my dear." Their determination remained unshaken as they pressed forward, reaching the sturdy-looking house after the zombies had moved on. The door was closed, but that was only a temporary obstacle. Simon applied just enough force to push it open without making a sound, revealing a dark and quiet interior.

His heightened senses detected no immediate threats or any sign of recent occupants. The silence within was almost eerie, but in this world, eerie was often better than the alternative.

Simon examined their surroundings. The place, although showing signs of recent habitation, looked relatively untouched. It could mean that someone had sought refuge here before, or that there might be others lurking in this desolate town. Simon hoped fervently that if there were any other survivors, they wouldn't return and claim the shelter they had just entered.

Marceline, still shaken by the recent events, gingerly made her way into the house and sat down, hugging her knees close to her chest. She couldn't shake the haunting images of the man's desperate struggle with the zombies. Simon's comforting presence had helped, but the fear still lingered. The ex-antiquarian began to barricade the door with whatever he could find in the house. The windows were already fortified, a sign that someone had indeed sought refuge here before. With a mix of furniture and other materials, he made sure that the entryway was as secure as possible.

Once he was satisfied with the makeshift fortifications, he turned to check on Marceline. Seeing her trembling form, he knelt beside her, offering a reassuring smile. "We're safe for now, my dear," he whispered. "Take a deep breath. We'll stay here until it's safe to move on. And we'll get through this, I promise."

She reached down to her backpack and took a peek inside, making sure Nivens, their newfound pet bunny, was okay. The little rabbit huddled in the bag, its nose twitching as it adapted to its new surroundings. Simon noticed Marceline's gaze on the bunny and offered a comforting smile.

"Nivens is fine." she reassured Simon.

He really thought that the rabbit would have suffocated in the backpack. Not that he wanted that, God no.

Simon hummed in agreement, observing the rabbit nestled in the bag. He even left the backpack slightly open to ensure that the animal could properly breathe. Nivens should be thankful.

Marceline gently scooped Nivens into her arms, cradling the bunny with care. Simon raised an eyebrow at her and asked, "Don't you want Hambo?"

Marceline shook her head, her fanged smile returning. "No, I want Nivens," she replied, content with her new furry friend.

Simon, after looking for a moment at Marceline, got up and silently made his way to the kitchen, searching for any supplies they might need. As he rummaged through the cabinets and drawers, he was relieved to find some bandages and other first-aid materials. It wasn’t much but he at least it was something.

Just as he was examining the meager medical supplies, Marceline entered the kitchen, holding Nivens in her arms and the bunny didn’t fuss. It didn’t squirm and also didn’t wiggle in her grasp like the bunny did when Simon was holding him. Okay Nivens.

Her eyes were filled with a mixture of hope and worry. "Any food?" she inquired, her voice soft and longing.

Simon sighed, his expression apologetic. "Unfortunately, no, dear," he replied. "It seems like this place has been picked clean of food. Let's search the bedroom next. There might be something there we can use."

Marceline nodded, still clutching Nivens tightly, and followed Simon as they ventured deeper into the house.

Simon cautiously pushed open the bedroom door, and to his relief, he found a bed. Marceline's eyes widened with excitement, and a smile crept onto her face at the sight of the inviting bed. It had been a long time since she had the luxury of sleeping in a real bed. While Marceline settled onto it, Simon continued to search the room for any supplies they could use. But he was met with disappointment, as there was very little to be found. However, he did come across a solitary vitamin bar, which he retrieved and offered to Marceline.

With a grateful smile, she took the vitamin bar from Simon and started eating it. After a few bites, she paused and looked up at him. "Don't you want to eat too?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Simon shook his head and replied, "No, I already did."

Marceline, with narrowed eyes and a hint of suspicion, looked at Simon. "What did you eat, Simon?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Simon hesitated for a moment but then decided to tell her a white lie, albeit with a bit of humor. "Remember the snack I had in the forest?" he asked.

Marceline furrowed her brows, her memory trying to recollect the details. "I didn't see you eat it. So I don't know if you're telling the truth."

With a mischievous chuckle, Simon admitted, "I ate worms, really liked those."

Marceline couldn't help but giggle at his unexpected response. "Ewww," she exclaimed with a playful grin, her worry momentarily replaced by amusement.

Marceline was about to continue her playful interrogation of Simon, but her attention was suddenly diverted. Nivens, her rabbit she had placed on the bed earlier, had hopped again and made a move toward her vitamin bar.

"Hey! This is mine," she scolded him gently, though a smile played on her lips. "You need to ask if you want a piece of it too." She held the vitamin bar closer to herself, as if trying to share a treat with the animal. Simon shook his head in amusement, still trying to indulge the little girl's playfulness, but then something caught his eye. His gaze shifted toward the window, and he noticed a glint.

Something had blinked in the fading light.

"Wait a moment," he said, rising from his spot. He approached the window, and there, on the windowsill, he found a key. He picked it up, examining it closely. "Uh, maybe it was from this bedroom door." With the key in his hand, he approached the bedroom door and inserted it into the lock. To their surprise, it turned smoothly, and the door clicked open.

Okay, that’s good. Amazing even.

Simon went quickly to his backpack, retrieving a warm blanket, and returned to the bedroom where Marceline was already lying in the bed, Nivens nestled near her. He tucked her in, making sure she was comfortable and warm.

As he smoothed down the blanket, he hesitated, looking down at the little girl. "Last chance for me to go get Hambo," he offered, referring to her cherished stuffed toy.

Marceline, with a smile, held onto Nivens, her current companion. "No, I want Nivens," she replied, her loyalty to her current cuddly friend evident.

Simon leaned down to kiss her forehead, his voice soft and reassuring. "Alright. Now listen up, little lady. I'm going to search for supplies, and I'll lock this bedroom door, but I won't fully barricade the principal door. Under no circumstances will you open this door, okay?"

Marceline nodded and replied, "Okay, Simon... but is it a good idea to go out when it's night?"

Simon's smile was filled with warmth and confidence. "I'll be fine, Marceline." She gazed up at him with a mixture of trust and concern. "Promise me," she implored.

“I promise," he said, his vow filled with sincerity.

Marceline looked up at Simon with a hopeful expression, her eyes filled with a child's longing for comfort. "At least stay with me until I fall asleep," she pleaded.

Simon's heart melted as he took her little hand in his, the contrast between their sizes a poignant reminder of how fragile she was. "Of course, sweetheart," he assured her, his voice gentle and caring. He settled down next to her on the bed, sitting at the edge with his hand still holding hers. His cool, gentle touch began to stroke her hair, a soothing and comforting gesture that gradually eased her worries.

Marceline's eyelids grew heavy, and as Simon continued to stroke her hair, the combination of warmth, comfort, and the soothing rhythm of his touch gradually lulled her into a deep and peaceful slumber.

Simon carefully slipped out of the room, taking extra precautions not to wake her. Once outside the bedroom, he quietly locked the door and slid the key beneath it, ensuring that it was safe inside with Marceline.

Moving swiftly and silently, like a shadow in the night, Simon gathered his backpack and carefully, he removed items, setting them aside, and reorganizing what they had. Their limited resources were precious, and any new supplies they could gather would be essential for their survival. Then he retrieved the items he had used to barricade the principal door. With ‘expert’ precision, he left just enough space for himself to reenter the house, should the need arise.

Simon moved with the grace and silence of a seasoned predator as he made his way through the town. Every step was calculated, and he stayed low to the ground, his senses sharp and vigilant. He encountered zombies along the way, their groans and shuffling movements a constant threat, but he skillfully avoided them, slipping through the shadows undetected.

He remembered the little market he had glimpsed when he first entered the town. It seemed like a promising place to scavenge for supplies so that’s where he was going.

Simon's heart sank as he came across the gruesome scene of two zombies feasting on a freshly fallen victim. The sight and the sounds made him feel sick, but he knew he couldn't afford to be distracted by revulsion. His sole purpose was to find food for Marceline, and he had to press on.

With a grim determination, Simon extended his sharp claws, a precautionary measure for self-defense. He truly didn't want to engage in violence if it could be avoided, especially with these zombies. They seemed to be more aggressive.

The supermarket was tantalizingly close, just within reach, and he knew he needed to keep his presence hidden and silent. With a final deep breath, he continued his stealthy approach towards the source of much-needed supplies for Marceline.

You can do it Simon. Come on, you’re a fucking vampire for God’s sake.

Simon approached the supermarket with great caution, and as he neared the entrance, he detected a strong smell of decay and acid, a clear indication that zombies were lurking nearby. He knew he had to be careful and silent. Silently, he pushed open the door, its rusty hinges creaking only faintly. Simon stepped into the dimly lit interior, and to his immense relief, he found an abundance of supplies. The shelves were stocked with cereals, canned food, water, and everything he needed to ensure Marceline's well-being.

Quickly, he began to gather the supplies, carefully filling his backpack to the brim.

And then a zombie charged out of the nowhere.

Simon didn’t have to think twice. He reacted, throwing himself at it with a force that knocks them both into the floor— Simon scrambled to end up on top, locking his thighs and knees around the zombie’s waist, keeping it down. He wrapped his hands around its misshapen head, digged his claws in and squeezed with all his might.

The zombie keened in outrage and Simon answered with a bellowing snarl. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you!”

His arms didn’t shake even from how much force he’s exerted, force that’s but surely caving the zombie’s skull in. Simon didn’t let go, not until its skull finally yielded to his strength and the body under him went still.

As he caught his breath, he heard sniffling in the distance, a sound that didn't belong to a zombie. Perplexed, he moved closer to the source of the cries, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally reached the source, he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in surprise.

Before him was a little boy, trembling and crying. Simon felt a rush of empathy as he knelt down and spoke gently, "Oh, it's okay. I—I won't hurt you." He extended a reassuring hand after he retracted his claws in.

The little boy, still trembling and tearful, moved further into the corner, clearly frightened. Simon carefully maintained his distance, not wanting to make the child any more uncomfortable.

"Hey, don't worry," Simon said in a soothing tone, trying to make himself seem less intimidating. "What's your name?"

For a moment, the boy didn't respond, but Simon persisted, "Are you lost? Do you have any parents or a—uh, a group you're with?" In a low, timid voice, the boy finally replied, "No." His answer was filled with vulnerability, and Simon felt a surge of concern for this young child, alone and defenseless.

Simon continued to speak gently, assuring the frightened boy, "It's okay. Everything's fine."

Slowly, the child turned his tearful gaze towards Simon, their eyes meeting. Simon offered a warm, reassuring smile, and the boy, seeming to sense that he meant no harm, cautiously approached him.

After a while, when some of the fear had subsided, the child finally spoke, his voice quivering. "Ethan," he said softly. Simon smiled at the introduction, his heart aching for the young boy who had experienced so much in this unforgiving world. "Ethan," he repeated, "That's a beautiful name. Mine’s Simon."

As Ethan stood up, Simon noticed his wince of pain, and he immediately grew concerned. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his eyes focusing on the boy's leg. He gently moved the fabric of the pants slightly higher to get a better look, trying to assess the extent of any injuries. However, the moment Simon touched him, Ethan's fear flared up, and he cried out, "No! Don't touch me!"

Simon quickly withdrew his hand, but his gaze remained on the boy’s leg.

Ethan tried to quickly cover his leg, Simon’s eyes narrowing. There, on Ethan's leg, was a bite mark—a gruesome reminder of this cruel world.

Simon's eyes immediately turned red as the harsh reality set in. He had seen this scenario before, and he knew what the bite meant. His voice was heavy with regret as he spoke to Ethan, "You're infected."

The boy inhaled sharply, his young face contorted with fear and despair. "Please, don't kill me!" he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I don't—I don't want to die."

Simon's mind raced as he grappled with the difficult decision before him. He couldn't bring himself to harm a child, but he also understood the dire consequences if Ethan were to transform into a zombie. It wasn't just a matter of cruelty; there was a potential danger to others if he allowed that to happen.

As he looked at Ethan's face, he saw Marceline’s for a second, and it tugged at his heartstrings. He grimaced, the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders.

He couldn't bring himself to harm a child, especially one who had already endured so much.

But at the same time..

Ethan, in a desperate plea, ran to him and hugged his legs tightly. Tears streamed down the child's face as he clung to Simon, his voice breaking. "Please, I don't want to die. I just... I—" Simon's heart ached as he looked down at the young boy who was, in that moment, more terrified child than potential threat.

Simon continued to hold Ethan, who clung to his legs in fear, his young heart racing. He gently stroked the boy's hair with one hand, offering a comforting touch. “It’s going to be okay Ethan.” But with his other hand, hidden from the boy’s view, Simon cautiously extended his sharp claws.

Notes: Hope you liked this. As usual, if you have any thoughts for this chapter or ideas, I’m more than happy to hear them out. Hopefully you guys like this fanfiction so far(I’m so scared lmao).

Next chapter we’re back with Betty and Simon. <3

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

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finniestoncrane · 1 year

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Dano!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 6.5k commission: dano!riddler with some psychological torture 🐀💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: stalking, threats, dubcon to enthusiastic participation

The platform was slick and wet, glistening with the reflections of the dim, overhead lights. The air in Gotham was always thick, yet icy cold, and you shivered into your coat as you stood close to the wall, desperately trying to sink into the shadows. It was better to be unnoticeable, much safer. Of course, better than being almost invisible, was being with someone else. There was always something to be wary of, something lurking in the dreary alleys, sometimes not lurking at all it would seem. In your peripheral, you could see two men, whispering together, certain that they had pointed at you before getting back into their two-man huddle.

Alone in Gotham was almost certainly a death sentence.

Staring down the platform, there was only one other person there. The lone refuge available to you.

Yes, it was better to be with someone in Gotham. Even if that someone was a weedy looking stranger who just happened to share the train platform with you. At the very least, it might keep the advances of some of the more timid criminals at bay. Calculating the risk, you reached the conclusion that you were more likely to die at the hands of two men, than by the hands of one rather weak looking specimen. So, you shuffled quickly towards him, sitting down beside him on the bench he had staked out.

You startled him, deep shock on his face, his body jerking back and stiffening to the point where if he had been standing, you were sure his solid body would have toppled over and shattered into a million tiny pieces.

“Do I know you? What are you doing?”

“I’m so sorry, I’m just…” you gestured with your eyes, head slightly nodding behind you towards the two men who were lingering, not obvious, but definitely still monitoring the situation “…just trying not to get mugged, or worse.”

He looked behind you at the two men, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses, but he didn’t speak up. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned away from you, settling back into his hunched over position.

“So can I sit here?”

Without looking up, he muttered his response softly.

“Oh, yeah…sure.”

“Thank you.”

You introduced yourself to him, waiting patiently for him to say something in return.

“Ok.”

There was no indication that he was about to open up to you, even slightly. His body was still, focused on the ground.

“Are you…”

“Sorry, I’m Edward. Ed. Eddie.”

Feeling as though you had truly accomplished something, you felt genuine warmth spread through you as you realised you were cracking through his exterior. After all, it was good to make friends, especially ones you might share a commute with. Who could make the world a little less lonely and a bit less terrifying. And it didn’t hurt that he was also pretty cute. Shy, soft features, a bit nerdy looking. A welcome change, really.

“Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

“Yeah, you too.”

Eddie seemed to be desperate to focus his attention on anything but you, or at least to try and convince you that he was deep in thought, too busy for idle conversation, as he shuffled around his backpack, avoiding any eye contact, never turning his body towards you.

From the left, the train appeared around the corner, loudly proclaiming its presence with the dull rumbling of its wheels against the wet tracks, brake screeching as the doors opened.

“It was nice to meet you.” At his words, you brought your hand up, thinking he was prepared to shake it. It obviously took him by surprise though, as he blinged a few times before participating in the pretty common human ritual. Eddie stood up and got on, not waiting for you. And once inside the carriage, you lost him, eventually spotting him perched awkwardly on a free seat near another man further down. It was ok, though, you were safe amongst the crow of people standing by the doors. It would do for now. You could lament the loss of a potential friend, but safety in numbers. That was a relief in itself.

And you were almost thankful that you’d lost him. Maybe not at a surface level, definitely not somewhere in your mind that you were able to be aware of it. But lurking below, you knew that there had been a strange feeling when you made physical contact. There was something about Edward that had set off little alarm bells in your deep subconscious, regardless of how handsome and plain and polite he had seemed.

That feeling might have been why you remembered him so well, and why you thought of him. Although, you hadn’t yet properly decoded the new obsession, instead mistaking it for a crush. He was pretty cute, and that sweet, social awkward attitude really did things for you. He was definitely always lurking there, something to think about when you had a dull moment behind the counter at the store. Everybody fell in love with strangers on the train though, right? It felt different though. You were borderline obsessed, to the point that you could have sworn you’d seen him walk past the sore, and then again on a different day on the opposite side of the street, staring in. Wishful thinking, you supposed.

The crush didn’t occupy your mind for much longer though, as shortly after your chance encounter with Eddie, the letters began.

Well, not so much letters as greetings cards, slid under your door and waiting for you when you got home from work, or after a day or night out. Always when you were away from home. Never stamped. Because whoever was sending them knew where you lived, knew your schedule. And each one of them was customised, little bits of personalisation, like whoever was sending them was bizarrely adept at paper crafts. The artistic flair, and its ability to inspire fear that spread through your blood like a disease, was impressive.

After a week of the cards, sometimes two or more a day if you left your apartment more than once, you were losing your mind. Your ‘secret admirer’ as they called themselves, had wriggled into your brain and they were gnawing away at it, likely relishing in how nervous you now were. Watching your every move, quietly giggling to themselves when they saw you turning around quickly to make sure no one was following you.

But just as you were really losing yourself, you were offered a break, a reprieve from the stress and fear. Because one day, you happened to look up from the register and noticed a familiar face looking at the soda cabinet.

“Eddie?”

He looked around, finally focusing on you, the only other person in the store. With his hand holding the bottle, he gestured towards himself, taking a few tentative steps towards you.

“It’s me! From the station?”

Eddie responded with as polite a smile as you imagined he could muster, but it was plainly obvious that he didn’t remember you at all. Heart sinking, you tried not to let this get you down too much. It would be easy to resign yourself to thinking that everything in your life was terrible. The job, the stalker, the inability to hold the attention of someone who looked as though he might speak to a stranger once every three months, and only then when he had to.

But not to be deterred, you made an attempt to jog his memory, and after you recounted most of what you considered your romance novel worthy ‘meet-cute’ story, he seemed to remember you. Or at least, he was polite enough to pretend to.

“So, uh…maybe we could meet for a drink sometime? I’d love to thank you for letting me sit by you.”

“You want to…have a drink with me? It’s really not necessary.”

“Please? I won’t feel right if I don’t. You’ve been on my mind ever since.”

Blushing at your reveal, you quickly averted your gaze to the floor, kicking your feet a little bit, trying to calm yourself before you said something else that made your body cringe and crumple like a piece of thin paper.

“I guess that would be ok then.”

You almost dropped your phone as you fumbled with it, trying to get it out and get his number before he had a chance to change his mind.

“Give me your number and I’ll text you, we can work out a time!”

Once you had him, stuck in your phone, a quick text sent to share your number (and to make sure he hadn’t given you a fake one) he left in a hurry, blushing as he left. Finally, something positive. Something to drown out the seemingly never-ending stresses of life in Gotham. At least for the time being. A small distraction was all you needed though in order to get back on your feet.

And when you got off work, there was a text from Eddie waiting for you. Half expecting it to be a polite rejection, you were shocked to find he had taken the initiative to arrange your date. Or not date, just a thank you drink. But if you were lucky…

In three days from now, Friday evening, you’d be meeting him at a bar not too far from the station where you had met. Very considerate of him to arrange it just in time for you getting off work.

The whole way home you were practically bouncing, telling every stranger that you sidled up to for safety about your date. And when you got to your apartment, opening the door to see the greetings card on the floor, you brought your foot down on to it, slid it behind you in to the hall, dirty footprint imprinted onto the envelope, and shut the door on it.

They kept coming though, never escalating in tone or message. And there was no point in going to the police. In Gotham? What would be the point. ‘Someone’s sending you cards, lady? Without anthrax in them? And they’re not letter bombs? Come back when you have something interesting.’ No, there was nothing to do but try and ignore them, which would have been a futile effort had you not had Eddie to distract you.

Even as you sat at the booth in the bar, nervously but patiently waiting for his arrival, alone and vulnerable, you were still consumed enough by the thought of Eddie that your stalker and any potential danger was far from your mind.

But then you happened to catch a glimpse of the TV in the corner, playing some scrolling news channel, closed captions detailing the report that was playing on Gotham’s newest threat, The Riddler. He was enough to strike instant fear in anyone, to be fair. Suddenly your stalker didn’t seem too bad, in the grand scheme of things. There were shivers coursing through your veins as you watched the clip of his stream, that mask, and behind it unhinged and volatile, hairs on end as you read the words on screen, digested his murders, so hypnotised by terror that you hadn’t noticed Eddie approaching you from behind.

“Hello.”

Startled out of your trance, you jumped and let out a little squeak, worry emblazoned on Eddie’s face instantly as he took a step back from you.

“Sorry! Please, Eddie, sit down. I was just distracted by the…”

You droned off, eyes averting back to the images on screen, the words along the bottom, details of the crime, horrible, gruesome. Trying to refocus your attention on Eddie, you noticed he was watching too, eyes wide behind his glasses, mouth neutral, not scared, oddly void of emotion as though he were trying to force it down. Trying to hide his nerves from you, maybe. As he turned and took a seat, he offered a wry smile.

“Thanks for arranging this, Eddie. I really wanted to let you know how much I appreciated you letting me sit by you, and for letting me thank you. If that makes any sense?” You giggled lightly into your drink, Eddie sipping at the one he had brought over for himself. “If I’m babbling, just let me know.”

“No, it’s alright. Are you ok though? You seem…less bright and bubbly, much less confident that you were before. Is something the matter?”

Your heart thumped, breath catching in your throat, luckily able to be disguised by your sips. Were you really that nervous? Had the news, your stalker, the general atmosphere of Gotham, really gotten to you to the point that you were no longer yourself? And beside that, underneath the worry, excitement bubbled up. Eddie had pinpointed aspects of your personality, and had remembered them well enough that he could tell there was something wrong.

Pathetically grateful that he had asked, had shown some concern, you let out a monologue to rival most of Shakespeare, directed just at him. And he sat, nodding politely, listening intently to your troubles, offering a sympathetic ear and a gentle smile.

“So, yeah. I’ve just been edgy because of the news. And those greetings cards aren’t helping. They’re not horrible or anything, I just…”

“I understand. Have you considered though that the intentions are nice? Isn’t it possible that whoever is sending them is expressing feelings for you that they might not be able to express otherwise?”

You looked across the table at him, concerned that he might be sympathising with your stalker, worried that he wasn’t taking you seriously after all. And he must have sensed you shifting uncomfortably, as he began sputtering out words, digging himself out of the hole he was beginning to make for himself.

“I don’t mean…I just…is there someone you know who might fit the bill? That you can have someone confront for you?”

“No, I don’t think so. So far, I only really know you in Gotham. I moved here for work. How’s that going for me, huh?” You rolled your eyes, taking in a deep breath and sinking into your drink.

“Well, maybe it’s just someone being weird. Whoever he is, he probably wants you scared. That’s likely the intention. And are you…scared?”

“Well, yes. It’s working!”

Eddie offered a gentle, lopsided smile. It was easy to talk to him. It felt like he already knew you, and you already knew him. Like you had been friends for years. Though he didn’t reveal much about himself, he seemed open. And he was a great listener. There was no indication that he was anything less than enthralled when you spoke of your hobbies, told him what you liked to do on a Saturday, mentioned your plans for your dream vacation.

And thought you felt a bit of guilt at how long you spoke of your job, detailing everything about it that made it so boring, so stifling, he never once looked like he was waiting for you to wrap it up. Instead, he was sympathetic.

“I understand completely. My job is a means to an end.”

“That’s exactly it! But I don’t know what the end is for me. There’s nowhere to go. I can’t go up, I can’t even go side to side. I feel very…trapped.”

“Like a rat in a maze.”

“Eddie, you get me so well. I just…do you ever feel like everything is out to get you? Like the entire system is set up in favour of the other? And you’re expected to just trudge along, trying to make the best of what is essentially a nightmare of a situation?”

He reached out and placed his hand softly on top of yours.

“More than most, I think I know exactly what you mean.”

Removing his hand swiftly, as though he felt he had become too casual, too personable, he shot you an apologetic but sweet smile.

“It’s hurtful to see someone so cheerful and kind be brought down by this place.”

“Oh, Eddie. I’m not…I’m ok, really.”

“But Gotham, it does things to a person. I’d like nothing more than to fix it. To rid it of the atmosphere that brings good people to their knees.”

You stared at him, eyes wide at the sudden outburst of passion in his words, his voice unwavering, eyes focused on you. Like he was a completely different person, coming out from behind the mask.

“At least, I’d like everyone to feel…good. Safe.”

“And I genuinely feel safer having you around. Even with my stalker, and now this idiot.” You gestured to the television, still covering the news of The Riddler. Eddie blinked slowly before speaking again.

“Well, given how we met, I’d like to extend my…services.” He smiled awkwardly, met with your own flirtatious grin back. “I’m always here if you need me.”

And though your stalker pursued their relentless campaign of psychological torture over the next week, you kept Eddie’s offer at the back of your mind. Which was helpful, because when your stalker somehow realised that you were no longer reading the cards, that’s when the texts began.

An unknown number, messages at least four times a day. Each time you blocked one, another came in. Persistent to the point where you stopped blocking them, allowing them to flood in, one by one, declaring love, outlining their intentions to have you. In a desperate bid to find some comfort, you invited Eddie over for dinner at your apartment. It was easy to find your ongoing conversation with him through the other messages. His was the only contact in your phone with a little love-heart after his name.

With a date set, you were thankful. It couldn’t have come at a better time. Your anxiety was at a peak. Each day there was more and more news about The Riddler, that mask staring out from the television screen, threatening and yet somehow childish. Hopefully, if dinner went well, you could convince Eddie to stay the night. If you sealed the deal, you might be able to get him to sleepover a lot more often. Not just for the safety, you found him to be oddly comforting. As though when you were with him, you didn’t have to be afraid of The Riddler, of your stalker. With Eddie there with you, it was like they didn’t exist in the world outside of your apartment anymore.

And everything was going well, the way to a man’s heart truly being through his stomach.

“I don’t know when the last time someone cooked for me was.”

“It counts if you cook for yourself though!”

“Hm, do microwavable meals count as cooking?”

“Ok you should come over a lot more often. Even if it’s just to be fed.”

He looked up from his plate, shovelling the last mouthful in, gentle smile pressing into his cheeks.

Eddie stood up, plate in hand, but you took it from him, dropping it into the sink.

“Let me help you with that.”

“Actually, Eddie, we can leave those for now. I had other plans.”

Before he could protest, your lips were on him, hushing him, whatever words he was about to say melting into a moan against your mouth. And with the physical contact, your fears felt like they were melting away. Any stress that had been brought on by the terror you were living in turned into vicious passion as you bit at his lips, tongue forced almost to his throat. Fervent hands grasping at his shirt, your fingers deftly undoing two buttons, finally feeling Eddie’s hands against your body instead of nervously by his side.

No longer polite and cordial, limited by his own social anxieties, Eddie was someone almost completely different in those moments. His hand, palm flat against your hip, fingers gently teasing at the fabric of your shirt, the other behind your head, gently tracing your jawline. With your hand on his, you brought it around to kiss his palm, noticing all the tiny cuts on it.

“Oh! Eddie, what happened? Are you ok?”

“They’re just papercuts.” He snatched the hand away before you could finish cooing over them.

“You poor baby! How did you get so many?”

“It’s…uh…my job, files and things.”

“Here, let me kiss them better.”

As you moved to grab his hand again, he stepped back from you completely.

“I actually think I should go now.”

“Woah, wait. What happened?”

“Nothing! I had a lovely evening, but…I’d rather things not get so heated this quickly?”

As disappointed as you were, it only increased your lust for him. You wanted him, and he wasn’t letting you have him. Everything about him was so strangely attractive. It was always the quiet ones, the polite men, those were the ones who had something lurking under the surface, waiting to come out. And you hoped to god that Eddie was hiding something truly spectacular under his soft, nerdy exterior.

And you got a glimpse at that something, but it wasn’t necessarily pleasant. Because as he sifted through his open wallet for his train ticket, you noticed the driver’s license in the front of the wallet said Patrick Parker. Pretending not to notice, you leant in and kissed him again, pressing one on his cheek for good measure as you walked him to the door. You could think about the implications of his lie later. Not everyone gave a different name for nefarious reasons. There was a myriad of excuses you could think of for him.

With a bruised ego and diminished libido, you sat down on your sofa, flicking through the channels and trying desperately to ignore the 24-hour news cycle’s obsession with The Riddler. But all you could think of was Eddie. He had a strange hold on you. It wasn’t normal for you to be so infatuated with someone so quickly, but he had an air of what you thought could only be mystery about him. And you were worried you had maybe put him off, or scared him away by being so forward. Either way, you were worried about him. Why had he given you a fake name? Or why did he have a fake ID? And what happened to his hands? They looked like papercuts, sure, but there were so many. And what man is turning down what was definitely turning into second date sex?

A nice one. A polite one? One that’s not interested in you.

Sighing, you tipped your head behind you onto the back of the couch, scrunching your eyes closed and trying hard not to let your mind catastrophise the evening. Eddie was a gentleman, that was all. He just wasn’t interested in pursuing you too quickly. Maybe he thought it wasn’t the right time. You had spent a lot of the evening tell him how scared you were. But he hadn’t seemed that worried. Was that a front?

Trying to think back to the evening’s conversation, you realised that Eddie had seemed a little aloof when you were discussing your stresses. He had known that the letters had stopped. Had you told him though? Probably. You let yourself rant to him with no filter when you were around him. It was easy to open up to his innocent looking face. And when you spoke of The Riddler, he had been adamant that you had nothing to worry about. But how could he be so certain? This city was a hellscape, and Eddie didn’t seem to be concerned by any of it. You were though. And you wished Eddie was here to instil some of his confidence in you, because right now you were terrified.

As though on cue, there was a dull thud in the other room, and you jumped from the sofa, straight up, hands clutching at your chest in fright. A quick glance to your left at your phone, wondering if you should call Eddie, even after the way he left. He did offer you companionship if you ever felt unsafe, after all. But you persevered and took slow, careful steps to the bedroom, picking up the rolling pin from the kitchen counter as your weapon of choice.

The element of surprise was crucial, but equally terrifying. You brandished your weapon, took two deep breaths and slammed the door open, screaming as you charged forward, swinging the rolling pin around and trying to make contact with anything or anyone. Waiting for the dull thuds of a strike to let you know you had at least knocked your assailant back.

But there was no one there.

Adrenaline beginning to fade, heartbeat returning to a safe rate, you padded around the bed, over to the window. It was cute for the aesthetics, having a window by the fire escape, but it had always filled you with the kind of dread that came with the lingering threat of home invasion. The window was shut though, locked from the inside. You double checked, even. You stood back to take in the fire escape, in case you could see anyone outside, your socks suddenly becoming cold and wet. There was a puddle on the floor. The sound of the rain, hard and deafening, would likely last until morning, serving as a reminder to let your landlord know there was a leak. Not that anything would come of it. Maybe Eddie would come around to fix it?

Leaving yourself with that thought, you returned to the lounge to clean up before heading to bed. The only time you were free of the worries. Though the greetings cards, their little love messages and secret codes, were pervasive enough to break through. They always did.

And while you lay still, face screwing up in disgust at the horror show your mind was treating you to, the closet door eased open slowly. A figure, dark, shadowy, exiting and standing at the foot of the bed, taking you in as you slept fitfully. Admiring their work, the window, locked behind them. Cursing the little puddle where the droplets of rain on the slick coat had fallen, rousing suspicions, before they were able to make their big reveal.

Pacing around the side of the bed, they leaned in to you, your body stirring at the primal sense of being watched. As you opened your eyes, blinking, adjusting to the darkness, you finally noticed them. Your pitiful scream cut off quickly by a gloved hand. In a panic, you tried to bite, wriggling and trying to sit up, but their body was on yours, straddling you on the mattress, the creaks and squeaks explicit in their nature. With tense fists, you beat your hands against the torso, tears pooling in your eyes and falling down the sides of your face.

“Stop it! It’s me! It’s me!”

A deep voice, the one from the streams. Familiar. His hand was removed from your mouth and he held them up, palms out.

“It’s me.”

“The Riddler…”

“Well, yes. But it’s…Eddie.”

He removed the mask slowly, unveiling his silly little face. The cherubic one that had promised to protect you not long ago, that had been in your apartment just hours before. A surprised sob pushed out of your throat.

“I’m sorry, I could have thought of a better way of…introducing you…I just wanted to let you know that now you don’t need to be scared of anything! Because what you’re scared of…is me!”

Your chest heaved as a loud gasp fell from your mouth. He was right, but so wrong. This was a fucking nightmare. There was no way it was happening. In a bid to at least exercise some self-preservation, you tried to shout for help, but his hand slammed down over your mouth again. A look of disappointment, irritation, crossing his face.

“Now, why would you do that? I can protect you. I told you that! There’s no need to worry!”

His voice seemed different, not as controlled or paced as it usually was. Usually? You barely knew him. You didn’t know him at all in fact. You had met him three times in total. But where he was at least polite and soft before, now he seemed almost hysterical, punctuated by the fact that he was smiling almost cruelly, giggling to himself.

“You’re so confused, ok let me explain!”

“Eddie, please.”

“Ok, that has to stop I’m afraid.”

With a swift motion, he unclipped a roll of duct tape from the carabiner attached to his belt, tearing off a piece and securing it over your mouth.

“Please, if you’re not going to read my letters and cards, all my messages, the least you can do is let me talk face to face.”

Your heart sank, the physical feeling causing a wave of nausea to settle over you. It was hard to believe how taken in you had been. The cards, the messages, they had been coming from Eddie, in a bid to control you? Or was he trying to let you know how he felt, like he mentioned in the bar. If you were scared, terrified, then you’d be more likely to turn to your saviour. And he’d made himself your saviour. And while you were still in shock, you were beginning to feel more than horror at the fact that you were still lying there, gazing deep into his big eyes behind the mask. The last thing you needed was to be on his bad side. And it was still Eddie after all. In his own weird way, he had been trying to impress you. Or were you just convincing yourself of that? Either way, there was no getting past the fact that you found him weirdly hot in his outfit. A thought that had you lurching, trying to remove yourself from your own body.

As his ranting continued, trying to convince you that everything he had done was for you, you were beginning to be convinced.

“It’s nice to feel needed. Do you know how badly I want to save everyone? And you begged me to save you!”

Leftover desire from earlier, the lack of satisfaction at his own hands, the feeling of unresolved lust.

“And I want to! I’ve been watching you, protecting you when you didn’t even know! Trying to show you my devotion! And you’ve been so grateful so far. It’s made me feel really good.”

It was possible that it was the adrenaline, maybe your mind trying to convince you to make the best of a bad situation, but you were entirely swept off your feet by his declarations, the dedication to you he was explaining. It was romantic, stirring a warmth inside of you.

“Now, please don’t scream again. I’d hate for this to go wrong.”

He removed the duct tape in a quick snatch, crumpling it and tossing it to the side.

“Eddie, you don’t have to…I’m grateful?”

The questioning tone was unintentional, but genuine. You weren’t sure if you were grateful. But you weren’t ungrateful either. And as sweet as Eddie was, as much as you wanted, a few hours ago, to fuck nice Edward, there was something entirely more appealing about fucking The Riddler. Fear and passion toe the line against each other after all.

Almost at the same time as you noticed your own arousal building, Eddie seemed to noticed too. As you pressed your thighs together, trying to contain yourself, he trailed off from his sermon, eyes trailing up your body, eyes wide as though he had only just realised that you lay before him, sleeping in panties and a t-shirt, more exposed that he’d seen you before. In a show of his real self, or whichever version of him Eddie was, his eyes flitted around the room, awkwardly trying to avert his gaze as he tugged the jacket over his pants.

In a bold move that shocked you, words came out of your mouth without any cognitive action required.

“Is that a murder weapon, or are you just…pleased to be here.”

He pulled out a flat, shiny silver tool from his pocket.

“Both.”

His little smile, goofy and gentle, pressed upwards into his cheeks as he giggled to himself, watching you bite your lip. Lifting it up, he slapped the flat end against his gloved palm, your breath hitching at the sound.

“Would you…like to see it in action?”

You nodded silently.

“Of course you do. I knew it from the moment you sidled up to me on that platform. You’re a little slut. It’s a disappointment, for sure. But it’s one I expected. You’re a woman after all.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You were trying to control the excitement in your voice, not wanting to distract from the scenario he was laying out before you.

“A good start. But show me you mean it though.”

You leant up, shuffling to the edge of the bed and turning around, knees under your stomach as you bent over. Face pressed into the mattress, ass in the air. A leather glove fell softly to your cheeks, curving around them, gliding to your hips and down your thighs. The touch was soft, careful and thoughtful. But it was contrasted by the sudden crack that echoed in the room as the smooth, cold tool made contact with your skin. It nipped, the stinging echoing around the flesh, ringing out internally as well as externally. Before you had time to relish in the tingling as the pain ebbed away, you were struck again, a lurid little yelp coming out, in turn inspiring a soft moan and a giggle from Eddie behind you.

In quick succession, he brought the tool to you four more times, no break for reprieve in between the smacks, and with tears forming in your eyes, you managed to gasp out a “please”, to which Eddie dropped his weapon to the floor and soothed over the skin. Red imprints under his leather glove.

“You’ve been a very good girl so far. My good girl.”

His body was suddenly crumpled over you, collapsing you into the bed as he leant his entire weight on you. Mouth agape, pressed against your ear where you could hear his warm breath, hear the whimpering as he removed the gloves from his hands, two bare fingers being thrust into your mouth. He stretched them into a V, stretching the corners of your lips, nails and fingertips pressed into the gums.

“Come on.”

You managed out a muffled ‘hm?’ but audible enough that he knew you were feigning ignorance at his intrusion.

“Suck.”

Letting your tongue press flat against his fingers when he brought them together again, you pouted around them, saliva covering them as you hollowed your cheeks, humming in pleasure.

“You’re good at that. Are the skills transferable?”

“I don’t…”

“Get on your knees and show me.”

Once you were on the floor, knees on the hard wood, you looked up at him, batting your eyelashes, lips apart in a suggestive pout.

“Now what, Eddie?”

“Do you need me to show you?”

“I think so.” You looked away from him, acting coy, trying to instil the role of confidence in him, since this new side of Eddie was one you weren’t sure you wanted to usher away too quickly.

“God, you’re so stupid, hm?”

“I really am, Eddie. I’m so stupid, I’m just a stupid little slut.”

With a shuddering breath, Eddie frantically began undoing his belt, unzipping his pants and letting them fall down. The bottom of his coat covered him, but you raised your hands and slowly pulled down the zip, revealing his thick, solid length, taking it in your hand as you looked up at him. His face was red, blushing, but he maintained eye contact as you leant your head forwards, pausing just before your mouth made contact with his hard cock.

“Like this, Eddie?”

“Fuck.”

You took his head in your mouth, tongue lapping at his precum, letting yourself drool over it, hungrily, before sliding your mouth down further, to the point where you were sure you couldn’t take any more of him. As your nose met with the small tuft of light brown hair at the base of his cock, his head hit the back of your throat, and you choked around him. Saliva dripping from your lips and down the shaft of his length.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re doing so good.”

He brought one of his hands to the back of your head, gathering up your hair and twisting it around his fingers. With his grip on you, he took control, easing your head gently but quickly up and down, bobbing around his twitching cock. Between moans, Eddie was still insistent on lecturing you.

“I think about you…all the time...mmm…huh…I watch you…everywhere…you go…fuck…I’ve kept you so…so safe…hmm…and everything…I’m going to do…what I’m about…god…to become…hng…you can think of it…as another…heh…one of my little…love notes.”

With a slick pop, he removed himself from you, a strand of saliva connecting the soft, red head of his cock to your lips. The explicit image of you on the floor on your knees, servitude to him, was sending him into a frenzied fit of desperation. Hand still wrapped around your hair, he teased you up, letting you drop down onto the bed.

“Lie back. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

Once you were in position, at his complete mercy, he tore at your panties, yanking them down your legs hurriedly, spreading your thighs apart with his hands, long soft fingers lingering in their grip on your skin, leaving you only to grab his cock at the base, guiding himself inside of you with a deep breath and a mewling little moan.

“Ah..aha…ha”

He laughed as he found his pace, thrusting forward into you, lifting your ankles and bending your legs at the knee, hands following down to your thighs where he dug his fingers in again, using the pull to bring you closer, to get himself deeper inside of you.

With each motion, you could feel yourself clenching around him, walls stretched by his surprising thickness, whimpering as he became more forceful, as his grunts were replaced by one word, repeated over and over, punctuating every little rutting motion he made.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

“I’m yours, Eddie.”

“Mmm…thank you…thank…you…I can’t…I can’t…much longer…”

“Oh, Eddie.”

His knees weakened under him, just as he let himself thrust in once more, stopping inside of you to let himself cum, filling you with his hot seed, groaning at the view when he pulled out slowly, your lips swollen, dripping, covered in him. A mark of his ownership.

Collapsing next to you in the bed, jacket still on, opened and exposing his soft sweatshirt, he pulled you into him, holding you tight, almost painfully, against his chest.

“See, you don’t have to worry. As long as you’re mine. If you’re mine, then he can’t hurt you. I can’t hurt you.”

It was almost cold, the way that he said it. Despite the warmth that was forced into the tone. The words themselves were threatening, commanding.

“I’ll protect you. It’s better to have someone in Gotham. Safety in numbers.”

#finnie writes #riddler smut #fanfic #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #ridler scenario #dano riddler #dano!riddler #edward nashton #the riddler fanfiction #the riddler #paul dano #danonation #cw dubcon #cw stalking

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i4lixie · 2 years

Note

Ok ok I'm Alex and I'm loving 👀 what this blog is and I need you to imagine with me..Mafia!au stray kids??? 👀👀☕️

ugh yes

mafia!skz w/ a little bit of x!reader

chan is obviously the leader of the group. always talking the rowdiest/youngest members out of trouble. really intimidating at gang meetups with other gangs, like his aura is just dark and terrifying… at home he’s a different story. extremely loyal. really is a teddy bear underneath all that meanness lol. when you’re recruited he has a soft spot towards you pretty quickly. very protective and will put himself in open fire if it means saving his members.

minho is a bit harder to read than the rest. he’s the underboss. may be a little more intimidating than chan at times with the way he practically inspects you with dark eyes the moment chan recruits you. the best manipulator of the gang,, he’s gotten so much material out of rival gangs you don’t know how he does it. definitely the con man. someone who’s also protective of you, but keeps his distance from you, just watching you from afar

changbin is the hit man. he has a way of being messy and smooth with his kills. biggest auxiliary closet you’ve ever seen. is sometimes the comic relief of the group and can easily become your best friend, maybe an older brother type. he’s quite hot headed though which can lead to a lot of problems that minho is most likely solving.

hyunjin, the seducer. kisses before he kills. captures the attention of any room he enters but nobody dares mess with him because he can be ruthless. knows how hot he is and uses it to his advantage, always. with the help of jeongin, he uses aphrodisiacs to enhance his sexual power, but he doesn’t really need them. because of the nature of what he does, it’s hard for him to form genuine relationships, so he’s also one that’s gonna be distant from you at first. but once he warms up to you.. probably falls in love

jisung is every position rolled into one. he can literally do anything, and he can do it well—be a hit man, seduce, talk someone out of something, etc etc. he’s very smart and uses that to find his way out of difficult and sticky situations. he’s very dangerous, even more dangerous than minho, but that allures you… he may end up breaking your heart

felix is the bait. the self proclaimed “innocent” one of the group when he’s anything but. his angelic features cause him to be undetected when he outwardly steals from other gangs or uses self made drugs to get the gang out of bad situations. helps jeongin with making these drugs, and even helps with making enhancements on weapons that everyone uses. he’s shy at first, but opens up very quickly to you

seungmin is the spy. usually just kind of lurking around during meetings to catch off handed comments or actions. he’s the one that stalks and is very good at doing it. works well with computers and technical equipment—you’ve literally seen him make a tracker and put it on the back of a rival gang’s car.. he’s hard to open up with, but also forms that brother like relationship with you.

jeongin is the one that makes everything, even more stuff than seungmin. weapons, drugs, you name it—he’s on it. has his own lab that he spends 60% of his time in. he’s very friendly though, and invites you to come see what he makes and even learn how to make a few things yourself. you swear he has the biggest brain ever.

#idk what this is #just wanted to put smth out LOL #skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz mafia #skz mafia au #stray kids mafia #stray kids mafia au #hyunjin #han jisung #felix #chan #jeongin #seungmin #changbin #lee minho

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halothenthehorns · 1 year

Text

Spoilery goodness on TSatS below!

I want to preface this by saying I've never been active in the PJO fandom before when something first came out. His books have always been on and off my radar every five years or so since I was in middle school and I binge read to catch up then move on to something else, but since I've been actively writing fanfiction for these books lately, here are my first, fresh thoughts.

First the good!

I actually really liked Will was a big ol' doofus damsel in distress. Not everybody needs to be a big action hero and 'useful' on a quest. Will was there purely for moral support because Nico was going back to a most dreaded place, and he fulfilled that roll with moderate success while the two worked on their issues. I will now forever laugh at Care Bare Powers activate, and Will punning his own name and just being happy to be along was all I wanted from him.

I don't know why anybody would say him and Nico were ooc. You do know characters adapt and change over time, right? Of course Nico's going to be slightly different than before, this is the first book we've ever seen him actively trying to be happy.

I did laugh at some parts, I did have whole chunks of chapters were I was invested and curious what was going to happen, and I can not say enough how much I love Bob and Small Bob!

The Gorgyra's parts were some of my favorite, I can't help but laugh there was a scenic route through Tartarus on the happy friendship boat by sharing memories, and that's what I really wanted out of this book. A little background on these boys, a good promise of their future, and that is exactly what I got.

The Cocoa Puffs are a hilarious addition and I hope Nico and Will name every one of them and they make terrifying additions in continuing novels.

It wasn't a great shock or twist or anything he left his darkness behind. I half expected it to be their treasured objects that were invented for this book, so the fact that it was instead a piece of Nico he always clung to was a fairish way out of it without having to dramatically kill somebody, or break up Solangelo, or worse, make it Bob.

Chapter 24 was probably my favorite. I really loved Persephone's talk with Will;

but this chapter also kind of highlights some of my bad.

I really get why a lot of people are saying it reads like preachy bad fanfiction. Persephone could have shown up and had that talk with Will without the whole, oh if somebody's forcing you to be in a bad relationship you should runaway as fast as possible detail.

There's whole chunks of the book like that.

I was genuinely bored on some of it, Epiales nightmares went on way to long when a first grader could figure out that's what was going on from the moment they reached the bottom the first time and mysteriously found their way at the top with a 'shadow' lurking behind them.

I like the sidequesty idea, the RR books had always been bad about doddling around to get to the real meat of the story with his sidequests and exploring more of the Underworld is always fun. The update on Geryon getting a boyfriend made me freeze up and mind blank for a good minute in shock, so I'll give it that.

I don't know, I think a good sideplot would have helped some of the structure problems. I've never written my own novel, I'm not going to pretend to think I can and should fix this, just my first thought.

The almost last bit where it was Hades who put all this together was another good example of why this was kind of cringe but mostly in line with the general RR series. The gods can never be OOC because they're gods. They can do whatever they want from book to book and it's just their mood for that moment. Hades breaking his rules to give Nico a moment with Bianca and Bianca (that's not a typo) was a sweet gesture and him using his son to get Bob out because his yelling got to loud was sweet and amusing.

But then they didn't do anything with the moment. It was just a quick shot, Bianca (actual Bianca) barley even got to say anything, and it was just over :( You spent whole pages of them just walking around like a Tolkien novel, you couldn't have given a little more emotion to Nico finally getting to talk to his mother and sister for the last time...

My only major complaint was the camp.

Dionysus was OOC. Him just sporadically being a good counselor and listening to Nico and caring is just, so, ugh. Not everybody needs to be nice and sweet and rainbows. I don't care I'm contradicting myself, Dionysus was written in previous books to care about the kids but in his own salty way about being stuck there, you didn't have to make him share his popcorn.

Chiron's always been like that. Oh, another big bad prophecy where my campers are off to do the most dangerous and world perilous things?

Cool, yeah, I'll be over here teaching archery, have fun with that.

The fact that there were no campers was?! I call absolute bull the 80-100+ kids that are supposedly there all have happy homes lives they went off to. Why would you even want to write it like the place was empty and barren? I wasn't even hoping for more OC and intense background, just a little casual time of Nico being accepted in camp which we only got on the first pages and then- Just, so much, !?

Thing two was Piper getting the check-up call at the end instead of Reyna. Yes authors, highlight the recently found out gay chick instead of Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano, Jason's best friend you keep forgetting existed and is now possibly exploring her Aro/Ace life with the Hunters and Jason's sister Thalia! This choice just personally infuriated me because I want a Hunters book sooooo bad, and I was desperately hoping when the scene started we were going to get a 'jump off' point for them like this book was at the end of ToA

If we get a Piper book next, maybe I'll get lucky and it'll be a team up book wit them, but I am not holding my breath at this rate.

5/10, would only recommend to hardcore RR fans. Will probably reread again someday, but years from now when I convince myself it might not have been as bland as I remember it.

#pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #tsats #spoilers #good thoughts #bad thoughts #opinions

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sukunas-angel · 3 years

Text

When The Clock Strikes Midnight Collab.

Sukuna x Female Reader

Little Red Riding Hood Theme.

Word Count: 2.4k

Trigger warnings: Non-Con. Please do NOT read if this bothers/triggers you. View at your own discretion.

Tags: NSFW, Non-Con, Little Red Riding Hood Theme, JJK, Jujutsu Kaisen AU, Sukuna x DFAB Reader, Predator x Prey Trope.

It hadn’t always been like this.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the rumours had started, or when fear had spread like a vicious wildfire around the village. She remembered a time before the whispers and the unofficial curfew. She remembered a time when the sun used to shine, and life as she knew it was just plain ordinary.

There was a cursed spirit that supposedly lurked in the woods that separated the small village from her grandmothers cottage. She wasn’t sure when or how it had arrived, just that people who dared go near the forest were never seen again.

She had lost classmates, friends. Too many she knew went venturing into the forest, to never return again. Some of them were brave; searching for missing family and friends. And some were stupid, sneaking into the dense wood on dares in the dead of night. It didn’t matter their intention. Whoever entered the forest, never came back.

Y/N was neither brave nor stupid.

No, certainly not brave. Even now, her heart raced fiercely in her chest as she slowly trudged through the sea of amber leaves on the forest floor. Her hands were clammy and balled into tight fists inside the oversized sleeves of her red hoodie. Her breaths came fast and laboured, creating a white smoke in the cold autumn air. No, she certainly wasn’t brave at all.

She just felt guilty.

The fear and hysteria had gotten so severe in the village that no one dared deliver groceries to her grandmother anymore. It had been almost 5 days since all ventures into the forest had stopped completely, and Y/N was certain her grandmother had to be slowly starving by now. She was far too old and frail to be foraging for food in the forest, and far too sickly to be going without proper nutrition.

Y/N wasn’t stupid.

She knew a journey into the forest meant certain death. She knew this, she really did.

But she couldn’t just let her grandmother starve to death.

She was the last bit of family she had. And starvation was such a slow and cruel death. She couldn’t handle the guilt, the overwhelming feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily in her chest.

So here she was, on a gloomy October morning, walking into certain death, with a basket full of groceries clutched to her chest.

It was almost funny.

No, it was funny. She giggled to herself. Actually, it was hilarious. She had ventured into certain death with nothing to arm herself with, but cans of soup. She giggled some more; perhaps she was dumb.

“How odd. They’re not normally crazy until after I’ve finished with them.”

Her body froze in place, and her eyes darted around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice. From what the village elders had told everyone, cursed spirits weren’t supposed to talk.

“No matter. You humans are always the same when you die. Snivelling, pathetic little shrimps right until the last breath.”

The voice was closer now, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end. She turned her whole body suddenly, whipping her head round to face the incredible evil that stood behind her.

What stood before her wasn’t what she expected at all.

She hasn’t expected a cursed spirit to look so human. The elders had painted them as such ghastly creatures, a terrible sight for anyone who could actually see them. But the entity that stood before her was almost attractive. Something so pleasing to the eye that, if she weren’t scared out of her mind, she might’ve found him incredibly handsome.

His pink hair complimented his red eyes perfectly, and his frighteningly tall figure was sculpted and muscled beneath the white robe he wore.

“Y-you’re human?” She questioned uncertainly.

He looked human enough. Sure, he had odd black markings on his skin but that could just be paint, right? The elders had insisted cursed spirits were monsters, incapable of speech and very unlikely to be seen by the eyes of ordinary humans.

“You can see me?” He seemed genuinely delighted at the prospect, a large grin splitting his face, revealing sharp, pointed teeth.

Teeth that certainly weren’t human.

She shook her head dumbly, averting her eyes in a futile attempt to pretend she was blind to the presence in front of her.

“You shook your head to my question, which means you can hear me too. What an interesting little human you are,” he almost cooed to her, stepping forward in curiosity.

She stepped back instinctively, with every fibre of her being screaming for her to run. She was in the vicinity of an apex predator. She was the prey, she was helpless. She knew this in her very soul.

Run.

Her brain was screaming at her to sprint, adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her muscles were poised, ready to contract, to move her faster than she’d likely ever moved before.

But she couldn’t move.

“Humans haven’t been able to see me in millennia. Not since those jujutsu sorcerers were still around.”

He was speaking to her again, smiling at her in malice. His cold red eyes appraised her form, smiling wider when he noticed how ready she was to bolt.

“What’s the matter little human? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer.

“You know, most people would have ran by now. What’s the matter? Too frightened to move?” He taunted her, making her blood boil at his mocking tone.

“What’s the point in running? I’d be dead within seconds. I’d rather face my death head on. I’m not a coward.” She spat at him, her eyes a raging fire.

She could tell he enjoyed this. He enjoyed the fear he brought to people, the chase when they ran. And she was sure he enjoyed killing them after.

Though she was terrified, and her body screamed at her to run as fast as she could, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

His resounding laugh startled her.

“What an interesting little creature you are!” He laughed in delight, clapping his hands together with a large grin.

“But your little front doesn’t fool me. I can hear your racing heart, little girl. I can smell the adrenaline coursing through your veins. I can taste your fear.” His voice lowered and he stepped toward her again.

She backed up now, cursing herself when her back hit the cold bark of a tree. She should’ve been more aware of her surroundings. He was too close to try moving away from the tree behind her now.

She was too frightened to try move anyway, her legs shook and she slumped slightly into the tree trunk, her knees weak from fear. She wanted to be strong, to face her imminent death head on.

But she was afraid.

His large figure caged her to the tree, his arm coming to rest just above her head. He looked down at her cruelly.

“You. Are. Terrified.” He whispered in her ear. She whimpered in response, her head sinking into her shoulders in fear.

“You know,” he started, a hunger settling in his crimson eyes once again.

“There was a story that went around this village back when I was human,” Sukuna purred, drawing his face closer to hers so that their noses almost touched.

“About a poor little girl…” he grabbed her fragile wrists in his hands, pinning them above her head. She watched him through fearful, wide eyes.

He could feel her heart hammering in her chest. He had forgotten how pleasant and warm a woman’s body could be. She was ever so pretty too, her large doe eyes had drawn him in from the beginning.

“And a big…” he put his lips to her ear, grinning at how she shivered in fear.

“….Bad…” he licked the shell of her ear, revelling in her cry of fear.

“….Wolf.” Sukuna growled, pushing his body into hers, trapping her impossibly tight against the tree. He licked up her neck, moaning at just how good she tasted.

So sweet.

She tried squirming away from him; being pinned so tightly between him and the tree was almost painful. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, she couldn’t bear to look at the beautiful monster in front of her anymore.

“You’re delicious.” Sukuna whispered in her ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“Did you eat the other people that came into the woods?” She’d tried to sound strong, but the wobble in her voice betrayed her.

He pulled back to look down upon her coldly. His cruel smirk told her the answer to her question.

“Yes.” He affirmed, stroking her cheek with one sharp nail while his other hand kept her wrists pinned above her head.

Her knees almost gave way at his answer, as her breaths came out in frantic gasps.

So many people…

So many people had been eaten. By this human-like monster in front of her.

Oh, god. Y/N thought.

I’ll be eaten too.

“A-are you gonna eat me?” She breathed, looking up into his cold red eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Y/N didn’t want to die. She was too young. She had so much to live for, so much she wanted to do. She never even got to leave this damned village. She was born here, set to die here, without ever seeing anywhere else.

A wasted life. She thought miserably.

“No.”

Her eyes met Sukuna’s again in shock.

“Though you are delicious,” he grinned, his pointed teeth making her shudder.

“A human hasn’t been able to see or hear me in millennia. And here you are,”

“A pretty little girl, who stumbled so innocently into my territory,” he was whispering into her ear again, making her shiver.

“Who can see and hear me. Killing you would be a waste.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, groaning at how good she smelt.

“It’s been years since I felt the touch of a woman.” He told her, sucking lightly on her neck.

Her eyes widened as the meaning of his words dawned on her.

“No, no, no, no! No way…no way in hell will I…I’m not…I won’t be your whore.” She sputtered angrily, squirming wildly, trying to pull her wrists from his grip.

He dropped her wrists, stepping backwards. The grin on his face was feral.

“Such spunk for helpless little prey like you” he delighted.

“Let’s play a game.” He decided, a gleeful grin still playing on his lips.

“You’ll be little red riding hood,”

“And I’ll be the big, bad wolf.” He bared his sharp teeth at her, portraying just how wolflike he really looked.

“If you make it out of these woods before I catch you, you’re free.”

“But if I catch you, you’re mine.” He growled possessively.

“I’ll give you a little head start, it’s only fair. You’re such weak prey after all.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his posture undoubtedly relaxed.

Y/N knew he was certain of his inevitable victory.

She was sure he would win too, even with whatever ‘head-start’ he was so graciously going to give her. He’d single handedly pinned her against the tree like it was nothing, despite her using all her strength to squirm away. This ‘game’ of his was futile.

But, damn, she had to try.

She couldn’t just roll over and become someone’s whore.

She took off running, unwilling to hear him speak anymore. She thought perhaps if she ran and caught him off guard, she’d be able to put even more distance between them.

She could hear his loud laughter booming behind her, she’d never heard something so cold.

“Ten.” She heard him call, and she almost cried in response.

Ten seconds??

That’s what he called a head start?

She pushed herself harder, the muscles in her legs burning from the exertion. She wasn’t even sure the direction she was running in was the right one, she’d had no time to think. All she could do was run and hope that she reached the village in time.

“Nine.” He still sounded somewhat close.

“Eight.” His voice sounded somewhat distant now.

“Seven.” The end of the forest was nowhere in sight, but his voice was definitely fading.

“Six” she barely heard him, perhaps she’d put a decent distance between them now, she hoped.

She weaved in and out of the trees with an agility she never knew she possessed. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made everything clearer, focussed her enough to easily dodge stray roots and branches that would trip her or hinder her escape.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she guessed he was probably chasing her by now. She just hoped she’d covered enough distance to escape him.

She didn’t hear him.

He was silent as he tackled her roughly to the ground.

Air was forced out her lungs in a gasp at the force of it, her dazed eyes meeting his as he pinned her roughly to the ground.

“No…no…” she breathed, tears pouring out her eyes.

He sat on her, his weight heavy on her waist, as he leaned toward her, her wrists being pushed painfully into the cold ground.

“I win.” He whispered into her ear, before licking it.

“No…” she whimpered as more tears fell.

“Yes.” He purred, nuzzling her neck again.

“You smell delightful.” He groaned again.

“P-please…” she whimpered, her chest heaving still as she gasped for air.

“And now the wolf devours it’s prey.” He growled, licking up her neck.

“You said you didn’t want to eat me!” She cried.

He chuckled, licking away a stray tear from her cheek.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He growled.

“I lied.” He grinned, as she cried out again, shaking in fear.

“However, killing you really would be a waste.” He continued.

He sat up again, keeping her arms pinned by her head still. He appraised her form again, smirking. Sukuna truly hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing something so beautiful in a long time.

“Good thing there’s more than one way to eat someone.” He chuckled.

Y/N gasped shakily as the meaning of his words dawned on her.

Sukuna pressed his lips against hers roughly, forcing his tongue between her lips. He groaned as he did, relishing how good it felt. How good she tasted.

Yes, there was more than one way to eat someone. She thought helplessly.

She wasn’t sure which way was worse.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #non con #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #when the clock strikes midnight collab #sukuna x reader #trigger warning #non consensual #little red riding hood #anime #collab

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fairestwriting · 3 years

Note

Hello! May I request headcanons for Floyd and Jade reacting to their little sister dating Azul, Riddle, Ace, and Idia? Thanks and have an amazing day!

Azul Ashengrotto

Oh, you chose Azul? Well, that’s... fine. It could be worse and it could be more fun. They’re fine with it, and will barely bother you about it at all.

Azul, on the other hand? He’s gonna see hell. Every day at least one of them makes a comment about him dating their little sister, and right in the middle of work too. Y’know, if you don’t treat her right I’ll squeeze you anyway, even though we work together~ from Floyd and have you checked up on her lately? Take good care of my dearest sister, Azul, or you’ll regret it from Jade, paired up with their eerie smiles.

You won’t be able to tell if they’re genuinely being overprotective of you, or if they’re just doing this to tease Azul. Either way you can tell how it stresses him out just a bit, from how he often talks about what the weird comment of the day was to you.

Riddle Rosehearts

Once you break the news, Floyd gets so hyped he could almost jump so high he’d break through the ceiling. You’re dating Goldfishie? So he gets to tease him more often???

Jade himself isn’t nearly as excited, but he does find Floyd’s reaction amusing, so he’s very supportive of your relationship. Floyd won’t stop talking about all the things he’ll drag Riddle to do when he comes over and Jade just congratulates you politely.

The introduction dinner is very much reinforced by both your brothers, and... poor Riddle, honestly, because he’s already nervous when he gets there, but when Floyd busts the front door open and full on glomps him he knows it’s gonna be an insane night.

And most of the time it’s just Floyd making his life difficult, honestly. Riddle is just one of his favorite people to tease. There’s none of that “introducing boyfriend to protective older brothers” tension, just Floyd annoying Riddle to the moon and back. It never stops either, Riddle may just start avoiding to come over... which you’re very understanding of.

Ace Trappola

Trappola, that first year? Interesting choice. They do have some funny memories from when he was working for Azul, that anemone on his head.

With someone like him, though, they’ll very much be more protective. They don’t know Ace that well after all! Plus, he looks like quite the troublemaker. You can bet both of them will be lurking around him every now and then, leaving your boyfriend with a lingering feeling that he’s being watched...

They gather and make a whole plan about how the introduction would go. It’s their classic good cop/bad cop routine, Jade makes food for all of you and asks polite questions, making small talk while Floyd looks menacing in the background, offering a witty response to everything that Ace says during the conversation, talking about how he’s gonna be so easy to squeeze, if ends up having to do it~

But Floyd also just teases him on occasion, switching between violent protectiveness and just being a goofy older brother. Needless to say, Ace is very much terrified.

Idia Shroud

Idia Shroud, huh? They’re conflicted. The information he has on Idia is strange, with all those rumors about his family and the way he barely leaves his room, but also with the fact that Azul does know him and has told them he isn’t nearly as bad as he sounds.

Either way, bring him in, they say. They’re curious to meet him from up close, though it’ll definitely be hard to get Idia to come to your house... not just from his own shut-in ways, but also due to the fact that you have Leech in your last name.

But let’s say you were able to drag Idia out of his room to properly introduce him to your brothers. In that case, they’ll go with that routine again, just... a bit more subtle. Less of an interrogation than in Ace’s case because they already know a bit about him, they’re just suspicious of what he might be hiding...

The threats happen, naturally. Neither of them really care that he’s supposedly Azul’s friend, there’s definitely a hint of danger in him. That, and they think it’s hilarious how he squeals when they get too close.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst x reader #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #idia shroud #azul ashengrotto x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ace trappola x reader #idia shroud x reader #lis writing

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redorich · 3 years

Note

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #quackity #karl jacobs #sapnap #grian #ethoslab #stressmonster #zombiecleo #captain puffy #joe hills #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #awesamdude #me.cpp #me.txt

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igzsatelier · 3 years

Text

A Goofball & A Gooball

• It took some time for Eddie and Venom to get use to each other's habits, there were complaints here and there, but they eventually made it work. It was like a finished puzzle! Except some pieces that're connected were ripped off and destroyed to make it look like it was meant to be there, even though it clearly wasn't because it's obviously wrong.

• Anyway

• Catching bad guys, eating bad guys, call them out to the news for their ugly acts was a routine. Get some juicy info about the bad guy, and then follow them into their lair before Venom eats all their brains. Then looting some money from them before reporting it to the police.

• Everyone knows about this mysterious beastly figure that always lurks in the shadows. It has a huge terrifying grin with lots of fangs and pale white eyes. Its skin as black as the night and has a long tongue and is extremely dangerous, proceed with caution! A demon, a beast, a monster! One that eats drug dealers and thieves, but it never mentioned killing innocent people. Venom was quite infamous.

• You almost refused to believe it. If it wasn't for the blurred beheaded bodies they showed on the news and on the newspaper, you had to swallow that truth down to your uneasy stomach. As long as you're not one of those who works for dirty money, you'll be fine.

• You either met Eddie first or you met Venom first. If you met Eddie first, the sight of him talking to somebody who wasn't there would probably weird you out. And when asked he would bluff his way out of there, or fail miserably and ends up embarrassing himself. If you met Venom first, you would definitely be creeped out by this tall hulking mass of dark monstrousity. Venom's aware of the effect he has on the others so he's not too bothered by it. He might mess with you a bit though, he thinks it's hilarious.

• Or maybe you met them in other circumstances. Did you saved and helped them, especially Venom? He'll be surprised and amused, but grateful nonetheless. Same goes to Eddie, and he might take you out to eat with him as thanks. Are you a hero? A vigilante? Okay cool, but Venom will get annoyed at you scolding him about eating people alive. They'll be dumbfounded yet excited to know if you were a mutant, that means you won't freak out once you knew about his bond with the symbiote.

• If you met Eddie first, he's very careful when it comes to friendships. He doesn't want you to run away because he's a monster after all. If you met Venom first, and didn't report him and calmed down after that, it'll make things a lot more easier for Eddie. If you're completely fine with it, then they would like to be friends with you, no worries.

• He doesn't have many friends, which was good because he doesn't want to explain why his earpiece looks oily and fluid. He's friends with Dan and Annie, but he didn't tell them that Venom lived. Apparently that backfired when they both heard the news about Venom and got angry at him, much to Eddie's embarrassment. So you knowing about Venom, he would appear occasionally whenever you hang out with Eddie, and Eddie would sometimes tell you what's he talking about his symbiote.

• They would crash by your place if they're too injured to go further anymore. You didn't mind and let them stay in your home for the night. Sometimes would invite you to his apartment, whatever it is, you could be helping with his reports. Sometimes Eddie would invite you to his apartment, whatever it is, you could be helping him with his reports or workout with him or just hang out with him and tell each other your days.

• His realisation when it comes to liking you more than just a friend would be a lot slower if Venom wasn't involved. He's like that schoolgirl who always admire her crush from far away with a dopey smile + a little devil encouraging her infatuation. Since he's bonded to an alien, he'll be hesitant. He's worried that you'll think of him differently because of Venom.

• For Venom, if you genuinely like him and his host, and care about them, he will have great interest in you. He's eager to reciprocate that likeness... by making you his. Venom's a pretty simple symbiote, if he likes you-- he likes you. Venom will tell Eddie how he thinks of you, and sometimes bug him to go see you again. If Eddie denies, then he'll take over his body and visit you anyway.

• Eddie's smile and laughter would be a lot happier, and Venom will come out more.Venom will encourage Eddie to touch you more so Venom could wrap his slimy tendrils around you, your body covered with some of his scent. Venom will have his turn to hang out with you, which means you'll be seeing his full body instead of just his floating head.

• Eddie will be suggestive from time to time, but it mostly comes off as him bluffing and being playful. On the other hand, Venom will flat out tell you that he wants you and being a cheeky shit. It doesn't help Eddie when Venom started to tell him his fantasies of you, making the reporter guilty and nervous the next time he meets you.

• They will stalk you, in a good way! They wanted to make sure you're not in trouble and that you return home safely. You may be bothered by it, and told them to quit it. They did, but only if you let them be there beside you!

• Venom will lick you. He wants to know how sweet and delicious you taste. He won't bite your head off so you don't have to worry, but you should probably wipe the drool off your face. Whether you like it or not, he will lick you. He'll trail the tip of his tongue close to your lips and nip at your shoulder teasingly, tell you he wants you but won't kiss you. Venom doesn't want to make you uncomfortable or scared of him, says the alien who keeps licking at you almost everytime he meets you.

• Venom's so very touchy that you can sense it from a mile away. Touch your hair, nuzzle his face into your shoulder, pulling you into a bear hug and he's not ashamed of it. He takes every chances to be as close to you as possible, and if you don't like it, he'll stay away. The least he could do was coil a tendril around your wrist.

• Eddie and Venom would be upset if you're not interested in them, but they're persistent. They'll keep trying to convince you that you want them too, with careful words and hesitant touches, before realising that it's no point when you didn't show any interest in them at all. It would take time before it's back to being platonic buddies again, without any tongue action.

• Venom's sensitive with senses. Which means he'll be able to tell when you're sad, when you're mad, and when you're... excited. Once he figures out that it was because of him that you're excited, boundaries are out of the question! He still has some manners, so he won't go too far. But will use it against you to coax out how you really feel about him and Eddie.

• They'll be very happy if you like them too, and they won't hesitate to kiss you, with your permission of course. Eddie's kiss would be sweet and caring. Venom's kiss would be just him tasting you as much as he can before you needed air to breathe. Now that they know you like them, prepare for a lot canoodling!

#myposts #mywritings #ao3 #venom movie #venom #eddie brock #venom x reader #venom headcanons #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock headcanons #ive done more writing than drawing lol #wtf #im planning to make a separate one for venom #so keep an eye on that

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beelspillowpet · 3 years

Note

if its not too much to ask, could i request mammon with a gn or male reader with severe anxiety and sleeping problems? but around him they're relaxed and playful and can actually sleep? i dont mind if its a fic or hcs, whatever you're more comfortable writing!! and if you dont want to write this, please feel free to ignore it! have a nice day <3

Kinda wanted to do them all sorry SOB;;;

MC has Sleeping Issues

Lucifer

You’re such a giddy and naturally optimistic character, it’s hard for him to imagine you’ve had any real hardships in your life. At least, not ones you couldn’t handle on your own.

He’s had his fair share of nightmares and bad anxiety over certain situations in the past. None could compare to the massive failure that resulted in him and his brothers falling, along with the death of Lilith.

However, he suppresses it well. He doesn’t expect others are always able to do the same. Which is why when you come to him at night, wishing to have comfort, from your bad dreams, he is quick to accept you.

When he’s got his arms around you, brushing the top of your head and humming to you as you drift off, you never felt safer. It seemed like the ceiling could fall away, but as long as he’s got you, he wouldn’t let go. With that, sleeping became much easier, and he expects you to depend on him in the future should you need to.

Mammon

He’s not making fun of you. Nope. He doesn’t really get nightmares or anything, no. He gets a fright every now and then, but he’s more likely to face his fears awake than he does when he’s asleep.

That is further proven when he finds you having an anxiety attack in the kitchen one night, by yourself. You had an intrusive thought about doing something horrible, and thus started to panic. What if you were sick? Evil? Worse than a literal demon?

He’s slow to approach you. He knows how these things work. He’s seen the twins have plenty when they first fell. He calls to you first, softly. Reaching his hand out and touching you next, before turning you to face him. He doesn’t move too much. He doesn’t want to scare you.

You hug him. Your arms squeeze around him, still trying to breathe but looking for any sort of physical comfort you can grasp. You found Mammon, and he’s found you. He doesn’t even know what happened. He just knows that you’re upset, and he wants to help you.

Leviathan

He lives with his anxiety. No doubt. But seeing you happy has always brought him comfort in some weird way. That it’s possible to be happy.

Even with as happy as you are, you have your downs too. In the form of an anxiety attack. It’s more than subtle- it’s almost unnoticeable. But not to Leviathan. He can tell by the way you tremble and lose focus. You were staring down silently at your lunch for a bit too long, blocking out any sound nearby.

At least until he put a hand on you. He’d scared you and you flinched a little too hard from his touch. He backed away in response and frowned at your reaction. He went to apologize, but his words came crashing together in an ugly fit.

In the end, you took his hand and quietly went back to eating. He wanted to ask what exactly was wrong, and why you just... spaced out like that. But he never liked when anyone asked him things like that, so he didn’t bother to ask you. Just as long as you went back to your giddy, happy self.

Satan

His room is always dark. And messy. Only lit up by magic and candles in certain places, it was terrifying to be in. The constant night of the devildom made his room a living nightmare for you.

Sleeping over in his room sometimes filled you with a toxic mixture of fear and anxiety. What if something was in there? Watching you sleep? What if it got to you while Satan slept peacefully nearby?

You sat up in your bed constantly, glaring into the darkest spaces in the room. Daring something to come out only for you to scream to alert Satan to protect you. But nothing ever came.

Instead, at some odd hour, Satan sat up and huffed. “Why aren’t you trying to sleep?” “Because I’m scared.” It wasn’t even you thinking for a moment. You were actively admitting to your fear of the unknown lurking nearby. With a defeated sigh, he left his bed and went to your side. He supposed he could stay with you until you fell asleep this time...

Asmodeus

Oh hell yeah anxiety. Please let it be known that even though he talks his game up BIG, he sometimes locks himself in his room and CRIES his eyes out.

You’re such a ray of sunshine in his life though, it’s rather hard for him to feel so down anymore. You two probably do cry together a lot.

He’s not sure why you feel so anxious sometimes. Is it RAD? Maybe him? One of his other brothers? What about life back at home? Whatever it is, he wants to try and help you. What cheers him up is a nice skincare routine, complete with a face mask to exfoliate his skin.

There probably comes a point where he doesn’t bother to ask. He just rushes you to his bathroom and the two of you blow off some steam. Either by bathing together, going to a salon, or just reading a magazine and filling out the silly questions.

Beelzebub

You and I both know Beel has horrible nightmares. Not often, but when they happen, it’s a dream usually about Lilith. Sometimes though, they’re about you.

He’s gotten accustom to holding your hand. Whether that comforts you in your nightmares or not is null and void in the moment. Beel is a big dude. If no one else has your back, Beel certainly always does.

To feel unsafe or insecure around Beel has to come from something he may have done, or someone or something similar to him, in the past. Maybe a societal demand for you to weigh a certain amount in order to be beautiful? He may not understand that himself, but would absolutely comfort you in it.

Should you feel as if something will creep up on you and attack, all it takes is a look from Beel to still your wandering thoughts. He will hold you close, and never let any pain find its way to you again. He’ll battle his own nightmares in due time, but yours come first.

Belphegor

Anxiety problems out the ass. We all know why. He has intrusive thoughts. He tries not to act on them, solely because he wants to believe he genuinely would know better. But he’s proven himself wrong.

He tries to keep his distance from you. He wants to be nice and get along, but he feels as though he may be unintentionally grooming you. To see you so happy all the time, even after what’s happened, it worries him. What he did was unforgivable, and yet you smile in his direction anyways? Truly, you must be Lilith’s descendant.

It’s when that happy smile breaks, and he finds you pacing the floor, holding yourself and crying, does he realize you’re not always happy. Maybe you were thinking about what he’d done to you and how absolutely fucked it was. That you can never feel safe around him?

His first instinct is to protect. He comes to you with arms open for a hug. The memory flashes in the back of his head. A offering of a hug, only to squeeze the life from you. He stops short and waits. Will you take his hug or back away? He doesn’t wait for the rejection and drops his arms instead. He looks away scared, as if he’s going to have another intrusive thought. But when you do hug him, it’s enough to bring tears to his eyes. It’s a full body hug where he can’t move his arms to return it, but he’s glad nonetheless. Glad you can find some sort of comfort in him.

#obey me #om #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #om swd #om shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me hcs

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officerjennie · 3 years

Note

Hello can I please request hugging for a very long time as a platonic bonding prompt with any pair of witcher characters you fancy (characters from the witcher that is)

Hey so I’m feeling rather self-indulgent so I turned this into a trans!Eskel piece, with him coming out to his family and receiving nothing but love and support in return. Extended platonic hug bonding coming from Lambert.

CW: Trans!Eskel coming out to his family, brief descriptions of gender dysphoria over certain pronouns and other nouns (woman, female wolf, etc.), fears of not being accepted (but he ends up accepted anyway), Lambden mentioned (with potential relationship troubles). WC 3k+

Eskel had never been so nervous to see his youngest brother.

All things considered, everything had gone well so far. It had taken over a year to tell both Geralt and Vesemir - he hadn’t had the courage to tell the lot of them at the same time, the last winter coming and going without a whisper of who he really was, until he stayed behind and lingered in the keep even up until Lambert had taken his arse elsewhere.

In a lot of ways, Eskel had assumed Vesemir’s reaction would be the worst, simply because the wolf was old and Eskel had no way of knowing what the world had been like when he had been a pup. But his expression had been soft, his eyes alight with humor, and the only thing he’d said on the matter was “No female wolf after all, huh.”

Eskel had rolled his eyes, shoulders sagging with relief, leaving it at that. The lack of disappointment or flair had done well for him, and that had been one down.

Telling Geralt had...well, he hadn’t had time to really plan out when to tell him. One day he’d been on the path on his own, riding by a field of rather tempting goats and kids that just begged for their little heads to be scritched - and the next he found himself saddled up next to his brother, having ran into him near the coast and decided to hunt a rather nasty little group of cockatrices together.

It had slipped out by accident, a correction at the wrong noun used to describe him. Eskel had flushed and looked away quickly, knowing the question would come and not sure if he was ready to answer it. But he did, and though the silence was deafening the arms that soon wrapped around him showed him nothing but support and comfort.

Those two had been easy, even if his nerves had been fried. As he should have come to expect by now his family had shown him nothing but support, letting it be well known that it didn’t matter what name he went by or who he was - because he was theirs, their family, and now their brother.

Lambert, though...

The day had slipped past him, his hands shaking every time he thought of seeking him out. It had been an early homecoming for the both of them, and this winter Lambert had come back alone, leaving his ‘kitty cat’ somewhere out in a fishing village for some reason he vagued out instead of explaining. A spat, no doubt; it happened every few years for them, but there was no question in his mind that they’d be fine. Two hot tempers in the same room sometimes just exploded despite their best efforts, and a bit of space and time between them would sweeten their reunion.

But it meant that Eskel was left in the keep with Vesemir, who knew, and Lambert, who didn’t. And he saw the questioning look Vesemir had sent him when Lambert obviously didn’t know, making the usual jokes that made Eskel’s stomach clench, calling him the name that made him question everything that he was and at times almost sending him mentally downwards.

It wasn’t his fault. Lambert didn’t know. But it made Eskel both want to avoid him and also go punch something, and neither of those would be good for him in the long run.

So, here he was. For the nth time already this winter, though the snow had yet to even reach their ankles outside. Standing outside of Lambert’s room, listening as the telltale sound of a sharpening stone ran across the blade of a sword on the other side, as Lambert hummed to himself like he loved to pretend he never did - and while Eskel tried desperately to get his hands to stop shaking and his heart to quit beating so quick.

He had to tell him. Needed him to know. Lambert was in a lot of ways the most loyal of the lot of them. Sure his temper got him in trouble, and yes he loved to be a little shit and make sure they all knew he was one, but there wasn’t another person better to have your back in any situation. It didn’t matter if you were in the right or wrong to Lambert if you were his family because he would fight teeth and nails for you either way.

But his temper. His bloody temper, and his trust issues. A breeze sent the curtains in the hall sussing against each other as Eskel raked a desperate hand through his own hair, thinking once again about putting this off and waiting another day, or week, or fuck, until next winter.

They all had their flaws. For many reasons, Lambert has issues with trusting others and had an inferiority complex that kicked up at the worst of times. Really, Eskel had no doubt that Lambert would accept him in the end, that he’d see him for the brother he’d always been and perhaps even manage to not make jokes about it (he never meant to be cruel but Lambert sometimes didn’t know where the line for cruelty was, and his head was thick).

What worried him was his initial reaction. How Lambert would feel knowing he was the last to learn, even though it had not really been intentional. How he might feel to have been kept out of the know for years even if he wasn’t the only who hadn’t known - and Eskel wasn’t sure how to even explain that he himself hadn’t known for decades, only knowing that certain words made his skin crawl, that being called a woman had always made him blank and feel...outside of himself. For so long he’d not had the words to describe it and for a long time after he’d been afraid to, even to himself, even within his own mind, and his throat had constricted around the confession every time he’d thought to bring it up.

The breeze was too cold, biting at his cheeks and nose. But it helped him breathe, that fresh air, helped ground him with the feel of ice cold in his lungs. He...wasn’t sure how to do this. After doing it twice already, he still wasn’t sure, wasn’t certain. Doubts still tried to eat at his mind and heart but he knew he deserved this - he deserved to be who he was around his family, around his brothers, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to share that with them.

It was terrifying nonetheless, and he’d faced down monsters over twice his size before. Alone.

Finally, he gathered up his courage and knocked on the damn door, rapping his knuckles twice out of habit. The humming stopped instantly but the rasp of rock against steel didn’t pause, Lambert’s grouchy tone snarking out “It’s about time, thought you stand out there all damn day.”

Despite how nervous he was, Eskel rolled his eyes, taking that as the invitation it was and entering his room. He shut the door up tight behind him to keep the chill out, the warmth from the fireplace slowly spreading over his chilled cheeks, pleasant enough an atmosphere for one of the most terrifying conversations he’d ever have to have.

“Finally gonna spit it out?”

Lambert was sitting on the edge of his bed, sharpening tools and a cleaning kit spread out haphazardly across the mussed up blanket around him. His armor was tossed on the floor about him, parts polished and parts still scuffed and dirty from the road, a few of his knives and his silver sword still in their sheathes at his feet, too.

It was a little irksome, how randomly he’d decided to go about his polishing and cleaning, but Eskel really couldn’t micromanage the cleaning and upkeep of his weapons. At least he was doing it; that’s all that mattered.

“Need any help with that?” Didn’t mean he couldn’t offer.

Lambert didn’t bite, though, a scowl showing just how unimpressed he was with Eskel’s deflection - even if it was a genuine offer. “Getting tired of you lurking out there every other day, so out with it. What do you want?” His eyes turned sharp for a second, stone pausing in its glide across the blade. “And this had better not have anything to do with the fucking cat, it’s fine, I’m fine, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not about the fucking cat.” Eskel held up his hands in a placating manner, watching the tension instantly melt from Lambert when he did. Getting him to talk about his own issues was worse than pulling vampire teeth and he was really not in the mood for that. Not in the slightest. “I’ve got...well, my own shit to talk about.”

That caught Lambert’s interest, his face flashing in a complicated mess of emotion before it settled on something guarded. But Eskel knew him well enough to catch the hint of disbelief in his voice as he said, “Surprised you’re not waiting for Geralt then.”

Eskel shifted his weight to his right leg, actively making sure he didn’t look away. “No, this is something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“The fuck d’you think I did?”

“Not-” He was going to make a right mess of his hair at this rate, running his hands through it so much. “Not about you, Lambert, with you. Tell you something. Just...talking. If that’s alright.”

Lambert gestured towards a spare seat near Eskel with his sword, casual, as if both of them weren’t nervous now. It wasn’t like they never talked - they talked plenty, but serious conversations happened rarely if ever unless something was wrong. The last time they talked anything like this had been when Kaer Morhen had been ransacked, which had been so many years ago Eskel struggled to remember the exact amount.

He took the offered chair, slouching in it with his arms crossed and making himself as cozy as he could be. The heat from the fireplace was a bit too much for him now that the bite of winter was entirely gone; he’d always been the wolf that preferred the cold the most, or at least the one that could handle heat the least. It was one of the reasons he’d stayed here for so long to help Vesemir make the most out of the rubble and ashes, grumbling as much as the next over the snow but at least able to function in it.

The sound had returned. Scraping of stone against steel, a steady rhythm, one that helped steady Eskel’s heartbeat. It was mesmerizing in that way anything familiar and repetitive was, something that helped ground him when his mind wanted to panic with all of the ‘what ifs’ it could imagine. He was grateful for the otherwise quiet Lambert’s patience allowed them, though he knew it wouldn’t last, closing his eyes and breathing while he calmed his thoughts.

It wouldn’t be that hard. Couldn’t take that long. All he had to do was say it and it would be over with. Questions might come, hurt feelings might follow, but it would be done and they could move on. And better to do it before Lambert’s thin patience ran out on him.

“Lambert.” His mouth was a bit dry, words not coming easy to him. Eyes open now as he watched his brother’s hand glide across the flat of the blade resting in his lap, concentration written in the furrow of his brow but the twitch of his mouth told him Lambert was listening.

All he had to do was say it. That’s all. The rest would come after.

Stone against steel, grounding him. He breathed in as it ran down the blade, out as it reached the end and lifted once more.

“I’m not a woman, Lamb.”

His eyes flicked down to the armor and weapons that lay at his brothers feet, heart picking up as it no longer had a rhythm to try and match. The fire crackled to his left, popping and hissing, one of the pieces of wood getting ready to fall in on itself any minute.

“What are you, then?”

“A man.” He licked his lips, eyes blinking faster than normal, his heart not letting him look up to see what might be on his brother’s face. What emotions might be flashing there, what response he might have, delaying it as long as possible.

“Kitty cat had a sister, you know?” Eskel’s stomach clenched at the word, his arms squeezing tighter around himself. “Not by blood, but by school, or however you’d call it - he called her sister, s’my point. I met her once when the bastard dragged me all the way down south to the coast, worst fucking decision of my life. The journey, not meeting her.”

Lambert’s deep breath is what made Eskel finally look up, seeing his brother’s face flushed, his jaw clenching in that way it always did when he was forced to deal with sticky things like delicate conversations or emotions.

“Maybe it’s not my fucking place to say it, but he told me and she knows I know it. Doubt you’ll ever meet her anyway, but she’s- ya know, not- she wasn’t always a woman? Or, she was, but didn’t live like one, dressed and talked and walked like a man.”

Oh. Eskel swallowed, sitting up a little more in his seat, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.

“So, fuck, I get it. I mean, I don’t, I don’t get it, but I understand what you’re saying.” He huffed in frustration but Eskel knew him well enough to know what at; words had never been his strong suit. “Feel free to fucking deck me if I slip up. She certainly had no problem with that.”

“Knocked some sense into you?”

That earned him a grin, Lambert finally meeting his eyes again. “Bitch knew how to fight, too. Thought I might have been in love.”

“Surprised you didn’t stay then.”

“Turned out she’s gay, so.” Lambert shrugged, giving his sword a once over before reaching for the sheath that had been laying on the bed next to him. “Guess I’d be barking up the wrong tree on that one.”

“Have to stick with your own cat then.”

The humor flickered away for a moment, Lambert scowling as he placed his now sheathed sword down next to his armor. “Yeah, well. Yeah... Might have...fucked up a little bit on that one.” Before Eskel could say anything, Lambert’s head jerked to the side, his hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Can we just- can we not talk about that? I’d rather stick to the ‘supportive, loving, dashing, best brother’ thing.”

“Right, yeah. That’s fine.”

There was a pause between them, a tinge of awkwardness in the air as they both fidgeted, not entirely sure where to go from there. The fire fizzled and popped, sending some embers out that landed on the stone floor, thankfully no where close to anything that could catch fire. It was all that spoke in the room besides the sounds of their heartbeats and breathing.

Lambert was the one who broke first, something making his leg bounce where his arm rested on it. “You didn’t think, ya know, that I wouldn’t- that I’d, I don’t fucking know, not? Support you, I mean.”

“I...” Eskel swallowed hard, thinking. “I didn’t think you wouldn’t, Lamb, but I wasn’t sure how the conversation would go. Didn’t know if you’d think I had been hiding it or not telling you on purpose.”

“Fuck, like I’d have any room to talk.” He scowled as he bit one corner of his thumb, chewing at a hangnail for a second. “When have I ever talked to any of you about feelings or whatever.”

It was true, but Eskel knew better than to take it at face value. Lambert was sensitive in a way he loved to hide and pretend he wasn’t, but they all knew him better than that.

But there was no reason to think on all the ways the conversation could have gone poorly. It hadn’t, the air was clear between them, everything (or most everything) out in the open. But the hurt hadn’t left Lambert’s face since Aiden had been mentioned, by name or not, and that had Eskel’s chest hurting again.

What had his foolish Lamb done this time, he wondered.

There was no way Lambert would accept any sort of comfort, but as Eskel shifted in his seat some more, not quite yet feeling the relief he’d hoped he would after their conversation was over, he had an idea as to how they might get some together.

“Feel free to say no,” he started slow, staring down at his own fingers and picking the dirt out from underneath them. “But I, well. This has been a lot for me. Talking about this. You might if we maybe...hug? For a while?”

It was probably pushing it, to take on ‘for a while’, but Eskel honestly found himself hoping Lambert said yes even for himself.

The scoff was a bit expected, but the lack of a verbal ‘no’ was good. He looked up to find Lambert on the edge of an answer, confliction written all over his face, his hands clasped together and that one leg bouncing away as he started at nothing.

“Fine,” was the only answer he got, and Eskel took it quickly. And maybe it was pushing it a bit further when he wrapped Lambert up into his chest instead of the other way around but Lambert didn’t try to get away, tucking up under his chin and eventually relaxing into his brother’s arms the way he hadn’t since they were little and the nightmares had been too much.

He wasn’t sure how long Lambert would allow him this, would allow them both the comfort of each other, but he relaxed into it and decided to savor the physical touch as a reminder of their familial love for each other. However long Lambert would let him, he’d stay just like this, with the fire crackling on and the two brother’s embracing each other, the smell of home around them.

#eskel #lambert #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #crosspost later #platonic bonding #gen fic #resident-beekeeper #asks

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 4 years

Text

What’s In A Name (momceit fic)

Rating: teen

Word count: 4863

Pairings: all platonic (except for one bit at the end that you can ignore if you want)

Warnings: Remus typical stuff, graphic threats against animals (that he takes back later), minor body horror (? He gives himself an extra finger, I don’t know if that counts), one (1) sexual innuendo. Roman being a bit of an asshole

——Start——

Well this is an interesting development, Logic thinks to himself as he watches Creativity stalk around the room, inspecting every nook and cranny as if the Dark Sides are going to be lurking in between the books in the bookcase.

This morning — five minutes ago to be precise — Logic, Morality, and Creativity awoke on the couch in the Dark Side’s common room. To make matters worse, the three of them had been transformed into cats. Creativity was a pure white Persian, Morality was a soft gray Scottish Fold, and Logic himself was a Siamese.

There hadn’t been any sign of any Dark Sides lurking nearby, nor any indication as to how the three Light Sides had ended up here as cats, but Creativity still insisted on inspecting their surroundings. Logic was fine with letting him, and instead preferred to make his observations from the relative safety of the couch before expanding out to the room beyond. Morality, it seemed, was not too concerned about anything other than the fact that he was a cat, preferring to groom himself and bouncing around the couch cushions excitedly.

“My brother is behind this! I know he is! This foul trick has his name written all over it!” Creativity hisses. Interestingly enough, Logic can understand him perfectly despite the fact that Creativity is speaking in cat language, and Logic had not known cat language before this point.

And Logic has to disagree with his hypothesis that The Duke is behind this. The Duke may be chaotic and impulsive, but this ‘prank’ is far too harmless to be his style. They are not in any immediate danger despite being in unfamiliar territory, there is no trace of gore, nothing R-rated about any of this really. It’s Logic’s opinion that the perpetrator of this predicament is not Creativity’s ‘twin’.

But Logic isn’t about to tell Creativity that. Creativity will get there on his own, given time.

“Isn’t this cool, Logic?” Morality bounces. “We’re adorable, and so cuddly! Do you want to cuddle, Logic?”

“This is not fun, Morality!” Creativity chides from his position inspecting the coffee table. “We are in enemy territory! We could be attacked at any minute!”

“What’s going to attack cats as cute as us?” Morality asks, innocently.

A subtle clicking — somewhat reminiscent of someone walking in heels, but not quite — comes from the top of the stairs and Morality’s question seems to be answered as something comes their way.

Creativity strikes a protective stance against whatever is coming down the stairs. Logic, too, feels a bit of apprehension about whatever is coming their way as it clearly isn’t something walking on human legs, though it does sound like it is something that is walking down the stairs.

Morality clearly does not share his companions’ concerns as he skips past Creativity and bounds towards the stairs to greet whatever is coming down. Creativity hisses a warning at him, but it falls on deaf ears.

Morality makes it to the stairs and looks up to greet the thing coming down, but as soon as he sets eyes on it, his posture changes from excited to terrified.

“SPIDER!” He squeaks as he shoots back past Creativity and scrambles under the couch.

Spider? Logic thinks. How can a spider make such a loud noise?

His questions are answered a second later as a rather large, rather spidery form reaches the bottom of the stairs.

“Kitty?” It asks.

A second glance proves that it is not, in fact, a giant spider, but rather a young boy - maybe about five - that happens to have four rather large spider legs protruding from his back that he seems to be able to walk with. On his spider legs, the boy’s human legs dangle about a foot and a half off the ground, making his total height around five feet, shorter than any of them are in their regular forms, but significantly taller than them as cats.

Other than the four spider legs, and the six smaller black spider eyes underneath his regular human eyes, the boy looks about the same as Thomas did at that age, with a few differences here and there that every Side has, such as the fact that his hair is purple, and has heterochromia, making one eye green, and the other inhumanly purple. Either way, it’s clear that this boy is a Side. And a rather new Side at that.

Logic doesn’t remember another Side forming, but he supposes that if this Side started out in the Dark Side, Deceit likely wouldn’t have informed them of his existence.

“Kitty?” The boy asks again. He looks around the room and seems to catch sight of Logic and Creativity for the first time. “Thwee kitties!”

Despite the obvious excitement in his face, the boy’s voice stays calm and quiet, as if he’s making a conscious effort not to scare them. Interesting behavior for a child.

“Begone foul creature!” Creativity hisses at the new Side even though the boy can’t understand him.

Logic just watches him curiously. They don’t know who he is or what function he serves, but as he’s just a child, it’s unlikely that he is of any threat to the three of them, even in cat form.

The boy looks startled by Creativity’s hostilities, and seems to realize for the first time that he’s standing on four long spider legs rather than his two human ones.

“Sowwy,” he says softly as he slowly lowers himself onto his human legs and folds his spider legs up against his back. For a second, Logic thinks the legs will just rest against his back, but the legs actually fade all together, and a moment later, the extra eyes do too.

Curious. Logic knows that Deceit has snake scales that cover a large area of his skin, and The Duke has tentacles that can solidify into arms and legs when he wants to, but he doesn’t know of either of them being able to hide their animal traits completely. Perhaps it is unique to this Side.

Creativity continues to take an aggressive stance, so the boy carefully gives him a wide berth as he makes his way over to the couch.

“Stay away from them!” Creativity growls as the boy slowly peaks under the couch.

“I’m sowwy I scawed you, kitty,” the Side apologizes to Morality. “Cweativity says my spidew wegs are cweepy, and I know not evewyone wikes cweepy.”

“I have never seen this Side in my life!” Creativity huffs dramatically.

“I believe he means your brother,” Logic sighs. It comes out as an audible meow, drawing the boy’s attention to Logic, the only cat that doesn’t seem disturbed by his presence.

“Hewwo,” the boy says to Logic. The boy blinks once, slowly “I love you.”

Logic’s brain stutters at the admission. The boy had, of course, probably just learned somewhere that that was how to show affection to a cat, and didn’t not mean to say that he loved Logic, but still…

Logic returns the gesture. “I love you.”

“LOGIC!” Creativity yowls.

The boy ignores him in favor of extending his hand towards Logic. Logic flinches a little and the boy stops moving his hand. The hand is a few inches from Logic, palm down, close enough that Logic could easily stretch his head out to touch it, but far enough away to not be in his personal space.

After a moment, Logic stretches his neck out in order to sniff the proffered hand. The boy stays perfectly still, watching Logic carefully, hope shining in his eyes. Instincts take over and Logic licks the boy’s fingers before nuzzling his head against the hand. “I trust you.”

The boy gasps, delighted.

“LOGIC!” Creativity yowls again, and again, he is ignored.

“You’we a nice kitty, awen’t you?” The boy asks as he starts moving his fingers to scratch at Logic’s head.

Logic can’t help but move his head, trying to maximize the pleasant contact. “Please never stop petting me.”

Being a cat must be different than being a Side. Usually, Logic isn’t overly affectionate, and is often uncomfortable with the casual contact Morality and Creativity often initiate, but as a cat, Logic can’t seem to get enough contact.

“Oh!” The boy exclaims in shock, his fingers stutter over Logic’s head for a moment before returning to their previous rhythm. “Hewwo.”

Logic opens his eyes to find that Morality has left the protection of the bottom side of the couch in favor of sitting directly in the boy’s lap. The boy offers his free hand to Morality the same way he had with Logic, but Morality skips sniffing it and goes straight for headbutting his hand.

“I’m sorry I was scared of you, kiddo, you’re not scary.”

“Morality! Not you too!” Creativity laments. Logic honestly can’t see what issue Creativity could possibly have with the young Side. He gave fantastic scratchies, why would anyone have a problem with him?

Vaguely, Logic registers the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs, but he’s much too preoccupied with the boy petting him to really care.

“Halt foul snake!” Creativity hisses.

Logic flinches as he finally registers that a second Dark Side has entered the common room, but is quickly calmed and distracted by the boy continuing to pet him.

“Anxiety,” Deceit says, sounding a mixture of amused and concerned. “Where did you find these cats?”

“Mama! They was in the wiving woom when I came down!” The boy - Anxiety? - says happily. “These two is nice! That one’s mean. Can we keep them?”

Creativity huffs indignantly. “We’re not pets!”

Deceit chuckles. “You even want to keep the mean one?”

Anxiety nods seriously. “He’s theiw fwiend.” He says, as if that is reason enough to keep a cat that clearly doesn’t like him.

Deceit chuckles again, and somewhere in the back of Logic’s mind he realizes that he’s never seen Deceit be this genuinely nice to anyone, even The Duke.

“We can’t keep them until we try to find their owners, my little spiderling.” Anxiety’s face drops in disappointment.

“They have ownews?” He asks quietly, hands stilling.

“No, no, we’re all yours!” Morality purrs, headbutting Anxiety’s hand so he’ll continue petting them.

“MORALITY!” Creativity hisses. He’s moved fully under the coffee table in order to best protect himself against the two Dark Sides.

“They might,” Deceit answers gently, pulling one glove off and holding his naked hand up seriously. “I’ll go ask the neighbors after breakfast, but if the cats aren’t theirs then I promise you can keep them.”

“Yay!” Anxiety yells loudly, startling Logic for a moment. Morality doesn’t seem at all perturbed as he continues to push into Anxiety’s hand.

“What’s the shortstack cheering about?” The Duke asks as he suddenly appears by the television. “Did my brother bite the dust? Or maybe Thomas has finally decided to go to Walmart wearing nothing but a speedo!”

Creativity hisses at him.

“CATS!” The Duke gasps. “Ooh we can peel their skin off to see their muscles and internal organs and just peel them apart piece by piece until they’re just a kitty cat skeleton!”

Morality flinches at the idea.

“NOOOOO!” Anxiety screeches, suddenly pulling Logic and Morality as close to his chest as he can. “NONONONONONO!”

It takes Logic perhaps a little too long to realize that Anxiety, true to his name, is having an anxiety attack, but his air is rather restricted at the moment so you can’t really blame him.

Anxiety’s breathing is shallow, and labored as he inhales and exhales around his screams; black tears run down his face, and a few drip onto Logic’s head, probably staining his cream fur gray; and he’s shaking violently and uncontrollably. And being in his death grip, Logic is quite uncomfortable, and Morality seems to be panicking almost as much as Anxiety is.

“NONONONONONONO!”

“Fix this!” Deceit hisses at Dark Creativity.

Dark Creativity seems to stumble over himself for a second before deciding on a course of action. He slides to the ground in front of Anxiety, which only causes the young Side to grip the cats tighter.

“Hey, uh, Anxy?” He asks, uncharacteristically soft for him. “I was just joking, I’m not gonna hurt the cats, I swear.”

“You’re- you’re not?” Anxiety sniffles, tears never slowing, but his breathing evens out a little bit.

“I’m not,” The Duke promises.

“Pink pwomise?” Anxiety asks, tears finally stopping.

“Double pinky promise!” The Duke declares, holding out his hand that seems to have two pinky fingers on it. Logic’s pretty sure the hand only had one pinky finger a moment ago.

Anxiety giggles and lets go of Logic so that he can wrap one of his pinkies around both of The Duke’s. “No take backs.”

“None at all, else penalty of death!” The Duke crows happily. “So do the cats have names?”

“He can’t name the cats until we figure out where they came from!” Deceit scolds from the kitchen where he’s preparing breakfast. “We don’t want him to get too attached!”

“Of course not!” The Duke yells back before dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But do they have names?”

Anxiety giggles and answers just as quietly. “This one is Wogan!” He says, running a hand from Logic’s head all the way down his body.

Logic blinks slowly, then closes his eyes and pushes his head into Anxiety’s hand. “This is acceptable.”

“This one is Patton!”

“I love it, kiddo!” Morality — Patton — purrs even harder than he already had been.

“And that one's Woman!” The Duke turns to look at the Persian cat underneath the coffee table. Creativity hisses as soon as The Duke makes eye contact.

“Not very friendly is he?” The Duke asks. “I’m not allowed to hurt him either?”

“Nope!” Anxiety declares happily.

“Breakfast!” Deceit calls from the kitchen. “Don’t bring the cats to the table!”

Anxiety pouts, but he does as the older Side instructs and leaves Patton and Logan on the couch. “I’ll be wight back.”

“Take your time, kiddo! Eating a healthy breakfast is important!” Patton meows after him.

“Are you two insane!?” Roman hisses as soon as Anxiety and The Duke are gone. “We aren’t pets! We can’t just live here as his cats forever!”

“I believe Roman is right,” Logan concedes. “We cannot fulfill our functions in this manor, which would be very detrimental to Thomas.”

“But Anxiety loves us,” Patton pouts at the same time Roman hisses “that’s not my name!”

“Regardless of Anxiety’s feelings, we must put Thomas’s well-being first. It is our job, after all,” Even as Logan says it, a funny feeling fills his stomach. He hypothesizes the source to be guilt over taking away the cats that Anxiety so clearly loves, but there’s nothing he can do. They are Sides, not cats, and they have functions they must maintain to keep Thomas alive and happy, and Thomas is always their first priority.

“But Anxiety will be so sad if we just disappear,” Patton continues to protest, but Logan can see in his eyes that he knows Logan is right.

“Who cares what Anxiety thinks?” Roman snorts. “He’s not our friend! He is one of them, a bad guy. He may be a child now, but anxiety is a bad thing. It ruins creative whimsy, prevents people from going after opportunities, and is an all around bummer! We shouldn’t be nice to the source of misery!”

Patton begins to cry in earnest now, loud pathetic mewls leaving his mouth as he does.

“-I’ll go check.” Someone says from the dining room.

“Someone is coming,” Logan warns, causing Roman to tense, but Patton doesn’t stop crying.

“What’s wrong, kitty?” Deceit walks into the room, crouching carefully in front of the couch.

Roman hisses and darts back under the coffee table.

“Is he mean to you?” Deceit rubs a gloved finger against Patton’s head comfortingly. “Where did you come from, hmm? The imagination? Surely you’re not Creativity’s creations, but maybe the other Creativity? Or do the Light Sides keep cats now?”

Deceit continues to rub at Patton’s head, and eventually, the moral Side relaxes into the touch.

“I’ll have to give you back, won’t I? The Light Sides hate us enough without us stealing their cats… Anxiety is going to be so disappointed.” Deceit sighs, pushing himself up into standing position. “It can totally be helped, I suppose. I can definitely conjure convincingly lifelike cats, and Creativity has a knack for creating… child-friendly creatures.”

Deceit continues to mutter to himself as he makes his way back to the breakfast table with the other Dark Sides.

“At least he’s taking us back to our side,” Roman grumbles as Deceit walks away.

“There is still the problem that when he goes to the Light Side, he will not find anyone,” Logan points out as he begins grooming himself, stopping a moment later to ponder that instinct.

“I don’t want to go!” Patton whines.

“I am sorry, Patton,” Logan apologizes. He decides to just give into his instincts and begins grooming Patton instead. “But the best thing for Thomas is for us to be back in our proper place, in our proper forms.”

“Can I go wiff you to the Wight Side?” Anxiety asks, alerting the Light Sides to the approaching Dark Sides.

“I’m sorry, Anxiety,” Deceit says. “But I would prefer you not meet them yet.”

“Why?” Anxiety asks. He returns to his previous seat by the couch, and absentmindedly starts petting Patton when the Moral Side climbs back into his lap.

“Because the neighbors can be…” Deceit pauses to consider his next words.

Logan finds himself very curious to see what Deceit thinks of them. He’s never thought about it before. He views Deceit as a necessary attribute, but as a Side, Logan finds him to be overly dramatic and difficult to deal with. He views The Duke as a harmless nuisance as the Side has no real control over Thomas’s actions, only some thoughts, but he knows that Patton and Roman view him much more harshly. He’s never stopped to consider how the Dark Sides view them in return.

“...mean,” Deceit finally says.

Patton visibly deflates, no doubt hurt that he hasn’t been as nice to the Dark Sides as he could have been.

“SLANDER!” Roman hisses.

“Oh,” Anxiety says quietly. He stares at Patton, still seated in his lap, before turning back to the older Side. “Then why awe we giving them theiw cats back?”

“Don’t poke sleeping bears,” is all Deceit says.

“Always poke sleeping bears!” The Duke insists. “They get super mad and try to bite your hand off! It’s fun!”

Anxiety stares at The Duke with a mixture of fear and nausea.

“Thank you, Creativity,” Deceit drawls. “That was very helpful.”

“Do the Wight Sides bite?” Anxiety demands nervously, looking frantically between the two older Sides.

“Only when they’re being k-”

Deceit snaps and one of The Dukes hands flies up to cover his mouth, effectively cutting off whatever he was about to say.

“No, darling,” he sits on the ground and opens his arms. Anxiety considers the offer for a moment before removing Patton from his lap and snuggling up as close to Deceit as he can. “It was a figure of speech. The Light Sides do not bite.”

“But they’we mean,” Anxiety says quietly.

Deceit suddenly has four more arms that he wraps around Anxiety.

Logan startles. He hadn’t realized that Deceit had six arms. Perhaps he should try spending more time with the Dark Sides as there were clearly several things about them that he was unaware of.

“So am I,” Deceit hums. Personally, Logan isn’t sure how that is supposed to be reassuring, but Anxiety seems to think it is.

“You’ww be back?”

“Of course, spiderling.”

“Okay,” Anxiety whispers. He pulls away from the hug and immediately runs upstairs, never looking back at the cats.

Deceit watches him go with a sigh. “Why did you have to come here?” He asks the cats rhetorically.

“Sorry,” Patton tries to say, but Deceit only hears a meow.

Deceit sighs again before scooping Patton up with one pair of hands. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

He grabs Logan with a second pair of hands, and finally grabs Roman with the third pair. Roman struggles, but Deceit keeps a tight grip on him.

Logan is smarter than Roman. While Roman struggles and ensures that Deceit has a tight grip on him, Logan fully allows Deceit to carry him, lulling the lying Side into a false sense of security. As soon as Deceit enters the Light Side of the Mindscape, Logan makes his move.

With his cat agility and flexibility, he pushes off of Deceits chest, easily breaking the unsuspecting Dark Side’s hold, and darts towards the stairs as quickly as he can, making it to the top before Deceit finally registers what had just happened and starts yelling after him.

“What the- GET BACK HERE!”

Logan ignores him as he runs for his room, theorizing that he’ll be able to change himself back into his own domain.

The door gives him slight pause as he realizes that he’s unable to open it — only mentally though, physically, he’s still running straight towards it. Luckily, the door responds to him, and a cat-flap that he’s quite sure has never been there before opens allowing him entrance.

Almost immediately, Logan is back in his proper form, necktie and all. Just as I suspected.

After a quick look in the mirror to make sure that he is fully presentable, Logan sinks out to the common room where he can still hear Deceit yelling after him.

“Deceit,” Logan appears behind Deceit, causing the lying Side to startle, and involuntary hiss escaping his lips as he quickly spins to face the newcomer.

Logan makes sure to give him a suitably surprised yet reserved look, as if he had been unaware that Deceit was in the common room.

Roman takes advantage of Deceit’s shock to escape his grasp as Logan had earlier. Roman runs for the stairs, but this time, Deceit just lets him, choosing to focus on Logan instead.

The Dark Side is quick to retract his extra arms, and mask his surprise with indifference, and Logan politely doesn’t mention either.

“We didn’t find these on our Side and we weren’t wondering if they were yours,” Deceit sneers, holding Patton out towards Logan as if the cat disgusted him, though Logan is well aware of the lie.

“They are, thank you,” Logan says, accepting Patton from Deceit. “Creativity and Morality have been searching for them in the imagination all day.”

Patton squirms in Logan’s arms until Logan allows him to climb onto his shoulder.

Deceit’s eyes narrow, and Logan realizes, a little too late, that Deceit can tell when someone’s lying. “There should have been three cats.”

“The third cat didn’t run away as soon as we got here, and isn’t lurking around here somewhere,” Deceit answers, mercifully letting the lie go

“Well thank you for returning them, Deceit, it was very decent of you,” Logan says. He thinks the comment is innocuous, but Deceit immediately goes on the defensive.

“Right, because the bessst we can do is desssssscent,” he hisses, his snake features becoming more pronounced with his aggravation. “Heaven forbid we ever do anything nisssssce.”

“I did not mean-”

“Goodbye, Logic. It’sss been sssso much fun.” Deceit sinks out before Logan can respond.

“I suppose that that did not go as well as I had hoped,” Logan says to Patton.

Patton meows and licks Logan’s nose.

Logan blinks. “You are aware that I know that you are not a cat, correct?”

Patton meows again.

“Is he gone?” Roman calls as he comes bounding down the stairs, back to his normal self.

“Yes, Roman, Deceit has left.”

“Okay, first of all Teach, just because Anxiety called me that doesn’t mean it’s my name. Second of all…”

Patton jumps off Logan's shoulder and makes his way to his room, at a slower pace than either of the others had gone.

He has so much to do.

~~~

Deceit does his best to school his features before returning to the Dark Sides’ common room. It would do no good for Anxiety to see him upset. He doesn’t want Anxiety to be afraid of the Light Sides, doesn’t want them to have that power over him already.

Once he’s got his face under control, he enters the common room. He’s greeted by the sight of Creativity sitting criss cross on the couch, Anxiety in his lap. Both of them are clearly waiting for him.

Anxiety’s eyes fill with tears as soon as he sees Deceit some back without the cats. Creativity frowns.

“They belonged to the boring Sides?” Creativity asks with a pout.

Deceit nods. He makes his way over to the couch to pick up the now sobbing Anxiety from Creativity’s lap.

“I’m sorry, spiderling.” Deceit says, wrapping all six arms around the child.

Anxiety wraps his arms around Deceits neck, and seconds later, four spider legs wrap around the rest of him.

Hours later, after Anxiety has finally settled down for his nap, and Creativity has gone to the imagination to vent his anger at hapless figments, there’s a knock at the door.

Deceit stares at the door for a moment in shock. No one’s ever knocked before. No one visits them. The Light Sides hate them, and even if they did want to visit, they’d never deign to knock.

Another knock.

Deceit shakes himself out of his thoughts to answer the door.

It’s Morality. He gives Deceit a wide and genuine grin, while hiding something behind his back.

“Hi Deceit!” He greets, bouncing on his toes with barely contained excitement.

“Morality, I was definitely expecting you.” Deceit says, feinting nonchalantness.

“I wanted to thank you for bringing the cats back! So I made you something!”

“Yes I obviously require payment for being nice, thank you.” Deceit rolls his eyes, he doesn’t need anything from them, and honestly, he doesn’t want anything from them. He’d prefer to just move on from this debacle and never think about it again.

“It’s not payment,” Morality grins like Deceit had been telling a joke. “It’s a gift! For you! Because you’re paw-sitively purrrrr-fect!”

Morality shoves a cat-shaped pillow in Deceit’s face, and all he can do is blink at it stupidly.

“I made you three!” Morality continues. “One for each cat!”

Deceit takes the proffered pillow — gray with bright blue eyes, like the nice cat — and Morality pulls out two more pillows that resemble the other two cats.

“That’s- um…” For once, Deceit’s silver tongue is failing him. He has no idea what to say.

“Mama?”

Not now, Deceit begs internally. Why does Anxiety have to choose now to wake up?

Anxiety approaches normally, but Deceit can tell the second he sees Morality, because he quickly ducks behind Deceit’s legs.

“Hey, kiddo,” Morality says gently as he lowers himself to his knees so that he’s level with the young Side. “I just wanted to thank your mama for returning my cats earlier. I cat tell you how happy I was to have them back, so as a thank you, I made these purr-fect pillows, would you like one?”

“That’s the same joke twice,” Deceit mutters, but Morality ignores him.

Morality holds out the Siamese pillow to Anxiety. Anxiety looks up at Deceit, and Deceit — unable to see how this could possibly be a trap — nods.

Anxiety quickly snatches the pillow from Morality and hugs it close to his chest.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

Morality smiles. “No problem, kiddo. It’s the fleece I can do.”

Anxiety lets out a giggle, and Morality’s grin grows

“A fan of jokes I see! Well then, why did the chicken cross the road?”

“Why?” Anxiety asks quietly, voice muffled slightly by the pillow.

“To get to the other Sides!” Anxiety stares blankly at him, and Deceit smirks at the failed joke. “No? How about, what’s a ghost’s favorite fruit?”

“What?”

“Boo-berries!”

That one gets another giggle

Morality grins and holds out the third pillow. “You can have this one, too, if you want it.”

Anxiety doesn’t even look at Deceit for approval this time before he grabs pillow from Morality and attempts to hold both as close to his chest as possible.

“Anxiety,” Deceit says as Morality straightens up. “Why don’t you go show Creativity your new pillows?”

“Okay!” The kid cheers, taking off without another word, two cat pillows in tow.

“Thank you, Morality,” Deceit says once Anxiety is gone. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to,” Morality smiles. “I wanted to! So I did.”

“I will admit, I’m not sure what to do when receiving a gift,” Deceit admits, surprised at his own honestly.

“Well I’ll just have to fix that, won’t I?” Morality says brightly. He pulls Deceit into a tight hug, but lets go before he can even begin to process that. “Bye Dee! I’ll see you later!”

And then he’s gone. Leaving Deceit standing in the doorway clutching a soft gray cat pillow.

Fuck, I’m GAY!

——End——

Taglist (if you voted B then you’re tagged)

@queen-of-all-things-snuggly

@pixelated-pineapple

@selenechris

@angelofthedark2005

@remus-sanders-is-amazing

@quietmob

@the-bones-fall

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

Text

Light the Pyres |Burn| - SUNGYOON

This chapter hurt so much I'm really sorry

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, implied death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 7.9k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Rise >> Burn

Golden Child Masterlist

If times were normal, three weeks stuck in the same space with anyone but Daeyeol or your mother would probably drive you insane. Only seeing one other person’s face for days after days on end? You’d almost rather be alone.

But whether it be because you have shared memories and common grief or simply because you’re compatible human beings, Sungyoon isn’t difficult to live with, not in the slightest. You don’t fight over food or water or living in the same space. His voice doesn’t grate on your nerves, even after a week of him being the only person you can talk to. He isn’t almost pleasant company anymore – he’s just pleasant.

Maybe even a little more than that.

Over one, two, then three weeks, you come apart to each other, exposing small bits of yourselves from beneath threads frayed by the apocalypse. Sungyoon craves coffee more than anything in the world. He used to be the fastest runner on his high school track team. He tells you his favorite color is black, and just to keep the conversation going you decide that black isn’t a real color since it’s technically the absence of all color, which sparks a debate that maybe grows a little too loud every once in a while but by the end, you’re laughing at Sungyoon’s indignant expression that slowly cracks into a smile.

Laughing. Not smirking. At something not morbid or deadly.

It feels almost surreal, being able to smile at a topic so inane.

“What’s your credibility, huh?” Sungyoon asks when you’ve stopped laughing, having given into a grudging smile himself. It makes his face look sweeter, gentler. “What makes you an expert on colors or the absence of them?”

“I did mechanical engineering in university,” you say, leaning back against the wall. Memories threaten to flood your mind but you keep them at bay, closing your eyes against the onslaught. “Took a few chemistry classes as a requirement. We learned about colors at some point.” You open your eyes and shrug. “It was kind of interesting, but not enough for me to change my major.”

“Mechanical engineering,” Sungyoon echoes, staring up at the ceiling. You kind of have to give it to him – you might be bored sitting around in this empty house sometimes, but he’s confined to the bed if he isn’t using the bathroom and he hasn’t complained yet. “That’s cool. Is that how you got that car to work before?”

“Yeah.” You swallow, a slightly bitter taste in your mouth at the memories of your almost finished second degree. “Mom was a mechanic. I grew up around cars and machines. I was almost done with my master’s when…”

When the apocalypse began and I started out across the country to find my mom.

From Sungyoon’s silence, you gather that he understands what you haven’t said. He also seems to understand you don’t want to talk about it and thankfully changes the topic. “I did sports medicine,” he says. “And I minored in music.”

You sit up. “Music? What did you play?”

“I can play a little piano, but I mostly sing – sang,” he corrects himself, a faraway look coming into his eyes.

You don’t miss the switch from present to past tense. Mood dampened, you both sit in silence for a moment, mourning the loss of your lives before they’d barely begun.

“I used to play piano,” you finally say, trying to salvage the conversation. “I wonder if it’s still at home,” you mumble, more to yourself than anybody.

“If it’s any consolation, people aren’t really looking for valuables at a time like this.” Sungyoon gives you a lopsided smile. “Assuming… well, even if people have broken in, I don’t think the piano would be the first thing they were looking for.”

You know Sungyoon means to comfort you, but the implication that anything happened to your house, to your home makes your heart stutter. It’s not a strange thing, people breaking into houses. Oftentimes they’re already open, the occupants either dead or fled.

But it’s your house, your home, and the thought that anything might’ve happened to it with your mom there flips your stomach.

Hypocrite. You’re sitting in one of those stolen homes right now, but you have a problem with people sitting in yours.

“Y/N?”

You look over to see Sungyoon staring back, concern in his expression. Swallowing, you try to smile. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing,” he says. “You just went quiet for a bit.” He raises an eyebrow. “Thoughts?”

What do you say? Do you tell Sungyoon what you’re really thinking? Do you tell him you’re terrified of coming home to a house that’s been ransacked and laid bare? Do you tell him you’re scared of finding your mom in an empty home with nothing around her left, that you’re even more scared of finding an empty home with no mother inside?

You curve your lips, trusting Sungyoon won’t ask even if he sees that the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “No,” you lie. “It’s nothing. So.” You look at him, your smile turning a little more genuine. “You sing?”

. . . . .

He does. He sings.

Beautifully.

His voice breaks sometimes, of course. Weeks of forced silence have taken tolls on both of your throats, and even speaking hurts if you talk too long. But the longer he sings, the longer his song fills your ears, the stronger his voice grows, rich and powerful even in his hushed melodies. It wraps around you like a blanket or a shawl, warming your skin in a way even the sun can’t.

When he first spoke to you so many weeks ago, told you not to hurt yourself by kicking the car down that one horrible day, you thought he could be a singer, thought that his voice was smooth, clear. Like Daeyeol’s. You hated it then, when it only reminded you of your best friend and what he was no longer around to do, what you had lost trying to save this boy with a nice voice who didn’t deserve it.

You still hear hints of Daeyeol’s clarity in Sungyoon’s quiet song. Even more obvious is the love of music in Sungyoon’s eyes that perfectly matches that of your dead friend. The few times Daeyeol hummed old songs to get you to sleep when the sun was still up, he always wore that look in his eyes. It fit him like a second skin, that soft love for music dancing in his expression, and you would try to keep that look in mind as he soothed you into sleep. It brought you both back to better times, when death didn’t lurk around every corner.

It hurts a little to see this look in Sungyoon’s face, for sure, but it also soothes another pain, the pain of knowing that you’ll never see Daeyeol ever again until it’s your turn to go. Because even though you’ll never gaze on his face again during your time on this earth, you’ll still see bits of him, hear parts of him in Sungyoon’s eyes and voice. Where that reminder might’ve felt like a stab in the chest before, it now smooths a blanket over your body, wrapping you in the knowledge that Daeyeol will always live with you, in your memories and in Sungyoon’s voice.

Sungyoon doesn’t ask why you’re crying when he finishes his song, even though he can definitely see you wiping away tears from your perch at the foot of his bed. You don’t make an effort to hide it, really – you’ve done worse things in front of him than cry, and besides, he looks a little teary himself. For a moment, you only sit in your respective positions, trying to rein in your tears until he breaks the silence again.

“That was my sister’s favorite song,” he whispers. “She played it so much that Bomin once threatened to delete it off of her playlist.”

You swallow at the mention of his sister and her boyfriend, guilt snaking its way up your chest. It’s a little easier to ignore right now, though, especially when you realize that this is the first time Sungyoon’s put a name to either of the two people you shot. “Bomin was her boyfriend?” you ask.

He nods. “I never said?”

As you shake your head, it only just occurs to you how little you know of Sungyoon’s family. You haven’t said that much – he knows about your mom and Daeyeol, but little of anyone else – but even that seems like a lot compared to what little he has (more like hasn’t) said about his family. You don’t even know his sister’s name.

You’re not even sure you want to. Putting a name to dead faces, faces that you shot bullets through…

Swallowing, you shake your head again, this time more trying to clear your head than say no. “No, you never mentioned it.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Bomin was Sumin’s boyfriend. Sumin was my sister.”

Bomin. Sumin. The addition of two names to your repertoire (and the past tense for Bomin) nearly makes your head spin. Bomin with dyed, pale hair, Sumin with dark. Bomin with chiseled, handsome features marred by white skin and dark veins. Sumin with a round, soft face and eyes that probably would’ve looked lovely with a smile had they not been shrunken with disease.

You didn’t know either of them at all, which just makes the fact that you put a bullet through each of their heads even worse.

In fact, you pressured Sungyoon into letting you do it.

Both of you agreed not to apologize anymore. But the only words hanging on the tip of your tongue consist of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sungyoon, I’m sorry –

“It wasn’t your fault.”

You blink. “What?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sungyoon’s eyes bore into yours softly, understanding and reproachful all at once. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? Bomin and Sumin.”

Despite everything, a wry little smile curls the corner of your mouth. “Was it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who saw what happened.” Sungyoon shifts on the bed, sitting up against the wall. “You didn’t kill them, Y/N. The zombies did.”

“See, I know that.” You stare at your hands, the smile wiped from your lips. “Logically. But –”

“Your brain won’t let you,” Sungyoon finishes. “Yeah, I know. It’s the same with me and… you know.” He leans forward, fixing your gaze with his. “So I’ll keep saying it until your brain finally figures it out. Okay?”

The tears try to come again, but this time, you hold them back. “Same for you,” you manage, hoping the wobble in your voice isn’t as prominent as it feels to you. “It wasn’t your fault. It never was. And I’ll keep saying that until you know it too.”

Sungyoon turns away. You don’t try to follow his gaze, to probe at his expression. You don’t need to.

It’s enough, this understanding that hangs quiet in the air.

. . . . .

On week three, when Sungyoon’s finally started to limp around the house, Lady Luck puts you in her good graces and you find a source of transportation far better than your legs. You don’t thank her too much, though, since you literally found the two bikes after being chased twice around the same building by a small, though vicious group of zombies.

Even then, a little bit of excitement sparks in your still-racing heart when you pedal up to the front of the house and dump the first bike indoors. Sungyoon pokes his head out through the bedroom at your call.

You grin. “Remember how to ride a bike?”

It takes a second dangerous trip to bring the other one back but you manage, since Sungyoon is still slow on his feet. When Sungyoon feels ready to try it out, you watch closely as he slings himself onto the cracked seat, ready to catch him if he falls.

He does, twice. But the third time, he actually starts wobbling up and down the front of the house, pedaling slowly but steadily.

A cry almost escapes your throat when he turns around on the street, pedaling back with sparkling eyes and lips curving in a rare smile of success. But though you stifle the sound, you can’t help but run up and hug him when he dismounts, one hand holding the bike steady as you wrap the other around his chest.

Sungyoon’s breath catches. The little gasp in his throat reminds you of what you’re doing, that he might be uncomfortable, and you go to apologize and pull away, insides curdling with embarrassment.

But then he wraps both of his arms around you, bringing you in closer with a gentle, uncertain grip, hands locked loosely at your waist. And it’s your turn to catch your breath at the subtle warmth of Sungyoon’s thin body, a warmth more comforting than even the rays of afternoon sun beginning to set in the sky.

Human touch. Human comfort. Human warmth. You bury yourself in Sungyoon and he buries himself in you, earlier excitement forgotten in favor of the comforting warmth of the other’s touch.

You don’t say anything about it, even after you let go. You only part naturally, smiling at each other as your arms fall to your sides before finally reentering the house. Sungyoon goes back to lying on the little couch, resting his leg, while you carefully stand the bike by the door and go to find something to eat. Conversation is quiet. Not awkward, not stilted, just quiet. You still don’t mention the hug.

But later that night, after you’ve barricaded the door and freshened up as best you can, Sungyoon is still sitting up in the bedroom. You pause in the doorway. “Sungyoon?”

“It isn’t comfortable on the floor, is it?” he asks, voice strangely stilted. He doesn’t wait for an answer before rushing on. “Come up here. It’ll be easier on your back.”

It takes several moments to process his words before you start protesting, saying the floor isn’t that bad and that you read something about how sleeping on hard surfaces is actually better for your back, but your voice dies away when Sungyoon holds out his arms in the dark, shifting to make room for you on the threadbare mattress.

Something about this feels like it should be wrong. Taking comfort in someone who isn’t Daeyeol or your mom or even one of the friends you left behind, probably never to see any of them ever again. You’ve only known Sungyoon for a matter of weeks. Daeyeol you knew for over twenty years. Your mom, even longer.

And now you’re taking comfort in someone when none of them are around to experience it themselves. Guilt simmers in your chest.

But walking into Sungyoon’s arms sweeps it away.

His touch is just as soft and unsure as it was earlier under the afternoon sun, but if anything, it feels warmer in the dark. And as you gain a little courage, letting him curl closer into you as your breaths begin to even from exhaustion, the touch becomes a little more certain, a little firmer and stronger as he loosens against your body.

One brave hand reaches up, tangles briefly through Sungyoon’s hair. “Goodnight,” you whisper.

He squeezes you once, gently. “Goodnight.”

. . . . .

The fourth week has passed by the time Sungyoon walks without a limp. You really would have wanted to go the first day he could put weight on his leg, but if you had, you wouldn’t have found the bikes. And considering the fact that you only have two bullets left, you’re thankful for a method of quick escape.

“We need to get out of the city,” you say, swinging one leg over your bike. “There are too many zombies here. Just follow me, I think I’ve mapped out how to get to the highway. It’ll probably be smoother from there.”

Sungyoon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

Your heart pounds as you pedal down the streets, quickly, quietly. The rusty bikes creak a little under your weight and with every weird noise you tense, pedaling faster, but street after street, you and Sungyoon ride without too much trouble.

Until you turn a corner and the faint sound of dead groans echoes from farther down the street.

Both of you stop. Sungyoon looks over. “Is there another way?”

“I mean, probably.” You swallow. “But they’re in the direction of the highway and regardless, we’ll have to go past. I don’t… I’m not sure…”

The groans grow louder.

“Let’s see if we can loop around,” you decide, trying to picture the general layout of buildings. “Just… be ready to ride fast.”

Sungyoon almost smirks. “That wasn’t a given?”

You hit him, even as you stifle a smile. But that smile disappears quickly as you ride closer and closer to the sounds of groans.

The first zombie lurches out from behind a collapsed home. It stumbles over the sidewalk, clawing forward, but you and Sungyoon move too fast and leave it quickly behind.

But then a second pops out in the distance. And a third.

Behind you, Sungyoon mutters a curse. You don’t blame him. Much worse words are running through your mind. “Through the cars,” you hiss, weaving between several vehicles stranded on the road. “Harder for them to get us.”

The sound of limbs slapping against metal and glass makes you want to hurl. Groans and shrieks echo off the sides of the cars, overpowering the creaking of your bike and filling your ears with their sickening sound. You pedal fast, fast, faster, swerving between a last car into open road –

Sungyoon races past, surpassing you as a zombie just misses grabbing the wheel of his bike. You pedal harder to catch up, staring straight ahead towards the entrance of the highway that’s finally in sight.

Something brushes your arm. You shriek, almost tipping off balance as dead white fingers flash in your peripherals, but a backwards glance from Sungyoon forces you to stay upright and you pedal forward with a last rush of speed, rolling onto a smooth, zombie-free road.

You ride for what feels like hours until you have to call it quits. Stumbling behind an abandoned truck, you collapse in the shade, legs shaking with exertion and adrenaline. Sungyoon follows quickly, dropping his bike onto the asphalt to sit next to you.

For a moment, you only sit in silence, panting under the hot sun.

Then you heave a shaky breath and start to laugh.

It starts out as a gasp, really. That first breath doesn’t fully go out the way you want it to and you wheeze a gasp, then another, and another and another until your wheezes turn into breathless laughter that treads the line of hysteria but then Sungyoon is starting to laugh too and all you can do is revel in the fact that you can laugh, snort, giggle because you’re alive. You made it out of that infested city alive, alive despite that horde at the end, and God, now you’re trembling because even though you’ve had close encounters with the undead before, you can still feel cold, peeling skin just dragging against your shirt –

You start crying.

Adrenaline seeps out of your body like blood from a wound. Your stomach hurts from laughing. Your eyes ache with tears. You keep feeling that feather light, deathly cold touch brushing your arm, almost like a wisp of wind curling against your skin but so much colder, like ice freezing your veins even under the burning sun.

Cold. Cold. Cold. And no one, not Daeyeol, not your mother, no one to help you out of this icy sun –

Sungyoon’s shaking arms wrap around you, and you remember what it feels like to be warm again.

You grip him tight, tight, tighter, holding onto this last piece of human life. Everyone else you know is dead or probably dead and only Sungyoon is a constant, still here and alive despite the fact that you could’ve split up all those weeks ago.

Until the day you die, you’ll be grateful you chose not to.

He holds you and you hold him until both of you finally stop trembling in the hot shade of the truck, but even then, you latch on just a little bit longer, memorizing the weight of his thin body pressed against yours. Hunger has hollowed his skin and yours, eaten away the muscle that used to cushion your bones, but Sungyoon’s arms still hold a fragile strength that slowly bleeds into you, giving you the courage to wipe away the tears.

That night, after hours of riding on quiet roads, no silent, tentative question hangs in the air like it always has when Sungyoon slumps against your sitting figure, head falling into your lap as you fight to keep your eyes open for first watch. Without hesitation, you tangle your fingers through his curly hair, soothing him into sleep.

Sungyoon is your warmth, just as you are his. Reminders to each other that even in this blackened world of death and ashes, both of you are still alive.

. . . . .

The closer you get to home, the harder sleep comes. You don’t know why. It should be the opposite, right? You’re closer to your goal. Closer to your mom.

But that also means you’re closer to uncertainty. Closer to the Schrodinger’s cat-type limbo where you don’t know whether or not your mom is still alive. Only with Schrodinger’s cat, there’s an exactly fifty percent chance that the animal is dead. Or so you think. It’s been some time since you had time to think about quantum mechanics.

Doesn’t matter. Odds are now, the scale’s been tipped a little further in that direction.

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s dead.

Scratch that. You kind of know what you’ll do. Scream. Cry, probably. Either that or just go silent.

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s just disappeared.

Because then there’s Schrodinger’s cat again, constantly hovering between life and death. Knowing at least gives you facts – you’ll be certain as to whether she’s dead or alive.

Not knowing will rip you apart.

Sungyoon decides it’s enough when you wake up the third time during his second watch, chest heaving from nightmares where you return home alone and there’s no one. Not him, not your mom, not even a single zombie. There’s no blood on the floor or anything to indicate struggle. The house is perfect, just as you left it when you went back to university the last time.

But it’s empty. Cold.

And only silence answers your calls.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sungyoon’s tone is softer than his sharp words. He gently grips your shoulders, pulling you up in the darkness. “What’s wrong? What are you dreaming of?”

You shiver even in his hold, remembering the chill of the empty house, the choking silence that greeted your calls. How do you begin to describe that, the fear of not knowing whether or not your mother is alive?

Then it hits you.

Sungyoon will understand. He has to. He walked back to a zombie infested city on an injured leg to find his sister and her boyfriend, Sumin and Bomin, all the while not knowing if they were alive or dead.

“What if she’s not there?”

His grip slackens. “What?”

You swallow. “What if my mom isn’t there?”

For a long moment, both of you stay silent. In the dark, you can’t even make out the expression on Sungyoon’s face.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “What will you do?”

Fear ices your throat. You can’t speak. What will you do? If it turns out you came all this way, across an entire country, for nothing?

“What did you do?” you manage once it feels like your vocal cords have thawed. “When you went back and…?” A wince of guilt and shame keeps you from saying more.

Sungyoon falls quiet. You recognize this silence not as brooding, not as angry, but thinking. Contemplative. It eases the tightness in your chest.

“It felt like everything was lost to me,” he finally says. “They were all I had left. When it finally hit me that they were gone…” He shakes his head. “But that’s not what you meant, right? You’re asking about before. When I didn’t know.”

You nod, curling closer into him. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” Sungyoon says. “Honestly, I don’t know how I dealt with it. All I know is that it was eating at me so much that I had to go back and find out myself. So I was an idiot.”

There’s a little smile in his voice, a twitch of the lips that you can hear in his last few words. Your mouth almost curves, too. “But what if we go back and I still don’t know?” you ask. “What if she’s just… gone?”

“It’ll be your choice whether or not you want to leave it at that or keep looking,” Sungyoon answers after a pause. “I can’t make the decision for you. But…”

You look up. “But?”

“You know what kept me going after all of that?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “The fact that you offered to let me come with you, despite what had happened. It was the fact that someone, more or less a stranger, gave me a place with them.”

“Really? I honestly thought you were going to laugh in my face as soon as I said it,” you admit. “I’d just… done that, and a few hours later, I was asking you to walk across an entire country with me.” You wince. “Not exactly bonding material.”

“I won’t lie, I kind of considered it.” Sungyoon seems to shrug in the darkness. “But even then, I knew you weren’t evil, regardless of what happened. You still lost a friend. You were still trying to stay alive. And when you talked about your mom…” He sighs. “What I’m saying is you were there for me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens softly. “And whatever happens when we get to your home, I’ll still be there for you.”

The lump in your throat refuses to let you speak, so you only sink further into Sungyoon’s body, trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape your eyes. He seems to understand. His fingers rise and card through your hair, stroking smooth against your scalp.

If this is how Daeyeol felt every time you did this when he was sick, you now understand why he asked for head pats whenever he wasn’t doing well. It soothes you, even if one or two tears do make their way down your face at the thought of your best friend.

Fuck. You close your eyes. Daeyeol would have found a good friend in Sungyoon, you’re sure. Your mom would probably love him too. More than anything, you wish they were here.

But you still have someone. You have Sungyoon. You have someone you trust, someone you rely on, someone you can hold close at times like this when you start to spiral and can’t force yourself out of your mind.

You’d like to say that Sungyoon feels the same.

“Is that okay?” Sungyoon asks softly, breaking into your thoughts. His fingers keep stroking your hair gently, softly.

Your eyes are starting to close again, weighed down by sleep. Nightmares might be waiting, but Sungyoon’s words and warmth make you think they might stay at bay. You nod against his chest. “Yes,” you murmur. “More than okay.”

“Good.” His hands don’t stop. “Now sleep. There are only a few hours before dawn.”

You don’t need to be told twice, only curl further into him and shut your eyes. As sleep finally begins to roll over you in waves, you sigh. “Thank you,” you whisper.

His breath stirs your hair. “For what?”

A small smile curves your lips.

“For being here.”

. . . . .

The buildings start looking familiar two weeks and five zombie attacks later. There are more undead here, probably because you’re closer to the site of the explosion. Even though you’re still several states away, the virus spread more quickly here than on the other side of the country.

At some point after the third attack, you try to apologize while patching up several scrapes on Sungyoon’s arms. There isn’t even time to stay – you need to keep riding, find a place to take shelter for the night before zombies find you. He doesn’t deserve this.

“You don’t either,” he points out. “Neither of us ever deserved this.”

“But I have to deal with it to get home. You don’t.”

“And I signed up for the ride.” Sungyoon pats a bandage more firmly in place before taking your outstretched hand and standing up. He squeezes your fingers. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Your heart pounds painfully as you ride down the last stretch of highway, faded signs bearing the name of your hometown. Everything almost looks the same, if you ignore the dried blood spattered along the sidewalks and panes of shattered glass on the streets.

And the zombies milling about at the base of the exit.

Sungyoon stops when you do, frowning when he sees the faint outlines of white skin and blackened veins. “Great.”

You snort, hysteria building in your throat. “Great” is the perfect way to put it. So close, yet so far – separated from your home by a throng of the undead.

There are only a few right now. From here, up on the highway, you can only count four or five. Zombies don’t move fast and if it’s just those few, you could probably outstrip them.

But they’re definitely not the only ones. And you have no way of knowing just how many are left in the city.

Think, think, think! You hit your head lightly. You grew up here, explored the entire city, walked all the roads by the time you went off to college the first time. Even though things have probably changed, they can’t be too drastically different. Any small nooks, any back roads or alleys you can find where zombies aren’t likely to be…

“What do you think will be more zombie infested?” you ask. “Residential roads or the actual city?”

“… City,” Sungyoon says. “More densely packed people, right?”

You bite your lip. He’s right. The highway leads to a road that cuts straight through the middle of the city and it would probably be faster to follow it straight down and just make a few appropriate turns before reaching your home, but it’ll probably be safer to take the longer local path.

Local it is. God, you hope your sense of direction is as good as it used to be.

“We’re going straight down now before more zombies come,” you say, swinging a leg over your bike. “As fast as you can. We turn left at that first traffic light and then be ready to follow me.”

The downward slope of the highway gives you a burst of speed you dearly need once you reach the road. You speed past abandoned cars and several milling zombies that turn to give chase, but you and Sungyoon are already turning left, racing down a street of empty shops and cafes. You used to hang out there with Daeyeol and a few of your friends before –

Not the time. You pedal faster. The groans of chasing zombies has grown fainter, which is good, but there are definitely more.

As if on cue, several sets of gangly, white limbs pop out from behind a building, lurching towards Sungyoon’s bike. He swerves around a car and you grit your teeth to avoid crying out. “Keep going!” you shout, pedaling faster. Faster.

Street signs whiz past. You almost miss the first turn, jerking sharply to the right at the last minute. Sungyoon curses and you look back but he’s following, still following, weaving around zombies and cars as he keeps racing forward.

Right. Left. Straight. Left. More zombies join the chase, relentless even as you and Sungyoon leave them behind, legs straining to keep the speed.

Left, left, straight. Pedaling uphill is a pain. Your thighs burn and your chest aches but then you’re rolling downhill and you catch your breath before straining once more.

Straight. Right. Right. Left. You pass by your old high school, grass trampled and overgrown in the front.

Left, right. You race down a street lined with houses you used to envy – if you lived closer to school, you wouldn’t have had to get up early for the bus every morning.

Straight. You pedal past a small plaza. Clubs used to congregate in the restaurants for end of year celebrations. It’s where you went with your friends on the last day of high school and where you had dinner with your mom the next day after graduation.

Mom. Mom. You go right, then left, racing past aching memories, all the while conscious of zombies groaning in the background and Sungyoon panting by your side. Mom, I’m almost there. Almost home.

Please be there.

The last street comes into sight. You swing around a last building and a last car, finding yourself on a familiar street that you haven’t seen in years. You pedal slower, slower, until you stop in front of your house.

Memories almost paralyze you. This was where you met Daeyeol when he first moved in. This was where you almost got hit by a speeding car when you were out playing as a child. This was where you walked from every day to the bus stop for over five years to get to school –

Sungyoon grabs your wrist, glancing behind. Already, the sound of groans is growing louder. “Is this it?” he asks, nodding at the front door.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake yourself out of your daze. “Yeah. Come on.”

With each step forward, you feel like you’re walking back in time. You grow younger and younger, smaller and smaller, until you’re finally pulling out the house key you’ve kept in your bag for so long, waiting for this moment –

You stop, key held uselessly between your fingers as you take in the scuff marks around the doorknob and the lock.

The door has already been forced open at least once.

Sungyoon notices the marks, notices your silence. He pulls open the door anyway and shoves you inside, slamming it shut behind you.

He plucks the key from your hand. Locks the door with a faint, familiar click.

You look around in a daze, taking in overturned furniture, books and magazines strewn over the floor, cabinets left open from what you can see in the kitchen. Clouds of dust spring up where you step.

You sneeze. The sound brings you back to the present.

Your home has been ransacked. Someone broke in and took what they thought was worth taking, leaving behind furniture and books and the piano standing against the wall. Someone broke in and either spared your mother or killed her –

Or she wasn’t there in the first place.

You can feel Sungyoon’s eyes following your movements as you step forward, slow and cautious. Dust itches your throat and burns your eyes but you keep moving, surveying the damage. “Mom?”

There’s no sign of human life. Not a footprint in the dust, not a handprint on the wall. But there’s also no blood. No sign of struggle.

So where is she?

“Mom?”

Panic seizes your chest and you walk forward faster, looking into the kitchen as if she’ll be hiding somewhere there. When she doesn’t appear, you turn into the bathroom, the bedrooms, but only a mess of dust and objects meets your eyes. “Mom?”

No one replies.

She’s not here.

You try to reason it away. Maybe she’s out looking for food. Maybe she’s hiding. But you don’t have a basement or second floor so there’s nowhere she could be, and why would she be hiding, anyway? As for food…

Dust comes away on your fingertips as you drag them along the floor. Somewhere along the way, you sank down against the wall, alone in the hallway. Bits of dust rise with every breath you take.

If she was just looking for food, the house would still appear lived in. There wouldn’t be so much dust and dirt everywhere.

But she might have had to leave when people broke into the house. Right?

Or not. You swallow, tears starting to flow down your face. There was no sign of struggle, no blood or cracks in the wall. Just overturned furniture, probably from someone’s careless movements while looking for necessities.

Which means she isn’t here.

Not here. Not here. Not here not here not here not here – you came all this way and survived so many attacks and even lost Daeyeol and she’s not here –

And –

Daeyeol –

A cracked, broken sound emerges from your throat and your pounding head falls into your hands. You came this whole way and watched Daeyeol shoot himself just to find the dusty, empty house from your nightmares –

“Y/N.”

You turn your head to see Sungyoon in the hallway, holding a piece of paper in one hand. His face is pale.

He holds out the paper before you can work through the lump in your throat to ask what’s wrong. “I think you should read this.”

. . . . .

It’s long past dark and you still can’t sleep. Sungyoon drifted off about an hour ago, but even though you lie under the same sheet next to him on the floor, not even his warmth can lull you into dreamland this time.

Well. Probably more like nightmare land. The piece of paper crinkles in your hand, as if to remind you of what you’ve lost.

You try to close your eyes against the words that seem to flash in your vision. No use. They’ve tattooed themselves to the backs of your eyelids, trembling letters written in your mother’s familiar scrawl…

Y/N, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I’m most likely dead.

Why did she feel the need to apologize for being dead? If anything, it’s your fault for not getting here fast enough.

Of course, there is the chance that I’m just out looking for food and will come back soon, but if I’m not home by night, it isn’t likely.

Night has gone and passed. It’s probably closer to morning.

Every time I leave the house, I put out this note. That way, in case you manage to find your way back, you’ll have this much left from me.

Tears start to build up again behind your still puffy eyes.

I heard you on that phone call. I knew you would come back or at least die trying. Because that’s who you are, Y/N, my strong, darling child. Brave to the last.

Brave. Ha. If only she knew how much you relied on others to keep you sane. First Daeyeol, then Sungyoon…

I miss you. Every day I miss you. But I have hope that you will come home one day, return to this house, even if I’m not there to welcome you.

She wasn’t.

If you are reading this note and I am not there, don’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. Nothing is certain, especially not our lives, not mine, not yours. If it was my time, then it was my time. Don’t hurt yourself, thinking you should have gotten here before.

But you could have. Maybe you should have. Sungyoon certainly thought so, judging from his silence as you read the note. He read it too, before you, and you know he was thinking you should have left him and his fractured leg back at that house in the city infested with zombies, left him and come back four weeks earlier to hopefully find your mother, alive and whole –

You don’t think you could’ve chosen differently, though. Sungyoon was there, right in front of you, injured and broken and you couldn’t just leave him behind. Even if your mother had still been here then (which you don’t think she was – the thick layer of dust all over the house speaks of over a month of disuse), would you even have made it back? Or, alone, would you have fallen to the trap of your own mind?

And even if you had returned in time, how would she have thought of you, knowing you left an injured person behind? You wouldn’t have been able to keep it from her. It would’ve spilled out, sometime.

Your heart clenches. Even though there logically wasn’t much you could do, it still hurts to think that you might’ve had a last chance to see her before she went.

Always remember that I love you, Y/N. You have always been the pride of my life. You are strong and brave, and if anyone is to survive this disaster, I pray it is you, both as my child and as a ray of hope for the future. We know something like this can’t happen again. I know you. I know you will help prevent it.

The tears start to spill. Again.

I love you. I miss you. I hope I will see you soon, but not before it is truly your time.

- Your loving mother

Tears fall harder, faster. You turn, pulling yourself out of the blanket so you won’t wake Sungyoon, and sit there, shaking with silent sobs.

I love you too. And I miss you even more.

You have little left of your mother but this note. All her clothes were taken from her room, the sheets of her bed pulled away, even her toolbox laid empty. Trinkets from shelves and tables lay smashed on the floor, fallen from careless searching. A few framed pictures survived. Little more. You don’t even have her body – you can’t even bury her, your mom, your hero, you can’t even give her the same respects you paid Daeyeol –

Your watery eyes light on the shadow of the piano, hidden in the darkness. The lid covering the keys is still closed, protecting them from dust, just the way you left it when you went back to university.

As if in a trance, you stand, walking towards the piano and settling on the dusty bench. You haven’t grown in the years since you’ve been at school and it’s still pulled the same distance back, leaving just enough space for you to stretch your hands out on the keys once you’ve lifted the lid. Dust billows and you cough, batting it away, but you put your hands back on the keyboard.

And begin to play.

It’s your mother’s favorite piece, a sonata’s slow second movement that she said never failed to calm her after a long day. But you don’t play it well – your fingers slip. You don’t remember all the notes. Rhythms are wrong, the melodies stilted, and you stop playing, resting your elbows on the edge of the instrument as you grind the heels of your palms into your eyes, tears beginning to pound once more. You couldn’t bury her so you thought you could give her a little music, but holy fuck, you can’t even properly give this tribute because you can’t play the fucking piece –

Sungyoon sits on the edge of the bench. You jump – you never realized he was awake, and you open your mouth to apologize for waking him up – but he just looks at you with a softness you can feel even in the dark. “Keep playing.”

Fingers trembling, you put them back on the keyboard. It doesn’t get better – missed notes and wrong rhythms still plague the piece – but Sungyoon nudges you every time you falter, pushing you to finish. And when you do, tears falling to the dust onto your lap, he pulls you over and wraps an arm around you, letting your head fall to his shoulder as you cry.

He holds you until the sun rises and you finally fall asleep.

. . . . .

As much as you want to leave as soon as you wake, you stay at home another day. Both of you need a break before you keep going west, now that there’s no time crunch, and there don’t seem to be many zombies walking up and down the street. As long as you and Sungyoon keep the window blinds shut, you consider yourself about as safe as you can get.

The security helps a little. Takes away a bit of anxiety. But wherever you go, no matter how messy the rooms are, you always know that you’re in the same house you grew up in. Just with the most important people of your childhood missing.

But Sungyoon is important, and Sungyoon is here. It helps, a little. Though when you find him staring at the few family photos left on a table, photos with you and your mother and one even with Daeyeol’s family, you have to leave the room because it just reminds you that Sungyoon lost everyone and has little beyond his sister’s earrings, as far as you know, to remember them by. And he had to take them from her body, when in any other “normal” situation of death he would’ve left them in for her burial…

Sungyoon cried over the earrings several weeks ago. Just looking at the pictures, comparing the memories they hold to two little gold hoops that can’t even fit around Sungyoon’s fifth finger, almost makes you want to smash the frames to the ground.

You almost don’t take them with you. It’s only when Sungyoon holds out the thin frames that you remember them, two-dimensional faces of people you lost, smiling with a joy that you don’t think you’ll feel ever again.

“You’ll want them,” Sungyoon says quietly. “It hurts now, but you will. Trust me.”

The weight behind his words convinces you.

In the end, you put them in your bag, stuffing your mother’s note into one of the frames. Sungyoon helps you cushion them with your spare clothes. When you’ve finally packed them away, you walk with him to the front of the house before hesitating in the doorway.

Sungyoon glances at you. “Ready?”

You don’t turn around, but you let your eyes wander over what of the living room you can see from here. You’ve left this house many times, both times when you went to university and every time you left after a break, but you always came back. Even when everything happened, you came back. You still came back.

This time, you don’t think you’ll ever return.

“Y/N?”

You hear Sungyoon, but you still say nothing, riveting your gaze to the door. Once you leave this house, you won’t come back. You can’t even hope for it.

But you think it’ll be okay, because home isn’t just a place. It’s with people, too. And though you will never forget your original home with your mom and Daeyeol, you think you’ve found the beginnings of another home with Sungyoon.

You take Sungyoon’s hand, tangle your fingers through his. He looks at you with some concern but you don’t look back, just blink your eyes and take a breath.

You’re leaving your original home for a less certain one, a home bound solely in human attachment without the solid root of a house. It’s a little tenuous, a little shaky, but with your hands joined like this, you think there’s a possibility things might be okay.

It’s a chance you’re willing to take.

“Yeah.” You finally look up, squeezing his fingers once. You twist the doorknob. “Let’s go.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

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