#bc it sounds like the red death even if it was barely audible to humans its more like a vibration you Feel in your bones

[saturnniidae]

📂

Hiccup has a fear of deathsongs.

Obviously he doesnt hate them, I dont think he has it in him to genuinely hate a dragon seeing as they're just wild animals playing their part in the food chain, but after almost being killed by a dragon that lures in and borderline brainwashes prey via sound it's hard not to see the similarities.

Part of why he had no moral dilemma or second thoughts about trapping the Melody Island deathsong in that cave at first. It's something that makes him feel deeply guilty because he's meant to be the dragon guy right? A bridge connecting humans and dragons, bringing peace between them, it's hypocritical of him to have this knee-jerk reaction, right?

Anyways so much untapped potential in Hiccup's ptsd surrounding the end of the first movie

[kaiunkaiku]

Sickdays 6, May 23rd: Red

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Summary: "Most of his hearing is taken up by the blood rushing in his ears, and his vision is clouded at best, but his other senses are working just fine – the taste of blood and bile in his mouth is familiar yet unbearable, the searing pain in his body is familiar yet similarly unbearable, and the stench of blood lingering everywhere is familiar and makes him want to puke again."

Warnings: Blood, vomit, injuries, hinted suicidal ideation bc it’s Dazai

Still Saturday in the States bitches.

Ao3

Chuuya pitches over the side of the bed and throws up another mouthful of blood. Most of it ends up in the bucket instead of the floor this time, but it’s not much of a relief – Dazai won’t be complaining as much, sure, but Dazai really isn’t complaining about much at the moment anyway. He can’t afford to, even if Chuuya is sure he’d love to, because Chuuya himself is the one throwing up blood and feeling like he’s going to spontaneously combust if he as much as sits up. His bones are on fire, his insides feel like they’ve liquified into nothing but blood, his joints are probably going to either snap or pulverize at any given moment, and he really, really fucking hates Corruption.

He can still feel the ghosts of the red markings on his skin, where it feels raw in a burn-like fashion even though the only thing visible is the bruising. He doesn’t know if his insides can be bruised, but they sure as hell feel like they are.

According to Dazai, he was under for nearly ten minutes, which is damn near the longest he’s ever used it for. He’s not entirely sure where he is, because while he is aware that it’s a safehouse, there’s nothing he can use to tell whether it’s a mafia safehouse, an ADA safehouse, or maybe one of Dazai’s personal ones. He hasn’t seen much beyond the small bedroom he’s in now, having been very much unconscious when arriving. He would like to have that unconsciousness back, now.

Dazai is talking on the phone just outside the room, clearly not caring whether Chuuya hears him or not. He does, though only barely and most of that, too, is too much for him to comprehend. He’s fairly sure he’s feverish, with the way he feels like he’s simultaneously burning and freezing, and with the nausea constantly surging through him.

Most of his hearing is taken up by the blood rushing in his ears, and his vision is clouded at best, but his other senses are working just fine – the taste of blood and bile in his mouth is familiar yet unbearable, the searing pain in his body is familiar yet similarly unbearable, and the stench of blood lingering everywhere is familiar and makes him want to puke again. There’s blood crusted in his hair. He knows he’s still bleeding internally, and he’s fairly sure he’s also bleeding externally, even if he can’t tell where. He almost wants to use For the Tainted Sorrow to force the blood back where it’s supposed to be, but just the thought of activating his power sends a wave of panic through him so fast his breath catches. The phantom markings on his skin feel like they’re sapping him of his control.

Chuuya opens his mouth, maybe to call for Dazai or maybe to just curse his fucking existence, but all that comes out is a choked noise, and then he’s hurling blood again. It feels like his lungs are drowning in it, and motherfucking fuck they just might be. His arms are shaking from the attempt to support him so he can throw up more blood in the general direction of the bucket. His vision is currently shit, though, eyes feeling like they have partially melted, so he can’t be held accountable if he misses it. He’s seeing blurred lines at best, and gray patches all around, and everything is twisting and swirling.

Hell. He might just be dying.

He leans back and tries to focus on breathing. The rattling in his lungs is audible, and even if it wasn’t, he can feel the air crackling in his throat. He feels heavy, in a way he usually only feels when Dazai is touching him, and so often it’s a pleasant feeling; now, though, it feels like it’s crushing his chest. He doesn’t think he’s getting enough oxygen. He’s too tired to panic about it, but he sure as hell isn’t tired enough to be pissed about it.

The details of what happened are hazy at best, but Chuuya is blaming Dazai anyway. The fucker most definitely had the chance to stop Corruption well before almost ten minutes, so Chuuya’s current state of being little more than a pained sack of blood is most definitely Dazai’s fault.

When it comes down to it, most shitty things in Chuuya’s life are.

He blacks out for a moment, or at least he thinks he does, because he blinks and suddenly Dazai is standing next to him, stupid bandages ragged and blood in his hair, and Chuuya can’t decide whether it’s startling or comforting to see him instead of just hearing his voice through the doorway. He likes seeing Dazai, though, even if he is pissed at him – at least the bastard is still here. Hasn’t left him behind this time.

It’s depressing that this is his life now. That after all these years he’s still in love with Dazai, who may or may not fuck right off without notice anytime and leave him with his dysfunctional Ability that could kill Chuuya without him.

There must be something in his eyes, or on his face, because Dazai gives him this little smile that made Chuuya accidentally destroy entire buildings as a teenager, and still makes something flutter pleasantly in his chest. Something presses against his hand and it takes him a moment to figure out that Dazai has taken it and is rubbing his thumb on his knuckles.

“Yosano-sensei will be here soon,” Dazai says, free hand absently moving to fiddle with Chuuya’s hair.

If that’s the case, and Chuuya can’t really see a reason for Dazai to lie even if he’s always searching for one, it must be an ADA safehouse, then. Dazai wouldn’t compromise his personal ones like that, and having two ADA members, both of whom Mori wants for himself, at a Port Mafia safehouse wouldn’t be very smart, or, well, safe.

“So try not to die before that, okay?” There’s an irritating, cheerful quality to his voice, but Chuuya knows it’s a cover, a lie, so he leaves it be. He turns his head so that Dazai’s hand shifts to his cheek.

“I’m pretty sure I’m actively bleeding out, you shitty mackerel.” It’s remarkable how little he feels about that fact; mild annoyance, at most. It’s not like he wants to die – he’s not Dazai – but death’s door is a familiar place, and he’s been aware for a long time now that one of these days he’s going to step over the threshold. He accepted that the day he first used Corruption voluntarily.

Dazai says nothing to that. His thumb comes to stroke Chuuya’s cheekbone, and he doesn’t jostle Chuuya awake when Chuuya dozes off.

When he comes to, there are two voices just outside the room, Dazai and a woman Chuuya faintly recognizes as Yosano Akiko. Dazai is explaining and Yosano is asking questions, so they’re either talking about him or talking about work.

Chuuya tastes blood in his mouth.

Yosano Akiko is an intimidating woman, even to someone who has trained under Ozaki Kouyou. She’s taller than Chuuya (a lot of people are, yes, he knows), and exudes an air of cold professionalism with a hint of sadism – all qualities Chuuya is familiar with, but her unique blend of them commands such attention and respect even before she walks in that all Chuuya can do once she does is stare and nod at her even if the motion pulls at something unpleasant in his neck.

She wastes no time, barely bothering to explain her Ability to him, and then he’s not bleeding anymore. He still feels like shit, though, because her Ability fixes injuries and nothing but injuries, so the phantom markings on his skin stay, and the bone-deep exhaustion that Corruption leaves him with doesn’t go anywhere. Just the injuries.

So at least he’s not dying today.

“You owe me a favor for this,” she says, already packing her things. “One each.” Dazai looks like he’s about to protest, makes an indignant squawk but nothing more.

“Sure,” Chuuya replies, a beat late. He does own his life to her, after all, so no point trying to deny a favor.

(He owes his life to a lot of people. He tries not to think about that.)

Now that he’s not choking on blood anymore, the exhaustion is claiming him fast. He tries to fight it, but he can’t pay attention to the instructions Yosano is giving Dazai when there’s no sharp pain keeping him alert.

God knows why, but he trusts Dazai; has trusted him for the past eight years, even the four filled with uncertainty and anger. So he lets himself drift off to the sound of Dazai’s voice and trusts that it’s safe to do so.

There’s a soft brush against his forehead and No Longer Human surges through him.

Yeah.

Safe.

[thickwamuu]

dragon!kars x reader

Made this in a cold sweat as a gift for @yanderebloodlust if I do end up making a second part to it it will for sure get a lil steamier bc we support pent up pompous lonely kars in this house. It’s my first time writing something like this I’m sowwy 😳😗

Words - 1,111

“Y/n, can you see anything?” Joseph piped up behind you as you travelled your hand along the cavernous rocky wall.

You halted, causing the large male to bump into you with an ‘oof’ that albeit quiet- managed to echo off the cave walls faintly. You turned to him sharply.

“Joseph!” You scolded in the lowest decibel you could muster, coming out in a whispered hiss. “As the one who dragged me here, you of all people should know what the stories say is in here. Being too loud is a death wish!” You rubbed at your aching temples. “I don’t even know why you made me come with you in the first place! I-I’m a baker! The only thing dragons and baking have in common is that if you jump directly into the fire you’re gonna be the thing that gets cooked-“

“Y/n-“ Joseph interjected.

“No! I’ve had enough! I’m tired, you made me walk through a swamp to get here and IM STILL finding leeches!” You continued.

“Y/-“

“Look, I know you’ve got this whole ‘valiant adventurer’ thing going on, Joseph but I’m not meant for th....”

You were cut off by a low bass-filled rumble resonating through the walls causing you both to swallow audibly.

“We should-“ You started.

“Run.” Joseph added.

“Yeah.” Nodding, you took off back the way you came.

-

By the time you stopped running you were a panting and sweaty mess, heaving and gasping.

“Lord Joseph..” you gasped “I don’t know.. how you.. my stamina.. is..” your breathing slowed and you paled as you noticed that you could only hear your own breath. “J-Joseph..?”

Silence.

Well that would have been the case had you not heard the slow dragging of scales on rock in the distance. You began to run blindly, taking random passages and trying your best to avoid obstacles. As you came to a slow, the hand you trailed along the walls touched something briefly making you jump. When you inspected it in the low light you realized it was a dry torch.

You’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You began to frantically pat around your attire for flint holding the torch high to balance as your thus far fruitless search led into your boots.

A gentle puff followed by the tender crackle of flame could be heard causing you to look up to the now lit torch and the subsequent large scaly snout behind it.

Watching ruby eyes glinted in the distance giving you a shine to the grand scale of the legendary reptile before you. It’s mouth opened ever so slightly giving way to a row of dagger-like teeth as a soft clicking hiss drifted past them from the depths of its throat. If you weren’t feeling disjointed you might have heard the faintest human-sounding “treasure” behind the layers of its vocalizations.

Your gaze traveled along the path from its nose and reached three proud horns gracing its forehead, bewitching jewels clustered at the base.

As if realizing you were enamoured by its grace, it tilted its head ever so slightly giving you a chance to notice the iridescent gleam to the beast’s violet scales when the fire light danced along it. Although large, it exuded an air of elegance and superiority. It truly was a beautiful creature worthy of praise and you surely were lucky to witness it face-to-face.

That was as long as you managed to survive to recall the tale.

As this thought pulled you from your trance, you did the most logical thing your brain could think of and thrusted a fist at the scaled nose, dropping the torch in the process.

A grunt came from the mighty dragon and you managed to run past its belly as it was momentarily stunned. It roared behind you loudly and clumsily began to follow you through the already tight passages, knocking against the cave ceiling. Many questionable turns later you managed to find a smaller passage you could just barely squeeze through and decided to take your chances with it.

This proved a good choice when a large angry red eye greeted you at the opening you came from. You pushed forward and could hear the beast struggling to reach you.

A razor-like claw grazed your back, cutting your sword sheath off of your hip causing it to clatter to the ground loudly.

“Y/n?” A familiar voice yelled from the direction you were headed.

“Joseph!” You replied, relief flooding your system.

“There’s an opening ahead! Just a little further Y/n, c’mon!” He reassured you.

As you squeezed forward the dragons attempts became more desperate and it was now ramming it’s body into the rock as its ferocious cry bellowed through the rock surrounding you once more.

Your sweaty hand met with Joseph’s as he heaved you through into an opening, and just like he had said, there was a large opening just ahead. A sigh of relief passed your lips when the sight of your horses waiting at the mouth of the cave met your line of sight.

A deep crack met your ears as rubble flew and the emerging furious reptile spotted you.

“Let’s go!” The Joestar that got you into this mess in the first place urged, letting go of your hand and sprinting towards the exit. You could smell the change from the stagnant cave air into the clear breeze of the surrounding mountain’s forest.

Joseph was untying the horses when you were yanked back by a single claw down the collar of your tunic.

“Ack!” You cried out.

“Y/n! Wait there!” Joseph urged.

“Well I can’t do much else!” You screeched.

A throwing knife shot through the air, past your ear and planted itself directly in the dragons hand causing it to cry out and let you go.

Without much thought you surged forward and hopped on your horse before taking off.

The large beast followed with a roar as you made your way towards the wall of thick trees, it’s giant body emerging from the cave you were previously in.

You could feel the intensity of the flame over your head that scorched to top of the tall trees.

“I’ll be honest, Y/n, I wasnt sure the knife wasn’t going to hit you, but I’m sur...”

Joseph’s voice turned into background noise as you turned to see if the dragon was still there.

It was.

It’s hawk-like eyes staring right back into yours as it calmly waited at the mouth of the cave.

You quickly turned away and felt the chill of a gaze on your back as you and your childhood friend retreated into the forest.

[gwoongi]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 ✰ taehyung (2)

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 kim taehyung / reader genre: zombie apocalypse au words: 4814

“She did,” Taehyung assured, reaching an arm around your waist awkwardly, but tight enough for you to feel comfortable, and safe, all at the same time. “They did. We did.”

warnings: graphic content, death references, gore, swearing, dark themes

a/n: sorree if it feels a little bit slow paced!! i just want to make it realistic :D thank you for the positive (and small) feedback, it means a lot :”) mmmm the sweet smell of CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. i love slow burns lol :3c ((i also really recommend checking out the music playlist, especially listening to this + this bc. the last of us’ music is DIVINE))

01. denver ↝ 02. holiday with me ↝ 03. sad forever ↝ 04. surely ↝ 05. scorpion ↝ 06. shakespeare

As anticipated, the room connected to the rusted balcony was empty and upturned; the sheets stained caramel were tossed in bundles to the floor, bird feathers clinging to dried pools of rusted water and the smell of bird feces filled the room, overpowering the usual smell of dried sweat and blood.

Each step was meaningful and calculated as Taehyung stepped through the hotel room - because, it was indeed a hotel, as Taehyung noticed by the brass letters on the outside of each door, pulled off hinges and shedding tears of flaked paint. Leaving you behind slightly, Taehyung stepped out into the hall, staring in both directions to the end of the halls, where bodies lay rotting in sitting positions, blood-written messages praying one final time to God. He scoffed to himself.

“Find anything?” you asked, meeting him outside. He shook his head, turning to head in the West direction towards the stairs, knowing the elevator was most definitely down. An orange flicker of the light inside the pried open elevator showed a carcass, rotting and open, a putrid smell leaving through the cracks. You turned away before it sank in how affected the hotel was. Taehyung tugged at your sleeve when an open hotel door showed a bloody crib with barely moving mobiles.

Sticking to the plan you devised on the roof, Taehyung led the way, as if familiar with the hotel. A downfall of the elevator being out of use was the excessive amount of stairs, a waterfall of concrete steps running down to a square box trashed with shredded newspaper and articles of false hope: MILITARY ON THEIR WAY! VICTORY FOR HUMANITY!

Taehyung once believed in it.

The door was unlocked. Pushing it open, a cool breeze kissed Taehyung’s biceps, bare with his coat tied around his waist in a double knot. The foyer of the hotel was dark, only filters of lofty light pouring in from the windows, despite them being dirty and stained with handprints and splats of crimson. Moving away, Taehyung ducked underneath a fallen beam and stepped towards the main desk, checking for maps or papers or anything worth taking.

He leaned over, elbows on the wood, when he noticed a head of hair, facing the wall, arms outstretched and littered with red bites. Beside her, the cord to the telephone swung as if recently dropped, and the static of a radio could be heard louder when he rounded the desk to crouch before the body; it was a woman, with dark skin and brown curly hair, ripped clothing with exposed, shredded skin. Blood cried from her eyes and nose, and Taehyung sighed dejectedly as he pried away a Denver map from her hands.

The hotel was circled in a green pen - Merryweather Hotel. An arrow pointed to it, labelled City 10, Block 18.

“Shit,” he exhaled.

“What happened?” you asked, stepping over an open bag of luggage to approach him. He rose from his place, meeting you before you saw the body and the swinging mobile, or the cynical piece of paper reading, “May God Be With You”, written in Spanish, if he remembered.

Taehyung passed you the map. “Now we know where Block 18 is.”

You scanned the map, cursing softly when you noticed the markings. “The herd. Where’s the herd, then?”

“I don’t want to find out,” Taehyung replied briskly, nodding towards the doors. “Let’s just get out before we find out the walkers are behind the door to the basement, or something.”

Knowing your luck, it wasn’t entirely unrealistic.

Dampening your throat with hot saliva, you followed Taehyung to the double doors. As his fingers brushed the handle to leave, your heart thumped erratically; Taehyung had barely joined your group, and if he didn’t make it somehow...that would be on you. With little pride, you weaved in front of his arms, opting to take the lead. His gaze felt cold as you pushed in front of him, doing a slow and barely-audible countdown until Taehyung pushed the door for you, grabbing your hand in a swift and tight motion, pulling you into the room seconds before the count of three.

The door slammed closed at on 3, glass pouring to the floor with a loudness that alerted the herd before footsteps did.

The dead’s reactions were delayed, looking up from their meals to see the two of you speeding down the roads, the sound of your shoes slapping against the street echoing in the silence of the evening. Even as they begun to move, it was not fast and you were both able to make it back to the clearing where you had started at. Learning from earlier experience, Taehyung remained utterly silent, except for large gasps for air, and a string of foreign curses when the square was empty, missing Taekwoon’s ride.

They were gone.

“Fuck,” you muttered, mostly to yourself as Taehyung rushed towards a nearby car, shoved in front of the doors to a small convenience store once known as “TODD’S SHOP”. He slid into the driver’s seat, only to rush back out at the sight of a busted radio and torn apart insides, and the lack of steering wheel and pedals.

“It’s busted?” you asked, breathless, as he pulled you by the hand across the boot of the car, and into the desolate and destroyed interior of Todd’s once humble store. He closed the doors hurriedly, already working on fortifying defences.

“Completely useless.”

It’s surreal- you realise, as you scan the store and notice shelves torn off the walls, nails upturned and daunting, lights swinging, that the world can change so dramatically. Even when you try to pretend like most of the world aren’t undead and eating everything else, it’s hard to forget. Everything from the groans to the fallen stuffed animals is a reminder.

Somebody else had set up camp in the same spot. A small den had been made by pushing two display tables together, an L from the desk making a perfect sleeping station, already kitted with a cool gas lighter, and a thin and uncomfortable looking mattress and a hard pillow, stained slightly with a creamish substance that looked familiar to your high-school years. But, at this rate, anything would have to do.

“Over here, Taehyung,” you called, voice exhausted but loud enough to carry to his ears. He looked over his shoulder, briefly scanning the store as he walked robotically towards the makeshift bed. Dropping to a crouch, he craned his head to look at the bed, a frown of disgust evident on his features. But, being alive made him grateful, and he said nothing as he moved around you, occupied by your bag, to sit with his body on the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t have any food to share out,” you said quietly, but he remained unbothered.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, fingering your shirt from the back. “Maybe we can find apples on the way back.”

At that, you smile genuinely, fiddling with the gas lighter. “Apples?”

“Yeah. I saw an orchard on the way to your camp. Big green apples.”

With the flame lit timidly, you faced Taehyung with a small and vacant smile. “I like red apples more.”

“Me too. But, you can’t be picky when the world is ending,” he shrugged, and a chill slid down your spine. Masking your sudden somber mood with a faint smile, Taehyung stuck out an arm for a second pillow as you lay down beside him, facing away from the window. Taehyung leant over you, reaching to pull the blanket acting as a tent to block the auburn sunset and the thumping of biters outside the door.

“I’m sorry.”

Taehyung paused, moving his cheek across his own bicep to look at you, smushed against his arm.

“Me too.”

“I’m supposed to be the leader. I’m- I’m supposed to lead and set an example for the group,” you croaked out, feeling your eyes burn with dry tears. “You shouldn’t have come.”

A low hum left Taehyung’s throat. “Maybe. But then you’d be all alone and that walker would have got you.”

You scoffed, at that: “Jisoo would have been my partner.” A silence. “I hope she made it out.”

“She did,” Taehyung assured, reaching an arm around your waist awkwardly, but tight enough for you to feel comfortable, and safe, all at the same time. “They did. We did.”

You could barely remember the moment you woke up and left Todd’s old shop, just knowing that it was before the sun came up and in total silence. Fragments of thought- Taehyung sitting up with you still in his arms, a shake awake, and a quick jump out of the back window towards the forgotten trail into the thick woods. An avoidance, he had said, or something similar. To skip the walkers. You said nothing.

As expected, you rightly predicted that on foot, it would take nearly three days to return to camp. Sticking to the main road unless absolutely necessary, you found that you felt undeniably safe by Taehyung’s side; he walked several feet ahead, in a system designed by you, out of boredom on the long road home. You both walked along the dusty chalk-line in the middle of the road, looking forwards and to the left, backwards and to the right. Every sound was heightened in the silence, but the only thing to put you at ease was the familiar click of Taehyung’s gun, the occasional groan when his bat hit his knees and the comforting sound of absolutely nothing at all.

Cutting from the road to a trail in the woods, the sound of gravel and discarded beach pebbles underneath your boots became a familiar soundtrack as the pair of you walked along an abandoned train line, passing by a Caboose cabin on the way back home, fog slithering down the mountainous wall surrounding the Denver area.

Taehyung was right, too- on the way along the tracks, a big and blooming apple tree hung over the dip between the tracks and an ebony coloured stream of water, with giant green apples swinging in the breeze. Taehyung had helped hoist you up to pick four apples for the journey back, the first food of the day. The original sourness became a drug in your mouth, a taste so addicting that the four apples intended to last four hours lasted ten minutes. You simply tossed the cores to the side, hoping a tree would grow in the world that stopped working.

Further towards the warehouse, it became familiar enough to talk. Taehyung talked first, keeping the conversation clear and above the surface, mentioning his sister once again and the one time they went to Memphis for Spring Break and got lost. After almost dying alongside him more than once, it was impossible to fight the urge to know more about him. To debunk the mystery behind the new member who arrived with the gash in his leg, three cigarettes in his boot, and a stolen Scorpion-owned pistol covered in a crocodile skin protector.

Following the ancient-looking trail back to the warehouse, where the hills got steep, you could see the tops of the barbed fences enclosing the hideout, and a wave of relief washed over you. The atmosphere had changed drastically, and your feet moved quickly up the hill despite its efforts to deter you. Just a little bit further ahead…

Reaching the top of the hill, it took less than three seconds to recognise that something was wrong. The approaching puffs of air didn’t pull your gaze away from the swinging gates, very much open. Taehyung rested a hand on your forearm, confused. “Why’d you stop?”

His gaze lifted tenderly, noticing the opened gates and he hesitated, devoid of expression and breath. The wind stopped. Birds paused their singing. A cloud covered the sun.

Then, all at once, you broke out into a sprint, running towards the camp to see it in literal ruins. You had been gone less than three days, and everything had fallen apart without you. You should have noticed warning signals from the rising smoke on the way back home, but with a non-threatening camp just miles away from your own, it was always hard to tell the source. Part of the warehouse was alight, smoke stuck in the ceiling but nonetheless smelling out the place, and newspapers and colouring books fluttered like wings in the wind, carrying a smell of burning flesh with the familiar smell of oil and charcoal, burning paper, the smell of burnt toast. 

Majority of the vehicles were gone, except one small Nissan Versa in a decorative black, although now painted in ash. A pile of blood, and a trail of dragged red towards the spot where the cars once were made your stomach churn, and the sight of a hand sticking out from behind the dumpsters, a hand that was human, was enough to make you cry out, in agony, staggering towards the dumpsters to find the mauled and maggot-covered body of little Yena.

She was too young. Way too young.

“Y/N?”

Sniffing, and turning to Taehyung with tear-stained cheekbones, you met his somber gaze as he passed you a sheet of sooty covered paper. Your reaction was delayed, but you nonetheless turned from the sight of Yena mangled up and gingerly took the paper from his hands, feeling the comfort of his fingertips brushing your own, gaze distracted on the corpse by the dumpster.

Y/N.

I hope you’re reading this. I hope it’s you, and not somebody else. It needs to be you.

We arrived back to camp with every intention of coming to find you the following morning. As I’m writing this, we have very little time. I’m in the car while the others deal with the biters. They’re in. They got in. They got Yena by the gate without us knowing. We think she’d gone to get flowers from the meadow, and got caught by one on the way back inside.

Yena didn’t make it.

With what we have left, we’re heading to Georgia. While the group were gone, we got a signal. From a group of survivors who have a boat with extra spaces. We made connection and managed to guarantee us seats on the boat. With Yena gone, at least we’ll have room for us all to safely cross the waters to somewhere new.

We’ll wait for you for as long as we can. We love you, and I hope you’re safe. Taehyung, too. I hope you made it out alive. We left a car. I hope it’s there for when you come home.

Please come. May God be with you.

Or whatever you believe in.

Doyoung.

“They’re gone,” you said finally, your voice scratchy from crying. Without even knowing, Taehyung had lead you away from the sight of Yena and towards the car. He’d put a sheet over her, to keep whatever dignity she had left. He pulled open the door for you. “They’re safe.”

“I know,” Taehyung replied, gently pushing you into the car. “Buckle up.”

The door shut, and instead of doing what he asked, you popped open the footwell, taking out a pen from the small leather pouch, drawing a wonky line from Colorado straight to Georgia. Pointing out the obvious, but enough to occupy the seconds alone inside the car. Taehyung moved into the seat next to you, closing the door and locking it for good measure. Thankfully the car was fully filled with petrol, and Taehyung sighed with relief when the engine started smoothly.

“Do you know how to drive?” you asked suddenly, and Taehyung looked at you with a deadpan expression, one eyebrow quirked.

“No.”

“Are you kidding me? No, get out, we’re switching. I can’t believe-”

“People are coming back from the dead and eating each other, and yet you can’t believe that I can’t drive?” Taehyung asked, almost offended. “Put your seatbelt on, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “I don’t fancy dying because you drove us off the road.”

“Why do you have, like, no trust in me at all?” he asked, a sigh in his voice as he reversed the car. “Just because I don’t have a license doesn’t mean I can’t drive safely. I got an Alton Towers drivers license when I went on holiday to England, so, it technically counts.”

“...Are you fucking with me?.”

“Deadly serious,” he nodded, smiling when he saw you grinning in the seat beside him. “I did laps around that track like my life depended on it, and I took the license to school and told kids I had passed my test.”

Leaning over to switch on the radio, you shook your head. “You’re full of surprises, you know.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take it. Which direction is Georgia?”

“That way,” you estimated, pointing an arm in the direction on the map. “You ever been to Georgia?”

“Six months ago, I’d never really been anywhere except for New York,” Taehyung replied. “You?”

“Nope. It’ll be like a holiday for us both,” you said, settling into the seat with the sound of a random jazz CD playing quietly. “Is that okay? Going on holiday with me?”

Taehyung pretended to think about it, and then looked over with a faint smile ghosting his lips, eyebrows quirked with an essence of playfulness. “I couldn’t think of anything worse.”

OCTOBER 27TH, 4 YEARS AGO. [x]

“What do you mean, you’re not going to Uni?”

For October, it was warm. Jiyong walked alongside you, his hands balled into fists in the pockets of his green bomber jacket, knees nude in the rips of his jeans. Just further ahead, Seunghyun led a trail of smoke towards an alley walled by chainmail fences, a lime-green light creating a path towards a low hum of chatter, his boots crunching on broken bottles and Autumn leaves.

You shrugged next to him, brushing against his shoulder. “I dunno, really. Can’t afford to go.”

“Uni’s do bursary now,” Jiyong said. “For people who don’t have a lot of money.”

“I appreciate it, Ji, but, I don’t think I’m fit for Uni,” you replied, exhaling a shaky laugh. The small group of high-schoolers made it to the end of the alley, stepping into the back-street submerged in a midnight silence, Denver lights creating bokeh effects in the after-rain landscape.

Minding the dark puddles, you walked in a short silence to a series of stairs leading to an abandoned subway line that expected construction months ago. Down them, students and late-nighters congregated near the train-lines, the familiar smell of weed and cheap Vodka in small dugouts in the wall, and you inwardly cringed as the three of you walked further down the subway station, towards a second staircase leading up, opening up into an abandoned street, where the hum of chatter became roars of excitement. Further ahead, bright nude lights outlined the buildings lining the street, and an accelerating vibration wriggled down the street, shaking the chains on fences, sending Seunghyun into an episode of excited dancing, cigarette slipping through his fingers and dying in the swimming pool of rainwater that flooded a nearby drain.

“Even Seunghyun is going to Uni,” Jiyong continued, irrelevant to the fact that you simply did not have the money to go. “You can’t leave us.”

“Sorry, Ji,” you said quietly, patting his shoulder gently. “It’s just not gonna happen.”

Jiyong watched as you left, his eyes lingering on the imprint left on his jacket. Stepping towards Seunghyun who was already steps ahead, he excitedly tugged at your sleeve, pulling you at a fast pace towards two large open iron gates, past bleachers and towards a once-alive-but-now-abandoned race-track, the type you saw on TV once, the type racers in the area used to practise for Formula tracks. By large barrels painted neon red, two parked race cars revved their engines, the crowd screaming with the bass-line of a song imported from Korea, courtesy of the star racer, Kwon Hyojong. Apparently Jiyong knew his family.

“What’s this about Uni?” Seunghyun asked suddenly, arm swung around your shoulders.

“Not you, too,” you groaned, removing his arm. “I can’t be arsed right now.”

“I’m just asking!” he responded, surrendering by raising his arms. To the side, Jiyong approached a group of girls you recognised from school. “I’m not here to lecture you like he will. He’s known you longer, so it’s part of his programme to mother you. Me, on the other hand…”

He trailed off suggestively, meeting your eye with a small and friendly smirk. Rolling your eyes, you nudged him to move, walking alongside him towards the barrier near the track. Across the road, the second racer, Johnny, took photos with some guys wearing glasses.

“I can’t afford it, after Mum, and everything,” you said, honestly, concentrating on the circles massaged into your skin by Seunghyun’s thumb. “But, it’s okay. I’ll still be in the area. You’re thinking of going to Denver Uni, yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips once. “Still close enough to see you.”

“See?” came your voice, strained but nonetheless positive. Seunghyun smiled vacantly, hands on your body, sandwiched between the bar and his torso. “You won’t even realise I’m not there.”

“...Y/N.”

PRESENT DAY.

“Y/N.”

Jolting awake, your elbow slid off the door of the car, attention pulled away from the memory to the man beside you. Taehyung had been driving wordlessly, the radio quiet, the rain loud enough to send you to sleep. As the car passed the “WELCOME TO OKLAHOMA” sign on the left side of the road, his gaze had landed on your body, abnormally curled up on the seat.

Stirring, limbs sore, you rubbed your eyes clear of sleep, yawning. “‘sup?”

“Away out where the West begins, you’ll find Oklahoma!” he sang, a childish smile present as you groaned in annoyance.

“Already?”

He made a voiced confirmation. “Three minutes ago.”

Pulling the car into a slip-road, you straightened in your seat and took back the map that had slid into the footwell at some point during the journey. Taehyung looks after absentmindedly, his gaze heavy and content watching you scan the red lines on the map, oblivious to the empty road ahead.

“You mumble in your sleep,” he said finally, and you catch your tongue between your teeth suddenly, flinching towards him with a perplexed, and almost afraid, expression.

“I do?”

He nodded, humming. “Yeah. Little things like the weather. The Elvis vinyl.” He wriggled his brows, smirking.

Without realising, you sigh in relief. “Wish I could mumble out a way to cure this thing.”

Taehyung smiled a tight-lipped smile, his features giving away that there was something he wasn’t saying. To his relief, you didn’t notice; your attention was poured onto the map meanwhile he drove, silently, nearing a clutter of cars stained brown and ashy-white. He exhaled slowly, letting the car roll.

“We’re stopping?” you asked, looking up.

“I’m just gonna check something,” Taehyung assured, smiling once and pulling the keys out of ignition. The car jerked violently as it stopped, the radio cutting, the rain washing the front window. “Stay here.”

“Taehyung, no, I want to come with you-”

Without being rude, Taehyung opened the door and silenced your protests, locking it for good measure as you angrily pulled at the handle, glaring through the raindrops as he stepped, drenched by the minute, towards the barricade of cars blocking the road. He stood quietly, hands on hips, analysing the situation: if he moved the cars, it would clear the road, with the definite outcome of attracting walkers with the noise. Letting out a sigh, Taehyung looked around the area, noticing small community apartments lit with China lanterns, a banner with running ink reading: STILL ALIVE, but he couldn’t take any risks.

For now, at least, his own responsibility was keeping the both of you alive. No matter what it cost him.

Over the short ride across Denver, there was plenty of time for Taehyung to get to know you, to find out more about the leader of the group who took him in when nobody else would. He barely scraped below the comfort zone, only getting an age- the same as himself, aged 21- and a birthday, the name of a poem you wrote aged seven, the name of a family pet you had who passed away months before the outbreak. In return, you learned Taehyung studied Economics and Music at NYU and that he liked jazz music, which explained the torturous loop of whatever CD had been left behind in the car.

It wasn’t enough to start a friendship. But it would have to do.

Returning to the car, he sank into the suede seat and started the car back up, the lights switching on and the saxophone solo continuing.

“Nothing?”

Taehyung shook his head, reversing. “Nothing that wouldn’t cause attention. There’s a road, over there. I’m hoping it will take us right around the mound. Close your window- anything could pry it down.”

You didn’t argue. He knew what he was doing.

The car rolled silently, moving away from the barricade of cars and instead down a left-hand backstreet, cutting underneath a large junction, the old shed-sales company redundant and rotting with wet mould. The windscreen wipers cut away the stains of rain, clearing a view for Taehyung to manoeuvre around discarded bodies and open drains, the occasional biter trying to move from beneath a fallen lamppost, or groaning behind a fence too thick to bite through.

“Imagine how cool it would be inside an IKEA right now,” you said suddenly, staring at the large blue building just off the road, littered with biters in the car-park. Taehyung snorted. “I’m serious. Maybe we could pretend life was normal.”

“This is normal, now,” he replied, his voice quiet, as if afraid to be loud. “I don’t think I could get used to going back to how things were. Not after what I’ve been through.”

“I get that,” you nodded. “It would be nice to sleep on a real bed, though.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Further down the road, as the car cruised past an open alley looking outwards to a flooded stream littered with blood and guts, the atmosphere shifted. It was the type of moment where the air becomes clammy and it’s hard to breathe, even harder to pretend like nothing has changed. On command, the radio signal wavered, the smooth vocals of a singer you didn’t know crunched into incoherent static, and out the corner of your eye, you took note of the way Taehyung gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Y/N, seriously, put your seatbelt on this time,” he said warningly, his gaze flickering to the shaking seatbelt that hadn’t been worn once during the trip. Sensing danger, you did what he said, putting your seatbelt in the slot.

Cautious of speed, Taehyung drove steadily down the road, ready to turn back onto the street when someone jumped in front of the car. She- it was clear enough to decipher that it was, indeed, a woman- slammed her palms flat on the bonnet of the car, eyes crazed and blood pouring from her lips. Unexpectedly, the car halted, making you thankful of the seatbelt.

“Please…” her voice said, quiet but loud at the same time. You glanced at Taehyung with a frantic gaze, noticing that his hand was ready on the gear-stick. “They’re gonna come for me. They gonna come. Take me with you. Get out, I’m takin’ your car.”

She moved in stutters, her body moving before her legs, like the shake of your body with a cough. Taehyung reversed slightly, bumping the tail of the car into a biter who had picked itself up from the corners of the abandoned shed company lot, its face sneering through the back window.

“They’re gonna kill me,” she repeated, but Taehyung didn’t budge.

“Taehyung- she’s-, we-”

“Get out the car or else I’ll kill the both of ya!” the woman screamed, violently lunging at the driver’s window, hands fisting the glass.

“Go!” you screeched, pinching the skin on Taehyung’s wrist as you gripped the steering wheel. “Please, go, go, go, go-”

Stepping on the gas, the car pushed forward at an alarming speed, a trail of thick black smoke blinding the biter but nonetheless drawing in more from the shadows, staggering and swarming towards the woman painted in crimson blood, her elbow white and exposed, the skin curling up with an infection, a bite on her neck.

Turning in your chair, you felt compelled to watch; the premium viewing experience, watching her get torn to pieces by her neighbours, a childhood best friend, a lover. Their grown fingernails scratching at her skin like needles to paper, the sinister sound of her screams attracting herds of biters from across the town, eager to taste. As Taehyung drove away, fast enough to avoid the mob but slow enough to save gas, it was harder to look away. Harder to look away from the beauty that was death.

NEXT CHAPTER.