#its not like the stomach can take just blood and make stomach acid

[fangdokja]

He knows your favorite color, your childhood fears, and how you’ll look in a coffin.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! FBI Agent x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 865

The fluorescent lights hum above, sterile and cold, casting sharp shadows on the concrete walls. You’ve been sitting there for hours, hands trembling in your lap, wrists raw from the biting metal of the handcuffs he fastened too tightly. The air reeks of copper and disinfectant. His scent cuts through it all—cologne muted by sweat and iron. It clings to your skin, branding you, suffocating you.

He watches you from the other side of the table, an impenetrable wall of muscle and authority. The tailored suit stretches taut over his shoulders, framing a chest that could crush you. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing forearms veined and powerful, the kind you could imagine snapping necks without hesitation. His jaw is tight, shadowed with stubble, lips curling around a cigarette he’s not smoking. He doesn’t need to. The threat lingers in his silence, in the way his narrowed cold eye studies you, dissecting every inch of your quivering form.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” His voice is gravel, low and cutting, a razor against your ears. “Every breath you take, every blink, every time you clench those pretty little thighs—I see it. You think you’re smart, playing coy, hiding behind your trembling innocence. But I’ve been watching you for years, sweets.”

The way he says it sends a chill ripping down your spine. Years? Your stomach lurches, bile rising in your throat, but you swallow it down. You try to meet his gaze, defiance flickering behind your panic, but the way his lips curve into a predator’s smirk makes you regret it instantly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He leans forward, the heavy oak table groaning under the weight of his arms. His eye gleams, sharp and calculating, a hunter reveling in the sight of his trapped prey. “Unless you want me to punish you right here. Is that it? Do you want me to break you down where the cameras can see? I can. I will. But you’re mine, and you’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”

His knuckles crack as he flexes his fingers, the sound echoing in the empty room. He slides the recorder off the table with a flick of his wrist, the device shattering against the floor. His calm dissolves in the blink of an eye, replaced by something feral, volcanic, terrifying. He’s standing now, looming over you, the chair scraping the floor behind him like a warning.

You try to shrink back, the cuffs clinking as you press against the chair, but his hand darts out faster than you can react. His fingers tangle in your hair, jerking your head back, exposing your neck. His breath is hot, acidic, on your skin as he leans in, speaking directly into your ear.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done to me?” His voice trembles, not with vulnerability, but with the strain of holding himself back. “You’ve made me into this. This thing. This monster who wakes up every night imagining what your blood would taste like on my tongue. You don’t know what it’s like to feel this way, to be consumed by you, to want to rip apart anything that touches you just so I can glue you back together with my own hands.”

The hand not tangled in your hair drags down your arm, leaving a trail of bruises in its wake, his thumb pressing cruelly into your wrist. “These little hands…what were you thinking, trying to run with them? As if you could open a single locked door I didn’t personally design to keep you exactly where you belong.”

You’re sobbing now, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, but he doesn’t stop. He revels in your misery, his voice dipping into something dangerously soft, almost sweet. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you’re afraid? It’s fucking intoxicating. I don’t just want your body, sweets. I want your soul. I want to mold it, twist it, own it until the only thing left is me.”

He steps back suddenly, releasing you. You crumple forward, gasping for air like you’ve been drowning, but the reprieve is short-lived. His massive hand claps your shoulder, dragging you up to your feet like a ragdoll. His eye bores into yours, the weight of his presence suffocating, inescapable.

“You don’t have to like it, sweets,” he murmurs, voice a low, rumbling storm. “You just have to remember one thing: there’s no world where you exist without me. None. I’ll find you in every lifetime, in every corner of hell, and I’ll make you mine again. And again. And again.”

The lock clicks. You realize it isn’t the door—it’s the shackles he’s just fastened around your ankles. He tugs the chain once, hard enough to pull you off balance. His laughter fills the air as you stumble, the sound dark, amused, and utterly devoid of humanity.

“That’s better,” he muses, gripping your chin and tilting your face upward to meet his. “Now, why don’t you thank me, sweets? For saving you. For loving you. For making you perfect.”

[w3r3theli0nshunt]

Minotaur Soap! (18+)

W! Blood (shit tons) slight sexual themes, violence, fluff (can’t believe it either) reader is injured, Soap is a Minotaur 🤯 maybe slight angst? Tooth decaying stuff, tried making the Minotaur appear a little 🤏 more humane than they usually are ehehe 😅

Who smells your sweet blood and hears your choking sobs as your feet scrapes against the cold, filthy ground while you lean with one hand against the wall of the cemented maze . You’re oblivious to the fact that the 8 feet tall, muscular built Soap is lurking in the shadows behind you, watching your every move with caution before he plans on approaching. Following the trace of the small droplets of your blood who assaults his senses and animalistic instincts to feast on your flesh and suck the marrow out from your bones to fulfil his hunger, instead, he wishes to keep you in one piece. Sensing that you’re not good for him dissolving in his stomach acid, he doesn’t prepare his long nails to dig in that supple skin of yours or his sharp teeth to sink into you.

He stalks behind you, feeling an unfamiliar sensation in his filled stomach from the other sacrifices he’s been dined on, their skin tissues remain between his teeth and their blood still lingers on his tastebuds. But seeing how you struggle to keep your limping form moving in the endless maze that only Soap can localise in and without his guidance, you won’t find a way out or to his home.

You dry your sweat on your forehead with your arm that is heavy to move and exhaustion is preventing your motivation to continue seeking a way out, still knowing that mazes are traps when it comes to sacrifices, whose lives are labeled as useless. Unwed, unbred and a virgin, you’re no place in for society and bear no importance for the village you once called home. Your limbs get heavier by every step you take and your vision becomes hazier, so you let your knees fold and fall helplessly to the cemented floor. You gaze at your wounded leg, how crimson is oozing from the deep cut and the intense ache caused by any slightest movement.

How kind of the priest to grant me more mercy than sending me of the maze, you sarcastically think.

Tears falls mercilessly as you close your eyes to accept your fate, ending up as dinner to the hungry beast that awaits settled in the huge maze. You can still hear the other’s screams and pleads for help as the Minotaur beastly grunted and growled as he fed on their flesh on their conscious state. Your compassionate heart hopes for the other’s souls to find their way to the Gates Of Paradise and be reborn as people with a meaning, that they can live in harmony and receive every good they deserve. You can’t help but wonder how heaven may looks or if you’re pure enough to reach it. You let your head lean back against the hard wall, its coldness spreading on your scalp to cool down the fever.

You swiftly open your red eyes by an inhumane huff, and your eyes take you into the shadows where the noise originated from. Looking deep into the darkness, you spy two blue orbs looking back at you, your vulnerable form. It’s the Minotaur. But you don’t have the strength to fight or even be afraid, not even when his huge form becomes more visible by his every step towards you. Lazily, your eyes travel on his huge, beastly form. His broad shoulders, huge horns piercing out of his human shaped skull with an overgrown black Mohawk between them, massively built fur pectorals and large arms that can easily snap bones like sticks. His hooves clamps against the floor, legs shaped like a bull with a tail hanging in the middle above his clothed buttocks.

You have to bend your head up in order to be able to look into his eyes who bores holes into you. He then looks at your bleeding wound and kneels down beside your leg. You hold your breath and close your eyes, thinking he’ll begin lavishing on your leg in order to make you suffer. But just to your surprise, you open them again when you feel his nails gently caressing it instead, before ripping a piece of his cloth that is wrapped around his lower body. The only clothing he has on, mind you. He mildly wraps your leg and slows down the pace when he hears you whimper in pain before tying a loose knot.

You look at him with doe eyes, a sea of questions flowing in your mind as his eyes don’t seem eager for blood, not yours at least. He’s probably playing with his meal, you think. Giving false hope until the damsel in distress puts trust on him and then, he’ll dig in. That seems crueler than just a quick end, and you don’t fancy the idea of it happening to you. So you remain seated, cautiously watching his every move and preparing yourself for the promised end the priest told you about.

“You….pain?” Soap grunts, finger pointing at your wound. You look confused, shocked all between heaven and earth. Should you be alarmed? Or is this genuine acts of kindness? Nonetheless, you shake your head, unwilling to test his patience. He grunts in response and gently lifts your seated form, a sense of relief washes over you that the pain and coldness caused by the hard terrain vanishes. He hovers you above his wide shoulder that perfectly fit you as he begins moving. You swallow as you’re unknown to what his true intentions are and can’t help the stubborn knot in your stomach that refuses to go.

“Where..are you taking me?” You dare question, the only time you’ll open your mouth, you promise yourself. The headache forming in your skull as your upper body is uncomfortably facing the flooring, spotting the remains along the way. Guts in piles, blood decorated on the walls and heads carelessly thrown aside. You swallow once again, fearing that it’ll eventually be your fate.

“Home” Soap grunts as he adjusts his large arm that is holding your legs, a sensation of a throb in his lonely cock as he feels your soft skin and your innocence. Haven’t attempted to run away or defy him like the others like the good little human you are, letting him take you and claim you. You’re right to admit that you don’t know his true intentions, but he knows you’d prefer not to. How would a little sacrifice react if she’s to be the mate of the blood thirsty Minotaur who reap the lives of human beings while being half a human himself? She would freak out and that’s when the defiance begin, and he doesn’t want to hurt you. You’re already brought meaning to his lonely life who’s been aching for companionship like anyone would and that you numb those intense feelings of unhappiness, therefore you can’t leave, not when his heart can explode with the love he already harbours for you.

Reaching the central part of the maze, he sets you down on the pile of hay he calls his bed, hugely structured to carry his heavy weight. Lying on your back, you watch as Soap tries to start a fire with rubbing two sticks together in a supernatural pace until a fire ignites, he throws the flaming woods on the pile of logs until they also get infected with the fire. With a huff of approval, he resumes his attention to you, returning the eye contact. He lays down beside you, causing you to fall against his furred upper body when the bed shifts, leaning down against him. His fur is soft, but his musk makes you scrunch your nose, but yet you remain snuggled against his warmth. Laying your head on his large, firm pectorals with an arm planted on his 10-pack.

You feel his arm wrapping around your own body as he draws you closer, offering a quick lick on your neck. He enjoys it, lying on his back, watching the grey clouds travel in the depressing sky with a cute little human snuggled up against him, slaying all kinds of loneliness he once felt and displace it with love. A unfamiliar feeling, but one he’s been waiting for. Everyday his hopes of finding the perfect human to indulge in, a human to carry his babies and spread his animalistic genes. But also a human he can love, one he can reveal his own humane self that actually exists beyond his animalistic impulses and instincts.

“Aren’t you gonna eat me?” You’ve been patiently waiting for that question that is desperate for an answer in order for its fear to settle and for your heart’s beating pace to slow down. A simple yes or no will do for you, but at least just an answer to confirm. You’re tired of being so intensely afraid while being comfortably snuggled against the soft fur and met with such compassion not even your own family granted you.

“No” He grunts, pulls you closer as if your skins are stitched together, as if you’re one person. An animal and a human, the mixture Soap is.

“mine” it comes out like a growl but the rough reply is softly morphed when his cheek lovingly nudges yours as he groans in satisfaction. you’re his mate and he doesn’t intend to hurt you, intentionally. Sure, your sweet blood would taste more delicate than the other’s bitter tasting plasma. and your soft flesh would probably be as delicious as marinated steak would be for you. But his ache that concerns you, is for your pleasure along with his. Your combined ecstasies, a bittersweet sensation like chocolate. He’ll be cruel, but he can be just as sweet. And it depends on your preferences, because he’ll do anything for you. Anything for you to stay and anything for experiencing this cuddling session everyday.

But you ponder on the thought. Maybe belonging to someone, a Minotaur, isn’t as bad as you thought it’ll be. Your life may finally have meaning and this Minotaur has brought you more comfort than anyone in your whole 20 rotations around the sun has. And being in his embrace feels nice, your own personal pillow. You don’t mind the hay itching your sensitive skin or the pain in your leg caused by the forming infection, this beast lying before you, holding you like he’s protecting you - he is. You close your eyes, succumbing to sleep, wondering what future you’ll participate in and what delicacy’s may follow.

“Love….you” Soap grunts, leaving a hesitant peck on your cheek before closing his eyes. The depressing sky above, transfiguring into a clear blue one with rainbows and white coloured clouds, coloured by your very presence.

I actually got inspired by another creator who wrote a similar story, but with a König Minotaur. Our stories are of course not similar as I’m not the type to copy someone else’s hard work, but I’ll def link the story if I can find it because it’s so good.

[blurredfloweryblood]

Oh, to be Thanatos. You are tied to the House you were born in, title already in your hands, godhood all ready to shape you, with the starry sky of your mother's eyes holding you close. You don't really like the noise of the busy souls that crowd the hall, it's not that you didn't enjoy being a child, but the announcement of the Gentle Death was too big that your little bones had to learn how to carry it for your mother, and for the House.

And then, he is born. He is tiny, so so tiny. And he is bright and he is fire and he burns. He laughs and it echoes all throughout the house, running around with you hand in hand, a complicit smile on your face when he touched things he shouldn't, or toed the rules clumsily, falling headfirst into them. He always got on his feet, brushed the pain off his knees and smiled and giggled for you.

He used to pluck leaves off his laurels and give them to you, hide in obvious places in such a way it had to be on purpose. He always wanted to find you, and to be found. He would stand at every corner of the House of Hades, awaiting the toll of your bells. He liked your hair, and your eyes, and your smile. You don't understand how every strand of his being can radiate warmth.

You are being pulled, always. By him, and by what you must do. Cries and dying breaths, and blood of thousands of men, praying for someone to take them to a good place. Praying for one second more. And then, two seconds, for one hour. You never really understood, life can only last so much. They have to let it go, traverse the waters, so other people can see the sun, the night.

They won't stop existing. Because after the crossing of the river there are other places they can go to. Places where higher forces tell them they belong to. Just like you. Everything born in this house is tied to it. To its walls and ceilings. No one ever goes so far. No one ever leaves forever.

Except her, of course. But it's not for you to presume, whether she left because she belonged too much, or if she didn't. Neither or both, it doesn't really matter right now.

You grow up, and so does he. He is always fluttering around, the House bends at his feet. He stares bored at his papers. Spars and he looks like he is soaring with a sword in his hand. He loves. So much. So much it hurts you. It's written across his face, lettering all around his body.

You however, choke with your own thoughts, too many to ever stop and contemplate, because when you think about him there is always a glowing tangle of things you want to say, but you can never. He looks, like he knows what you want to say, but you feel like you're pushing yourself from him, when you swallow the sentences to the pit of your stomach.

They will always come back though. Acidic and a bad aftertaste of loneliness and regret, you mull their bitter ends and chew them as you wander the upper land, far away so he cannot read you. Because he is an all consuming presence, and even far away, he is around you. The bending flowers at the river. When the clouds embrace the sun, you couldn't help but think of holding him like that, too. Covering him for a moment, draping him with your figure, a breath near his own.

But that's too much. Too much. You can't, you are not there, and the war unfolding just makes you longer for him more. For the House and your mother, and the cold, gold pillars.

And then he leaves. He fucking leaves. You have to pull Hypnos's teeth and stare at your mother until she raises a brow, still shielding him. How can he go? Why would he leave? He was born here, he was here all the time. Your world, the world you love is down here, why would he discard it so easily as well?

The House is in shambles, and the steps close to the river are never fully clean. Blurred footprints that leave a messy trail.

You find him. Because how could you not? Why would you not? You have to shake him awake, remind him that his life is down here, very deeply burrowed in this realm. That upstairs and above there's nothing for them, nothing for you or him. That a search for the silhouette of a mother gone is absurd. That dying and waking, and dying and waking will drive him inside. Making you insane as well. The river Lethe is a few steps ahead, and you feel like drinking all of it so you can forget how it feels having him cut his way out of your chest. Out of your heart.

You just don't get it. Maybe you never did. Maybe you should've told him all those things that you left up there, maybe that's why he is leaving. Or maybe, he was never supposed to be known by you. Maybe he was being lended to you, and now the world wants him back.

Or maybe he just doesn't get it. Swan diving directly to the pits of seething heat, and cooling swords. To the gritty of the plagues, just to be stopped by a spear. A spear all of you know.

And he finds her. And you still don't get it. You say things that freeze his face; and he retorts back with a crackle of a flame. You used to blend so well together. Now you can't even remember how to talk to him.

It comes slowly, in long, suffering waves. He is not leaving. Just searching. Maybe because you never had to, you never understood. Maybe it's not that people are made for places; but they carve their own shapes into them. Maybe he just had to figure out the knife or his shape. But he's not leaving, he would never leave you, he says.

He would always come back and hold his breath for the toll of your bells, so you can both learn how you can blend once again, how it would feel to hold Zagreus with no choked words. Or no scathing heart breaks, left uncompleted all across the Underworld, for no one to find them, or run into them.

You never really liked the sun. But if it means that Zagreus brings back its light everytime it returns, as if he stole it or took a piece of it, to bring alight everything else; then, you wouldn't mind its warmth for a while. Life and Death, one and the same.

Thanatos and Zagreus, forevermore.

[drowning-rat37]

☆ Mia/pvr9ing harm reduction and after care ☆

☆ps.- this is not tips on “how to do it better”, this is tips on how to not hurt your body too much while doing it. I am in no way suggesting anyone starts doing it, i am just saying if you are already doing it, try to stay safe❤️❤️❤️

☆anti-acids: if you’re planning to pvr9e, take a couple before you eat, it’ll reduce the acidity of your stomach acid, which in turn reduces the level of enamel loss and tooth decay as well as reducing the trauma on your oesophagus from the acid

☆short nails: if you use your fingers, keep your nails short to prevent scratching/cvtting your throat. Having short nails is also more hygienic as (even if you keep your nails clean) the underside of your nails can carry a lot of bacteria, (this is mainly found in children but has been known in adults) can carry types of worms under the nails. If you have long nails or false nails i recommend going on the utensil route

☆hand sanitizers or antibacterial soap: if you’re adamant that you don’t want to cut your nails short, clean under your nails thoroughly with hand sanitizer and wash ALL OF YOUR HANDS with antibacterial soap to avoid getting ill. Another thing to address about getting ill: you may think “if i get ill/sick then I won’t eat as much” or “i’ll be throwing up so no need for pvr9ing” in theory, great. In reality, it feels awful. I used to think that sort of way and then ever time i got ill i would feel like actual death, just stay clean and hygienic please🙏🙏🙏

☆water: after pvr9ing your body gets extremely dehydrated, make sure to drink enough water, also I recommend alkali water to reduce acid reflux. Take small sips every couple of minutes as to not make yourself feel more nauseous than you probably already are!!!

☆electrolytes: if possible, get yourself a drink with electrolytes or you can also get sachets that are sugar free and put that in water. In another post (i think i tagged it as an update post to a different post i have put a picture of some electrolyte water i bought, i really like that brand)

☆warnings: bl00d, feeling like you’re about to pass out, legs shaking, hands shaking. If you see any of those signs, take a break or stop all together, I’ll get into each signs in detail in a second.

☆utensils: if you’re not using your fingers, keep your utensils clean, weather its a toothbrush or cutlery or something different. Also please use something you know you can easily hold onto to prevent choking on it or letting go of it. If you’re using cutlery, find plastic cutlery, im not talking about the cheap flimsy ones, im talking about the thick type you can get from ikea or other places, make sure it’s rounded in the side you are putting in your mouth, again to not cause trauma to your throat. I can not stress this enough: use👏 something 👏 you👏 can👏 easily 👏 hold👏 on👏 to

☆tools: this is a follow up from the utensil. Please try not to use medication or other methods to induce vomiting, it is extremely dangerous. I have seen a lot of people (specifically on a certain clock app) talking about putting large amounts of salt in water and drinking it to induce vomiting, i can not stress this enough DO NOT DO THAT, it is so incredibly dangerous and by far the most unpleasant way to pvr9e. This is coming from someone who has tried almost ever way, including the salt method. It can cause long term health issues to consume that much salt even if you vomit it back up, there will still be a large amount left in your system which can lead to high blood pressure (which if you are pvr9ing often may already have) and generally if you are going to that extent to pvr9e, take a break from doing it, even if it is hard!!!!

☆food/chewing: make sure that what you’re eating before you pvr9e you chew really well, if you swallow large chunks, it will be hard to get up and you have a chance of choking and it will not be good and is very scary. Bread is especially hard to get up. Some foods should definitely be avoided, such as hard crunchy foods like tortilla chips/crisps, they are sharp once broken and in the time it takes for you to eat, then pvr9e, your body will not have broken it down enough and it WILL hurt coming back up. Try to stick to soft or quickly digest-able foods to avoid pain and trauma to the throat.

☆follow on to the warning signs ☆

☆Bl00d: if you pvr9e bl00d, genuinely stop, i know you might not want to but to avoid damage, stop. If it is anything above a few drops, I greatly suggest seeking medical attention asap. Give yourself a week or two to recover from that, it will be hard but it’s whats best for harm reduction!!!!(this is a very scary thing to experience, the first time it happened i was terrified however as you can see, i am alive, i didnt die although that still doesn’t mean you should just ignore it)

☆feeling like you’re about to pass out/ hands and legs shaking: believe me, you do not want to be found on the floor after pvr9ing. If you’re shaking, take a break, weather its 10 minutes or a couple days, take a break. If you feel shaky, that is a sign you are going to pass out, again, take a break. Sit down in a place you know you won’t hurt yourself if you do pass out, have a drink and rest for a moment!!! I know you don’t want to hear the “listen to your body bull shit” but in cases like this it is vital if you are genuinely trying to avoid permanent damage or injuries of any kind!

☆Thank you for reading, stay safe. My dm’s are open if you need help or advice. If you need to reach out to your local helpline don’t hesitate, you’re weak for reaching out for help!!! ☆

@mamabearwonders

[porcelainseashore]

They Don't Make Them Like Her Anymore - VTM Bloodlines 20th Anniversary

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: I wrote this to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines and for a Gallery Noir server event by @vampemoqueen and @bigswordenergy.

Step into the shoes of our favorite sick freak, Vandal Cleaver, as he ruminates on the recent happenings in his life. Pliers and blowtorch included. Terms and conditions apply.

Content Warnings: Violence, torture, self-harm, body horror, mild gore, mild sexual content, obsessive behavior, blood bond, Hannah Glazer and Therese Voerman mentions, murder.

Hannah, Hannah… oh, Hannah. They don’t make them like her anymore, do they? It was sad actually—tragic—well no more tragic than another dead hooker found in a soulless apartment Downtown. Nothing that would make the headlines, not even worthy of a back page obituary in the local paper. Heh, I may be a sap for saying this, but she was good enough for me.

You see, they don’t make them like her anymore. No shit. The new girl? She can’t quite do the job like Hannah did, but since when were beggars choosers? Yeah, I know my place in the pecking order. At least she has the stomach for what I request of her. Doesn’t outright scream, “You fucking freak!” in my face, leaving me high and dry. I need my fix afterall, like the rest of you… Hiding dirty little secrets to dig out between your sorry sack of bones with a scalpel—do you know what a skilled hand can do with a scalpel? Have you ever run your finger across the edge of a blade? Any blade—come on, don’t lie to me now, we’re friends, aren’t we? Everyone’s done it once in their life, lost their innocence as blood blooms from the vulvic slit like a bouquet of roses. Sometimes it gushes like a torrent, depending on how deep you sliced. Shh, it’s okay to get carried away. Your secret’s safe with me.

Anyway, she does as I ask, like a good enough girl, then pukes her guts out—politely—in the bathroom next door. I know, because I hear it. Her chest concave and hollowed, heaving, organ crushing against organ as she squeezes her lungs, gagging on saliva and air. They don’t make them like her anymore, you get what I’m saying?

Earlier, I watched as the flimsy fabric of my skin peeled away, acid pink flesh melting from bone, and the charred layers curling under the blue flame like burning plastic. What remains blisters and festers. I’ve done it so many times I think all that can be salvaged from me are deadened nerves and an empty husk. I like being empty though. Sprawled out on the floor, naked and clean as a newborn while the world around me spins in circles. For a moment, everything feels attainable and unattainable. 

My queen… queen of all queens—

And just like that, it’s gone. I’m left with the chick who has a blowtorch in one hand and her nose in the other, pinching it as though the fumes are toxic. Her hands are always trembling, like an addle-brained patient, maybe because I don’t know whether I’m laughing or screaming half of the time.

My body is already mending at twice the speed when she brings out the pliers. I am a god and a shitty mistake all in one—not quite like the bitch goddess who owns me, but almost. Give it another hundred years, and I’ll be standing in this exact room, cutting myself open with my bare hands, alive and kicking to see the process. Imagine tucking my fingers under the sagging flaps, flaying skin from tissue as I pull it apart. Wet, stinking clumps of flesh and its sinewy tendons will stick between my nails, overstaying their welcome, yet impossible to scrub out. And that smell—mmm, that smell! A putrid, cloying tang of filthy pennies, assaulting my senses like a hammer to the head. I want to untangle my entrails like the wires in my brain that got crossed somewhere, just to check and see if they’re the same as everyone else.

Oh, so the new girl needs a bit of encouragement, does she? Lingering there slack-jawed and taking her sweet time. The missus—no, I mean, Hannah never needed to be told twice. Deep down, I think she even enjoyed it, the sick fuck. They don’t make them like her—

“Do it,” I hiss, saliva drooling from my lips like a rabid dog.

I hear bones snapping before the pain hits me, rattling my teeth as an excruciating jolt shoots up my arm. For a split second, I’m blinded by a searing white light. My thumb is dangling at an awkward angle and I must be howling, because the look on that girl’s face… well, what wouldn’t I give to have a picture as a keepsake? Frame it up on the wall like a goddamn Picasso.

Sometimes I feel the hairy legs of spiders skittering around my skull. It tickles like the high strings of a violin being plucked—faintly, daintily, as if it were never there. Sometimes I say things, but my words aren’t my own. And it’s happening right now. The girl before me is no longer a girl, but the queen bitch herself.

“Therese,” I weep and moan. It’s lewd and urgent like a fever prayer falling from my lips. I swear I could cum from her name alone, and I hate myself for it.

“What did you just call me?”

Therese in body and blood, spirit and flesh. Therese in all her unbearable glory. The cold metal clamps down on my trigger finger and her grin is so wicked I can only grovel and lick the dirt off her boots. She’s inside of me. When I hurt myself, she hurts too, and I enjoy it.

“Yes, please! Oh, mistress, oh fuck—”

My eyes shut as I throw my head back, mouth in the shape of an “O” that’s simply ridiculous. I try not to imagine how it looks like one of those snuff tape suckers in post-coital, or should I say, post-feast bliss. Disgusting and vile. I remember mocking them with Phil as I forced him to watch every single Death Mask film in that dingy basement of the Santa Monica Clinic.

When I come to, my balls are no longer heavy and aching, like an oppressive, shameful need. Semen trickles down my leg, pooling in my pants as though I wet myself. It smells of rotting fish and I’m trying not to cry. I wish it were the Nectar of the Gods instead.

A flash of anger rears up in my chest and I tear my eyes open. Therese—no, the new girl lies like a crumpled doll on the floor, mouth agape in that stupid “O.” Good enough like a pair of single-use gloves to dispose of in the trash without a second thought. Except, I used mine again and again. What’s the point if they break apart so easily? They don’t make them—

I yank her face towards me. The whites of her eyes loll back as I squash the fat of her cheeks within my bloodied hand, and her lips mime a fish sucking in breath.

“Tell me I’m good enough! Say it!” something that sounds more akin to a pig squealing explodes like a burst tap.

The stumps of my fingers move her mouth like a ventriloquist, but she says nothing. Blood smears across her dull skin. She doesn’t wake up. That can only mean one thing: useless. They don’t—

I let her body fall to the ground with a thud. Whipping a phone out from my back pocket, what’s left of my fingers fly over the keypad, punching in a line I’ve rehearsed a thousand times.

“A special order for the mistress.”

Tears cloud my eyes as I hear my quivering breath. It’s shallow and erratic. I still can’t tell if I’m laughing or crying half of the time.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[softsoule]

The Wolf and The Rabbit P1.

Warning: This is my first story I'm not a writer never wrote or published anything before but I thought I would make this story so please don't criticize me too much. I hope you all enjoy that do read this!

*Pairing: Cha Hyun-Su x Reader Part Two Part Three

Where is he? I can’t lose him. Not Again. The thoughts chant over and over in your mind.

Fear. The all-too-familiar feeling is coursing through you. The fear of losing Cha Hyun-Su again. 

Your throat is dry and hoarse from constantly screaming his name, and your stomach turns from the anxiety of potentially losing him forever. You struggle to keep your breakfast down. Swallowing whatever comes up. Your throat burns from the acid.

Your bare feet ache as you continue to run across the asphalt. The rocks scrape and cut into your feet, but you can bear it for just one more glimpse of him. 

Dead End. Hospital. Could that have been where he went?

You quickly rush inside, disregarding the chance of monsters creeping around. 

No. That didn’t matter; you didn’t care about monsters, humans, or the world in any way. You just wanted him, and you’ll die trying to see him. 

As you continue through the hallways, a creek on the floor catches your attention. It’s coming from the operation room. 

This is it. Death or glory? The decision that determines your fate. Behind the door can be the monster who will put an end to your miserable suffering or the angel of a man you so desperately crave to be around.

You pray for the latter. 

You slowly enter the room. “Cha Hyun-Su,” you call out.

No response. Is he hiding? Is this the right place? I can't fail to find him again.

You search the building while hoarsely shouting his name again and again, almost like a chant. If he doesn't hear your calls, you will surely summon at least the nearby monsters.

Upon entering the last room, a decrepit, empty old patient room, the feeling of disappointment starts to settle in. Taking a seat on a dirty hospital bed, you loudly sign hopelessly, but then you hear it.

A laugh. maniacal laugh. From a voice that sounds so sweet like an angel, but from the mouth of the devil. 

You jump to your feet, shocked by the sudden outburst but relieved. There he is, in all his glory, standing at the entrance. Hair is rugged, clothes are torn, and skin is stained with blood and dirt. Your heart flutters at the sight of him, your sweet, innocent boy, the man who would rather run away from you than put you in harm's way.

You rush towards him, ready to embrace him with a loving hold. But then you notice it—the sly smirk, the blue eyes, those intense blue eyes. You stop midway; this isn't Cha Hyun-Su; this is his monster, the one he tries to protect you from. The reason he lurks in the shadows and steers clear of you.

As the severity of the situation starts to set in, you feel tremors of fear course through your body. Cha Hyun-Su would never hurt you, but his monster would, and he would for the fun of it.

The smell of fear is in the air, and it sends the monster into a frenzy. He loves to play games, and you just introduced the game of wolf and rabbit to him.

Your heart begins to pound, and the noise is so deafening that you clutch your chest. He chuckles, and from his demeanor, you know he hears it too.

Run. Escape. Flee. The words that are constantly replaying in your head. But there's nowhere to run; your only escape is blocked by his huge figure.

The atmosphere is too intense; it's as if you're suffocating, and you feel lightheaded. Clutching your chest, you fall to your knees with a loud thud. He hums in delight.

He breaks the silence. "Thinking of leaving, little rabbit?" he asks.

He stalks towards you eerily, slowly like a wolf closing in on its prey. He crouches in front of you; his blue eyes bore into yours. The ferocity of his gaze causes your breath to hitch up. His gaze was enchanting, like a forbidden fruit—dangerous but alluring.

"Not until the wolf has its snack" he sinisterly says.

[kkami-writes]

until the very end.

pairing. kim seungmin x gn!reader synopsis. At the end of the world, there’s truly no other group you’d rather be with than your friends. But as they drop dead, one by one, you can feel the threads of your sanity continue to snap and it’s only a matter of time before you actually go insane. Thankfully, Seungmin continues to be by your side until the very end of time. tags. zombie!au, apocalypse!au, ANGST, all hurt maybe a little bit of comfort

CW/TW. lots and LOTS of major character death, blood, gore, violence, guns, suicidal thoughts, suicide, vomit, murder, no explicit smut but implied/mentioned sex, dissociative moments, minsung + changlix if you squint, could be a "happy" ending, it really depends on how you see it tbh, kinda? graphic. please be warned ♡ word count. 8k wanna support me? buy me a ko-fi!

It’s uncertain whether you’d consider yourself lucky that you had been tucked in bed, comfy and deep asleep, when shit had hit the fan. That was the last time you had the luxury to be asleep long enough to even have a dream. You don’t even remember what you had dreamed about as you dragged yourself out of bed, yawning and wiping away the drowsiness from your eyes.

In fact, you were certain you were still dreaming when you stumbled upon the gruesome sight in your kitchen. There was blood splattered against the once pristine white marble and your mother was hovering over what had once been your father, surrounded by a pool of what you assumed was his own blood. She was too busy devouring his guts to even notice you standing there, obscene slurping noises echoing in your ears.

The stench hits you like a truck and you’re suddenly losing whatever is even in your stomach after having just woken up, acid burning at your throat. The movement is enough to disturb your mother (can you really call her that anymore?) as she turns to you with a deep, inhuman growl, face covered in the blood of your father with bits of him still clinging to her mouth. You fall over backwards as she lunges at you, fight or flight instincts kicking in. You shove your foot against her chest as hard as you can, trying to push her away from you.

Frantically, you look around trying to find anything to use as a weapon, desperation starting to sink in. You grab onto the nearby lamp, holding onto it like a bat. It’s the only thing you had as you swing, smashing it into your mothers head and the crack that follows is sickening. The bulb shatters but you don’t stop, continuing to use the unconventional weapon until you’re certain the monster is dead. It’s like you black out for a few moments and by the time you’re back in your body, your mother is unmoving, head caved in. Your breath is heavy, panting and on the verge of hyperventilating. But you can’t focus on that right now.

You’re reminded by the zombie movies you used to watch with your friends as you force your body towards the kitchen to grab a knife. With a swing, you lodge it straight into it’s head. You won’t make the mistake of having it come back to life and catching you off guard.

A numbness takes over your body, brain going into autopilot as you finally notice the constant vibration of your phone in your pocket. The boys have been blowing up your notifications, hundreds of unread messages in your group chat, several individual messages and a couple of voice mails. You can only register that they were going to meet up at Bangchan’s house as he mentioned his father collected guns, a good place for them to start.

With your limbs feeling like lead, you begin packing a small backpack filled with essentials and a few pairs of clothes. Your body moves on its own as if trying to remind you that you have to keep going, that your friends are probably still alive and waiting for you. It’s the only semblance of hope you have and the only thing stopping you from just ending it right now.

You’re thankful Bangchan doesn’t live too far from your house, just a few blocks away. The neighborhood seems empty, a stark contrast to the usually lively streets. Silence rings in your ears, white noise filling the blank spaces in your mind. When you reach his house there are cars haphazardly parked in front.

You come through the door, feeling like a zombie yourself and honestly you might look like one too with the large splatter of your mothers blood splayed across the front of your white shirt. You might have forgotten to change in your haze of trying to get out of your house as fast as possible. This doesn’t stop Jeongin from throwing himself into your embrace once he finally sees you. He’s in tears, clutching onto you tightly, body trembling against you. Your own arms come to wrap around him, the emotional dam you had been holding onto finally breaks, the two of you falling to the ground sobbing. You’re surprised you had held on for as long as you did.

The other boys didn’t disturb you, letting the two of you to have a moment to bask in each other's presence, knowing the other was safe. Your relationship with Jeongin was strictly platonic. The boy meant the world to you, he was like your precious little brother and he had looked up to you as a bigger sibling. Now that the world had gone to all hell, you knew the two of you would end up being heavily reliant on each other.

You’re unsure how long the two of you just stayed in a heap on the floor but it’s Seungmin’s hand on your back that brings you back to the grim reality you were able to forget about for just a second. He’s looking down at you fondly but theres still a sense of sadness deep in his irises. “Come on you two, Bangchan is calling a group meeting,” He helps pull you up to your feet, giving you a quick squeeze in his arms. A silent message that he’s glad you’re safe.

Eight people gathered into the family room, half of them on the floor while the rest of them tried to squish in on the couch together. You take the seat next to Seungmin, letting your head rest on Jeongin’s shoulder.

When Bangchan walks into the room, he places a few guns and boxes of ammo onto the table. It makes a few of the boys turn pale just looking at the weapons.

“So. For now, I think it’s best if we stay here. There’s enough food to last us at least a couple of days and then you guys can move on. I’d suggest somewhere close to a convenient or grocery store. Best not to stay in one though in case other people show up,” He makes a lot of sense, being on the move was probably the best bet, but with your decently large group of friends it would be a disaster. It would be in your best interest if you guys stayed in one place until you ran out of resources. Only then should you move.

“Wait. You said ‘you guys can move’ and not ‘we’ can move. Was that on purpose?” Minho, the ever observant one had mentioned, giving Bangchan his usual blank stare. You had barely even noticed the slight change in wording.

“It was. I can’t go with you guys,”

“What? Why not??” At this all the guys were suddenly talking over each other, a frequent occurrence but one that was certainly not helpful at this moment. Bangchan, being the eldest, had always been someone everyone looked up to, someone they had gone to for guidance. He had been like a pseudo leader of the group, without him you’d worry everything would fall apart.

Bangchan lets out a sigh before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to show off the clear bite mark in his forearm, complete with teeth indentations and blood still dripping from the wound. The veins surrounding the bite were starting to turn black, slowly inching up his arm.

A few of them gasp while the others are deadly silent, the implication of what should happen next is not lost to anyone.

“What…What do we do?” Jisung questions, his voice is shaky and you can tell he’s on the verge of a panic attack. Honestly, you’re not far behind.

“Like I said, stay here for a few days until the food runs out. Then you move,”

“What are we supposed to do without you?” Hyunjin stresses the last word. Bangchan just let’s out another sigh.

“You’ll be fine. Eventually you guys were gonna have to stop leaning on me. That time has just come up a lot sooner than we thought,”

Another silence overtakes the group, no one saying a word. A few of them were already crying, knowing the fate that awaits Bangchan.

“I want to ask for one last thing though. I….don’t think I can do it myself. Please, I need one of you to do it,” His strong voice breaks for the first time. It’s what clues you in that he’s scared, something he doesn’t want to show to the others. Especially now.

Jisung and Felix shake their heads vehemently. The others shout ‘No’ and ‘No way’. The noise all blends together in your ears, everyone saying they wouldn’t do it, that they couldn’t do it.

So it surprises you when you stand up. Jeongin tries to pull on your arm to get you to sit back down. You don’t budge.

“I’ll do it,”

Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on you, some of them blatantly gaping at your declaration. Even Bangchan seems surprised that you had volunteered but he knows that if no one else would do it, he could put his trust in you.

“Are you sure?” He still asks. He needs you to be absolutely sure that you know what you’re agreeing to. Bangchan searches your eyes for any hesitance but doesn’t find any.

“If no one else will, I'll do it,” You nod your head determinedly and Bangchan relents. It might be fucked up, but you figured if you could kill your own mother, maybe you could kill one of your closest friends.

Everyone takes a moment to say goodbye, there’s not a dry eye in the room except for you. You do your best to stay strong, especially for the others but you can feel yourself slipping, eyes burning with unshed tears. When Bangchan starts vomiting up something black, eyes bloodshot and his pupils starting to fog over, you know it’s time. The two of you move to the backyard, no one else following. Just hearing the gun shot from the house would be enough to haunt their dreams.

You pick up a gun before following him, checking to see if the safety was off. While you had never handled a gun before, you’re basing things off of movies and TV shows you had watched. You’d definitely have to learn how to use one fast.

As you face Bangchan in the backyard, that’s when you finally start to cry. Throwing yourself into the older’s embrace. He clings to you tightly and you realize that this was the last time he’d ever give you a hug. One of his warm comforting hugs that used to make you feel safe. This one however, does nothing to calm the tidal wave of nerves running through you. When you pull away he can see your hands trembling, the weight of what you were about to do weighs heavily against your chest. It feels hard to breathe.

Bangchan leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You guys will be fine. I know you will,”

He closes his eyes, looking rather peaceful as you bring the gun to his forehead. You hesitate for a second, suddenly having second thoughts but you push them down. Bangchan had trusted you to do this and if it was the last thing you could do for him, you would. You squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth as you force yourself to pull the trigger. The gunshot echoes in your ears as you hear his body hit the ground with a thump. You quickly turn away, unable to see the dead body of your friend.

Seungmin is there when you come back into the house, his eyes are dry but the tear stains on his cheeks give him away. Neither of you have to say anything before he scoops you up in an embrace. You’re still shaking softly, barely keeping a grip on your slipping sanity. Right now, Seungmin is the only thing keeping you grounded.

That night you and Jeongin curl up tightly together in bed. He never lets go of the fist full of your shirt, even as he falls asleep, scared that you might disappear on him as well.

There’s something else you realize that night while you lie awake, the unspoken implications of you being the one to kill your friend. You had suddenly become the leader of your ragtag group in the absence of Bangchan

It’s the middle of the night, only a few days since you had laid Bangchan to rest in the backyard of his childhood home. Sleep had been eluding you of late, dark circles finding a permanent residence under your eyes. The cup of tea you had made remains untouched on the table, probably cold now as you stare into the black space of the kitchen. A figure slips into the chair next to you and you don’t have to look up to know that it’s Seungmin.

While maybe not as close as you were with Jeongin, you and Seungmin still had a rather special bond. The two of you were similar, bad with words and feelings. Because of that the two of you could practically communicate with each other without having to say anything. You would seek comfort in each other when it was hard to do with anyone else.

He slips his hand in yours, fingers intertwining before giving you a soft squeeze. A silent way to reassure you that he was there for you.

Seungmin’s hands are large against yours. He’s warm and he feels like coming home when it feels like you’ve all but lost your way. It’s moments like these when you’re reminded just why you had fallen for the boy in the first place. Reluctantly you get up to leave, needing to get any rest that you can.

You found that sleep came easier after these late night meetings with Seungmin.

A month passes by quick and slowly, things get better. Every day is a step in the right direction and everyone settles into a routine that works. Though nothing explicitly has been said since that fateful day, it was obvious that the boys now looked to you for any guidance. You try your best to be a good leader and surprisingly you fall into the role easily, but you couldn’t deny that it was incredibly stressful. You felt much more respect for the older for having to deal with everyone for years.

You guys had continued to move, following Bangchan’s last advice, only staying in one place until all the food and supplies in the local area had been exhausted. Currently, you were on a supply run with Felix and Changbin, the rest of the boys back at the house going over your inventory. The three of you had stocked up on food and medical supplies, mostly medications with everyone constantly feeling sick with the amount of stress they were constantly under.

Somehow in the thirty minutes you had spent collecting supplies a horde had managed to form outside the store. They moved slow, effectively blocking your way out. Changbin let out a groan to which Felix hit the older in order to shush him. The male still managed to be loud even in the most dire of situations, but he was the best for these runs. He could carry the most with his muscles and with him wielding a bat with nails, it wasn’t hard for him to cave a couple zombies brains in.

You try to form a plan to get out relatively unscathed. There were too many to take out and using a gun was out of the question. The only way out of the horde, was to walk through them.

“Sorry lix, I think we’re gonna have to do the thing,”

Felix makes a face but reluctantly agrees. You don’t know how long the horde is going to linger and it’s best if you’re home before night falls, lest any of the boys go stir crazy that you haven’t returned.

You drag one of the dead bodies over to the other two, using a pocket knife to slit the belly of the corpse. It’s guts spill out and pool onto the floor and Felix can’t help the gag deep in his throat, the poor boy had never quite gotten used to the putrid smell of the dead. You pull the freckled boy down, moving to cover his face with what you guys had started calling zombie goo. Not exactly the most creative name, but the only thing your combined one brain cell could think of.

The smell had kept the zombies away, registering you as one of them. It was your least favorite thing to do, but it worked and it was your best bet right now.

You turn to do the same thing to Changbin while Felix continues to rub the remnants of the zombie all over his shirt and jeans. Your clothes would be ruined but it was worth it if you could get through the horde unscathed. Felix does your face for you, his tiny fingers decorating your cheeks with an unidentified fluid that you were completely fine never knowing.

The three of you make your way slowly through the horde, deadly silent in fear that the dead amongst you will figure out you’re not one of them. It’s nerve wracking, to be so close to the things that can kill you in one bite, turning you into one of them. You’re reminded of your vivid nightmares, ones where you turn into a zombie and end up eating your friends. You’d wake up with the taste of blood on your tongue but it was your own, having bitten your lip too hard in your sleep.

Pushing away those horrid nightmares from your brain, you instead think about who you’re going home to. Jeongin and Seungmin, the rest of the boys who are waiting for you to return. It’s the only thing that keeps you going, so you push forward no matter how hard it feels.

A scream pulls you out of your thoughts completely and your whole body goes cold. It terrifies you to even look behind you because you know that scream. There’s pure terror in their deep voice. You turn to see that Felix has been tripped by a stray zombie on the ground, its bony fingers wrapped around his ankle as it pulls the boy down onto the concrete with a loud slam. Felix is pulling desperately in an attempt to yank his foot out of the zombie’s grip but it’s too late, teeth sinking into his leg. Felix lets out another deafening scream. This time the horde stops and turns towards the blonde, now making their way to where they can smell fresh blood.

“No! No!” Felix cries become more desperate, calling out to you and Changbin. “Help! Help! Oh god. . .Fuck! No! Please!” Changbin is frozen next to you and soon you can no longer even see Felix, the zombies crowding around their new victim. The squelch of blood and flesh being torn echoes in your ears. You know you’ll hear it in your nightmares.

Felix doesn’t stop screaming, even as you can hear him starting to struggle with his words, choking on his own blood. He all but begs and pleads for his life, desperate words that mean nothing to the zombies that eat away at his body. You have to look away or at least do something to help. But you can’t. You’re paralyzed in your spot watching in horror as you listen to your friend die. Felix. Yongbok. The sunshine boy, who with a smile on his face told everyone everyday without fail that they were all still alive. That we were surviving. That things will be okay as long as we’re together.

And now he was dead.

Changbin takes one step forward and you wrap your hand around his wrist, trying to pull him back.

“Bin…He’s dead,” The words feel hard to get out, they still don’t feel real. Changbin only shakes his head at you, trying to wiggle out of your grip. “Changbin! It’s too late!” You beg the boy, tears starting to run down your cheeks. He yanks his arm out of your grasp before pushing his backpack into your hands. “What are you doing?” You want to scream at him, yell at him but your voice only comes out broken and cracked.

“I can’t. I won’t…I’m sorry. I won’t let him die alone,” It’s Changbin’s last words to you as you watch him willingly get swallowed by the horde.

The only thing you can do is watch in disbelief. And you hate it. How many times were you going to have to just stand there and watch your friends die? Helpless to be able to do anything. It was Changbin’s choice but you had let him do it, you had let him basically kill himself.

It takes everything in you to finally turn around and begin the trek back to the safe house. Your feet feel heavy as you drag yourself away from your two friends.

Changbin pushes his way through the zombies as they try to grab at him but he doesn’t even care, he just knows he has to get to Felix. Before he’s gone. When he finally reaches Felix he has to fight the urge to look away. His pretty blonde hair is matted with blood and his legs are completely torn into.

Somehow Felix is still alive, but just barely, as if holding on so he could see Changbin just one last time. His skin is pale, eyes completely unfocused and turning white in the zombification process. Changbin barely recognizes that the zombies are tearing into his back. He doesn’t care, not even screaming at the searing pain as he reaches out for Felix’s hand, grasping onto it tight. Felix is ice cold, fingers twitching one last time before going completely limp in Changbin’s hand.

Changbin sobs, watching the light disappear from Felix’s eyes. “…I’m here, yongbokkie. I’m here,”

Seungmin is the one who greets you when you walk through the door. It reminds you of the first day of the apocalypse, when you had made it to Bangchan’s house feeling less alive than usual.

“Jeez, you stink. Did you have to do the thing?” He questions teasingly but subtly looks you over for any injuries. At your silence the boy looks up to see red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. Seungmin calls out your name but you can barely hear him, Felix’s screams are still ringing in your ear. It isn’t until you feel his warm hands against your cheeks that you finally look at him, a concerned look swimming in his eyes.

“What happened?” That’s all it takes for you to break down, throwing yourself at the boy. Seungmin catches you and lowers you gently to the floor as you lean into his chest, sobbing. You shake your head vehemently, trying to deny the truth that you had seen with your eyes. Seungmin isn’t sure what to do, hands stroking softly at your back. Your loud cries alert everyone else and it doesn’t take long before they all come bounding into the entryway.

“…where’s Changbin and Felix?” The words are stuck in your throat, guilt weighing heavily against your chest, suffocating you.

It’s rather obvious of what has occurred. You coming home hysterical and without the other two, it’s not that hard to come to conclusions. Slowly the boys dissipate to grieve and process the news on their own but Seungmin doesn’t leave your side, even for a second. He lets you ruin the shirt he’s wearing with your wet tears and snot. Eventually Jeongin takes his spot and if possible you cling even harder to the younger boy.

You babble on about how it’s all your fault, how you should have at least tried to convince Changbin to not go. How maybe if you were in the back instead of the front, Felix would still be alive. Jeongin just holds you a little more tighter.

The rest of the night is a blur, vaguely remembering someone feeding you in order to get some semblance of food down your throat and the worlds hottest shower, all but burning your skin as some sort of punishment to yourself.

You’re tucked up in bed with Jeongin, a common occurrence as the two of you seek comfort in one another most nights. Usually it’s you who is doing the reassuring, petting Jeongin’s head and spewing empty promises that everything would be fine. Both of you knew it was lies but the words did their purpose.

Jeongin runs his fingers through your hair, helping to lull you to sleep. With heavy eyelids you give the boy one more glance before letting them fall shut. Exhaustion hits you all at once, both physically and mentally tired.

“Jeongin?” He hums. “You’ll never leave me right?” Your words are slightly slurred with sleep before you succumb to the temporary bliss of being unconscious. He glances over at you with sad eyes, running his thumb over your cheeks. They’re starting to sink in, the lack of a proper diet was starting to show - even on Jisung who has always had full cheeks.

A sigh falls from his lips before he leans in to presses a shaky kiss to your forehead. Jeongin doesn’t think he can keep this promise. No. He knows.

“I’m so sorry,”

You wake up to the sound of a gun shot.

It rattles you awake, heart threatening to rip right out of your chest. Your body moves on it’s own as you follow the noise down to the living room, pulse ringing in your ears and anxiety seeping into your veins. The loud sound of your footsteps against the stairs alert the boys who are already gathered around.

“Shit, get them away from here!” Hyunjin hisses and Minho is quick to try to push you back up the stairs. It only further annoys you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Bro, what the fuck? What’s going on?” You growl, annoyed with the sudden secrecy from your friends. Sleep muddles your brain, swatting at Minho for him to get out of your way. You can see Seungmin on the couch, face buried in his hands. His shoulder shake and you can vaguely hear his quiet sobs. “Seriously, what is-“

Then you see the body and you’re pretty sure you can feel your heart physically breaking. Your knees buckle underneath you, sending you crashing to the ground.

Jeongin is laid across the ground, blood splattered across the carpet and a gun in his hand.

With shaky hands you reach out towards the boy, your fingers pressing to his pulse point. It’s useless, he’s dead but your brain refuses to believe it. Your hands move to cup his cheeks and the way his head lulls backwards in your hands makes you sick. Jeongin has already gone cold and all you wanna do is bundle him up in a blanket until he’s warm again. You pull his head to your chest. Blood continues to spill from the hole in his head but you don’t care, nor do you care that you’re getting his blood all over your clothes.

The boys are looking away from you, dealing with their own pain as you rock the lifeless body in your arms. Small broken whimpers fall from your lips and silent tears run down your cheeks. You want to all but scream, yell at the world for taking Jeongin away from you but your throat is too raw. It feels like you’ve sat here for hours just crying and clutching the boy to you, your eyes have long gone dry, completely bloodshot.

Something in you snaps, perhaps your sanity, as you drop Jeongin to the ground. The sound alerts the boys to your actions, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. When you make a lunge for the gun, various voices are screaming at you, all of them throwing themselves at you. Minho kicks the gun out of your hand as Hyunjin and Jisung push you to the ground. They don’t mean to be so rough with you but you’re clearly not in the right headspace, if they have to rough you up a little to get you to think straight, they’ll do it.

You fight against them, screaming and sobbing while trying to push Jisung off of you and grabbing at Hyunjin’s hair, the latter hissing at you. The three of you are all but wrestling on the floor, swearing at the two boys who are trying to subdue you. Your own voice rings in your ears, yet somehow you manage to hear Seungmin’s quiet call of your name.

His effect on you is immediate, stopping the attack against your friends before glancing up at the boy who has come closer to you. His voice is surprisingly even, nothing giving away to the turmoil in his heart. Jisung and Hyunjin pull away from you when they notice that you seem to have calmed down for now, watching the other boy intensely.

Seungmin replaces them as he comes to kneel in front of you, bringing his large hands to cup at your smaller face.

“Please…” Seungmin begs, his voice finally breaking “Don’t. You- You can’t leave me too, okay? I need you,” It’s the way he emphasizes the word need that has your attention.

The other three can see that the two of you need a moment, they move to lift Jeongin’s body and carries him out to the back to be properly buried. Minho doesn’t forget to take the gun with him, lest you decide to try again to follow your best friend.

You sniffle pathetically as you glance into Seungmin’s pretty eyes, which are practically baring his soul to you. You have to look away from his gaze, head shaking softly and hands coming to grab at his shirt.

“Why?” Your voice is croaks, hoarse from screaming. “Why? Why? Why?” You repeat over and over again, almost like a mantra. It’s the only thing in your head. Why would anyone ever need you? Especially someone like Seungmin.

“Because I love you,”

He says it so simply and your head snaps up so fast that Seungmin worries that you might have given yourself whiplash. Your eyes search his, trying to find any trace of a lie but you know that you won’t find one. Seungmin has never lied to you. He can see the small sparkle in your eyes, the sliver of hope you carry.

“You know that right? That I love you?” He murmurs as he comes impossibly closer, noses touching and you can feel his warm breath against your chapped lips.

You let out a shaky exhale. “You…You do?” Your voice is no higher than a whisper, as if you spoke it louder it wouldn’t be true. He lets out a soft huff of laughter. You had always adored his laugh, especially the evil laugh he would let out when he was being a menace. It was one of your favorite things about him. The other being his smile, even when he had braces. He had found them dorky and ugly, but you just thought he had looked just as handsome with the metal.

Seungmin tucks some hair behind your ears, looking down at you fondly. “I do. So much,” He leans in just an inch so he can finally press his lips to yours. It’s just a quick peck, both of your lips are far to dry to have an enjoyable kiss at the moment, but he couldn’t hold back anymore.

When he pulls back he notices that you’ve shed a few more tears and he can only hope that they’re happy ones, even with your current situation. He wipes them away with his thumb.

“Minnie,” He hums in response. “Promise me. Promise me right now that you will never leave my side,” Your tone has an edge of desperation to it. Even if it’s impossible you need to hear him say it. Even if he has to lie to you for the first time.

Seungmin leans in to press a kiss to your forehead before keeping them pressed together. “I promise. It’s you and me. Until the very end,”

After spending a few more moments together the two of you finally make your way towards the backyard. Jeongin looks peaceful inside the hole Minho had dug for him, hands held together with some flowers you assume Hyunjin had picked for him. It’s the only consolation you have - Jeongin is no longer in pain, he’s in a much better place now. He’s with his hyungs.

They would take care of him now.

You have to look away as they begin to fill the hole with dirt, burying your face into Seungmin’s chest. You can’t bear to watch, the finalization that your best friend is not coming back.

Jeongin is gone.

And he took half of your heart and the broken strings of your sanity with him.

When you walk into the kitchen the next morning, clad in only Seungmin’s shirt, both Jisung and Hyunjin give you identical smirks behind their cup of coffee. You roll your eyes at dumb and dumber, flipping them off as you grab your own serving of caffeine. Your reaction only spurs them on as they giggle manically.

“God you two are annoying,”

“Yeah and you’re loud,” Hyunjin snickers and Jisung has the audacity to laugh. Your cheeks turn red as you clear your throat, trying to look like their words had no effect on you.

“You’re one to talk Jisung, pretty sure you woke up everyone that one night,” You quip back and the boy practically chokes on his drink. Hyunjin wacks him on the back, now giggling at the expense of the other.

“The point is. We’re happy for you. It’s about damn time. Can’t believe it took the literal end of the world though,”

“Yeah, I thought I was gonna die with all this mutual pinning and constant heart eyes,”

You roll your eyes again at their antics but your smile gives away just how fond of them you are and even if they’re annoying you’re happy to know that they’re happy for you. Except for when Seungmin waddles into the kitchen half asleep and no shirt on, coming over to you to lean his whole body weight on you. Your cheeks flare up once again and it makes the two boys holler at your reaction. Both you and Seungmin flip them off.

“Ugh, actually I take it back. This is a bad idea, you two are basically the same,”

Seungmin lets out a soft laugh before pressing a kiss to your temple, finally moving off you to make a cup of coffee. You simply observe him, watching as he swipes at Jisung for probably saying something stupid and Hyunjin’s high pitched laugh echoes in the room. A smile graces your lips.

It’s for just a moment that you think that everything is going to be ok.

Of course, the world loves proving you wrong.

A week goes by without any bumps, things falling back into place slowly after Jeongin’s death. Seungmin can’t quite explain it but something still feels wrong, this nagging feeling in the back of his brain. On more than one occasion he’d find you in the bedroom you two shared now, sitting on the edge and just staring at the wall, eyes glassed over. It was like you were a million miles away. You couldn’t even hear him when he’d call out your name several times until he has to shake you back into your body.

Every single time you’d tell him you were ok, just tired but Seungmin didn’t believe you. If he’s honest, he’s scared. He can’t help but feel like he’s losing you even when you’re right in front of him. Something dark is trying to take you away from him, but he’ll be damned if he lets that happen.

Things get worse though.

Tensions have been running high. You easily snap at the smallest things, the slightest inconvenience sends you reeling. Seungmin is the only one who can calm you down, the boys practically avoiding you when you’re about to blow. On days like this he feels like his grip on you slips even more.

Not only that but Jisung and Hyunjin have been at each others throats nonstop. It reminds you of freshman year of high school, when the two boys could not get along, constantly bickering and fighting. It had nearly torn your friend group apart.

So you’re not surprised to come back home from a quick supply run with Seungmin to a yelling match between the two of them. Dumb insults are being thrown around and you are sure that there is an even dumber reason as to why they were fighting.

Minho is off to the side, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose and his eyes squeezed shut. You can tell the older is so done with the two of them, having probably already tried to stop them but had all but given up.

The two are in each others faces, guns waving around in an unsafe manner as they practically spit in each others faces.

“What the fuck is going on,” You cut them off, your voice piercing. You want to make it clear that you are not in the mood to deal with this.

“Fuck you Han Jisung,” They ignore you, continuing their fight as if you had never even entered the room.

“You’d like to wouldn’t you? Is that why you’re always trying to pick a fight? This isn’t how you get someone in bed with you Hwang Hyunjin,”

Hyunjin’s nostrils flare as he pushes Jisung back harshly. You’re starting to get real annoyed at their childish fight. They were being so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if zombies started showing up at their ruckus. You’re about to tell them to cut it out before a gunshot rings out, startling everyone in the room. You flinch and instinctively duck at the sound. Seungmin quickly throws himself over to you, hugging your frame to his body in order to shield you.

But when you look up it’s not you who has been shot. Hyunjin is still standing somehow, a hand pressing to his neck but it does nothing to stop his blood from spurting from the wound. His eyes are blown wide in shock, staring at Jisung in disbelief. The latter has already dropped the gun, having gone white as a sheet, his hands trembling.

Hyunjin seems to be trying to say something but the only thing coming out is gurgles and broken words, but you’re pretty sure everyone can hear the strained ‘Jisung’ that slips from his blood stained lips. It doesn’t take long before his strength leaves his body, falling to the ground, dead.

The room is deadly silent in the aftermath. No one moves a single inch.

“I’m- oh my god. Fuck I. I thought the safety was on. I didn’t. I didn’t think. I- Oh my god,” Jisung beings to ramble, his voice wavering in disbelief at what has just happened. He’s on the verge of a panic attack or a mental break down. Minho attempts to reach out to him to try and comfort him but Jisung simply slaps his hand away, scared that he might kill the older on accident too.

You make your way over to Jisung, no emotion showing on your face, nothing to give away what exactly is going on in your mind. In fact, there’s only one thing on your mind when you pull the gun out from your holster, pushing it into Jisung’s temple.

His eyes go wide, shaking his head as he pleads for his life. “Wait. No. You can’t be s-serious! It was an accident! I didn’t. I did-“ You don’t have time to hear his excuses. Your friend is dead on the floor over some arbitrary argument. In your jumbled mind, this is the only thing that makes sense.

You pull the trigger.

Jisung flops dead next to Hyunjin and the next thing your brain registers is Minho slapping the gun out of your hand. It feels oddly like deja vu and you’re brought back to the vivid memories of Jeongin’s death. Minho’s fingers are curled into the collar of your shirt, rage overtaking his features.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU,” He shakes you rather violently in his grasp. You still haven’t shown a single emotion on your face.

“Hm? What do you mean? Jisung killed Hyunjin, so therefore we should put Jisung down. Isn’t that only fair?”

“Fair? Do you fucking hear yourself? You just killed Jisung for no reason!”

“And didn’t Jisung just kill Hyunjin for no reason?”

“So what? We just go around killing friends if they make a mistake?”

“A mistake that cost another one of our friends lives,”

“So what you’re saying is that we should have put a bullet in your brain the moment you didn’t come back home with Felix and Changbin?” Your eyes narrow dangerously, snarling at the male in front of you.

“How was that my fucking fault? Felix was tripped by a zombie and Changbin went back after him. That was HIS choice. You can’t blame me for that” Minho looks like he’s seconds from strangling you. So you make it worse, something you were good at. “what are you so fucking mad for? Upset you can’t get your dick wet anymore?”

Minho slaps you straight across the face. You know you deserve it.

“Fuck you, you crazy fucking bitch,” Minho spits in your face before pushing you back, stomping away.

Even though he had hit you with as much strength as he could, you can barely feel where he had struck you. Your body is all too numb to register anything.

Seungmin has been eerily quiet this whole time, not saying anything until he comes over to you, wrapping his arms around your middle to pull you flush to his chest. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, staring at the white ceiling.

“Do you think I’m crazy Min?” Your voice is quiet, a distinct tiredness laced under your words.

“You did what you had to do love,” He mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You both know he didn’t answer the question.

It doesn’t even surprise you when you find Minho gone the next day, half of your supplies missing. You can’t find it in you to even care, he could have taken everything if he really wanted to. You’re sat on the edge of the bed with Seungmin beside you, your eyes foggy as you stare at the white wall. He’s got your hand in his lap, thumb tracing over your knuckles.

Seungmin can no longer ignore the fact that the person he had fallen in love with was gone. Lost somewhere inside the recesses of your brain, tangled in the strings of your sanity. Still, Seungmin is so deeply and irrevocably in love with you. That would never change. No matter how far you fall, he’d be there to pick you up.

Besides, he knows it’s not your fault. You’ve been pushed too far, past the point of no return.

You know it too. How many times have you told Seungmin to just leave? That there was no way he could be in love with the person you had become. Seungmin would be better off by himself, far away from you. But he’d just hold you a little tighter, run a hand through your hair and whisper how much he loved you. The two of you would spend hours like this, wrapped up in each other, trying to pretend the world outside didn’t exist anymore.

In the end you didn’t really want him to leave. You were too selfish. You need Seungmin.

And he needs you just as much. Which is why he easily agrees to your little plan.

The two of you find yourselves on the roof of the nearest tallest building, standing mere inches away from the ledge. You watch as the sun sets, an orange red glowing in the sky. Had you not known the earth was all but doomed, you’d find it beautiful. Especially for your last moments.

You turn to face Seungmin, only to find he’s already looking at you, that adoring look in his eyes. It makes you wonder how he can still look at you like that, when you’re making him do something like this.

“Are you sure?” You ask, voice rough. Though if you were honest, everything about you was rough now. Tangled hair, sunken in cheekbones and permanent dark circles under your eyes. The clothes around your frame were baggy from how much weight you had lost since this all started. Seungmin still finds you beautiful.

He comes over to slide his palm against your jaw and you lean instinctively into his warm touch. It amazes you that his simple touch could bring you so much comfort.

“Of course,” And he says it with such conviction that you don’t argue. You’re far too tired to argue anyways. As selfish as it is, you don’t think you could do it without Seungmin anyway.

Seungmin’s watching you intently, stroking your cheeks. He knows how tired you are, how much pain you’re in, to the point where you just want everything to stop. You’ve suffered so much, the burden of being their leader was too heavy for you alone to carry. Despite the circumstances, Seungmin thinks you had been a good leader, you had done the best you could. You had sacrificed everything for them, including your sanity. Seungmin is proud of you. He always would be.

All Seungmin wants is for you to be happy. He’d give you the whole world if it hadn’t gone to utter shit.

So if this is what you need? If this is what it takes for you to finally be at peace? Then he’ll do it. He’d do anything for you.

Seungmin pulls your face forward, slotting his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around him, letting your head tilt to deepen the embrace, making sure he can feel all the love you have for him pouring into him. Until it seeps into his bones. Because you know. You both know that it’s your last.

Seungmin had made love to you earlier, after the two of you agreed on the plan. You both had needed it, wanted it. It was just another last thing you two would do together. The way he held you afterwards had made you cry, how he held you like you were the most precious thing to him in the world. It had made you feel guilty, that you just couldn’t bring yourself to continue going on. Seungmin knew, and he could never be so selfish to make you go on when you simply couldn’t.

Besides, he was selfish himself. Seungmin doesn’t think he can bear watching you further lose yourself to the darkness.

The two of you pull away and you slide your hand into his. He gives your conjoined hands a gentle squeeze. Even now he’s still reassuring you. The two of you step up on the edge, the sun having just fallen over the horizon.

Seungmin feels oddly at peace, standing here with you. At least he was putting his fate into his own hands and there was no one he’d rather be with then you in this moment.

Because at the end, it was Seungmin who had stayed with you. Who had promised you forever and Seungmin has never lied to you.

“Minnie?”

He hums in response.

“I love you,”

“I love you too. Until the very end,”

Both of you lean forward.

[ellaa-writes]

Henlo!! I just saw ur doctor/medic reader story and i feel like they would all want to hear the absolute crazy cases and gossip from reader

Im a student and i work in a large hospital/shadowing some doctors aswell and someday’s these crazy things happen randomly. In the least expected ways. From getting a sudden code stroke to seeing 🪱🪱on body parts to hospital staffs gossips in the med room. Its so random sometimes.

Imagine doctor reader casually telling the time she caught so and so cheating in an empty room in between 2 codes. And shes so chill about it like shes seen and heard enough but the Kortac officers r eating it up like listening to Nurse John’s podcasts😂

Reader: yk this reminds me of the time i did my trauma rotation in—

Konig: wait! Let me get my snacks and tea👀☕️

Hello!! Thank you <3 This is so silly I love it. Decided to have fun with it. It's kinda gross but hey that's what happens. Lol.

It's going to be a rough day, you thought. Not even 2 hours into your shift you had two concussed idiots sitting in your waiting room. This is gonna be a long one, you started at noon and won't be done till 4am the next morning.

Clutching your coffee you prayed for a miracle, an alien ship or a metor. Either one would do.

Later that evening, specifically dinner time. You were the last to arrive, having to help hold down a patient as another medic stitched up a gash on his forehead.

"I know, I know." you said as you sat you lunch down in front of your chair. Running off to grab a much needed coffee. It was your turn for the over night shift. It wasn't a bad shift, just babysitting the wounded soldiers that are currently being held. Coming back and setting yourself into your spot, digging into your food without a cause to the wind.

"You guys won't believe my day." you started off, slurping down your heart spaghetti. "Some rookies decided to play chicken and now they both have a concussion. And one probably memory loss. Couldn't even tell me his name." you shook your head, recalling the incident. "Than Hutch came in, complaining that he can feel worms crawling in him. I had to explain four times to that dense mother fucker that worms can not survive stomach acid." you stopped to take a big gulp of coffee. "But he wouldn't listen, said it wasn't in his stomach but inside his skin. Ran some blood tests and no hallucinogenic. But he could have fooled me." you didn't realise you were blabbing until you looked up from your plate to see a few of your team members surpressing their laughs.

"What?" you asked, mouth full of spaghetti. "Why don't you chew a bit more." one of them offered. Making the other laugh, "Oh fuck off." you spat. "Anyways, had to give Hutch an xray just to prove there's no damn worms in him." you explained.

"An xray? Does that-" you cut them off. "No, not at all. But it shut him up." they all bursted out laughing. "It reminds me of a patient I had back at the ER. Complaining about his ass itching. The other nurses weren't taking him seriously. Just sent him to the bathroom with some baby wipes." you stopped abruptly, this might not be a good dinner story.

"Oh come on Katze, don't get all shy on us now." König said, you didn't even notice he was there. You also didn't notice the rest of the mess hall getting quiet to listen to your story.

"Oh, well we're eating." you tried to explain but was met with loud booing. "Fine, fine." you yelled back. Wiping your mouth, your food finished, you pushed the tray away from you.

"Ok, so they sent him to the bathroom and he came back later saying he can still feel them."

"Them?" Horangi interrupted, and was followed by shushing. "Damn, sorry. Continue." he slinked back into his chair.

" So they put him in a room, told him to strip from the waist down. Another trainee and myself were assigned to this case along with a RN. She had him lay on the side has she spread his ass cheeks. Like you would a child." you stopped from dramatic affect. Watching as your tream and the rest of mess hall looked on in anticipation.

"We saw nothing. So she took a swab, had me spread this grown man's cheeks as she inserted it into the recum, shoveling out what ever was in side. Still nothing." a few people got up and left and others choking back a gag.

"She wet had him pop a squat over the trash can and cough. Sure enough a worm came shooting out. So did some green chunks, thankfully they were just some cucumbers. Guess the guy stole a cucumber from his neighbors garden not knowing it was infested with worms. He shoved the thing right up and it broke. He was like that for 2 weeks, worms up the ass. Still not the craziest thing I experienced, let me tell your that." you reached for your tray, but König took it for your instead.

"A cucumber up the ass?" Horangi asked. "I've seen people shove all sorts of thing up their butt. Idk what it is or why but it's way to common." you threw your finished coffee cup in the trash.

"Sorry I gotta get back. The results for mister chicken should be in by now." you said you goodbyes and waved to others, rushing out of the lunch hall.

"What a women." König said, hearts in his eyes.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 5: Dead Man Walking

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: Joel suffers in the new world without his girls.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags: Grief, mentions of loss, Joel is a mess, suicidal thoughts (joel), depressed!joel, the birth of Raider!Joel, Joel not coping with grief.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

Chapter 5: Dead Man Walking

Joel's heart sinks as he drops to his knees before her teddy bear, its once fluffy fur now drenched and stained with blood. Desperation grips him, and he finds himself pleading to whatever powers that be, silently praying that the crimson splatter doesn't belong to the child he failed to save, failed to come back to.

He picks up the bear, his breath growing labored as he notes its limp form, a chilling resemblance to the way Sarah's lifeless body hung in his arms just moments ago. The sight brings an overwhelming sense of grief and helplessness as Sarah’s blood still clings to him.

The weight of the situation becomes unbearable, and Joel finds himself unable to contain the sickening feeling within him. His stomach turns, and his mind is gripped by a flurry of horrifying scenarios of what could have happened to her, each one more devastating than the last. In his torment, Joel bends over, unable to suppress the urge to vomit. The acidic bile burns his throat as he retches onto the floor, his eyes watering from the intensity of the experience. Tommy's hand comes to rest on his back, a silent presence providing both support and comfort during this moment of despair.

With a gentle touch, Tommy takes the bloodied bear from Joel's trembling hands, his grip tender yet firm. In that moment of anguish, tears stream down Joel's face, the weight of his loss and grief overwhelming him in waves.

Joel's voice breaks as he speaks through tears and gasps, his words escaping amidst a torrent of emotion. "I told her I'd come back," he chokes out, the weight of his promise crashing down upon him like a wave.

Joel's voice trembles as he looks up at Tommy, his desperation evident in the rawness of his tone. Between gasped breaths, his question echoes with a poignant mix of anguish and longing, "Why didn’t she wait for me?"

Tommy, sensing the depth of his brother's pain, instinctively crouches beside him. His grip firm and supportive upon Joel's shoulder, attempting to offer some semblance of comfort as he watches his brother break in front of him for one of the first times in his life.

Joel doesn’t talk for a few days.

Doesn’t sleep.

Doesn’t eat.

His mind is consumed by the weight of grief and guilt. The memory of his daughter's death hangs heavily over him, along with the loss of his best friend’s little girl who he loved as if she was his own.

Did she even know that? Did she know how he fought to not lose her too? His knuckles bloody before he reached the empty diner he left her in. How broken his skin was after he left. How Tommy, bruised and bloody had to drag him out screaming because he thought you would come back.

Did she know how he still sees you in his dreams? That when he finally collapses into sleep, that all he can hear is you screaming his name and Sarah’s blood drowning him?

Did she know that he still sees her in the trees, the sunsets, the streams, everywhere. He sees her everywhere, always out of reach. Disappearing before he reaches out for her.

Did she know he tried to leave this world, unable to cope with the loss and guilt? Did she know that he saw her eyes in her teddy bear, staring back at him as he was ready to end it all? Did she know that he’s still fighting for the possibility he finds her again?

Did she know that the loss of her is tearing him apart from the inside as he tears people apart from the outside?

Or does she think that he just left her without a second thought? If she’s thinking that, at least she’s alive.

As they leave the city behind and enter the desolate landscapes, Tommy makes a valiant effort to break the silence. His words float through the air, but find no echo in Joel's heavy silence. Joel's mind is immersed in a world of torment, his thoughts consumed by the weight of grief and guilt. His deafened ears don't register Tommy's attempt at conversation, leaving the air filled only with the echoes of nature and the unspoken pain within Joel's soul.

His soul torn and draining through his skin at the loss of them.

As weeks go by, Tommy and Joel find themselves encountered by a group of people who call themselves raiders. Tommy rejects the idea of joining this group, not finding alignment with how they navigate the new world. Joel echoes his brother's sentiment, choosing to part ways with the group. However, as time unfolds, Joel starts to see the harsh realities of their solitary survival. The world has become a dangerous place, and their own chances of making it unscathed are slim.

He can’t lose Tommy too.

He wont lose Tommy too.

As their resources dwindle, Joel and Tommy find themselves approaching the point of no return, the strain of survival weighing heavily on them. In a moment of desperation, they stumble in the path of the raider's group once more, who quickly acknowledge their impressive fighting skills after they caught the brothers by surprise. Recognizing their potential value, the raiders reluctantly agree to take them in, albeit with some misgivings. In the harsh world they now inhabit, survival often hinges on alliances built on mutual needs, even if trust doesn’t come easily.

Joel keeps a vigilant watch over Tommy, never taking his eyes off his brother. Suspicion and distrust fill every glance, and he scans their surroundings with a watchful gaze, wary of the potential threat lingering within the raider's camp. His grip on Tommy tightens, a protective gesture fueled by a desire to shield his brother from any harm. Any hint of hostility or ill intent from the other raiders are met with a sharp and deadly glare, signaling Joel's readiness to defend his brother at any cost.

By the second week, no one dares to look at the brothers. Word spreads through the camp about the violent and brutal attacks initiated by Joel, leaving broken bones and mangled bodies in his wake. Eventually, the other raiders begin to steer clear of the two men, their fear-driven avoidance a testament to the raw power and anger that simmers within Joel. The atmosphere grows tense, a dark cloud of anticipation hanging over the camp, each individual haunted by the lingering shadow of Joel's relentless wrath.

The world ended for Joel the night he lost his girls and now he’s a dead man walking among the living.

Click here for Chapter 6

Notes

Last part of part 1! This was a little hard to write just because it’s depressing lol. But it was just a stream of thought tbh, kinda just started and didn’t stop. So I hope its represented well. I hope you enjoyed the first part of the series!

Next chapter Sneak Peak!

With gentle and soothing motions, Joel's hand begins to stroke the length of your back, offering a comforting presence. Your gaze remains fixed on the still form of the dead man, his lifeless eyes staring back at you as blood drips from the hole in his neck. Joel's voice breaks the tense silence, whispering reassurances once more. "Everything's alright." The repetition of his words serves as a soothing mantra, a lifeline that grounds you in the face of shock and terror.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun , @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp

[waffles-art-writing]

Hey um can you do platonic task force 141 with a gender neutral child reader who is like Six from little nightmare

The team find the child eating fresh meat in the old basement(first meet)

Child reader can only said a few words

Summary: The team find you in a dusty basement under stranger circumstances. Price comes to find out you love causing chaos back at base.

Proofread: kinda

Pairing: Task Force 141 ! Platonic x Child!Reader

WordCount: SHORT ASF SO SO SORRY

Age Rating:

Codename:

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: I have writer's block - apologies! Gore, COD STUFF, descriptive eating & smell and other heavy described behaviours and scene, cursing, (IDK Little Nightmares too well so bare with me on this one)

Request?: YES

————

Soap detonates the breach on the door, the hinge’s getting ripped from the frame. The heavy bolts falling to the ground with a clack, the dust fills the air, darkness shrouding the staircase down to the basement of the building. Ghost’s eyes scan his surroundings through the night vision, the power went out just as they breached the front door of the building. “Basement breached” Soap states over the comms, Price’s voices crackles to life acknowledging them.

The stench from the basement makes all the mens spines shiver, the smell of something rotting urges the bile to bubble in their throats. Ghost is beyond thankful he’s wearing a balaclava to help limit the smell, yet the acid and musky smell still makes it to his nose. “Steamin’ jesus. What the hell is that smell” Soap mumbles, attempting to cover his nose with his shoulder, keeping his gun raised. “I have no clue but it makes me wanna be sick” Gaz states, his eyes watering. Both him and Price just met up with Ghost and Soap as they started descending the stairs. “Get this over and done with so we can get air boys” Price grumbles, following behind his team.

Ghost steps onto the floor quietly, his eyes peeled for any movement. He checks the doorway before entering a room off to the side, Gaz and Price at the other door to the other room. Soap taps Ghost’s shoulder, his eyes locked onto something in the dark corner of the room. “The hell is that” the Scotsman questions, his eyes not moving away from the small being hunched over in the corner. The yellow jacket adorning its back is stained with god knows what, clearly dirty, the small tears can be seen. The wet crunching sounds can be heard from the corner, the sound of flesh tearing and snuffles. Almost sounds like a dog got into the meat locker and going crazy m, eating the meat as fast as it can. “Price, you might wanna come over here” Ghost states, Price walks over asking what’s going on. Gaz behind him.

“The bloody hell is that” the older man questions, his brows furrowed as he steps forward. He’s not sure what to do, from this angle it looks like a child. But that’s what they are all hoping for, and not some kind estranged person that’s gone psychotic in the dark basement over a long period of time. Which could possibly be true as well, highly likely in reality. All the men jump backwards when the small being turns around, their wide eyes staring at them like beady little bugs in the night. “Mother of god” Soap curses as he watches the sickening red blood drip from the child’s mouth, his stomach twisting as he realises it’s eating raw meat. Fresh, raw meat. Everyone in the room wants to gag and leave, but Price picks up the courage and approaches the kid.

Soap watches their captain with disgust, Gaz has his hand covering his mouth as Ghost just stares. His brows furrowed behind his mask, his own stomach churning like a raging storm. By the time Price manages to pick the child up, they have only said very few words. The words were very mumbled with the likes of not knowing English and how to speak too well. “Where take me?” Was the main thing they were saying, questions where the team was taking them when they made their way out of the damp and rotting basement.

The team settles down on the plane, they keep a good distance between themselves and the child as they are not too sure what exactly is up with the kid. Gaz managed to clean their face, as the smell of blood and the look of deep red dripping to the floor was not helping his stomach one bit. The kids' yellow raincoat was something they all kinda looked at with curiosity, why were they in a yellow raincoat if they were in a basement? By the time they got to base, everyone got comfortable seeing the kid staring at them with curiosity, like every child. The one that piqued the kids interest the most was Ghost, of course, the skull mask and quiet, brooding demeanour and cold eyes always seemed to gain the attention of anyone. Especially a kid no matter what they were doing beforehand.

*Random interactions at base*

The sound of small feet sprinting down the corridor and lightly giggles gained Price’s attention from his office, the door was open slightly. The room was stuffy after a hot day so he wanted to air it out, which went through the windows and the door was open. “YOU WEE ANKLEBITER C’MERE!” A scottish accent yells out, thunderous boots hitting the cement floor. Price is looking at his door, contemplating if he should go out to check on them. “Not my circus, not my monkeys” he repeats, his words getting cut off by the yelling of another voice. “JOHNNY! WHERE IS MY MASK!” This time it’s a Manchester accent, more specifically Ghost’s. “My circus my monkeys” Price repeats quickly as he gets up from his desk quickly, pushing his door open to see a very much pissedoff Simon Riley stalking down the corridor. You could practically see the fire behind the man's eyes. “You’re a dead man Soap!” The Brit yells, passing Price quickly. Price pinches his brow as he follows after the raging man, concerned for Soap’s safety more so over yours. Knowing full well that Ghost wouldn't lay a finger on you, but would gladly give Soap a new bruise to add to his plentiful collection of colours.

Price turns the corner to see you, perched on a shelf, Ghost’s mask tucked in hands with a large cheeky grin spread across your face. Your eyes covered by the mop of hair, you screamed when they tried to cut it. Your yellow coat overtop one of the boy’s old shirts and some basketball shorts they took from a rookie. Price glances over to the other side of the room, Ghost has Soap cornered, he looks like he is watching all his life flash before his eyes in one go. “Kid…. Please. Just give his mask back before someone gets hurt” you look at Price your head tilts to the side in question.

Price just sighs as he watches the team yell at eachother, and you just fuel the raging chaos.

————

So sorry it’s so short! I just couldn’t think of anything!! ;-;

[mosquito-queen]

corruption arc with kate snapping after kingpin? ‘hey kid, you haven’t touched your pancakes.’ ‘oh, i’m not hungry.’ but it’s more than that. she can’t explain the festering uncertainty in her stomach, the bubbling acid that’s been clawing its way up her throat since her mom was put into the back of a cop car. she can’t make the nausea stop. make it stop. god, it has to stop. but it doesn’t. not until some poor chump that slammed into her in the subway is discovering what it’s like to lose three teeth at the same time. her knuckles hurt, but the static between her eyes eases. if everyone else can do what they want, why can’t she?

corruption arc with yelena having to be the good guy? it’s days later - maybe weeks? - when there’s a low whistle from the shadows of a parking lot, followed by: “kate bishop, you have been taking out my marks.” tsk. tsk. kate has blood on her. her own. someone else’s? she forgot who the crumpled body under her belongs to. she ignores the clip of the widow’s boots as she nears. instead, rears back her fist, and - and - “no hello? you just keep hitting a dead man?” kate whirls, the light snuffed from her eyes. yelena is stunned. kate bares her teeth like a feral dog, the words she so desperately wants to scream choke up in her fangs and shred into an exasperated cry. she shoves yelena away: “stay away from me.”

corruption arc with yelena and clint teaming up to save kate from herself? on the third ring he answers. before he can say a greeting there is a rush of words that would have otherwise remained locked away forever unless they were released in a flood. and she has to repeat them. has to repeat asking clint barton for help, “our katie is not feeling good. what do we do?”

[tallulah477]

ℐ𝒮𝕖𝕖 ℛ𝕖𝕕

Colors of Pandora Day 1: Red

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Character Death/Love Interest Death, Grief, Anger/Rage, Illusions to Sex (but no actual smut), Mentions of blood

Word Count: 641

A/N: I pictured Neteyam while writing this but his name is never actually mentioned so you can probs picture whoever you want.

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

You think red is a powerful color - vast in its expression and eclectic with its meaning.

You see red in the honor of battle.

The thick, pigmented paint swirling stark and proud patterns along the bodies of your brothers and sisters, a visual representation of your bravery to protect The People from anyone or anything that wishes you harm. The sight of the paint against your skin makes you sick, the image of it on your fellow clan members like a mirror of what might happen in battle makes your stomach twist, acid rising in your throat the more you look at it. There’s no calmness in the color. No serenity or stillness. It’s bold and heated, exploding with emotion - meant to ignite action. Your home is being threatened, the people you care about are in danger.

He’s in danger.

Sometimes you can think the color might be pretty. When the faint red peeks against his skin, a reminder of the nights you’ve shared together. You see red in the passion he shows you, the passion and uncontainable desire he pulls from you in return. And despite any nerves or reservations you might have felt, he’s the only one who’s ever made you feel safe enough to express it. The pure raw emotion that you’ve never felt before, but that feels way too intense to contain anymore. Red bleeds out in the love you both share - the heated kisses and the shielded hugs, the way his arms wrap around you like an impenetrable shelter that no other force could ever breach.

You see red in the way the whites of his eyes haze over when the world becomes too much for him to handle. He’s confident, a mighty warrior, but he is not without fear or worry. He trusts you. And in the early mornings or late nights when everyone else is sleeping, he curls up into your side, pulling you close to him and nuzzling into your embrace. Heavy sobs wrack his body, and the amber of his eyes are surrounded by red.

The paint markings on The People’s bodies lose their symbolism when they’re replaced with their brighter and less strategically placed twin. You watch as your brothers and sisters fall in battle, fighting with all they have to protect their home and yet somehow it's still not enough. Blood paints the battlefield an endless sea of red, both enemy and friend’s alike. You can’t find him - can’t find him amongst the multitudes of bodies and metal demons, and the desperation feels like it's trying to crawl out from your throat.

And then you see him, across the field and locked in combat with one of the metal demons. The tawtute inside the machine is fierce, the large knife in its hand furiously swiping at your love’s body, trying to slice any part of him it can. He’s fiercer than it, dodging and shooting arrows at the protective glass cover shielding the tawtute. Despite the force, the arrows never pierce the glass and you can see how tired he’s getting from the constant take take take and no progress. You start to run, needing to get to him, but an anguished scream rips from your throat when the knife he’s spent so much energy avoiding suddenly stabs directly through his chest.

It’s red, all red - blood sliding down his back from the wound, dripping off the blade as the metal demon pulls the knife from your love’s body.

Your eyes track him as he falls to the ground.

He’s not moving.

As you stand there frozen, your soul feeling like it’s already left your body the second your love’s left his, you think you should be seeing blue.

But instead, your eyes cut to the man who just stole your life from you...

...and all you see is red.

**Special thanks to @xylianasblog for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog

**Comment here to be added to or removed from my taglist!

[sinfromlokislair]

a friendly alien who really, REALLY wants to make friends with this adorable human they’ve found on their planet. the little guy is trying to crawl away, a fresh injury on his leg keeping him from running. his suits been breached and he’s going to slowly suffocate. but he doesn’t want to die like this. his crews left him behind and he’s scared. there’s no one coming to rescue him, and now a predator from this planet is going to crush him. he tries not to cry beneath that helmet as it picks him up by his leg, curiously looking him over. the shift makes him cry out in pain, his injury freshly jarred from the shift.

the alien sniffs him a few times, getting to know him. male, youthful, stressed. it finds his wound and licks at it, earning distressed cries from the human. poor thing. He won’t last long in this environment. better hide him so one of the thieving scavengers doesn’t take him from it.

it opens its mouth and he screams. ignoring his frightened cries the alien engulfs his helmet, quickly moving down his body with its stretchy maw. a nice thing about its flesh is its elasticity—it could easily fit him and more inside of it. his shoulders squish right in, followed by his waist, then his legs, one still bleeding right out on the aliens tongue. He tastes metallic. the blood is unpleasant, and the alien spits it out onto the ground. gross.

with its new friend squishing into the first of it tight, squeezing stomachs, the alien gets on the move, feeling the human thrashing within it. first is the chamber filled with gluey substances, which coat the human in a mixture so thick it’s difficult for him to move. once he’s properly cocooned, he’s squeezed to the next chamber, where the walls light up. small, living bioluminescent organisms free themselves from their homes in the walls and move over him, secreting acid from their jaws to break down his suit. he can’t move, and yells the entire time, instantly holding his breath as they work through his helmet. but he can’t hold it for long, and finally gasps for air as they crawl off of him, his body successfully stripped to nudity.

he can’t breathe. he panics and thrashes as the stomach squeezes him, sending him to a chamber even lower. the walls are blue and it’s full of a thick, gelatinous liquid. he tries to keep his head above it to no avail. he sinks below, inhaling the stuff and coughing as it enters his lungs. His chest burns and fills with fluid, and he tries to scream, air bubbles escaping his mouth as he kicks to try to swim—

wait a minute. he can breathe. With this stuff in his lungs, he can breathe. he pauses for just a moment, looking around panicked. how is this possible?

The entire body shifts. A light from above alerts him to something looking down on him—it’s the alien. he’s in a translucent sack, a storage crop of sorts that diverts from their stomach. he meets their strange, glowing gaze, his heart hammering in his chest.

the alien promptly hugs its gut, rubbing its cheek against him through its own flesh. he doesn’t quite comprehend what’s going on, but this thing is keeping him alive—and looking at his wound, the fluid seems to be healing it. What the fuck. he looks at the alien, which gives him a sort of catty smile as it nudges him through its flesh.

Seems he’s going to be around for much longer than he thought. And it doesn’t look like he’s leaving this chamber anytime soon…

[nina-renmen]

So um.... hi!

I was wondering if I could request some hurt/comfort with Miguel o'hara?

Maybe he gets hit with a spell from a sorcerer anomaly and he collapses? Or maybe he's struggling on a mission and is bleeding out and just can't keep his eyes open? It doesn't really matter which one you choose, but I really would like a happy ending, if that's ok!

Thank you so much for your time, have a wonderful day/night!

Ps. You can call me Slinky anon!

Of course Slinky Anon! Thank you for requesting! I hope I wrote this like how you imagined.

Warnings: angst but ends in fluff, mentions of blood/bleeding out, Fem reader, reader has to cut herself. I used a translator so I apologize if my Spanish is completely off.

Summary: Miguel always hid his feelings from you. That is until he’s knocking on deaths door and the chance arises.

Miguel waited impatiently, as y/n followed him. It was raining and even though Miguel’s suit protected him from the rain, Y/n’s suit wasn’t as durable.

Miguel hopped up on the building, Y/n following him with ease, but unfortunately she wasn’t as fast as he had liked. “Y/n, would you just hurry up-“

A whizzing sound could be heard, y/n’s spidey senses tingled and she dodged what looked like green smoke. Unfortunately, Miguel wasn’t as lucky. The green smoke turned out to be acid, practically tearing a hole in him. Y/n and Miguel seemed frozen in place as Miguel touched his stomach. Blood…Why was there so much damn blood?

Miguel felt dizzy, collapsing already. He was loosing blood as the acid ate away at his flesh. Y/n Looked over at the anomaly and quickly used her webs, pulling it over to her and reeling her fist back. The anomaly wasn’t strong at all, in fact it was a sorcerer. It’s downfall was it relying on long distance combat, never once thinking that someone would be able to get their hands on it.

As Y/n struggled holding it down, Miguel kept attempting to stop the bleeding. But putting pressure on it only seemed to singe his hand. Maybe this was supposed to happen…Was he really going to die like this?

A bone crushing noise erupted throughout the muggy air. The sorcerer Anomaly laid limp on the ground, its head slightly split open from Y/n’s abuse. Standing up with Bloody knuckles y/n sprinted over to Miguel, sliding over to him and gently pulling his hands away to look at the damage.

She winced slightly hearing his skin make a slight cream sound as she pulled his hands away. It already ate through the first three layers. Even if y/n brought him back he wasn’t going to make it in time. The only thing she could do is what Miguel forbid her from doing.

“No y/n…Don’t do it.” Miguel whispered as his mask slowly came off. Y/n pulled out a knife, ever since she was bit by that radioactive spider her blood could reverse anything that was internal.

“What else do you expect me to do?” Y/n asked taking off her mask. “I won’t let you die-“

Miguel grabbed y/n’s wrist, stopping her from cutting herself. “I can’t have you dying from blood loss-“

“And if I don’t do this you’ll die.” Y/n shook off his hand. Miguel was too weak to struggle back. The acid would reach his stomach soon, and if that happened there would be nothing she could do. He’s burn alive from the inside, and she’d have to do a mercy kill.

Lifting up her hand, Y/n made a deep cut as the red, crimson liquid seeped out of the back of her hand. Her blood mixing with his. Now she has to wait, and hope that their blood would be compatible. Miguel’s vision seemed to go in and out. “Hey…Hey! Don’t go to sleep Miguel!” Y/n exclaimed, lightly tapping his face to get him to wake back up.

A few seconds later Miguel’s burnt flesh seemed to be building back up again makings Y/n sigh in relief. Using her watch, she presses a few buttons before they were back in HQ.

“What the hell happened?!” Peter exclaimed, seeing Y/n, and Miguel. “We ran into a Sorcerer Anomaly, they had some sort of acid…He’s healing up but he’s lost a lot of blood.”

Peter nodded, his face full of panic. “O-Okay. Um W-we need [blood type] blood bags! Clean towels A-and an IV. I need everybody to get those things and bring it to the infirmary.” He exclaimed, giving everyone a job before turning to Miguel and picking him up, throwing the large man over his shoulder.

“Thank you y/n….For saving his life.”

Miguel groggily woke up. The bright light irritated his eyes. Miguel slowly sat up, his abdomen felt sore. But other than that he was fine.

“Good…You’re up.” Y/n spoke up from the chair in the corner of the room. Her hand was stitched up and bandaged.

“You-You did exactly what I told you not to do!” Miguel exclaimed, his expression Angry.

“Whoa, Whoah, Whoah! I saved your ass, and this is the thanks I get?!” Y/n stood up, matching his tone. She felt hurt, did he still think that she was incapable?

“That’s not the point! You could have bled out! You could have died!” He yelled back, now standing up.

“And why do you care huh?! I’m just some annoying girl that you brought here to fight!!-“

“I care because I love you!” Miguel heaved.

The room had gone silent. Y/n’s eyes widening as Miguel ran a hand through his hair and sat back on the bed. “I love you alright? That’s why I don’t let you go on missions by yourself…I’m scared you’ll die.” He said softly.

“Miguel I-“

“No…I already know that you don’t return my feelings…If you want to leave then you can. I won’t make you stay here…” Miguel trailed off as Y/n sat next to him, Cupping his face making the larger male look at her.

“I love you too.” Y/n said warmly. “I guess I just hide it well.”

Miguel looked at her, searching for any lies, any deception. But he found none. “But if I’m being honest—Hmph-“

Miguel cut her off, pressing his lips against hers. Practically stealing her breath away. “Promise me…” Miguel Mumbled against her lips before fully pulling away. “Promise me you won’t put yourself in harms way like that again.” He said, in an almost pleasing tone. “Promise me Mi cariño.”

Y/n pressed her forehead against his. “I promise.”

[justsomeno1s]

ISAT x LobCorp AU: Bonnie the Abno, and the Nuggets!

No, I'm not mentioning the Abno Ideas in the comments of the first one- Still ahead of where my irl friend and I am in game, so will leave it until then. Apologies!

As with before, Ideas under Read More due to general length:

Bonnie

S-04-112, Cast Aside Iron, Non-Breaching "Tool"

The Cast Aside Iron is a cast iron frying pan that is 'possessed' by Bonnie. They are fully sentient and conscious of whats going on around them, but are incapable of moving on their own (Which they HATE! They're an active kid, and not even being able to sate basic needs would drive anyone insane)

When the pan is held by someone, Bonnie is immediately capable of speaking to the wielder. The longer the pan is held, the more they can do- As time goes on, Bonnie gains first influence, then control, over the wielder's body. Essentially, Bonnie possesses whoever uses their frying pan for too long.

This process of possession leaves the wielder's mind distant and floaty, almost in a dreamlike state. As such, employees with low Temperance and Prudence would be far more easily possessed. The body also slowly stops perciving pain, allowing Bonnie to push it well beyond its physical limits.

What makes the possession bad? Well, when Bonnie's been possessing a body for too long, they get a little desperate to keep it. In their attempt to not be left in a room for who-knows-how-long, they force the body to try and eat the frying pan. Needless to say, this kills the body brutally.

(They figure that a metal frying won't be, like, dissolved by stomach acids, and that would keep the pan in contact with the body forever! Only problem is that they dont really account for the impossibility of eating a metal pan the size of your head without breaking either pan or head)

Despite retaining all memories from prior repositories, Bonnie doesn't really want to destroy the facility, or cause any trouble. They just want a body and their family back! Especially Petronille. But no one remembers...

Hoo boy, this kid remembers a lot at the back of their mind. With some prompting, they'd be able to remember just about everything about LobCorp. (Odile takes advantage of this constantly- Bonnie is happy to just have someone who sticks around.)

Bonnie wasn't cursed or transformed or anything. They were born as a tiny metal spoon, and slowly grew into a pan over the years- Yeahh, they're just like that. Petronille is their actual blood sister. On that note, Bonnie's Pan does actually have blood in a wafer thin layer hidden in the metal.

In a story based setting, Bonnie doesn't try to take over their Family. Odile, Mirabelle, Isabeau, Petronille, and Siffrin (when he was an employee) were all safe from the "eating the pan" thing [Siffrin as an Abno would do the same thing, including not attacking anyone with Bonnie's Pan]

EMPLOYEE TIME!!

Mirabelle

A Nugget working under Hod in the Training Department. As other trainees come and go, Mirabelle ends up sticking around, always trying to learn and perfect more. About half the time, Mira ends up becoming the Training Team Captain, both through seniority and skill. Always happy to help out new Nuggets- She's often sent to wait outside containment units, just incase someone panics.

Mira speciallizes in Justice and Temperance, though she typically ends up pretty well rounded.

Almost always uses White damage weapons, with her most prefered being The Sword Sharpened With Tears and Moonlight.

Her favorite Abnormality to work on is probably Knight of Despair, and her least favorites are definitly Silent Orchestra and Alriune. (She doesn't want to get a bad grade in Abnormalities /ref But fr, she hates the idea of her mistakes causing other people trouble/suffering.)

Isabeau

Isabeau is a Nugget that does a bit of everything. Never a captain, but not for lack of ability. He's always bouncing from one deparment to the next. No particular opinions on the Sephirot.

Isa is best with Fortitude, with Prudence and Justice tied for second best. His Attack Speed is notably higher than his movement, too.

Isa likes close range stuff- If he could, he'd use Gold Rush, absolutely. Probably wouldn't mind going to Support with Whote damage, either, but he's not touching Wristcutter. (It makes him feel sick, somehow)

Likes working on Little Red Riding Hooded Mercenary [Imo, her Instinct work can include sparring], Dislikes working on Funeral of Dead Butterflies (Sympathizes, but also wants self and family to live), Spider Bud (he cant help them) and Bloodbath (he can't help them-)

Odile

A highly skilled Nugget sent wherever she's needed. She's often based in Lower Central, much to her dismay. Her poor old legs hate all her walking.

Specializes in Pruedence and Temperance, low Justice. (cause slow)

I want to give her In the Name of Love and Hate, b/c the mental image is hilarious and the damage type changes is surprisingly accurate. But, tbh, she'd prolly have long range, low movement weaponry. Like, y'know how Sound of a Star/Feather of Honor doesn't swing the weapon, but just holds their hand out and attacks like that? Something like that- Maybe a gun, also for humor factor.

Likes the Plague Doctor (I feel she'd like like the religous/theological discussions she'd have with them) and maybe Burrowing Heaven (Its a challenge to write and observe at the same time, and I feel she might enjoy the difficulty?) Used to like The Snow Queen, but after being frozen once, she became much more cautious. Dislikes working on The Queen of Hatred (Just vibes), Child of the Galaxy and Laetitia (Not a fan of the possessive/"I am your main focus" types)

Will equip Cast Aside Iron quite often, as Bonnie is very careful not to hurt her and has a lot of information about things.

Petronille

Petronille is a mid ranking Nugget, prolly a part of Safety.

Low Temperance, high Fortitude and Justice.

Uses Slow, Close-Range weapons. Think hammers/clubs.

Unsure of Likes or Dislikes- Hates the ordeals, tho. Like, beyond normal. If she even sees a clown, Change help her. Also hates the Sweepers.

Actually Boniface's sister, Same parents and all. They're just an Abnormality and she's not. Originally ran away from home with Bonnie because she was afraid their parents would sell/hurt Bonnie, and kept running because of the Backstreets being Like That(tm). Eventually found and caught by LobCorp. She tried her best to protect Bonnie, even still, but when LobCorp went back to day 1, she forgot everything, even as Bonnie remembered.

[dixonsdarkelf]

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Masterlist

AO3 link Wattpad link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family, her bestie & Jake (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, memory loss around a traumatic event, vomiting, mention of nightmares, detailed discussion of a panic attack, PTSD, victim blaming oneself

Word count: 3.3k

We stayed like that for some time, leaned up against the wall, me wrapped up in his arms as I continued sobbing. Each time I thought I would run out of tears, they kept coming. Daryl didn't even so much as flinch every time I heaved or sobbed. He kept me close to his warm body, occasionally offering words of reassurance, reminding me that I was safe and he was there. Eventually, I picked my head up and looked out the window. It was pitch black outside now.

"Christ, how long have we been in here?"

"Don't matter. We can stay here as long as ya need," Daryl assured. I rubbed my temples in an attempt to soothe the pounding in my skull.

"This is why the whole thing with Jake was extra scary," I elaborated, "I was back in the same situation. Had that same gut feeling that I ignored & something bad happened. I don't know what I did to deserve this."

"Nothin'," he replied, hardly missing a beat after I finished speaking. He sighed. "I ain't gonna pretend to know how ya feel right now. I can't imagine that. But I know that feelin'...somethin' bad happens, and ya think ya deserve it somehow, that it's your fault, but it ain't. I'm sorry ya have to feel that."

"Thanks," I said, rubbing my eyes and taking a shaky breath, "one of the scariest parts is just how much I don't know about what happened. I don't know how long I was out for, I have no memory of how I got out...how many times he did it..." My mind began to wander down a much darker path. "If there were other people...oh god, I might throw up." I used Daryl's knees to steady myself as my head spun. My stomach was doing backflips, and not the fun kind. "Yeah, I'm gonna throw up."

I shifted myself forward a bit to give myself room to stand. Every muscle in my body was screaming as I moved onto my knees and tried to gain my footing. I was aching from head to toe. Daryl was on his feet in seconds, taking me by the arms and helping me slowly stand up. I practically dove for the sink once it was within reach. Thankfully, I was able to scoop my glasses out, which I had forgotten fell in earlier, before I started puking.

It'd been a long time since I last ate, so there wasn't a whole lot that could come out. Even when it felt like my stomach had been emptied of all of its acid, my body was still heaving, desperate to rid me of the feeling of nausea that never subsided. Daryl was a sweetie and held my hair back, just like he did after my night of binge drinking. After several rounds of spitting in the sink in a futile attempt to get the taste off my tongue, I looked up at myself in the mirror for the first time. I looked just how I predicted. My hair was a mess, my eyes looked like I'd spent the last several hours smoking weed, my eyelids were swollen, and my face was puffy.

"Christ, I look like hell," I groaned. Daryl draped my hair over one of my shoulders before resting his chin on the other, making eye contact with me in the mirror.

"Still the prettiest face I ever seen," he commented. My cheeks turned as red as my bloodshot eyes. "How ya feelin'?"

"Honestly, I feel like I could keep puking, but I don't think there's anything left," I said, rubbing my eyes with my fists, "god, I feel like I got hit by a bus."

He gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Anythin' that'll help? Jus’ say the word, I'll make it happen." I gave a half-smile in the mirror and let out a snort-chuckle.

"A lobotomy."

"Anythin' that won't hurt ya?" The look on his face told me that he didn't think my joke was funny.

"I don't know," I sighed. I turned and propped myself onto one of the exam tables, crossing my legs. "Truthfully, all I want is to go back in time. I just...I wish I hadn't said anything." I looked down at my hands in my lap and twirled my thumbs around each other. "Not because I don't trust you. It's not that, not at all. I trust you with my life. It's just that I...I..." I was lightly hyperventilating.

I couldn't utter the thoughts that were swirling through my brain. I couldn't say I felt broken, like a dysfunctional toy that would never work again. I couldn't say that I was concerned about when our relationship reached that level of physical intimacy that I might not be able to partake. I couldn't say that I was scared I wouldn't be able to do that for him. We hadn't even kissed yet, and I was worrying about things far past that.

"Hey," Daryl said, stepping over to me and resting his hands on my shoulders. He ran his hands gently up and down my arms from my shoulders to my elbows, stopping periodically to offer small squeezes, which he knew I loved. "It's ok. I know it wasn't easy. Thanks for sharin' with me. Feels good to know ya trust me that much." I looked up at him, making eye contact for the first time, not in the reflection of the mirror, in the hours we'd been in there.

"Of course I do," I reiterated, "wouldn't have told you if I didn't." He brushed my bangs out of my eyes, running his hand through my hair as he did. It sent tingles down my spine.

"Ya got beautiful eyes," he practically cooed, "I ever tell ya that 'fore?"

"I don't think so, no. But thank you," I gushed, blushing heavily and dropping my gaze back to my hands in my lap.

"Well shit, sorry it took so long. But ya do. Bit red right now, but beautiful."

"A bit red? I look high as a kite."

"Don't take away from how beautiful they are," he complimented, running the hand that was in my hair down the back of my neck, "no rush of course, but I can make ya tea. Ain't sayin' it's a cure-all, but I know it makes ya feel better."

On a run a few weeks back, I'd found a box of lavender chamomile tea. I claimed it for myself, thinking it might help me be able to get some sleep. It didn't, but it became something I'd make for myself after a particularly shitty day or when I wasn't feeling well, and it usually put me in a better mood, even if just a little bit. On the nights Daryl was gone, I'd make it after I woke up from my nightmares as I tried to soothe myself back to sleep.

"I'd love to, but..." my voice trailed off as I thought about being perceived by the community the second I walked out. "Just leave me here. I'll sleep on the floor. I don't want anyone to see me."

"What kinda man would I be if I let m—" he quickly cut himself off, "—a woman like you sleep on a concrete floor or metal table? Let's get ya home. Carry ya if I gotta." As curious as I was, I didn't have the energy to ask what "a woman like me" meant.

"You're sweet to offer," I said, "I think I can walk. I'm worried enough about what people will think when I walk out. I wanna try to appear as confident as possible."

"Hell what any of 'em think," Daryl scoffed. He ran both of his hands through my hair, his nails gently grazing my scalp as he moved my hair around to flatten it out. I closed my eyes and smiled, and I think I let out a soft humming sound. It was so blissful, I wasn't paying attention.

The short walk from the infirmary to our front door seemed to go on for miles. For how late I figured it was, I was surprised by how many people were still outside, sitting on their porches or walking on the path. A lot of them had been out earlier and saw the scene from that afternoon, with me storming off out of the basement and locking myself in the infirmary. I had the chilling feeling of being watched as we walked. I kept my eyes on the ground to avoid catching the stares of everyone around me. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to cover myself despite being fully clothed. I felt so exposed, so small, like they all knew. Like it was written all over my skin. Fuck what I said about trying to be confident, I guess.

"I feel like everyone is staring at me," I whispered. I don't know what Daryl did, whether that was give them a look, mouth something, do something with his hands, etc., but I went from having the feeling of all eyes on me to not having any at all.

"Now they ain't."

Once inside, I kicked my boots off. As we were going upstairs, there was a knock at the door. I couldn't tell who it was, but I could see what looked like a male figure in the textured glass window next to the door. I wasn't sure who'd be coming here so late. I figured it had to be some of our friends.

"I got it," Daryl said, heading for the front door before I could even react.

"Fuck, my head," I sighed, taking a seat at the top of the stairs and holding my head in my hands. Daryl said something to whoever was at the door before coming back to me.

"It's Aaron 'n Maggie. They wanna check on ya," he informed.

"Shit," I groaned, running my hands through my hair. I certainly wasn't in the mood to see anyone, even Aaron or Maggie, both of whom I'd become incredibly close with.

"Hey." He squatted down on one of the steps below me so we were at eye level and placed a reassuring hand on my knee. "Go take care of yourself. I'll talk to 'em." I nodded and took myself to my room to grab my favorite pjs—the matching red flannel set—and tied my hair back, which I always did when I wasn't washing it.

Deciding whether or not to shower felt like a losing battle. If I didn't, I would feel gross and dirty from being out in the sun & heat all day, sweating buckets. If I did, I would feel gross and dirty for having to look at myself, to touch my body to clean myself, and a panic attack would ensue. It felt like I couldn't win. Should I just get changed, go to sleep all sweaty and covered in dirt? Or should I try to get clean and deal with the aftermath of a panic attack? I was already in enough emotional turmoil. I figured I could handle a little more.

I almost wished I'd just gone to bed dirty.

The panic attack that followed was nearly debilitating. At first, I thought I was going into cardiac arrest. I sat on the floor of the tub, as I always did, and was barely able to get myself clean before I was frozen in a little ball. I thought I'd run out of tears by that point, but my body continued to surprise me. I was hyperventilating so hard, I was certain I'd pass out. I sobbed into my knees, trying to keep myself as quiet as possible so Daryl wouldn't hear me.

He knows now, I thought, there's no running. You can't hide from it anymore.

I knew Daryl was telling the truth when he said there was nothing I needed to be embarrassed about in front of him or that he didn't think of me any differently. He meant what he said, and he wasn't afraid to look you in the eye when he said it. He wasn't a liar. Even little white lies seemed impossible for the man. Honesty was one of his top qualities. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he secretly had different thoughts and opinions. That maybe he did think I was gross, nasty, repulsive for what happened. Color me paranoid.

My panic attacks seemed to last hours, but in reality, they were only around 10 minutes. Those 10 minutes, though, were the longest, most excruciating 10 minutes of my life. It felt like my body was going to give up on me, like my heart would stop or my lungs would give out, at any moment. It felt like the ceiling was caving in on me and the floor was going to swallow me whole at the same time. Coming back to reality was always a surreal experience. I'd feel around on the floor of the tub or the tile of the wall to ground myself, and I'd sit in the water for a minute to allow my senses to take in my surroundings. Shortly after that, I was able to pull myself up and out, quickly wrapping myself in a towel so I wouldn't have to look at my body in the mirror.

After I got into my pjs, I examined my face in the mirror. My eyes were still bloodshot and swollen, but at least my hair was no longer a mess, and the puffiness in my face had gone down a little. I left my glasses in the bathroom, thinking I likely wouldn't need them until tomorrow. Daryl was in the kitchen, standing over a pot of water on the stove, making the tea he had promised me. I could smell it all throughout the house, the floral notes of lavender and chamomile gracing my sinuses and bringing a smile, albeit a small and brief one, to my face. It broke through my feelings, even if just for a moment.

"How ya feelin'?" Daryl asked, turning to me as I made it to the bottom of the steps and joined him in the kitchen.

"Honestly? More ashamed than anything," I said. Daryl scooped me up in his arms for a hug, holding me as close to him as possible as he snaked his arms around me. One around my waist, the other across my back, his hand resting on the back of my neck. I buried my face in the crook of his neck.

"Told ya, don't got nothin' to be ashamed of. Not in front of me," he reassured. He was nearly bringing me to tears again. He was such a safe, warm energy to be wrapped up in, and he had the most comforting words to accompany that.

"Daryl, I'm really sorry. I still feel bad for blowing up on you," I said, "I shouldn't have bottled it all like that. I should've done something to prevent myself from exploding."

"Ya don't gotta keep apologizin'. Just wish there was more I could do. Hate seein' ya hurtin' like this. It's a good thing ya said the bastard'd be dead by now. Hafta hunt him down and kill 'em myself if he wasn't."

The sound of boiling water caught my attention, likely signaling that the tea was ready. Daryl tapped on the back of my neck to get me to lift my head and meet his gaze. He kissed the tip of my nose, awakening the butterflies in my stomach and sending electrical pulses throughout my body. "Go sit and rest. I'll get it for ya."

I took a seat on the couch, and I noticed my notebook had been placed on the coffee table. Resting on top of it was a flattened, dried daisy. I ran a finger over the stem, tracing it from top to bottom, taking in its beauty. The white petals were curling ever so slightly around the edges, and the typically bright yellow center had turned darker and more golden in color.

"What's this?" I asked, taking the fragile little flower in my hand. Daryl placed the tea on the coffee table next to my notebook. He'd chosen my favorite mug—the white one with daisies on it—to use.

"Pressed it for ya. Carol showed me. Took a few weeks, but it's finally done," he explained, taking a seat next to me. I thought my chest was going to burst open from the love swelling in it. Making me tea, using my favorite mug, gifting me a pressed flower...if I wasn't already in love with him, I certainly was now.

"Aww, Daryl," I gushed, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek. His skin started to get warm under my lips. "Thank you, I love it." I flipped my notebook to the back and placed the flower in with my pictures and notes. Happy tears threatened to break free from the corners of my eyes.

"Glad ya like it," he replied, moving closer to me until our legs were touching. He wrapped his arm around my lower back, resting his hand on my hip.

I picked up the mug and blew on the steam coming off the top. The little tea bag bobbed up and down in the cup, bouncing around the perimeter. I took a tiny sip, enough to taste it but not enough to burn my tongue. The sweet floral notes graced my tastebuds, filing me with a sense of calm and comfort and warming me from the inside. It tasted better when Daryl made it. It tasted like it was made with love.

"It's really good. Thank you for doing this," I smiled, taking another tiny sip before setting the mug down to allow it to cool further. Rather than saying "you're welcome," Daryl kissed the side of my face, letting his lips linger there for a moment before pulling away. The butterflies in my stomach were not just fluttering around now—they were dancing with joy.

"Can I ask ya another question? This why ya blacked out a couple weeks ago?"

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat, "yeah it is. I...I've had these feelings creeping up on me for weeks now. I couldn't handle them anymore. I mean, I got what I wanted, I numbed my feelings. But I felt like such shit after that I don't think I can bring myself to do that again."

"Probably a good thing," Daryl responded, "by the way, told Aaron 'n Maggie you'd talk to 'em tomorrow. They just wanted to make sure ya's alright."

"Can I ask what you told them?"

"Didn't share nothin' 'bout what ya said," he reassured. That wasn't a concern, as I knew Daryl was a fantastic secret-keeper and would never air someone's trauma like that, but it was still nice to be reassured. "Just told 'em ya's havin' a bad day and ya'd talk to 'em tomorrow. Let 'em know I'd make sure ya'd be ok tonight."

"Thank you for doing that. And thank you, Daryl, for everything. You've been so good to me." I paused to lean over and give him another kiss on the cheek. He was already leaning his face toward me when I did it, like he knew I was going to do it and was anticipating it. And was excited for it. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done. Tonight in particular, but not just tonight."

"Anythin' for you, Lydia," he said. My stomach dropped upon hearing him call me by my name, and based on his face, he immediately realized his mistake. He looked like he had just insulted me & was feeling terrible about it. "Shit, sorry. Slipped out." I knew it was just a slip of the tongue, but I wasn't ready to be called Lydia again. I didn't know if I ever would be. I let out an exasperated sigh.

"Daryl, my sweet, I need to ask you a favor."

"Anythin'."

"Don't ever call me Lydia."

"Yes ma'am."

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