#i love characters with gas masks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

clanwarrior-tumbly · 9 months ago

Note

If you allow yandere, then Can I request a yandere! Catnap x Creator! reader?

Time are in the middle of hour of joy, and Reader are in playcare, catnap are chasing reader and reader are desperately running away from him. and reader is creator or the person who came up with the design of Catnap.

'God..why did this happen? Why did this have to happen?? God, please make this stop...tell me I'm dreaming..'

Sadly, this was no dream.

The screams, the bloodshed, the senseless slaughter..

All of it was very much real, and you were right in the middle of it all, currently hiding within Playcare. You didn't even know what was going on exactly or why.

Everywhere you looked, there was another dead body on the ground, in the grass, and splayed across the stairs...all of whom were either your coworkers, scientists you've never seen before, security personnel, or innocent visitors.

Many of them had similar wounds--claw marks from none other than Catnap himself, who you saw stalking around the premises, looking for survivors.

But why would he do something like this?

How was he even capable of such violence?

It was supposed to be a normal and simple day:

You clocked in, checked up on Catnap's well-being after he put the children to sleep, and then left to attend to other matters. It was a mundane routine, but you were always excited to get up and go to work because of him.

However, you were running a tad bit late today and feared you'd get an earful from your supervisor considering the company's strict tardiness rules.

But on your way to Playcare, the emergency sirens resounded all throughout the facility. You had no idea what was going on, although the distant screams made you utterly terrified and had you running straight to that area, praying you'll find shelter from whatever danger lurked nearby...

Instead you ran straight into the scene of a massacre.

All orchestrated by Catnap and several mini-Smiling Critters who got loose, attacking and devouring whatever poor human got caught in their sights.

You had to throw on your gas mask quickly to avoid inhaling the red smoke. There was very little lingering in the air still, but judging from the corpses who still wore them or had them torn from their heads, they must have been prepared for this massive containment breach.

Even so, none were spared.

Catnap was probably smart enough to know the purpose of those masks. And he put them all to sleep. Permanently.

Yet somehow he hasn't spotted you yet, and you hoped to every god above that he didn't.

This pained you especially as you were on the designer team for the Smiling Critters. You actually made the first drawing of Catnap and presented it to your boss, who approved it right away...but only after making a few minor major adjustments.

Who knew something so sweet and innocent would turn into something so deadly?

He was supposed to be nothing more than a cartoon character brought to life and a plush toy (that unfortunately got recalled). How the higher-ups managed to achieve that with him and the other critters without your team ever knowing...you had no idea, but you were thrilled by the results.

You adored Catnap, and he was well aware that you created the idea of him--almost worshipping you, in a sense, and being the only human he'd properly communicate with.

In turn, you've communicated with him healthily, treating him like a person instead of an experiment. He did mutter strange things sometimes and talked about freedom, but you never probed him on that nor reminded him that he was a prisoner here.

No matter how true it may be, no toy deserves to be told that.

Now that you were here, hiding from the very thing you had loved and created, you weren't sure if you were even looking at Catnap anymore.

It may look like him, but it's not him.

Catnap is not a killing machine.

Whatever those scientists did turned him into a monster. A creature they failed to keep in check.

And he snapped, slaughtering many of your acquaintances and innocent families interested in the adoption program.

He kept muttering about an "Hour of Joy", which you've heard him speak of in the past. But you've always assumed he was talking about an upcoming birthday party or event within the Playhouse the other Smiling Critters were planning..

Not a giant bloodbath that painted the floors and walls of Playcare red.

You ducked behind a trash canister as you watched Catnap creep towards a survivor, who was also wearing a gas mask and breathing hard. Seeing that their leg was torn off at the knee, you knew there was no hope of helping them.

The moment they were spotted, their fate was sealed.

They were his prey now.

You couldn't look away as he paused for a moment, before reaching forward with a quick swipe, tearing off their mask. His claws left big gash marks across their face as they wailed in pain, but it didn't last long as he quickly pounced and slashed their throat next--leaving them to choke on their own blood.

Seconds later, their body stilled, becoming just like the rest of those surrounding them.

You made the horrible mistake of exhaling a shaky breath, the mask amplifying the noise.

That's when Catnap whipped his head towards you, those white dots growing larger.

"YOU. COME HERE."

Realizing your cover's blown, you jumped up and knocked the trash canister over, hoping it'd distract him long enough for you to race inside Home Sweet Home. But the diversion barely did anything, as you heard the loud stomps of the purple beast practically on your heels.

He lunged at the door just as you turned and slammed it shut, locking it and trying to shove a chair beneath the knobs. There was loud knocking on the other side, but eventually it stopped.

As soon as it did, you rushed into one of the many bunkbed rooms, finding it strangely devoid of children, scientists, and caretakers.

What happened to them all?

Did they evacuate safely?

Did they know about this ahead of time?

You had no idea, and quite frankly..now wasn't the time to find out. Rather, it was time for you to think of a way out of this wretched place, but you feared it won't be easy.

You knew the orphanage's interior like the back of your hand--the problem were the little Smiling Critters that you could currently hear pitter-pattering down the halls.

He put them here on patrol.

If any of them saw you..surely they'd alert him.

On the brightside, there were no traces of red smoke to be found, so you briefly took the mask off to give yourself a breather. Sweat poured down your face, and your throat ran dry; you could practically feel your own heartbeat pounding within it as you tried to figure out your next move.

Maybe if you wait here long enough, he'll get bored and leave...

Or maybe he'll-

All of the sudden, a critter leapt out from underneath one of the covers and tried latching onto your head. You yelled out as it screeched right beside your ear, attempting to bite into it and get a taste of your flesh, but you managed to throw it down to the ground and keep it crushed under your shoe.

You grabbed a nearby metal rod from a destroyed bedframe, pointing the sharp end at its throat..

Only to realize it was a Catnap, who looked perfectly intact aside from a little dirt caking its plush body.

Both of you had a bit of a staring contest.

And in the end....you couldn't find it in you to kill it.

All you could do was stare down at the creature, tears in your eyes as you watched it wriggle and snarl, pawing at your foot. It was barely putting up a fight now, which made you realize it probably didn't want to attack you.

Rather..it seemed hungry.

But why would it be hungry for human flesh?

Was Catnap the same way? Was he hungry or just killing for sport?

More importantly...why was he killing at all and tormenting you like this?

Maybe he was angry about his toyline being recalled, or the unfair treatment he's gotten here by the scientists. Or perhaps he felt outcasted by the other Smiling Critters.

You didn't know if any of them were still around, but for all you knew they could be just like him.

Hungry, rampaging monsters.

The ringing phone snapped you back to reality, and you cautiously took your foot off the tiny Catnap. It got up and skittered away into a nearby hole in the rotting wall, apparently having lost its appetite.

You quickly answered the machine, praying it was somebody upstairs trying to get in contact with you. Maybe a survivor who knew how to get you out. Before you gave them a chance to speak, you went first, being so scared, frustrated, and overwhelmed by everything that's happened thus far.

You just wanted this nightmare to be over already.

"Thank god. What the hell is going on?! It's like a fucking slaughterhouse down here-"

"It's a celebration. The Hour of Joy, little mouse."

Your blood ran cold, realizing who that voice belonged to. 'The Toys...they know how to use these phones..?'

"C-Catnap?"

"[Y/n]..why did you run away?" He whispered hoarsely. "I didn't know it was you."

"Wha...b-because you were killing people!" Your voice grew shaky, confused as to why he sounded so calm. "And you would've killed me, too!!"

"No."

"...what?"

"You are special to me, little mouse. You breathed life into me. You must be kept safe, for you are pure..unlike these wretched souls." He murmured. "They would have taken you away from me. Forever. I do not want that."

"Y-You're..not making any sense, Catnap." You struggled to wrap your head around his words. "If someone told you I'm quitting or getting fired or transferring..they lied. Nobody's taking me away from you..is that what you're afraid of? Is that why you did all of this?"

"I did it..for the Prototype...and for you. He told me I could spare one soul when our Hour of Joy is up."

Your stomach sank, but before you could ask him more about this "prototype", he cut you off.

"Shhhhhhhh. No more talking. No more running. Sleep, little mouse."

By the time you realized red smoke was starting to fill up the room, it was already far too late as you began coughing. You dropped the phone and frantically searched for your gas mask.

No way in hell were you going to fall asleep now.

Especially not after what he told you.

You'd rather die with the rest of them.

Suddenly you heard a small crunching noise and looked down, seeing that you stepped on one of the lenses. 'Shit..it must've broke off during my scuffle with Mini-Catnap...'

You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, and you instead tried grabbing something to stuff beneath the door to stop more smoke from seeping in. No matter what, you HAD to stay awake, you told yourself.

And yet..

That stained worn mattress with the blanket you half-dragged off suddenly looked quite comfortable.

You collapsed onto it, feeling exhaustion overwhelm you immediately despite the rest of your body's attempts to fight it--knowing your fate was ultimately left in his hands should you fail.

But you were so, so tired..

You couldn't help closing your eyes. Just for a little while.

Right before losing consciousness, however, you noticed that the door was now open, and through the red fog appeared Catnap himself.

Except he didn't look like a monster made of skin and bones, instead being a little bipedal purple cat who seemingly jumped straight out of the cartoon show.

His fur wasn't tainted with a single spec of blood or dirt.

He was perfect.

Your perfect creation.

All he did was smile, and you fell asleep smiling back.

#clanask #anonymous #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #smiling critters #angst #yandere #tw yandere #tw death mention

1K notes · View notes

skrunksthatwunk · 1 year ago

Text

AAAAA THIS IS SO GOOD LEMME RAMBLE A BIT OK BECAUSE LIKE. he's ALWAYS trying to make himself fit this box, right? he's always thinking and talking about appearances and what you have to do to get ahead (the suits you wear, the girls you entertain, etc) because he's been studying it. not just to get ahead, but because he knows he's got to do more to get people's approval than kiryu. I think there's an interesting tension there. he keeps trying to give him advice on how to mask and how to fit in because he's put a lot of effort and thought into it because it's how he stays afloat here and he tells kiryu to protect/help him, and then kiryu gets to disregard it and be fine anyway. he doesn't need it like nishiki does

and while nishiki loves kiryu dearly i think there's a sort of jealousy that often comes with that dynamic (speaking from my experience, ohoho). kiryu's allowed to be himself and not even try to be Correct or Normal and people let him because they like who he is as a person more. nishiki masks because he knows the base version of himself, who he is at his core, would be unacceptable... but if kiryu isn't and he is then there has to be something wrong about the way he is. something shameful he has to hide. or at least a liability he's got to always be accounting for, always stepping in front of to obscure.

and he loves kiryu. he really does. but maybe it annoys him when kiryu does things that are blatantly autistic because he wouldn't let himself do that. he has more self control. he's more aware of things than kiryu is. and nobody seems to see that advantage (one of the only ways he's better than kiryu) nor that effort. how bad he's trying to fix himself for them. they don't care. but the lesson he takes away from that isn't that he should stop trying because he's never going to please them, but that he needs to try harder and harder. he's going to pass. he's going to sneak it by them this time. he'll be the son kazama always wanted eventually if he keeps stuffing himself in this damn suitcase.. even though he knows kazama already has the son he wants. it's kiryu.

i think a lotta this is because neither are ever diagnosed (maybe kiryu is later in life, but nishiki? no chance), and because nishiki's not masking consciously. there's a part of him that's annoyed at kiryu's blatantness, and i think it really is rooted in jealousy, because he wants to be free like that. he wishes people would accept him if he were like that but he's on thin ice as it is. but i don't think he's necessarily conscious of it as jealousy, he just thinks kiryu needs to get a clue or get his act together or whatever.

and the thing is, i don't know if nishiki would have been liked better if he unmasked. people think of him as a snivelling kissass, y'know? and i think that comes from the masking. but i think he probably would be more chatty, more open. more inconvenient and more annoying, as far as his peers are concerned. strong and silent type? sure, they have a place for that. but that's not nishiki, and he won't be if he unmasks, either. and not knowing what the problem is (autism) nor what the outcome would be to fix it this other way (unmasking), he doesn't have much of a shot at it either. but if he did he'd probably stick with masking, because shit, it's better than nothing. he's gotta have armor. if people hate the mask they hate the job he's doing at fitting in. if people hate him without the mask, they hate him. he can't risk finding that out even if he already suspects it's true. it would break him.

but they'll always hate him anyway. nishiki, at the end of the day, could never win. that's his place in the narrative and in his own life. he fought a losing battle and he lost and they hated him for it. he just wasn't cut out for this. but the wheel keeps spinning, because if he stops trying, he'll fall apart completely.

[kicks door down]

Autistic Nishiki whose special interest is fashion and not only considers what's trendy but also looks out for fabrics that aren't a sensory nightmare, however sometimes he will force himself to wear something that isn't comfy for appearance's sake, which leaves him more vulnerable to getting overwhelmed and therefore 'emotional' Also means he has his collar popped like Kiryu's for sensory reasons too and slutty reasons, which would once again make me correct in saying if he undid his collar in Kiwami he'd be normal again because if I were constantly experiencing sensory discomfort I too would be fucked up and evil.

Cause like here's the thing, autistic Kiryu and Majima headcanons are more obvious (especially the former), whereas Nishiki probably comes off as the most 'normal'; he can likely maintain eye contact and talk to people 'normally' and not like, go off on some random tangent about a special interest or hyperfixation. And then you remember masking is a thing.

And okay, so I actually think it's unfair a lot of fandom considers him a 'crybaby' right, cause he's cried in situations MOST PEOPLE WOULD RIGHTFULLY CRY OVER! BUT, I can use this to my Autistic Advantage and have this be he actually struggles to regulate his emotions, and considering he's been exposed to the yakuza world since a young age where ANY emotion that isn't 'respectable stoicism' or 'righteous fury and indignation', he's seen as even MORE overly emotional. Hence the need to start masking so early, PLUS having to protect Kiryu who couldn't mask if his life depended on it because he doesn't realise he may HAVE to (speaking from personal experience, Kiryu definitely went his whole life unaware there was anything ""wrong"" with him (for lack of a better word) and had people just like "oh yeah he's just Like That dw bout it" and went on with his life), so Nishiki takes up the mantle of I'm The One Who Knows What We're Doing Lad's desperate to gain acceptance and will change whatever he has to but people still somehow pick up that Something's Off About Him and so they tend to be disdainful or brush him off. It's easy charisma that can win over hostesses and brief encounters with civillians but can't carry across in the yakuza. Kiwami is him trying his DAMNDEST to act neurotypical even at the cost of his own comfort, and the worst part is it's not working

#oh i am projecting so hard here but whats a nishiki for besides projection of childhood issues am i right #but seriously as someone who grew up with a Clearly autistic but undiagnosed little brother there was a lotta psh he should just suck it up #doesn't he know thst you're not supposed to show anger or pain ever at all? and if you do you do it in This way to be more appealing?#going on in my head. i still loved him but i saw these things as a character flaws because i was taught that strength meant being unphasabl #it meant being able to handle more discomfort without any indication of it. and bc i was a very repressed asshole #and so he'd express that things got to him more than me by complaining or getting upset and it'd bother me bc i couldnt do that #i hope i got better. i certainly think i have #ALSO THAT THING ABOUT HIM BEING EVIL BC HE WON'T UNBUTTON HIS SHIRT IS SO REAL #anyway hope this didn't derail it too bad but also im pretty sure I've seen you apologizing for going off on my posts and this is payback #like jokes on you i love that shit. anyway woe expansion be upon ye #rgg #nishikiyama akira #nyarla dni #anyway i never really considered autistic nishiki before but he's so masking coded it's not even funny #anyway him and kiryu have a classic 'oh you're just like me' connection even if they don't know why and seem v different (autism)#source: every friendship i had with a kid who was more visibly neurodivergent where i sought them out bc of the comfort that inexplicably #gave me (also autistic but not going to figure it out for years)#though those tended to have less jealousy to them #ryu ga gotoku #OH ALSO IM INTO FASHION BUT I ALSO ALMOST ONLY WEAR BLACK AND MINIMAL PATTERN STUFF BC MY EYES NEED A BREAK #SO THATS VERY REAL

33 notes · View notes

nhaaauyen · 3 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART IV: TONIGHT, I WALK AWAY

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part V

wc: 7.8k cw: violence, angst, major character death author's note: Honestly I'm starting to get why TWD writers do what they do after writing this chapter... I also apologize for taking so long for this chapter, my classes are starting now so updates will be a bit a slower </3 **also some eastereggs but the sonnet 73 quote I have is mentioned in the scene where Grayson talks about love. It's pretty much the translated modern English definition of the quote! The make a wish dialogue is also from the movie Dangerously Yours (1937), that scene always gets me so I had to include it haha

You drift in and out of consciousness, the world around you a hazy blur of pain and disjointed voices. Through the fog, you catch glimpses of three figures engaged in intense discussion.

Sevika's there, her face etched with worry. Beside her stands a tall, bald gaunt man and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are sunken, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. The third figure is shorter, with slicked-back dark hair and a prominent scar running down one side of his face, his right eye a striking shade of green.

Their voices filter through your muddled thoughts:

"...low on medical supplies for a procedure like this," the masked man says, his voice muffled and clinical. "There's no sure chance she can make it."

"I'll go to the hospital."

"It’s too dangerous." The scarred man's voice is sharp and skeptical.

"We've been low on supplies for too long," Sevika argues. "It's time we do it now. We cannot lose any more people."

Their words fade as you slip back into darkness, only to resurface again as you're being moved. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're on some kind of gurney, the ceiling passing by overhead. You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. Glancing down, you see your wrists are handcuffed to the sides of the bed.

Panic surges through you as you realize you're being rolled into what looks like a makeshift operating room. The masked man and the scarred one are there, now wearing blood-stained surgical gowns. You try to fight, to call out, but your body won't cooperate.

The scarred man leans over you, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. "It will be over soon," he says, his voice oddly soothing despite the circumstances. Then he's lowering a gas mask over your face, and the world fades to black.

When you wake again, your mind is clearer, though your body feels like it's been run over by a truck. The scarred man is sitting in a chair beside your bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Ah, you're awake," he says, leaning forward. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if we'd miscalculated."

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, raw. He holds up a hand, silencing you.

"No need to strain yourself. I just wanted to... observe you.” He pauses. "It's been a long time since I've had to perform a procedure like that. It’s quite a reminder of what still lurks beyond these walls. How we’ve grown complacent."

Your eyes drift to his face, lingering on the scar that runs down the right side, bisecting his eye. The eye itself is a startling shade of green, almost luminescent against his pale skin. You must have been staring, because the man chuckles, a dry, humorless sound.

"Curious, aren’t you?" A sardonic smile twists his features. "It’s only natural - people always wonder. But few ever ask. It’s a souvenir from when Zaun was still crawling out of the muck. When men I called brothers tried to drag me back down for a piece of land."

His finger traces the scar slowly, almost lovingly. "This... this was their parting gift." He trails off, then continues in a near-whisper. "Have you ever felt pain so exquisite it becomes transcendent? For days, I danced on the knife's edge between genius and madness."

His gaze refocuses on you, sharp and penetrating. "But pain, you see, can be transformative. It stripped away my naivety, my weakness. It forged me into something stronger, something capable of truly leading Zaun."

“I think I understand why Sevika is so fond of you." His lips curl into something that might be a smile but doesn't reach his eyes. "There's something in you, just like her. That part that's willing to sacrifice."

You furrow your brow, confusion, and wariness warring inside you.

"Some sacrifices are necessary to be made. But they're also weaknesses," He stands, smoothing down his shirt. "Something to consider."

With those cryptic words, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You're left alone, your mind racing with questions. Who were those men? What exactly happened to you? And how much time had gone by?

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, and exhaustion soon follows. Despite your churning thoughts, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift into an uneasy sleep.

When you wake again, its by the sound of shuffling feet and the creak of a door opening. The haze of sleep still clings to your mind as you slowly become aware of your surroundings.

Sevika enters, holding a plate of food. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

"Hey," she says finally, her voice softer than you've ever heard it.

"Hey yourself," you reply, unable to keep a slight tremor from your voice.

Sevika sets the plate on your bedside table, then stands awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with her hands. "Thought you might be hungry," she mumbles.

You nod, a thousand questions bubbling up inside you. Where has she been? Why didn't she visit sooner? What happened after the surgery? But looking at her now, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds herself - tense, guarded - you decide those questions can wait.

Instead, you pat the bed beside you. "Sit with me?"

Sevika hesitates for a moment, then complies. As she settles beside you, you feel the warmth of her presence, so familiar yet somehow changed.

"I missed you," you say simply.

Sevika's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she schools it back to neutrality. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she replies, her voice gruff but sincere.

As you and Sevika sit together, you try to maintain a casual conversation, but there's an undercurrent of tension you can't ignore. Sevika's responses are clipped, her gaze never quite meeting yours. It's like she's looking through you, not at you.

"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "What's going on?"

She turns slowly, her eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s something different in them, something that makes your heart clench. It’s infuriating, this distance she’s putting between you, this wall she’s building brick by brick.

“Sevika,” you say, trying to break through that wall. “Talk to me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing can happen between us again,” she says, the words falling heavy between you like a death sentence.

You stare at her, disbelief mingling with hurt. “What?”

Her gaze flickers, something like pain flashing in her eyes before she steels herself again. “We can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and strained. “We can’t keep pretending this… whatever this is… can last.”

You feel the ground shift beneath you like the world is falling away, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re really going to say that after everything?” Your voice cracks, the hurt seeping through despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. “How do you kiss someone, make them believe there’s something real, and then just��throw it away?”

Sevika’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, as if unable to bear the sight of your pain. “You can be mad at me, hate me if you want,” she says. “But it has to be this way.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, your heart breaking with every word. “I’m hurt, Sevika. I’m hurt because I care about you, and you’re pushing me away like none of it matters.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the hum of the machines.

“Then why?” you demand, your voice wavering as you struggle to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the anguish in her eyes is like a punch to the gut. “Because if I let myself love you,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, “I know we’d never have enough time. ”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the despair that’s been brewing in your chest. “But isn't some time better than none at all? I'd rather have a handful of precious moments with you than spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'” The tears you’ve been holding back now streaming down your face.

“Even if it hurts, even if it's brief – at least it would be real.”

Sevika shakes her head, her expression a storm of anger and fear. Her words come out in a rush, like she can't hold them back any longer.

"You don't understand. I was okay before you. I was okay with the idea of dying, of existing day after day without purpose until my time ran out. But now?" Her voice hardens. "Now I'm terrified. I'm not okay with losing you. I'm not okay with the thought that you could walk out that door and never come back."

“I didn't need this. I didn't need you to come along and give me a reason to call this godforsaken place home. I didn't need you to make me want to survive instead of just exist.” She’s practically pleading now. “Don't you see what you've done to me? Needing you means I have something to lose."

The weight of her confession crushes you, the finality of it sinking in. She’s not just pushing you away—she’s tearing herself apart to do it, ripping out the very thing that might make her feel alive, all because she’s so afraid of the pain it could bring.

“I’d shatter every bone in my body again if it meant keeping you safe,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’d do anything for you, Sevika, and it hurts so bad that you won’t let me.”

She turns her head away. “You’re too stubborn,” she whispers, her voice resigned. “You won’t stop, and neither will I, and it’ll kill us both in the end.”

“You look at me like I’m already dead,” you say, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Like I’m a ghost you’ve been carrying around, waiting for the right moment to bury me.”

She flinches, the words cutting deep. “Because that’s what it feels like,” she confesses. “I feel like I’ve already lost you, and it’s killing me. I’d rather lose you now when we still have a chance to walk away than lose you out there, where I can’t protect you.”

The following silence is deafening, the air thick with everything neither of you can bring yourselves to say. You reach out, your hand trembling as you gently caress her cheek, trying to offer comfort in the only way you know how. She leans into your touch for a moment, her eyes closing as if she’s trying to savor it, to hold onto it before it’s gone.

“Are you doing this to protect me, or are you protecting yourself?” you ask softly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline, offering her one last chance to admit the truth.

She opens her eyes, and the pain you see there nearly undoes you. “Both,” she admits. “I’m protecting both of us. I’ll never survive the day I lose you. And I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard, her eyes pleading with you to understand. “I can’t live.”

Your heart shatters as the reality of her words sinks in. She’s already decided, already convinced herself that this is the only way to keep you both safe, even if it means tearing herself apart in the process.

“Can I be alone?” you ask, your voice small and broken, the words barely escaping your lips.

Sevika nods, her expression tightening as she takes a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll go.”

She turns to leave, but before she can take another step, you reach out. “Sevika, wait,” you say, your voice filled with desperation. “Can you hand me my bag?”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the bag and then back to you. After a moment, she nods and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of longing through you. You rummage through the bag, your heart pounding as you pull out the familiar fabric of her shawl.

You hold it out to her. “This belongs to you.”

Sevika stares at the shawl, her eyes widening as she realizes what it means. For a moment, she just stands there, looking at it like it’s a lifeline she’s too afraid to grasp. Then, she takes it from you.

She looks at you, and in her eyes, you see all the things she wants to say, all the things she’s too scared to admit. And then, without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving you alone with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the scent of her shawl lingering in the air.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You didn’t accept any visitors for days, under the guise that you were too tired and needed the rest to recover. But as tempting as curling in bed and crying over a woman that you never even had a proper relationship with was, you knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

Blinking, you see a group of people piling into your room.

Vander's deep voice rumbles, "Easy now, let's not overwhelm her."

Caitlyn is standing over you. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Before you can answer, Powder chimes in, "Bet you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Am I right?"

"Something like that," you croak.

Your attention is drawn to the doorway where Grayson stands, little Ren in her arms. The child is clutching Grayson's yellow armband tightly.

Grayson sets Ren down gently. "Go on, little one," she says softly.

Ren doesn't need to be told twice. She rushes to your bedside, her small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "Miss, are you okay?" she asks, her voice shakes slightly. "Will you be like Sevika?"

The innocence in her question tugs at your heart. You reach out, ignoring the twinge of pain from the movement and the mention of Sevika, to pat her hand. "No, darling," you reply softly. "Sevika is unique. I'll be just fine."

Grayson moves closer, her stern expression softening slightly. "That was brave," she says. "But also very idiotic of you."

You frown at the comment, the words too similar to Sevika’s at the prison.

Vander's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You gave us quite a scare," he says. "But you're tough. You'll pull through."

Caitlyn nods in agreement. "We've managed to replenish some of our medical supplies thanks to the hospital mission." she informs you.

Vi adds with a smirk, "And don't even think about trying to get up and be a hero again anytime soon."

“Yeah… I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond hoarsely.

Over the next week, your family comes and goes, their visits being the highlight of your monotonous days. Grayson usually stopped by with Ren, the two were closer than you expected but Marcus had flitted in and out of Ren’s life so often that Grayson stepped up as a parental figure. You offered to take care of the kid while you were still bed-bound, and Grayson only reluctantly agreed when you assured her it wouldn’t obstruct your healing process.

You find yourself sitting up in bed, Ren cross-legged beside you. Math worksheets are spread out between you.

"If an apple cost three dollars and you needed to buy five apples, how much would that cost?"

Ren's brow furrows in concentration. "Um... fifteen dollars?"

You beam at her. "That's right! You're getting good at this."

A knock at the door interrupts your math lesson and Vi pokes her head in, her red hair slightly disheveled.

"Hey, time to get moving," she says with a grin.

You turn to Ren, giving her a warm smile. "Let's do this again tomorrow, sweetie?"

Ren nods enthusiastically, gathering her papers. "Alright! Bye-bye, miss! I hope you feel better!"

As Ren scampers out, Vi approaches, offering her arm for support. You wince as you stand, your body still protesting the movement.

“Easy,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she watches your struggle. “Take it slow.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on her voice, on the feel of her arm supporting you. Slowly, you manage a few steps, each one a little less painful than the last.

“How’s it feel?” Vi asks, keeping pace with you, her gaze never leaving your face.

“Like hell,” you admit with a shaky laugh, though there’s a small sense of victory in the simple act of standing on your own two feet again. “But better than yesterday.”

Vi nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Progress,” she says. “You’re getting stronger.”

As you slowly make your way down the hallway, Vi starts chatting about her day. "You wouldn't believe the shit from yesterday. We were chasing some survivors that tried to steal our shit through an alley, and then Sevika shows up out of nowhere and--"

The moment the words are out, Vi winces, realizing her mistake too late. You feel a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of Sevika's name.

"Uh, anyway, we got the guy in the end.” she says.

“She… was?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Vi looks away, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s good,” you say, though the words feel like a lie even as they leave your lips. “It’s good that she caught them.”

Vi nods. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s just… I miss her. It’s stupid, we weren’t anything.”

“I know,” she says. “But it’s not stupid.”

There’s a long silence, the kind that’s filled with all the words neither of you know how to say. “If you didn’t have Caitlyn, would you be okay with all of this? Would you be able to live with everything we do?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she considers your words. “Do I have a choice?” she finally says, her voice tinged with a sadness you’ve rarely heard from her. “I have Powder. I have you, Vander… my family. I’d feel incomplete, sure, but I don’t have a choice. I have to keep going.”

“We’ll keep going, together.” She adds.

“Thanks, Vi.” Despite your gratefulness, her words feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the grief you’re still trying to process.

Your family helps you through it all, they talk to you about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories. The days pass, and slowly, you begin to reclaim small pieces of yourself. You walk more, the physical therapy sessions become less of a struggle and more of a routine.

And each night, when the room is quiet and you’re alone with your thoughts, you think of Sevika. It’s not easy. Some days, the weight of it all feels unbearable, like you’re drowning in a sea of what-ifs and lost chances. But you keep going, step by step, knowing that it’s all you can do.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting session, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts drift. You think about Sevika, about the last time you saw her, the pain in her eyes as she walked away. And you wonder if she feels the same weight, if she’s struggling just as much to move on.

You close your eyes, and for a moment, you imagine her here, standing by your side. And as you drift off to sleep, you could swear you hear her voice, soft and broken, whispering in the dark.

“I failed you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The pantry is filled with the scent of canned goods and the faint rustle of paper bags. You’re focused on stacking cans of beans when your grip falters, and one slips from your fingers.

Before it can hit the ground, a hand darts out and catches it. You look up to see a man with a cocky grin. He’s tall and lean, with slicked-back hair and piercing teal eyes. You don’t know why, but he looked oddly familiar.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing down here? Are we that understaffed that we’re making the injured work now?”

You snatch the can back from him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you reply curtly, setting the can back on the shelf, “but I wanted to do this.”

He chuckles, leaning against the shelf with a casual arrogance. “Looks like supplies are running a bit thin,” he comments slyly, his eyes flicking to the half-empty shelves. “Maybe you should take it easy before you use up what little energy we have left.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

Before he can retort, the door to the pantry swings open with a loud creak, and Sevika steps inside. The air changes instantly when her gaze zeroes in on the man.

“Finn,” she growls. “What are you doing here?”

Finn straightens up and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just making sure our friend here isn’t overworking herself,” he says innocently.

“Get lost,” Sevika snaps. “Now.”

With a lazy shrug, Finn backs off, giving you a final, lingering look before sauntering out of the pantry. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone with Sevika.

Sevika turns to you. “I was told you’re working here again,” she says, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Are you stupid? You’re barely healed.”

You bristle at her tone. "I needed to do something."

"Yeah, like babysitting Ren," she snaps. “Not this.”

"Why does it matter what I do?" you challenge, your voice rising.

For a moment, Sevika doesn’t answer, but then her eyes widen.

“You’re bleeding.”

You blink, confused. “What?”

You look down and see a trickle of blood seeping through the bandages on your side. The pain hits you a second later, sharp and burning, but you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of her.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “I can bandage it myself.”

But Sevika is already moving toward you, her expression darkening with worry. “You’re not going back to your place like this,” she mutters. “Come on. My place is closer.”

Before you can protest, she’s already scooping you up into her arms. The world blurs around you as she carries you through the streets and you’re too shocked to resist.

When you reach her place, she sets you down on the edge of her bed, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulls away.

“Just sit,” she instructs as she moves to grab a first aid kit from a nearby drawer.

“I can do it.”

Sevika shakes her head, her expression set in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I have experience with this,” she says quietly. “Let me.”

You watch in silence as she works. Her hands, usually so strong and rough, are gentle as they press a fresh bandage against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles you, in the way she refuses to meet your gaze as she focuses on the wound, that makes your chest ache.

Finally, Sevika finishes. She stands, the distance between you growing once more as she busies herself with putting away the first aid kit, her movements stiff and mechanical.

“Thanks.” You want to leave, not to be any more inconvenient than you already were but Sevika replies before you can say anything.

“You should rest,” she says, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that was there just moments ago. “Don’t push yourself like that again.”

You reluctantly agree to stay and the tension in Sevika's shoulders eases slightly. She mumbles something about bringing dinner later and leaves you to rest.

Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The room is sparse, almost impersonal. Unlike the chaos in the other rooms, this space feels hollow. There are no personal belongings, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that she even uses this bed. It's as if the room itself is holding its breath, existing in a state of perpetual temporariness.

Exhaustion soon overtakes you, and you drift off to sleep. But you soon wake again at the sound of muffled voices. Through the haze of half-consciousness, you hear one of Sevika's people inviting her to a party, but she declines.

"Nah, I'm staying in today," you hear her say.

The voices fade, and you slowly wake up, disoriented. You stumble to the doorway of the living room, blinking sleep from your eyes. Sevika is there, dressed in casual clothes – a grey tank top and worn jeans with her hair down, falling in messy waves around her face. She's cleaning up, a pile of bottles in her arms when she notices you.

"You're awake," she says, startled. "Shit, did I wake you up?"

You shake your head, your voice still rough with sleep. "No, you're good... Do you need help with that?"

"No. Fuck, sit down. What are you doing walking around?"

Still groggy, you comply without argument, sinking into the couch. Sevika dumps the bottles in a bag and turns back to you.

"I'm making dinner," she says, washing her hands at the sink. "You're okay with instant noodles and spam?"

The domesticity of the moment catches you off guard. "Sounds delicious," you manage to say.

Sevika nods and turns to the small kitchenette. You watch her move around the space. It's surreal, seeing her like this – relaxed, casual, making dinner for you both. For a moment, you can almost pretend things are different between you.

Sevika settles on the far arm of the couch next to you, the small distance between you both feeling more like a chasm.

"Chopsticks or fork?" she asks, holding out both options.

"Chopsticks," you reply, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face.

"Good choice," she murmurs, handing them to you.

You eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at her when you think she's not looking. When you finish, Sevika collects the empty bowls.

"Want dessert?"

"Sure," you nod, watching as she retrieves an apple from the kitchen.

She settles back on the arm of the couch, peeling the apple with a small knife. "How's the physical therapy going?" Sevika asks, breaking the silence.

You shrug. "It's... going. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless."

She nods, placing slices onto a plate. "That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Says the woman who never knows when to quit," you tease gently.

A wry smile tugs at her lips. "Do as I say, not as I do."

As you reach for the last slice, Sevika’s hand brushes your cheek. You freeze, the touch unexpected, and you look up at her, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“There’s an eyelash,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she carefully removes it from your face. She holds it up for you to see, the tiny, delicate lash resting on her fingertip. “Make a wish.”

You stare at the eyelash, your mind racing with all the things you could wish for, should wish for. But the words stick in your throat, and you find yourself frozen, unable to think of anything that could possibly fix what’s been broken.

“Did you wish?”

You shake your head slightly, the corners of your mouth turning up in a sad smile. “I... I didn't get the chance.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing as she studies you. “And there’s something you wish for?”

“Yes,” You hesitate, the words coming slowly, painfully, like pulling them from some deep, hidden place inside you. “I was wishing… that we were two other people. Two people who didn’t have to say goodbye.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with the tension of emotions neither of you can afford to express. Sevika’s expression tightens, her jaw clenching as she absorbs your words.

“You know, if you say it out loud, it doesn’t come true,” she says, her voice rough, like she’s fighting against the vulnerability of the moment.

“Do you believe that?”

She looks down at the eyelash, still resting on her finger, before blowing it away into the air. Her gaze follows it for a moment before she looks back at you. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmovable, like a finality neither of you can escape.

“We should sleep,” Sevika says finally. “It’s late.”

You nod, knowing she’s right. There’s nothing more to be said, nothing that can change the way things are.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

Sevika looks at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, just once, and steps back, letting you go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you echo, your heart heavy as you turn and walk away.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you glance back, just once. Sevika is still standing in the doorway, watching you, her figure framed by the dim light. There’s something in her posture, something in the way she’s holding herself that makes you think she might be wishing too—wishing for something that neither of you can have.

But then she steps back, closing the door behind her, and you’re left standing in the cold, empty hallway, the echoes of what could have been ringing in your ears.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift shooting range. You and Grayson stand side by side, both of you facing a row of targets at the far end of the field. You’ve been practicing your aim for a while now, but your focus has been off, your shots missing the mark more often than not.

“You haven’t said anything about my shit shot,” you mutter, glancing sideways at Grayson, expecting some form of criticism.

She shrugs, her eyes on the distant targets. "You're injured. Why would I?"

You snort. "Liar. Weeks ago, you'd have torn me apart. What's different now?"

Grayson doesn't answer, instead gesturing to a nearby bench overlooking the community below. You follow her, settling onto the worn wood with a sigh.The elevated view makes the world seem vast and small all at once.

Grayson passes you a canteen, and you take a long drink before speaking again. "You snitched to Sevika about me working."

Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Snitching? Are we ten?"

"She didn't need to know," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"You were going hurt yourself," Grayson says softly. "And you needed to see her. For closure, at least."

You fall silent, not wanting to delve into the complicated mess of emotions surrounding Sevika. Instead, you change the subject. "How's Ren?"

“Ren’s sleeping in today. She’s been up late these past few nights, working on that puzzle I gave her.” Grayson’s face immediately brightens at the mention of Ren.

“She’s got that stubborn streak. Wonder where she gets it.”

“Must be the company she keeps,” Grayson replies, her voice laced with affection. “Marcus is at the walls today, keeping an eye on things. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”

You nod, your gaze drifting back to the field. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” you muse. “Every day is the same. We do the same things, see the same faces… What makes it worth living?”

Grayson leans back on the bench, her eyes scanning the horizon as she considers her answer. “You make your own reasons,” she says finally, her tone thoughtful. “For me, it’s taking care of Ren. Making sure she has something to hold onto, something good in this world.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Grayson is choosing her words carefully. “I never thought of myself as the maternal type,” she continues, sounding almost wistful. “But with Ren… It’s different. She’s taught me more about love than I ever knew. In whatever time I got left here, I want to continue it with her, to see her grow up and prove there’s still something more for us here.”

You feel a pang in your chest, suddenly remembering Sevika and her belief that there would never be enough time for the two of you. But where Grayson found strength in loving deeply despite that, Sevika chose to close herself off, to protect herself from the inevitable pain.

Grayson looks at you, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to keep loving, even when you know it won’t last. But that’s what makes it worth it. Knowing that you made the most of the time you had, that you loved fully, even if it hurts in the end.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them resonating with a painful clarity.

“It’s hard,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “When you know it’s not going to last.”

Grayson nods, her expression gentle. “It is. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. You have to find your own reason to keep going, to keep loving, even when it seems like everything is falling apart.”

The conversation settles into a quiet lull, the words lingering between you as the sun dips lower in the sky. You take another sip from the flask, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest.

“You’re always looking out for us, making sure we’re okay.” you say after a moment, your voice tinged with admiration.

“I’m satisfied – knowing that I’ve done what I can to make this place a little better, to take care of the people who matter.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies gently. “We’re all in this together. And besides,” she adds with a small, teasing smile, “someone has to keep you in line.”

You chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere just a bit.

But the peaceful moment on the hill was brief, the tranquility shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps and panicked crying. You and Grayson turn to see Ren running towards you, her face streaked with tears and her small body shaking with sobs.

Grayson immediately drops to her knees, catching Ren in her arms. "What happened, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

Ren tries to speak through her tears, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Daddy said... we were going on a trip... but the monsters... they blocked us and he couldn’t close the gate... now they're coming to get us!"

As if on cue, screams erupt from the direction of the community. You and Grayson exchange a quick glance, both reaching for your weapons without hesitation.

Ren clings to Grayson's yellow armband, her eyes wide with terror. "I want to go with you!" she cries.

Grayson cups Ren's face gently, her voice soft but firm. "Darling, listen to me. I will come back, I promise. But right now, you need to get to safety. Can you be brave for me?"

Ren nods, her lower lip trembling. You know without words what needs to be done - get everyone to safety.

You both sprint down the hill, Grayson carrying Ren. As you near the community, the chaos becomes more apparent. Gunshots ring out, mixing with screams of panic and pain. People are running in all directions, fear etched on their faces.

Vi appears beside you, her red hair wild and her eyes blazing. "We're seriously underarmed right now!" she shouts over the noise. "Sevika's crew is out!"

"We have to make do," you yell back, scanning the area. You spot Caitlyn and a few others on the walls, their snipers picking off threats in the distance.

You, Vi, and the handful of armed residents form a protective line, herding panicked civilians towards their homes. "Get inside! Lock your doors!" you shout, your voice hoarse from the effort.

Children cry for their parents, the elderly struggle to move quickly enough. You see a young mother stumble, her baby wailing in her arms. You rush to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to safety.

Everywhere you look, there's movement – people running, fighting, falling.

The air is thick with the stench of death and the deafening cacophony of gunfire. You're shoulder to shoulder with VI, both of you firing relentlessly at the endless wave of walkers. Sweat stings your eyes as you shout, "Vi! On your left!"

She pivots, taking down three walkers in quick succession. But for every one you drop, two more seem to take its place. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control, and a sinking feeling in your gut tells you you're fighting a losing battle.

But suddenly, powerful headlights cut through the darkness as a convoy of trucks roars onto the scene. Your heart leaps – you'd recognize that cavalry anywhere.

As if materializing from thin air, more trucks appear, effortlessly mowing down walkers and clearing streets. One screeches to a halt in front of you, and then there she is.

A familiar figure vaults from the truck bed – Sevika, her red shawl billowing behind her. She swiftly unslings a shotgun from her back and starts blasting walkers left and right. Her face is composed, every feature carefully controlled, but when her eyes find yours, a fleeting shadow passes over them—a trace of fear and concern.

"You okay?" she shouts over the din, closing the distance between you.

You nod, breathless. "A lot are injured. I don't know, there's too many – I think they're coming from the west gate. Ren said something about Marcus not being able to close it."

Sevika's jaw tightens. She yanks out a radio, barking orders to dispatch teams to the west gate. In seconds, she's handing out weapons, her voice ringing with authority. "Split up! I want a team grabbing as many injured as possible. Anyone bitten, take them out."

As you move to join the fray, Sevika's hand clamps on your arm. "No," she growls. "What the hell are you doing? Get to safety with the others. You're still injured."

"Fine," you concede. "But I'm finding Grayson first."

Sevika gives a curt nod before sprinting back into action. You catch a glimpse of Vi, her red hair unmistakable as she leaps into a truck bed.

You weave through the chaos, dodging walkers and searching for Grayson. Gunfire echoes off buildings, punctuated by the revving of engines and the sounds of walkers being dispatched.

A scream to your left – you spin, firing instinctively. A walker drops, inches from a couple. You quickly wave to them to follow and you sprint to the safe house together. Your leg protests, but adrenaline keeps you moving.

Your heart pounds as you finally spot Grayson, but she's going the opposite direction.

"Grayson!" you shout. "Sevika and her team are here. We need to get everyone to safety!"

She doesn't slow down. "There's someone stuck in a car!"

That's when you see it - a vehicle surrounded by a writhing mass of walkers, their decaying hands clawing at the windows. Inside, you catch a glimpse of a terrified face.

Without hesitation, you sprint after Grayson. The two of you work in tandem, picking off walkers. When you reach the car, Grayson covers you as you wrench the door open. A young boy, no older than seven, practically leaps into her arms.

"We've got to move!" Grayson shouts.

You guys run, the child clinging to her as you lead the way. You’re clearing the path, and you’re halfway to the safehouse when you hear the dreaded click of an empty chamber.

"I'm out!" you yell.

Grayson turns, her eyes flashing with a decision you can see forming before she even speaks. "Take the kid. Go!"

"Wait, we can make it together!"

She shakes her head, placing the boy into your arms. "Sevika's crew is here, remember? I'll be okay. Get everyone to safety!"

Before you can protest, she's shoving you toward safety, using her body as a shield for the child. You run, every step feeling like a betrayal, but knowing you have to trust her.

You make it to a house, handing off the child to waiting arms. Your lungs burn as you gasp for air, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Grayson.

Suddenly, Sevika's there, her face smeared with grime and blood but her eyes alight with fierce triumph. "We closed the gate. Got them all."

Relief floods you for a moment, but then reality crashes back. "Wait, where's Grayson?"

Confusion flickers across Sevika's face, but before she can respond, a heart-wrenching wail cuts through the air. You both rush outside, joining a growing crowd.

The scene that greets you turns your blood to ice. Caitlyn is on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Vi kneels beside her, arms wrapped around her shaking form. "I couldn't save her," Caitlyn chokes out between gasps. "I couldn't shoot them fast enough."

Her sniper lies discarded in the dirt, and that's when you see her. Grayson.

The world seems to tilt on its axis. You stumble forward, unable to process what you're seeing. Grayson, who was just beside you moments ago. Grayson, who sacrificed herself to save a child. Grayson, whose quiet strength held your community together.

She now lies on the ground, her body wracked with violent coughs, blood staining her lips. Her breaths had grown shallow, each one more of a struggle than the last, and when she reached for Sevika’s hand, you knew what she was asking for. Sevika’s fingers trembled as she grasped Grayson’s hand, and when Grayson whispered, “Do it,” you saw a flash of something break inside Sevika.

She obeyed.

The gunshot echoed in your ears, louder than the chaos around you, but it was the sight of Sevika gently closing Grayson’s eyes that broke you. Sevika had always been unbreakable, she seemed immune to the horrors of this world. But as she knelt beside Grayson, you saw the cracks forming. She closed Grayson’s eyes, her hand trembling just for a second before she stood up, towering over the body like a stone sentinel.

You could barely breathe, the grief suffocating you, making it impossible to think about anything other than how many bodies that needs burying tomorrow. How many families would be broken by the news? How many children would cry for family and friends who would never come home?

“Grayson?” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with innocence and confusion. The kid was supposed to be inside the safe house but instead, she stood there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, staring at the lifeless form on the ground. “Why is Grayson sleeping? Tell her to wake up… We won, didn’t we?”

You wanted to tell her something—anything—but the words choked in your throat. Ren dropped to her knees beside Grayson, her tiny hands shaking as they touched the cold, lifeless body.

Sevika finally moved, her expression unreadable, her walls up higher than ever. Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out Grayson’s yellow band. She knelt down, her massive frame suddenly so small beside Ren, and gently placed the band in the child’s trembling hands.

Ren looked up at Sevika, eyes full of questions. But before anything could be said, Silco emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. He was flanked by his men, their faces grim and cold, and at the center of it all was Marcus.

He was barely recognizable—his face a mangled mess of bruises and blood. He was dragged forward, forced to his knees in the dirt where Grayson had fallen. The sight of him brought Sevika to her feet, her fists clenched tight. You could see the battle raging inside her, the desire to end him right then and there, but she held back.

"Look at him," he began, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something trivial. "A man who betrayed the very community that kept him protected him fed and protected. Who left nothing but the ashes of his own cowardice."

He walked slowly around Marcus, like a predator circling its prey. "This is the price of betrayal, the cost of thinking you can stand in the way of what must be done. You all know him," Silco continued, addressing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the broken man at his feet. "You know his face, his uniform, his lies. But you must also know this: in a world where there are no second chances, there are no second thoughts."

Silco’s voice grew harder, colder, as he leaned down close to Marcus’s ear. "Your cowardice, your betrayal, a mistake that cost how many lives today? And now, you will pay the price for that."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final, and Marcus’s body shuddered, knowing what was coming. Silco straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all who would think to cross us, to cross me. There is no forgiveness in this world, only retribution."

You don’t know what happened next, because you’re taking Ren into your arms and you’re moving – away from the crowd, away from the punishment that you know her father will face.

Ren clings to you, burying her face in your chest, and you hold her close, wishing you could shield her from all of this. "What’s happening to Daddy?" she asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. "And Grayson?"

You didn’t have an answer. The only thing you could do was hold her tighter, trying to block out the screams, the fire, the blood.

Time passes, the night dragging on in a blur of grief. Inside the house, the silence was deafening. You had scrubbed the blood from Ren’s skin, but it still lingered in the air, the scent of death refusing to leave. Grayson’s face kept flashing before your eyes, her last breath, her last words, the way her body crumpled in Sevika’s arms.

And now, as you stared out the window, you saw them—Silco’s men, forming a straight, omnious line as they marched out into the night. At the center of it all was a giant wooden cross, and tied to it was Marcus. His head hung low, his body limp, but he was still alive.

Your breath caught in your throat when Sevika looked up at the window. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you saw nothing in her gaze but a cold, empty challenge. The Sevika you knew wasn’t there, but replaced by someone who had buried whatever was left of her soul beneath layers of survival and duty. She turns away, breaking the gaze as she climbed into the backseat of a vehicle. You watch as the trucks disappeared into the night until the only thing you could see was the small form of the cross.

The night presses in around you, heavy with loss, and you wonder if anything would ever feel whole again.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie

#arcane sevika #sevika #sevika imagine #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #grayson arcane #wlw fanfic #zombie apocolypse au #sevika x female reader

312 notes · View notes