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jessamine-rose · 7 months ago

Text

˖⋆˚♱ଘ Angel’s Tears ଓ♱˚⋆˖

*cries* I thought I was done with Church AU after Priest! Dottore yet here I am with more unholy ideas. Welp, Guardian Angel! Capitano x Nonbeliever! Darling, here we go (；ω；)

Tw:: yandere, psychological trauma, blood, violence, death, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 3.8k words under the cut ♡

♡ From the moment of their creation, angels are classified into the Nine Orders. This hierarchy determines their roles in Heaven and Earth, with higher ranks assigned greater levels of power and authority. A special exception is The Strongest Angel, an individual who is neither a Seraph nor an angel from the First Sphere. Rather, the moniker belongs to Il Capitano, the leader of the Powers.

♡ The legitimacy of his title has never been questioned. As a warrior angel, Capitano’s purpose is to vanquish evil. He is the chivalrous knight in bloodstained armor, the nigh-invincible being who strikes fear into the hearts of demons, the ever-righteous angel bound by a paradoxical duty to partake in violence for the sake of everlasting peace.

♡ It is in a small town in Mondstadt, following his victory over a legion of demons, that Capitano encounters you. It is the hour of mass yet you are nowhere near the Church; rather, you have taken sanctuary in a secluded meadow. A book sits on your lap, not a religious text but a tale of dark fantasy. There is a saintlike quality to your countenance, an air of melancholy as delicate as the flowers which surround you.

✿ ⚘

The moment Capitano appears before you, all peace leaves the meadow.

No, this isn’t right. It is normal for humans to feel fear in the divine presence of angels, yet he is donning his human guise. Nonetheless, as soon as his shadow touches your form, you look up and suppress a shriek, your face losing its veil of apathy.

So what exactly did he do wrong?

For your benefit, he remains rooted to his spot. Clarity comes in the form of your gaze flitting to your book, its title printed on the cover in conspicuous letters, the whispers which leave trembling lips.

“I…I can explain! This book—it’s just fiction! There are no real curses or spells inscribed in the text; it doesn’t promote any form of blasphemy!”

Ah, now he understands. You weren’t afraid of him.

Carefully, Capitano takes a step forward and raises his hand in a calming gesture. A gentle expression adorns his false face.

“Be not afraid.”

✿ ⚘

♡ It doesn’t take long for him to understand your wariness. A glimpse into your soul, paired with your quiet explanation, tells the story of an orphan raised by the Church. Only, your Church is one of many founded on distorted beliefs, of violence preached in the name of a cruel god. As a result, your upbringing was marked by strict rules, corporal punishments, and sermons which painted the image of a hopeless child with a weakness for temptation.

♡ Knowing this, Capitano can’t fault you for forsaking God and your Church. Still in his human guise, he promises his silence and leaves the meadow. But once he returns to Heaven, his first course of action is to apply for a position as your guardian angel. It is an easy process—while that role is typically reserved for the lower ranks, there is no shortage of humans in need of spiritual guidance and protection. He only questions why an angel wasn’t assigned to you when you were in greatest need of one.

♡ Henceforth, Capitano becomes a recurring character in your life. Every week, he visits you in the meadow. When you ask for his identity, he claims to be a progressive believer from another town. But rather than enlighten you with the true Word of God, he simply keeps you company and indulges your “vices,” leading to hours spent reading together. Beyond those meetings, he also watches over you to ward off any demons or humans seeking to harm you.

♡ From your end, you slowly warm up to your mysterious companion. He is a man of few words, but his actions always convey a sense of kindness. And despite his faith, he genuinely respects your beliefs and accepts you as you are. At one point, he even gives you a special gift, a quill pen of exceptional quality. The feather, pure white with a soft radiance, must have been sourced from a rare bird of prey.

♡ Over time, however, something changes. Capitano can’t deny that the faults lies with him. His visits, his constant thoughts of you, the ever-blurring line between want and duty…nothing of his behavior can be attributed to an angel’s inherent love for humanity. If that were the case, his love wouldn’t beget heartache. His love wouldn’t beget the temptation to harm others, rooted not in the name of justice but for your own safety. His love wouldn’t beget lust, guilt, dishonor, desires so sinfully evocative of his own fallibility.

♡ The truth is, you were never in need of spiritual salvation. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, what Capitano saw was a pure soul—a good person unlikely to commit evil nor fall into true temptation. Moreover, he knows that your sin of disbelief is forgivable unlike your Church’s sins of violence. That so long as you remain as you are, your soul will not be denied paradise, albeit in a realm of Heaven beyond Capitano’s jurisdiction. So why is he incapable of leaving your side?

✿ ⚘

“I had a long, long dream. I dreamed that you and I met again in the pure white world that we created.”

As you read the final line, your gaze leaves the book and returns to Capitano.

“What did you think of the story?”

Your shoulder brushes against his own, a tempting sensation. It is all he can do to remain still, to think against seeking out more of your touch, to remind himself that your close proximity is a mere necessity for your current activity.

The left side of the book, bearing the story’s ending, rests in your left hand. The other side is held in Capitano’s right hand, a blank page devoid of hope for a happy ending. When he turns the page, you seamlessly catch it under your thumb to show the next page.

Who knew of the casual intimacies imbued in the act of reading together?

“It was a well-written novel,” he says simply. “Though her sins tarnished her honor, Rosalyne’s sacrifice was an act of love. Her loss did not hinder her faithfulness to Rostam.”

“I feel the same way,” you muse. “Now I understand why this book was banned centuries ago. Forbidden love between angels and humans…it certainly goes against what the Church taught us about angels. I have to give the author credit for their imagination.”

It’s just the two of you again, this time in the library. At the start of winter, you invited Capitano to your workplace. There, in your greatest show of trust, you brought him to a secret room dedicated to texts banned by the Church for promoting “blasphemy.” Fantasy, erotica, anti-Church publications, first editions of censored books, stories which merely deviated from the Church’s popular depictions of spiritual beings.

Molten Moment belongs to the last category. Little do you know that it was based on a true story, that the author had really formed a pact with a demon called La Signora. Capitano himself is mentioned in the story under his true name.

He was one of the few angels who noticed the changes in Rosalyne’s behavior. She used to be a Throne, an angel with no connection to Earth nor humanity. Yet by some twist of fate, she laid eyes on a brave knight from Mondstadt and began to meet him in her human guise.

He was the first to hear of Rosalyne’s sin, that being she saved Rostam’s life during a battle. It was a direct violation of God’s orders: Angels and demons may influence humans, but they are forbidden from directly altering a human’s lifespan.

He was a silent witness to Rosalyne’s descent. She fell from Heaven, burned by her own flames, yet she had never appeared more ecstatic. In the following years, she married Rostam and lived a happy life with him on Earth.

He was the last to recognize Rostam’s soul at the pearly gates, forever separated from his fallen lover. Such had been Rosalyne’s divine punishment, worsened by her knowledge of this possibility. But what else was she to do? To let Rostam know of her true nature? To drag his soul down to Hell, where he’d be subjected to an eternity of undeserved suffering?

Capitano is no fool. As he read Molten Moment, he began to understand Rosalyne’s sin in a new light. Half the time, he couldn’t even concentrate on the text, his human eyes repeatedly drifting to your intense reading expression.

He closes the book, leaving it in your sole grasp. But before he can stand up from the sofa, you scoot closer and lean your weight on him. The book is placed on a nearby table, forgotten.

“Do you mind?” you whisper. Your right hand, empty since the prologue, traces his left hand.

A moment of silence precedes his response. “You may.”

Wordlessly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. A gesture of intimacy, an unspoken confession. Yet as he savors your touch, Capitano wonders if you would harbor the same level of comfort around his true form.

He doubts it. As a Power, he bears an inhuman appearance on par with that of his superiors. It is his true image which has earned him the title of monster by witnessing humans.

Still, he allows himself to indulge in the blessing that is your oblivion. When you look into his two human eyes, there is a soft light in your gaze wholly free of fear.

“Spring is coming soon,” you mutter. “I can’t wait to see the flowers again. Come to think of it, there’s a variety of narcissus which grows only in late spring. It’s very pretty.”

Against his better judgment, Capitano strengthens his grip on your hand. “Shall I take it as an invitation to resume our meetings in the meadow?”

“Sure.” That is when you look up, a small smile adorning your face. “And if you can’t visit for whatever reason, I’ll pick a bouquet and preserve it for you.”

For once, Capitano is rendered speechless.

Rarely do you ever smile. Even to him, you retain your listless disposition—whether it is out of habit or lingering distance, he has yet to discern your reasons. But that is what makes it all the more special, those few instances when he is beholden to your expressions.

He wonders if this is what humans feel in the divine presence of angels, when they are borne witness to all things holy and beautiful.

Your smile is a phenomenon reserved only for the worthiest of souls. And in your grace, he has never felt more undeserving.

✿ ⚘

♡ At the end of winter, a religious war is authorized by the Church of Mondstadt. Shortly after the news reaches your town, Capitano informs you that he will be busy with “work.” He says it during another reading date, featuring Heart of Clear Springs. Before leaving, he kisses your hand and gives you a kind smile. There is a sad look in his eyes, but you don’t inquire further.

♡ In late spring, your town is attacked. With the entire area under fire, from your home to the meadow, you find yourself running back to the sacred building which you’d avoided for years. After all, though the enemy soldiers belong to a different denomination, they still worship the same god as you. In the present, the church is the only place on Earth where you can claim asylum and pray for your survival.

♡ Except every entrance is locked, including the doors to the orphanage. As the army reaches the town square, all you can do is bang on the front doors and beg to be let in. From inside, you can hear the voices of the people that luckily attended mass before the invasion. Some tell you to hide elsewhere, others beg you for forgiveness, a few sound like the nuns and caretakers who tormented you in the past.

♡ Before you can think of another sanctuary, a soldier strikes you. Pain…it has never felt more intense. Through your fading consciousness, you register your body falling and your head hitting the concrete. Blood pools from your forehead and trickles down the steps of the church, tainting it red.

♡ Life flashes before your eyes in a blurry sequence. The static images of God, sermons and bruises, unanswered prayers, people who never believed you or simply didn’t care. A birthday celebrated with your departure from the Church. Sanctuary found in the library followed by the meadow. Yet the numbness remained, each day bleeding into the next in a gloomy haze. In all those years, did you ever feel God’s love?

♡ It doesn’t matter at this point. A small part of you wonders if you should have retained your faith, continued your prayers, sought out salvation in the safety of your solitude. At least then, at the hour of your death, you wouldn’t be confronted with the fact of your humanity. The primal fear of death, the spiritual fear of ending up in Hell no matter Capitano’s reassurances.

♡ Capitano…where is he? Weakly, you call out to him but he doesn’t appear. Of course, why would he? You should feel thankful; it means he is probably safe, wherever he is. Still, you can’t help but wish he were here—if not to save you, as he has done by simply keeping you company, but to comfort you one last time. And those are the thoughts which plague you in your final moments, an unheard prayer on the tip of your tongue.

“I pray that we meet again, myself and the first person who truly loved me.”

♡ ______ died on a cloudy day, one of many people persecuted in the name of God. After the Church was destroyed and its followers slaughtered, their body was buried in a mass grave that once flourished with nature. There was a poignant quality to their countenance, an air of distress as transient as the flowers planted above them.

♡ At least, that is how your story ends from the perspectives of the survivors. But to the angels and demons who witnessed the destruction of your town, your death was only the end of a chapter in your life. In their eyes, Capitano had been present all throughout, an invisible witness to your death, absolute in his refusal to perform an unauthorized miracle.

♡ He remained by your side until the light faded from your eyes. That was when he took notice of the bouquet of narcissus clutched in your hand, tainted with blood despite your feeble efforts to save his gift. A soldier approached your corpse, intending to drag it down the steps for burial; but before they could touch you, Capitano appeared before them.

♡ It was only for a brief second, but the soldier drew back and cowered in fear. In the following days, they were haunted by the memory of the angelic figure who appeared outside the Church of Mondstadt. Or more precisely, the monster who prayed over a bloodstained corpse and took a bouquet of ruined flowers out of their grasp.

✿ ⚘

From the moment you wake up, all peace leaves the meadow.

What happened? Your memory comes back in hazy fragments—death, darkness, blinding light, pearly gates, ethereal figures. Most vivid is the sensation of strong arms and soft feathers, a familiar warmth which accompanied you throughout your journey.

As for your current surroundings, you are in a meadow so beautiful that it brings to mind the Garden of Eden. Flowers of every variety bloom across the scenery, some out of season. The sky is bright, sunless, a canvas of multiple colors. There are no other signs of life.

Internally, too, something feels off. A nearby pond provides a glimpse of your reflection—white garments, gold scars in place of your fatal injuries, your disoriented countenance. If this place is what you think it is…shouldn’t you feel at peace, happy even? And why are you alone?

Your gaze lands on a patch of flowers. Pure white, perianth petals, cup-shaped coronas…the same type of narcissus which grew in your favorite meadow. The flowers point in different directions, as though searching for a sun that does not exist.

“You are awake.”

A shadow touches your form, engulfing you in darkness. It bears a large, unrecognizable shape but such details evade you as you recognize the voice behind you.

“Capitano!” Immediately, you turn around, only to gasp and suppress a scream.

The person before you…can you even call him human? He is incredibly tall, to the point that you must crane your neck to see his face—assuming there is one beneath his iron mask. His body is clad in silver armor, stained blood in some places. A halo, shaped like a crown of thorns, shines behind his head.

But what shocks you are his wings. A single pair covered in radiant white feathers and eerily dark blue eyes. Each eye seems to glow with an uncanny aura.

Dark blue eyes with a striking resemblance to Capitano’s. What more for his long black hair and his solemn manner of speaking?

It doesn’t make your revelation any less unsettling.

“Capitano.” Your voice comes out in a nervous whisper. “Is it really you? You’re a…”

“An angel,” he confesses. He takes a step back, widening the distance between your bodies. “I ask that you pardon my appearance. Such was my sacrifice—for my true form, in all of its monstrosity, to be my sole image.”

His human face comes to mind, along with the kind gaze you fell in love with.

You feel the weight of multiple gazes on you. “What do you mean?”

“Is this realm to your satisfaction?” he asks. “I beseeched God to create a special paradise for you, cut off from the rest of Heaven. The price is that your capacity to feel negative emotions remains in this realm…though that is preferable.”

Preferable? How so? Right now, you can barely process what he is telling you. You are dead. Your companion is an angel. Your soul is in paradise, but not exactly.

After everything you’ve been through, you were still deemed worthy of a place in Heaven.

“I am sorry.”

Capitano’s voice brings you back to reality. He has never sounded more serious, emotional, repentant. And when you look up…

Is he crying?

Most of his eyes remain open, focusing on you with a fervent stare. But others are downcast, as if unable to face you. And a few appear glossy, blinking back iridescent tears.

“I am truly sorry.” He bows his head in shame, wings folded. “What I did to you was cruel, an absolute injustice.”

You don’t know which eyes to make contact with. “You—”

“It must have been painful,” he continues. “Even if I were to justify my actions, the truth lies in the fact that I tolerated your suffering for my own selfish desires. And that is why I ask not for your forgiveness, knowing I am the one at fault.”

Silence. In light of Capitano’s confession, all you can do is stare at him and comprehend the weight of your situation. What exactly are you supposed to feel, knowing his betrayal? Knowing that regardless of your feelings, you have nowhere else to go in the afterlife?

Yet despite it all, your prayer came true. The two of you were able to meet again.

And that is what compels you to take a step forward, to come closer until you are standing in front of him. “Hey, it’s…don’t cry.”

A delicate sensation blesses his wings—your hands carefully tracing his feathers to wipe away his tears. Several eyes widen in surprise, but all he can see in your gaze is sympathy.

“I’ll admit, it was painful,” you tell him. “Dying alone. But maybe it’s…better this way. If I survived, I’d have to deal with the loss of my home. And who knows what kind of living hell the other Church would’ve put me through?”

Above all, Capitano is the only person whose love you can believe in.

Hesitantly, you take his hand and intertwine your fingers. The next words to leave your lips are spoken with certainty, bringing fresh tears to his eyes.

“I’m sure it was an act of love on your part.”

His reaction is sudden, incurring your surprise. But all you can do is surrender to Capitano’s embrace, allow his free arm to hold your waist and pull you closer to him. His wings wrap around you, caging you in soft feathers and eerie blue orbs.

“Capitano?” You can only look up at him, peering into the contents of his mask.

…It’s like staring into an abyss, a night sky dotted with twinkling blue stars. But in the absence of a human likeness, his words express what a face cannot.

“Never again,” he vows, “shall I allow harm to befall you. That is a promise.”

The hand on your waist moves upwards to caress your face. His touch is light, more hesitant than his previous gestures.

“You need not serve God nor partake in fruitful labor like the other souls in Heaven. All I ask is that you rest, indulge yourself, enjoy this paradise to the fullest.”

A flower is pinned to his armor, right above his heart. You recognize it instantly—a narcissus in full bloom, stained with your blood.

“If you desire a flower, it shall grow at once. If there are any books you would like to read, they shall be brought to you shortly.”

What was the name of that variety again? Narcissus triandrus. Angel’s tears.

“If you are in need of my presence, I shall appear before you, so long as I am not in the midst of battle. And should you ever desire the opposite, I can promise my distance.”

When Capitano looks into your eyes, all he can see is his own reflection. Whatever emotion colors your gaze, it casts his true image in a compassionate light.

“I shall do everything in my power to bring you joy for all of eternity. Such will be my penance.”

“...All right.” With that, you close your eyes and lean into his touch. He feels warm, comfortingly familiar. “I’ll trust you on that.”

Rest in peace, ______.

Think not of your mortal body in the beginning stages of decay.

Think not of your tormentors who are paying for their sins in Hell.

Think only of eternity with your beloved savior.

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

Aahhhh it's done....this idea turned out much heavier than expected, but I'm glad that I was able to write this!! I hope you all cried over enjoyed the story of Angel! Capitano and his damsel. They were truly a delight to write for~

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @diodellet @navxry @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @harmonysanreads @mochinon-yah @oofasleep @micchikari @whispereons @thescribeoflostmemories

#il capitano #capitano #capitano x reader #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano #fatui x reader #yandere fatui harbingers #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #tw: yandere #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #mdni #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

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buckets-and-trees · 2 months ago

Note

Unexpected In the Shower

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Nick Fowler x curvy!female Reader Word Count: 1.7k Summary: You're thrown off and left wanting after Ari's visit to your room in the middle of the night. You're craving more - clarity and ravaging - but unsure what to expect next.

Content Warnings: modern AU, smut, shower sex, nipple play, kissing, clit play, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving)/throat fucking, slight aftercare

Author Notes: Surprise! Sharing more for my 2200 Follower Celebration! A follow up to soft!dark Ari at the lake house didn't win the poll, but it was pretty high up, and... I had a little idea brewing that the muse facilitated finishing off for this weekend.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

After Ari snuck into your room uninvited last night and woke you up with the sole purpose of torturing your pussy with his mouth and his hands, extracting orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were boneless and blissed out, it might have been a good idea to lock your bedroom door.

But you didn’t.

Because it scared and thrilled you.

And

Ari hadn’t even given you his cock.

You had at many points begged him for it, but he had just chuckled and refused.

He told you it was only the first night.

And then, maddeningly, all day he’d acted as if he hadn’t snuck in and then out of your room in the middle of the night.

Whatever game he was playing, you knew you weren’t winning.

But in a game like this? You had no complaint if losing meant you got lost in unbelievable bliss and somewhat forbidden or at least questionable entanglements with your brother’s best friend.

As night fell, you decided to take a shower, hoping the warm water would soothe your tense muscles and racing thoughts. You stepped into the steamy bathroom, peeling off your clothes and letting them fall to the floor. The hot spray cascaded over your body as you entered the shower, and you closed your eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

Lost in the sensation, you didn't hear the bathroom door quietly open. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine as you sensed a presence behind you. Your heart raced, assuming it was Ari coming back for more. You kept your eyes closed, not wanting to break the spell. Warm hands suddenly grasped your hips, and you gasped as you were pulled back against a hard, muscular body.

Large hands roamed your wet skin, teasing and caressing. You leaned into him, your body responding instantly to his touch. His fingers found your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples as his mouth left a trail of hot kisses down your neck.

"Please," you whimpered, not even sure what you wanted, only that you wanted more.

Lips brushed your ear as a familiar voice whispered, "I had a feeling you’d want this."

You gasped and whipped your head around to look at him, because although that voice was familiar, it wasn’t Ari.

“Nick!” you whimpered.

His steel blue eyes locked with yours, dark with desire. A wicked smile played on his lips as he pressed you against the shower wall, the cool tiles a stark contrast to your flushed skin.

"I saw how you looked at Ari today," Nick murmured, his hands still roaming your body. "I heard you last night, begging for more."

Your mind reeled, torn between shock, guilt, and an undeniable surge of arousal. This was wrong on so many levels, but your body betrayed you, responding to his touch with shameful eagerness.

"Nick, we can't—" you started, but he silenced you with a searing kiss that made your knees weak.

"Maybe we shouldn't," he corrected, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down your throat. "But we both want to. I've wanted you for so long. You want this too."

His hand slid between your thighs, finding you already slick and sensitive from the previous night's activities. He groaned in approval, circling your clit with a clearly practiced ease. You moaned, your hips bucking involuntarily against his fingers.

"That's it," Nick growled, his fingers working you expertly. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice husky with need.

You hesitated, torn between desire and the knowledge that this would complicate things even further. But as Nick's fingers worked their magic, you found yourself nodding frantically.

"Yes," you moaned. "Please, Nick."

With a triumphant growl, he spun you around and pressed you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures made you shiver as Nick lifted your hands above your head, and then caught your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. Demanding, possessive.

Nick's free hand roamed your body, tracing every curve as if committing it to memory. You gasped into his mouth as he ground his hips against yours, his hard length pressing insistently against your lower belly.

"I've waited so long for this," Nick murmured against your lips. "Watching you, wanting you. And now, knowing what Ari did to you..." He nipped at your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "I'm going to make you forget all about him."

He spun you around, and then his free hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he positioned himself.

"Finally you’re going to be mine," he murmured against your ear, his voice strained with barely-contained desire.

In response, you pushed back against him, silently begging for more. With a low groan, Nick slowly pushed inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that made you gasp and arch your back. He set a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars.

The shower continued to rain down on you both, hot water mingling with the sweat on your skin. Nick's thrusts grew more forceful, and you braced yourself against the tile wall, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Your mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions and intense pleasure coursing through your body. This was your brother's other best friend, someone you'd known for years. He’d been that charming presence you thought you would never be able to indulge in, never given the chance to, and not someone you should pursue even if you wanted to.

Nick's hand snaked around to rub tight circles on your clit, and you cried out, your body trembling with the dual sensations. Nick's fingers worked expertly, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and you felt the familiar tension building deep within you.

"Fucking lose it," Nick growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you."

His words, combined with the relentless stimulation, sent you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense pleasure, your inner walls clenching around Nick's length as you cried out his name. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out, but Nick held you firmly against the wall, his arm wrapped around your waist as he continued to thrust into you.

As you came down from your high, Nick slowly withdrew, leaving you feeling achingly empty. He turned you to face him, his blue eyes dark with desire. Without a word, he gently pushed down on your shoulders, guiding you to your knees.

The shower spray cascaded over your back as you looked up at him, water droplets clinging to his chiseled abs and running down the defined V of his hips. His cock stood proudly before you, thick and glistening with your combined arousal.

Nick's hand tangled in your wet hair, guiding you closer. "Show me what that pretty mouth can do," he murmured, his voice husky.

You looked up at Nick, water droplets clinging to your eyelashes as you slowly ran your tongue along his length. He groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair as you took him into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each pass.

Nick's hips jerked forward, pushing himself further into your throat. You tried to relax, suppressing your gag reflex as he hit the back of your throat. "Fuck," he growled, his voice strained. "That's it, take all of me."

You gripped his thighs, steadying yourself as Nick began to thrust into your mouth. The shower spray mingled with your saliva, creating a deliciously slick sensation as he fucked your face with increasing intensity. Your jaw ached, but you reveled in the feeling of him using your mouth for his pleasure.

Nick's movements became more erratic, his breathing ragged. "Gonna come," he grunted, tugging your hair roughly. You moaned around him, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he spilled himself down your throat, holding your head in place as you swallowed every drop. Your eyes watered from the intensity, but you didn't pull away until Nick's grip on your hair loosened.

He gently pulled out of your mouth, helping you to your feet. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Then he pulled you close for a deep, languid kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, mingling with his own unique flavor.

As the hot water continued to cascade over your intertwined bodies, reality began to seep back in. You broke the kiss, suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of what had just happened.

"Nick, I..." you started, unsure of what to say.

He pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. "Shh. Don't overthink this," he said softly. "We both wanted it. We both enjoyed it."

You nodded, unable to deny the truth in his words. Nick reached behind you to turn off the shower, then grabbed a large, fluffy towel. He wrapped it around you, then got a towel for himself.

As he dried off, Nick's eyes never left yours, a mixture of satisfaction and something deeper swirling in their blue depths. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, thinking about Ari and the night before. As if reading your thoughts, Nick stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands.

"I know what you're thinking," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "But don't. This doesn't have to complicate things. It can be our secret."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Nick leaned in, pressing an unexpectedly soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

"Sweet dreams," he said with a wink, slipping out of the bathroom and leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts.

You finished drying off in a daze, your mind replaying the events of the past two nights. As you pulled on your pajamas, you couldn't help but wonder what the next day would bring. Would Ari return for another late-night visit? Would Nick act as if nothing had happened, just as Ari had?

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#nick fowler #sebastian stan characters #nick fowler x reader #nick fowler smut #the lake house #askpen #aspen wrote something #2200 followers celebration #female reader #trope: brother's best friend

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jakeshands · 2 years ago

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stars will fall

pairing, park sunghoon x fem! reader

synopsis, you’ve had a crush on park sunghoon for the longest time. all you’ve ever wanted was sunghoon to notice you, or at least pick you out of the dozen other girls throwing themselves at his feet. you can’t believe it takes a zombie apocalypse for him to notice you.

genre, zombie apocalypse au, aouad au, strangers (?) to lovers, mutual pining to lovers

warnings, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, swearing, lots of death, minor character death, open/ambiguous ending, reader gets cut with a knife, lots of mentions of blood, stabbing, mentions of guns.

word count, 16.4k

author’s note, heavily inspired by all of us are dead, like there might be some similiar scenes from aouad in this fic😨 please enjoy reading this it was A Lot To Write. i also watched a the last of us gameplay while writing this…so theres some tlou influence in this fic as well. maybe i’ll write a tlou au who knows?! also this fic is heavily unedited, pls mind my mistakes Lol! this fic is for daphne, ily the hoonerz to my jake🫶🫶

Your life is like a wave brushing against the shoreline. It’s full of routine. It’s full of gentle actions and gentle words. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. Your life isn’t remarkable; you spend your days at school and in your apartment with your mother. You spend nights eating at the chicken restaurant your friend’s parents own. You study until you pass out. Rinse and repeat.

Your life is like a steady wave brushing against the shoreline. It’s a natural occurrence. You stay in the routine you’ve known your whole life. Wake up, take a shower, have breakfast with your mom, walk with Seeun to school, sit next to Kim Sunoo and listen in on his conversations hoping you’ll hear a word about Park Sunghoon, you sit with Seeun in the cafeteria at lunch and watch Park Sunghoon, you go back to class. After school you walk home with Seeun, study at the chicken restaurant her parents own, go to the karaoke booth next door for an hour, walk back to your apartment with Seeun, and study until you pass out. Rinse and repeat.

Today is nothing out of the ordinary. You kiss your mother goodbye and wait outside your apartment for Seeun. The door next to you swings open and Yoon Seeun steps out, a white ribbon tying her hair back. “Y/N!” Seeun cheers, reaching for your hand. “Sorry I’m late. Are you ready to go? I think we’ll have enough time to make it before they start handing out detention slips.”

You hum. “You better wish for that, Seeun. We’ve cut it close before, but never this close. C’mon, I want to at least get to school and have a few seconds to stare at Sunghoon from afar.”

Seeun giggles and you ignore her. You know what Seeun thinks of your crush, she thinks you should just confess your feelings to Sunghoon. “There’s no harm, Y/N!” Seeun’s always told you, but she just doesn’t get it. There’s so much to lose when it comes to facing someone like Park Sunghoon who was built by the hands of Earth.

Park Sunghoon is a widely-known name in the province. He’s an up-and-coming figure skater, his visuals are akin to the K-pop idols you see at university festivals, his body proportions are those of a model’s. His personality, well, that’s a part of the mystery called Park Sunghoon. His name may be widely spoken about, but no one has helpful information about Park Sunghoon. If he’s ever talked about, it’s either about his figure skating career, his looks, or his friends. Sunghoon’s never spoken to anyone outside of his family and close friends as far as you’re aware. You’ve been going to the same school as Sunghoon ever since you could remember and he’s always hung out with the same six boys.

Your crush on Sunghoon started when you were fourteen. Puberty was a crazy time for you. The girls and boys were maturing and separating into groups, it wasn’t the same anymore. You stuck with Seeun, of course, because she was the only friend you ever made. You remember the day you started liking Sunghoon with clarity. It was after school, you were at Seeun’s chicken restaurant and Sunghoon entered. He was laughing with his friends over something, and you swear you’ve never seen anyone laugh prettier than Sunghoon. It was like time had slowed as you watched Sunghoon laugh. It was then, you realized you wanted to see Park Sunghoon laugh for the rest of your life.

Too bad the world wasn’t on your side and as years passed, Sunghoon became more withdrawn and seeing him laugh became something of the past. Now, you rarely ever saw Sunghoon. The only times you were given chances to see Sunghoon was before school started and at lunchtime. You took those moments and cherished them.

You thought this year would change everything; you were assigned to sit beside Kim Sunoo, one of Park Sunghoon’s closest friends. But most of the year has passed and you haven’t said anything more than four sentences to Kim Sunoo. Darn you and your social awkwardness. Soon you’ll have to resign and admit the truth; you’re nothing more than another one of Park Sunghoon’s fangirls.

You and Seeun rush across the street and through the school’s gates hand-in-hand. Only a few minutes left until school starts and detention slips are handed out. Breathing heavily as you slow down into a walk, you glare at Seeun. “That was extremely close, See.”

Seeun rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Y/N. Let’s go find your loverboy.”

You did not get to see your loverboy that morning. You slouch in your seat that morning, pouting lightly as you drew random stars all over your textbook. You’ll always have lunchtime to stare at Sunghoon from afar and wonder what it would be like to sit next to him and listen to him laugh. Beside you, Sunoo stares out the window, sunlight washing across his face. You’ve always thought Sunoo was handsome. His visuals are sharp and fox-like, it’s no wonder he’s the most admired boy on campus behind Park Sunghoon. (He’s often referred to as the Handsome Oppa of your class.)

A chair scrapes back drawing your attention away from Sunoo. Kang Suyeon stands, her hands resting against the desk in front of her. Suyeon’s face was extremely pale and sweat dripped down the side of her face. “Excuse me, could I please go --” Suyeon couldn’t even finish her sentence because she faints and panic spreads through the classroom.

“Kim Sunoo! Kim Y/N!” The teacher gestures for you to help her lift Suyeon up. “Let’s go to the nurse’s office.” The teacher says after both of Suyeon’s arms are wrapped around your and Sunoo’s shoulders. Together, you and Sunoo struggle under Suyeon’s weight to take the fainted girl to the nurse’s office.

“Poor Suyeon,” Sunoo says gently, his eyes darting over to you, “I hope she’s okay.”

You nod slightly in response. “Me too.”

Entering the nurse’s office you freeze up -- why is Sunghoon here?

“Y/N?” Sunoo asks, looking at you questioningly. A blush spreads over your face and you stumble forward, placing Suyeon on the bed next to where another student lies, face also pale and sweating. Park Sunghoon and Sim Jaeyun stand next to the boy watching as Nurse Jeon checks whatever needs to be checked.

One look at Suyeon and Nurse Jeon glances at your teacher. “Another one?”

“What do you mean, Sooyoung?”

Nurse Jeon drags your teacher out of the office leaving you alone with Sunoo, Jaeyun, Sunghoon, and two unconscious students. Afraid to glance around the room, your eyes never leave Suyeon. Her chest rises and falls at a rapid rate, and she’s sweating more than she was in the classroom. You stare at her hands, the area around her cuticles was bleeding pretty badly. Suyeon must’ve been picking at her skin before she fainted.

“Did she also faint, Sunoo?” Jaeyun asks. “Joon also fainted. Fell right out of his seat.”

Sunoo nods. “Suyeon stood up to ask the teacher something, but fainted halfway through her sentence,” Sunoo glances at the doorway of the office and then leans across the bed Suyeon lay on, lowering his voice. “I heard a rumor a couple of days ago. Apparently, Suyeon’s pregnant.” Sunoo looks back at Suyeon, “that’s probably why she fainted.”

It’s silent for a few moments before Sunghoon snorts. “You don’t believe that bullshit rumor do you, Sunoo?”

“Hey!”

You hear a chuckle. Looking up, you find Sunghoon grinning as his shoulders move. He was laughing and your insides curl up. You’re finally hearing the laugh you’ve been dying to hear for years.

“You’ll be eating your words soon, Sunghoon,” Sunoo scowls. “Nurse Jeon will walk back in and check Suyeonie and say she’s pregnant. You’ll owe me ten thousand won.”

Sunghoon laughs again. You really like his laugh.

Suyeon jolts awake suddenly, shattering apart the joyful mood in the room as everyone jumps back. “Suyeon --” your voice stops sharply when Suyeon grips your wrist, her fingernails digging into your skin and you cry out. You use your other hand to try and pry off Suyeon’s hands but to no avail.

Another hand appears and helps pry off Suyeon’s hand. “Jaeyun,” Sunghoon calls out, “hold her down. You too, Sunoo.” He calls for nurse Jeon after, taking your wrist into his hand as blood trails down from where Suyeon’s nails had dug into your skin and drops onto the white bedsheet. His hand is warm. “You’re hurt.” His eyes dig into yours. You feel uncomfortable beneath Sunghoon’s gaze because it doesn’t hold the same warmth that was there when he talked to Sunoo.

“Right,” you say, your voice shaking.

Sunghoon leads you over to a chair as nurse Jeon subsides Suyeon with some sort of injection. Kneeling down in front of you, Sunghoon cleans and bandages up your wrist. Pressing lightly, he looks back up at you. “Replace the bandage with a new one tomorrow morning.”

“O-Okay.” You internally curse yourself. Why did you have to be so awkward around Sunghoon?

“Y/N,” Sunoo calls out, “it’s time for us to head back.”

Nodding your head, you scramble up out of your chair and step around Sunghoon. His touch burns your skin and your heart quickens. You pinch yourself. No. You weren’t dreaming but this certainly felt like a dream.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Suyeonie was gripping you really hard,” Sunoo asks, concern shining on his face.

You smile, your cheeks burning beneath his attention. “I’m okay Sunoo, thank you for asking.”

Sunoo beams. He really does remind you of the sun. “Seatmates care for each other!” Warmth floods your chest and your cheeks burn even more. Sunoo’s sincere words circle your mind even as you settle back down in your seat next to Sunoo.

—-

It was finally lunchtime. You watch Sunghoon from afar as he laughs with Lee Heeseung, throwing some food at the older boy. Beside you, Seeun admires the bandage Sunghoon placed on you. “Wow, this is like a relic, Y/N. I bet if you auction it off it could go for a high price. I don’t think anyone has ever been bandaged up by Sunghoon before.”

You huff and rip your wrist out of Seeun’s hands. “I forgot to say thank you to Sunghoon. I should probably go do that now because what if he thinks I’m impolite? Oh, I would never sleep at night if I knew he thought that.”

Seeun laughs. “Well, go on then, thank loverboy for bandaging you up. Gift him with a kiss while you’re at it.”

You scowl and take your eyes off Sunghoon. “Seeun, shut up.”

Seeun giggles and reaches out to pinch your cheeks. “Hey! It’s just a suggestion! And I didn’t mean on the lips, you crazy girl! The cheek would do just fine.”

You ignore Seeun and turn back around to stare at Sunghoon, only to find him gone. The table where he sits with his friends is abandoned and you slump, looking back at Seeun. “I missed my chance. Now he’s going to think I’m impolite for the rest of his life.”

Seeun laughs and rubs your back. “Y/N, I’m sure he doesn’t think that.”

You ignore Seeun and push the food in front of you around on your plate. “I’m doomed for eternity. He’ll probably tell Sunoo he thinks I’m impolite for not saying thank you to him and Sunoo will gossip about it and soon --”

You never get to finish your sentence because students rush into the cafeteria, terror plastered across their faces. Seconds later, you see the reason why they were terrified.

Zombies.

Zombies only ever existed in your imagination. They only ever existed in books, movies, and TV shows. Not once did you ever think you would be an active participant in a Zombie apocalypse. You couldn’t move a single muscle as you watch students around you scramble to the exit or get tackled to the ground by a hungry Zombie. Beside you, Seeun screams in terror.

The Zombies were grotesque. Their faces were mutilated; like someone had punched them over and over. Blood covered their faces, eyes were gorged out and hanging, teeth were missing, cheeks were cut open, the eyes that remained in the eyesockets were the darkest black you had ever seen, and their skin was a terrifying pale green color.

“Y/N!” Seeun screams, terrified.

You snap back into reality as the fire alarm goes off and the sprinklers turn on. You and everyone else in the cafeteria are drenched in seconds. You survey the carnage going on around you. Zombies were pouring in through every available entrance and exit. In all honesty, you believed that this would be where you would die.

Windows.

You pinpoint a window, and then a table beneath it. You could stack chairs on top of the desk. Grabbing Seeun, you both slip across the wet ground, narrowly avoiding the Zombies that were once people you knew. Seeun sobs loudly behind you, shrieking whenever a Zombie strayed too close to the both of you. Your main priority was Seeun, you needed her safe.

Reaching the window, you tell Seeun to help you push a table up against the wall. Behind you, screams of terror filled the silence. You heard snarling and bones cracking, you heard other students crying out the names of their friends dying in front of their eyes. You needed to get out. You needed to find safety -- an adult. You needed an adult.

Grabbing a chair, you climb onto the table and smash open a window. Seeun climbs onto the table next to you, her sobs now muffled by the palms of her hands. You place the chair on top of the table and step onto it peering out the window. It was safe. Far safer than the cafeteria. “You first,” you tell Seeun.

“Y/N --”

“Seeun,” you cut your friend off, gripping her tightly, “I need you safe. You’re going first.”

Seeun nods her head. “Okay. Okay. Me first.” With a shaky inhale, Seeun climbs onto the chair, grips the window pane, and pulls herself out of the cafeteria. “Your turn!” She calls out and relief floods your body. Glancing behind you, you see the carnage -- it’s a sight you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

You drop down next to Seeun and grab her hand. “Let’s go to the nurse's office,” you say to Seeun. “Nurse Jeon will know what to do.” Together you both run away from the cafeteria and out into the courtyard, not expecting other places to be swarmed with Zombies -- but they were everywhere.

You begin to wonder how this was even possible -- where did the Zombie army come from? How were they able to turn that quickly? A Zombie lunges for both you and Seeun and with a quick yank, you pull the both of you away.

“Y/N!” Seeun calls out, but you ignore her. Surely Nurse Jeon is alive. She has to be. If not, maybe you and Seeun could seek refuge in the nurse’s office. You drag Seeun toward one of the entrances to the school building, but it’s immediately blocked by Zombies. You divert to another path, but come up short and terror begins to flood your body at a faster rate.

You didn’t want to die -- you couldn’t. You still had so much left to do.

But everywhere you went, there were Zombies and at every wall, Seeun sobbed louder. Anger and terror flood your veins, it blinds you, and you take Seeun down to a quieter place. Leaning against the wall, you turn to Seeun. “Seeun --”

“Y/N,” Seeun interrupts, “it’s hopeless.”

“Seeun, don’t say that,” you say, taking her other hand into yours. “I’ll look for another way in -- surely there’s a window we can climb into --”

“Y/N!” You’ve never heard Seeun scream louder. Suddenly, you’re yanked behind Seeun and watching a Zombie tackle Seeun to the ground. The world slows. There’s a loud ringing in your ears as you watch the terror occurring in front of you. Seeun’s screaming, desperately reaching for you, but you can’t hear her. You drop to your knees and crawl forward. Tears drop onto your hands. You didn’t even know you were crying. When did you start crying?

Desperately, you try to pull the Zombie off Seeun but it’s no use. You aren’t strong enough. The world is still quiet. Seeun stills beneath the Zombie, her hand falling limply to the ground. The Zombie’s eyes focus on you and you give in. This is how you die. Abruptly, there’s another hand on your shoulder that slips down to your forearm and is yanking you up onto your feet.

“Y/N!” Someone shouts right next to you. Everything slams back in focus and you finally hear everything -- you hear someone sobbing loudly but Seeun’s dead? Who is the one crying now? You touch your face. Oh, you’re the one crying.

You’re yanked forward as the Zombie pounces your way. You stumble over your feet, but the hand on your forearm keeps you steady. You focus on your savior; silver hair, long legs, and a familiar warm grip. It’s Park Sunghoon -- what was Park Sunghoon doing?

You try to say something, but all that comes out is a sob. You don’t know what is happening. One moment you were sitting in the cafeteria with Seeun, and the next you were watching her die. Your arm hangs limp in Sunghoon’s grip as he drags you through the outside of the school. Zombies and lifeless bodies litter the ground. Loud screaming and snarls fill the air and you wonder if Seeun could make it out of this alive even if you did just watch her die. Seeun can’t be dead. Sure, you saw her arm fall to the ground, but Sunghoon had pulled you away too soon.

Seeun can’t be dead. With that thought, you rip your arm out of Sunghoon’s hold causing the older boy to top in his tracks. He whirls around, eyes wide as he focuses all his attention on you. In another situation, you would be frozen beneath this kind of attention, but right now, all you want is Seeun by your side once more.

“Y/N --”

“Seeun’s not dead. I need to go back for her.” You like to think you sound more articulate and calm, but all that comes out are sobs and jumbled-up words. You watch Sunghoon’s eyes droop in sympathy. “Seeun -- she’s not -- she can’t be --”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon takes your hand. “I’m sorry. But we have to keep moving. They’re waiting for us.” He springs back into action with you following behind, sobbing even louder. You don’t even remember how you make it into the school building. Tears fill your vision and Seeun’s death is repeated in your mind. The more you watch it, the more hopelessness fills you. Seeun’s really dead. There’s no denying it anymore. Seeun’s dead and you just watched her die.

The running stops. Sunghoon bangs on a door and it slides open. You and Sunghoon step into a familiar classroom filled with unfamiliar faces. Sunghoon drops your hand and helps whoever was behind you stack the chairs back on top of the desks keeping the door shut.

Once again, ringing fills your ears and the world quietens around you. Seeun’s death is still playing in your mind. Your eyes drop down to look at your hands, and you see the blood that wasn’t there before. You wail loudly and drop to your knees, bunching up your skirt and hurriedly scrubbing off the blood from your hands. It doesn’t work. The blood won’t come off your hands and you continue to sob.

There are voices.

“...Sunghoon what the fuck….”

“....../N? Why is she here, Sunghoon? You said you were getting…..”

“......just pick up random people!”

“….is she doing? Someone stop her, Y/N……”

Hands pull your skirt away. The rubbing stops and you look up. Sunghoon’s kneeling in front of you again, his mouth poised to speak when you shriek and scramble back from Sunghoon, your butt sliding across the floor. “Don’t touch me!”

Silence rings through the room.

You finally glance around the room. Lee Heeseung. Park Jongseong. Sim Jaeyun. Nishimura Riki. Kim Sunoo. Yang Jungwon. All of Sunghoon’s friends are gathered in one room. And now you’re here. You’re here, and Seeun’s out there. Lying all alone. You’re alive and Seeun’s dead and you watched. You watched Seeun die. Hot tears stream down your face and you desperately wipe them away with the back of your hand, not caring if blood is smeared across your face.

“Y/N,” it’s Sunoo. Your sweet seatmate settles in front of you. He reaches out and guides your hand away from your face, wiping the tears himself. There’s a gentle smile on his face. “You’re safe now.”

You ignore the purposeful cough after Sunoo’s words. You can worry about safety later -- for now, you’re in a classroom that isn’t full of Zombies. “Sunoo,” your voice cracks and you lean forward, your cheek pressed to Sunoo’s chest as he wraps you into a hug. “Seeun’s dead.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Sunoo’s hand rubs your back. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a loud bang on the door and everyone in the room jumps. Sunoo squeezes you tightly, his chest not moving beneath your cheek. The silence in the room is overwhelming. Seconds pass and there’s no other bang. “Let’s get you up, Y/N, come on.” Sunoo helps you up, wiping your face with his hands again.

Sunoo helps you to a chair, and as soon as you sit down, you notice everyone in the room looking at you. Bowing your head, the tips of your ears turn red.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says and you peer at him. “Are you okay?”

Nishimura Riki snorts. “That’s a stupid question to ask, Sunghoon.”

“What else am I supposed to ask? ‘How’s your day going so far?’”

Jaeyun snorts, clearly amused but covers it up with a cough.

Sunghoon looks back at you, but you avert your eyes, opting to stare at your shoes instead. A heavy silence settles over the group. Noises that were still unfamiliar to you floated through the open window in the classroom. Goosebumps spread over your skin as you hear heavy footsteps run down the hallway. Everything happened so fast that you’re still running the events that lead up to this moment through your head.

The cafeteria. You were watching Sunghoon. Seeun was beside you. The Zombies came and you escaped out a window with Seeun.

The back exterior wall of a building. You and Seeun. Watching Seeun die. Sunghoon appears out of nowhere and drags you with him to some kind of safety.

The classroom. You’re with Sunghoon. And Sunoo. And their friends -- the friends everyone talks about. The world is muffled around you once more and your breathing grows shallow -- how are you supposed to get home? How are you supposed to look Seeun’s parents in the eye and tell her their daughter is dead and you watched.

“Y/N?” Sunoo’s gentle fingers brush hair behind your ear. He looks concerned as he holds your chin between his fingers. “Hey, it’s okay.” It’s not okay -- you don’t think it will ever be okay because Seeun’s gone. Your best friend is gone. And you hate how her death is the only thing you can see whenever you close your eyes.

You tune back into the conversation happening beside you. Jongseong sounds exasperated. “We’ll stay here until tomorrow. We have no plan, Heeseung. And Sunghoon decided to add one more person to our party of seven.” Jongseong sounds more than exasperated, he sounds resentful. You curl into yourself even more because it wasn’t like you asked to join Sunghoon, he was the one who pulled you away from your death sentence.

“Having Y/N doesn’t mean the end of the world, Jongseong,” Jaeyun says, sighing after his sentence. “Since Sunghoon brought her here, she’s his burden.”

Burden. That’s all you were to these seven boys. A burden. And no one wants to bear the burden.

Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your school cardigan and stand up. The chair scrapes against the ground and all attention is pulled to you once again. You stalk over to the corner of the classroom and slide down the wall, curling up into a ball, and pressing your face against your legs desperate to sleep because when you wake up, hopefully, you’ll be back in your seat beside Sunoo with the sun shining on your face and Seeun’s familiar giggles floating through the classroom.

—-

It’s night when you pull your face away from your legs. It’s gotten oddly quieter, the only noises are from the Zombies. Looking out into the darkened classroom, you find Jaeyun, Riki, Heeseung, and Sunoo playing a card game, using the light from the lamp outside the classroom as a way to see.

Someone drops down beside you. Park Sunghoon. He holds out half a slice of Tiramisu wordlessly. He holds the other half. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until it was in your mouth. Instantly, you’re savoring the flavor and your taste buds are begging for more.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low.

You shrug. You didn’t know the answer to that question because you were feeling so much that it felt like nothing. Turning your head slightly you stare at Sunghoon, his silver hair standing out in the dark classroom. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone as perfect as Park Sunghoon. It was like his existence was written in the stars because no one has ever shone as brightly as he has. Sunghoon has everything anyone’s ever wanted.

“I’m sorry about Seeun,” Sunghoon says again, his eyes meeting yours.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your finger tracing shapes on the dirty ground beneath you. Sunghoon’s uniform looks perfect like he had just put it on. His shoes, though, give it all away. They’re bloody, just like your skirt and your hands. “Can I call my mom?” You hate how your voice trembles. “I miss her. I want to hear her voice.”

“Oh,” Sunghoon glances over to his friends playing cards in the lamplight. “We don’t have any phones with us, Y/N.”

“Oh.” Your eyes burn again and you blink them away. You’re starting to grow sick of crying. “Do we know anything about this situation at all?”

Sunghoon shakes his head and his knee bumps yours. You feel the familiar warmth you felt back in the nurse’s office when Sunghoon bandaged you up.

The Nurse’s office.

“Sunghoon,” you start tentatively, his name rolling out of your mouth awkwardly. “What about Suyeon and Joon?”

Sunghoon looks at you confused.

“This morning. They both fainted and looked really pale and were sweating lots and what if they’re patient zero and one and --” Your heartbeat increases with each word you say, and it peaks as Sunghoon interrupts your sentence by grabbing your arm and peeling off your bandage.

Where there were four bloody scratches before, there was now nothing. It was as if you had never been scratched.

Your heart stills and you look up at Sunghoon who was already looking at you. “Sunghoon, I --”

A loud thud interrupts you. And another. And another. The silence in the classroom is loud. Sunghoon’s hand tightens around your wrist. Terror seeps through your blood and you adjust your position on the floor to be closer to Sunghoon.

Then, it happens all too fast; the window on the door to the classroom is smashed open and somehow, all the chairs stacked up on the table in front of the door go tumbling down onto the ground revealing a young boy. The snarling of the Zombies grows louder and the young boy, bleeding and terrified, pulls himself through the broken window of the door.

“Taki?” Nishimura Riki knows the boy. He’s looking at the unfamiliar boy with excitement, relief, and apprehension.

Turning around, the boy smiles when he spots Riki. “Riki! Hey!” He holds up his hand and waves and that’s when you, and everyone else see it. A bite. His hand is bloody and there, clear as daylight, is a bite.

Sunghoon’s hand is firmer around your wrist when he pulls you up off the ground. You keep your eyes on the scene unfolding in front of you -- Taki waving enthusiastically with a wide smile while Riki regards him in disbelief which turns into sadness.

“Taki,” Riki starts softly as Sunghoon leads you over to the rest of the group. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Riki!” Taki replies, still cheerful as ever.

The groans and snarls of Zombies grow even closer.

“Taki,” Riki says again, his voice still soft and eyes shining in the dark.

“Yeah?”

The first tear falls down Riki’s cheek. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“You’re mine too!” That’s when you notice it: Taki’s skin is beginning to turn green. Beside you, Heeseung and Jongseong exchange words in a low mumble.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, “his skin. Look.”

“Y/N,” you look up at Sunghoon, his eyes rake over your face and even though you’re in the middle of imminent death, you feel warm. “Stick close.” His fingers brush over your wrist and somehow your stomach is still able to produce butterflies.

Heeseung walks closer to where Riki and Taki stand and lays a hand on Riki’s shoulder. “Riki,” Heeseung speaks, “we can’t stay here.” Behind you, a window clicks open. The tension in the room rises and you begin to feel unsettled. The groans of the Zombies are closer than ever.

“Heeseung --”

“Riki. We have to go.” Heeseung’s voice is hard and you see his hand digging into Riki’s shoulders.

“But Taki --”

“We can’t save him, Riki.”

There’s a loud snarl and that’s when you see it. One of the many Zombies crowding the door’s broken window. Flashes of Seeun’s death run through your mind and you can’t breathe. This feels all too scary and you want to escape. You want to go home. You want to be walking to school with Seeun again. You want to be fourteen and see Park Sunghoon laugh for the first time again.

“Riki? What’s going on?” Taki is confused. He doesn’t realize his skin is turning a light shade of green. He doesn’t notice the black liquid pouring out of his eyes. He doesn’t realize how black his eyes are turning. Taki steps closer as Riki and Heeseung step back.

“Taki,” Riki’s sob is heartbreaking. You hate this, you hate watching Riki have to come to terms with the fact his friend is turning into a Zombie. “You’ve been bitten.” Riki’s voice is thick as he speaks through the tears pouring down his face.

“What? No I’m not. Why are you saying these things, Riki?”

Behind you there’s movement. Glancing over your shoulder you find Yang Jungwon climbing out the window and slipping into the night.

There’s another thud and you find Taki on the ground with Heeseung gripping Riki tightly as the younger sobs loudly, adding more noise to snarling and groaning coming from the Zombies pressed up against the locked door.

In the next second, Taki is rising up from the floor and launching himself at Heeseung and Riki. Riki’s thrown out of the way and Heeseung tackles Taki down onto the floor. It’s like the Zombies are excited with the way they throw themselves at the door, eager to enter the room and take down the seven occupying the room.

There’s a flurry of movement behind you and you watch as Jongseong ushers Sunoo out the window. “You have to be careful, Sunoo,” Jongseong warns the boy, “one wrong move and you’re dead.”

Sunoo snorts. “That’s assuring, thanks, Jongseong.” And Sunoo’s gone, slipping into the night the same way Jungwon did. Suddenly, you’re being ushered forward, Jongseong’s sharp eyes slipping to you and immediate disdain creeps over his face.

“Y/N next,” Sunghoon demands from behind you.

“Sung--”

“She’s next.” Sunghoon’s voice leaves no room for argument and Jongseong huffs. You wonder how they both could be so calm in a situation like this. Behind you, you hear Heeseung grunt and Taki, the newly turned Zombie, growl. Riki’s sobs are loud and Jaeyun’s calming words aren’t doing anything to subdue the younger.

“What do I do?” You ask hesitantly, your voice quiet under Jongseong’s gaze.

“Climb out of the window and across to the broadcasting club’s room.”

Sunghoon’s hand slips from your wrist as Jongseong pulls you harshly towards the desk in front of the window. You look at him expectantly. “What?” Jongseong asks, “do you want to die?” You steal a glance at the horde of Zombies still pushing up against the door, their arms reaching through the window. You look at Heeseung, his school uniform getting torn beneath Taki’s needy hands, Jaeyun and Riki on the ground, and Sunghoon, who is behind you frowning.

When you look back at Jongseong, there’s shock hidden in his eyes. You wonder how he was able to figure out what you were thinking. You seriously wouldn’t mind dying right now. Jongseong’s reaching out and pulling you closer to him. You’ve never been this close to him. He looks extremely handsome.

“You’re not dying Y/N,” he whispers harshly, it’s hard to hear him over the noise echoing throughout the classroom. “And if you do die, it’ll be my own hands.” You never do get to ask Jongseong what he means because he’s pushing you towards the window and forcing you out. “Hold on, Y/N, and don’t look down. You’ll know when you’re at the broadcasting room because Jungwon will be waiting for you.”

The coldness of the night seeps through your school uniform. It does nothing to make the sweat on your hands evaporate, though. The ledge is not wide enough for a school kid to be inching their way across the outside of the school building. There’s little to nothing for your hands to grab onto and you don’t heed Jongseong’s advice. Looking down was your greatest mistake.

You’re so far up, and everywhere you look there’s a Zombie walking. One wrong step and you’re dead. You’re dead, and you won’t ever see Sunghoon again. One wrong step, and you’ll see Seeun again. Pushing yourself against the cool wall, you squeeze your eyes shut as tears form again. You didn’t want to be here in this situation. How did this all even happen? How did people you know turn into bloodthirsty monsters?

Opening your eyes, you see what Jongseong had meant when he told you Jungwon would be waiting for you. Light floods through an open window and there Yang Jungwon was, with fiery red hair, peering at you as he leans out of the window.

You don’t know much about Yang Jungwon; you just know the basics. He’s class president and head of the taekwondo club. He’s very good friends with Kang Taehyun and he works at a cat cafe. He’s also Park Sunghoon’s neighbor.

You inch your way over to the broadcasting club’s room, your hands sweatier than they’ve ever been. The horror that lay beneath you kept your heart rate beating at a rapid speed and kept terror streaming through your bloodstream.

Jungwon helps you into the broadcasting room, it’s much nicer in here and you spy a few water bottles resting on the desk. Instantly, you’re reminded of how thirsty you are. “Can we drink that?” You ask, making eye contact with Sunoo who spins around on a chair, his fingers fidgeting with whatever was in his lap.

“Go for it,” Sunoo says, “I think there’s enough for the eight of us.”

Riki is the next to join the three of you with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Sunoo, with pitying eyes, hands Riki a tissue box and gently cards a hand through the younger boy’s hair. Riki instantly melts into Sunoo’s touch and you feel your heart tugging in despair for the boy.

Jaeyun follows after Riki also looking incredibly disheveled. He converses with Jungwon in a low voice and you begin to grow restless waiting for the remaining three boys. It hasn’t even been a full day and you’re already exhausted. You’re ready for this to all be some kind of fucked up prank because you can’t take this anymore. You want to survive to see your mom again, but you’re already tired that the thought of giving yourself to the Zombies doesn’t scare you as much anymore.

Jongseong is the next to join. He doesn’t look happy, “they forced me to go. The door is about to break down and Taki’s only just been restrained --” There’s a loud cry, silence, and then a bone-shattering thud. You, along with the five boys, crowd the window and look out into the dead night. Someone’s lying on the pavement, their limbs bent in awkward angles and your breath catches.

Riki’s the first to turn away, Jaeyun following after. Sunoo’s hand snakes around your elbow and pulls you away from the window. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go sit and wait.” You could hear the desperation in Sunoo’s voice so you comply, also desperate for some sort of distraction from the fear telling you that body was Sunghoon.

“Sunoo,” you say in a hushed voice, your knees pulled up to your chest, “I was talking to Sunghoon before. We know nothing about what’s going on but what if Suyeon and Joon were the ones who started it? Think about it, Sunoo.” You were desperate to have some kind of answer because maybe then you could figure out a way to end this all, to bring everyone infected back.

Sunoo stares at you, his face morphing through many emotions. That was one thing you always loved about Sunoo, he was always transparent about how he felt. “Y/N,” Sunoo says in amazement, “oh my god. Suyeonie. She was pale, but I thought she looked kind of green, and Joon -- they were both sweating a lot and then --” his eyes drop to your wrist that was no longer bandaged.

“Y/N,” you immediately hide your wrist from Sunoo. “Y/N, Suyeon made you bleed.” His eyes meet yours and you see the fear.

“Sunoo --”

“Heeseung!” Jungwon exclaims, hurriedly pulling the oldest through the window. Seconds later, Sunghoon also lands in the broadcasting room and his eyes immediately seek you out. His and Heeseung’s uniforms were in tatters. There were big gaping holes in their blazers and buttons missing, blood covering their pants and white blouses, and their ties had been ripped off.

“Are you okay, Heeseung? Sunghoon?” Jaeyun asks, “you aren’t hurt?”

Behind them, Jongseong slams the window shut quite loudly, and follows it up with a loud shout of “fuck!” The response from the Zombies is almost instant -- they begin to snarl and groan, moving in the direction of the window that had just been shut.

Of course -- no one pays attention to that response except for Jaeyun who furrows his eyebrows.

Jungwon hands Jongseong the last water bottle full of water. “This is all we have,” Jungwon speaks gently, “we’ll need to venture out tomorrow to find supplies. We can’t stay in here forever.”

“There was plenty of food in that classroom,” Sunoo says forlornly. “Everyone’s bags had secret snacks for nighttime studying.”

“We also need a phone,” Sunghoon speaks up, “some form of communication. We’re in the dark, we have no clue what’s going on, and,” Sunghoon cuts himself off, sighing deeply, “there may be. .Infections beyond the school.”

Everyone inhales sharply, their worst fear coming true.

Jongseong slumps down in defeat, hanging his head. “Jungwon’s right. We can’t stay here forever. We have to leave and try and reach somewhere safe, like a quarantine camp. But first, we need a phone.”

“The only information I know is that Suyeon and Joon may have started the outbreak at school, but how they got it themselves is still a mystery,” Sunghoon continues, his eyes holding yours.

“How do you know that, Hoon?” Heeseung asks, resting beside Jongseong.

“Because when they were in the infirmary they were acting weird,” Sunghoon says, “before Joon knocked himself out, he was moving weirdly and always trying to bite Jaeyun and I. I don’t know much about Suyeon, but I know when she woke up, she grabbed onto Y/N and made her bleed.”

All attention is directed back to you again.

“I bandaged her up, the scratches were pretty bad. Before Taki came, I checked her wrist. The scratches aren’t there anymore. It’s almost like she wasn’t scratched.”

The silence is too loud.

“Suyeon’s fingers were bleeding,” Sunoo says in a hushed voice, “when she scratched Y/N, her blood must’ve come into contact with Y/N’s.”

“So, Y/N’s a Zombie,” Riki says.

“What?” You croak, taken aback by the accusation. “No. I’m not.”

“We don’t know that Y/N,” Jongseong backs up Riki. Of course he does. “You could be some weird evolved Zombie for all we know.”

You scowl, hot anger surging through your veins suddenly. You don’t know where the change in mood came from. “If I were a Zombie, you’d be dead already, Jongseong.”

Jongseong scoffs. “You wouldn’t even be able to land a single finger on me. I’d take you down before you even get the chance to bite me. You’re weak compared to me, Y/N.”

All you see is red. It’s like you don’t have control of your own mind as you lunge for Jongseong ready to prove him wrong. Before you could even touch the boy, an arm wraps around your waist and holds you back. You struggle in the person’s arms, and you spit at the ground in front of Jongseong. “I’ll kill you,” your mouth is moving without your consent and spitting out words you don’t want to say. “I’ll fucking kill you.” With one last struggle, you’re pushing arms holding you back from Jongseong off you. The next thing you hear is a loud thud and a groan.

Glancing over your shoulder you see Sunghoon crumpled up on the ground, the locker that stood behind him was caved in, marking how he was flung into the metal. You stop breathing and register the silence and eyes staring at you in terror.

“I think Jongseong’s right,” Jungwon speaks up. “We can’t trust you, Y/N.”

“I’m not a Zombie,” your hands clench, fingernails pressing into your palm. “I don’t even know how I did that!”

“We can’t trust you,” Jungwon repeats. “But I don’t think we should be pushing you out to be with the Zombies,” he gestures to the recording booth. “Go in there.”

“You want me in the recording booth?”

“Just until morning. If by morning, you haven’t changed or done something weird, we’ll let you out, but, if something happens overnight, we’re leaving you here for good.” Jungwon’s tone sounds final and you can’t find it in you to rebut his idea because, if you think about it logically, it’s what’s best for both you and the seven boys.

Entering the recording room with Jungwon locking you in, it grows deathly quiet. You’re alone with your thoughts for the first time today and you don’t know what to do.

—-

“Y/N.” You don’t know how much time has passed when Sunghoon steps into the recording room. Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice and immediately you’re spewing your apologies. You didn’t mean to throw Sunghoon into the lockers. You hope he’s not too injured, otherwise you won’t be able to sleep at night knowing you had hurt Sunghoon unintentionally.

Something of a smile appears on Sunghoon’s face as he sits in front of you. “It’s okay, Y/N, I know you didn’t mean to push me that hard.” His hand reaches for your wrist and you let him take it, his fingertips gently tracing the patch of skin that was once covered by scratches.

“Sunghoon?” You ask, not raising your voice above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Are you scared?”

It’s silent for a moment. The moonlight washes over Sunghoon’s face and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone this badly before. “Of you? Never,” came Sunghoon’s response, and your body burns. It burns so intensely you can’t breathe.

“Oh. I was asking if you were scared of the situation. Not me.”

Sunghoon looks up at you, his hand slipping from your wrist to hold your hand. “Oh. I meant what I said, Y/N. You don’t scare me.”

You smile softly. You don’t know how, but being with Sunghoon like this brings some sense of comfort to you. “Oh. Thank you, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon smiles softly. It’s the first real smile you’ve seen on his face since this whole Zombie situation began. Warmth settles in your stomach and your shoulders sag, the weight you were carrying around slides off. “Are you okay, Y/N? How are you feeling?”

You snort lightly. ”That’s like the third time you’ve asked me if I was okay.”

“I ask because I care, Y/N.”

“Oh. Sunghoon, I--” you stare at Sunghoon, unblinking. Your stomach feels weird. It’s way too loud in the recording booth and you want out. You slip your hand out of Sunghoon’s and push your face into your legs. Did Sunghoon know about your feelings? Or was he being honest? You couldn’t believe that you were at the beginning of a Zombie apocalypse and still thinking about Sunghoon and how much you liked him.

“Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, sounding hesitant.

“I’m okay,” you mumble.

“Okay.” Awkward tension floats through the room. You don’t make any move to disperse the awkwardness and instead, you let it simmer.

“Right, I came in here because Sunoo told us the debate team was supposed to go on their annual school trip tomorrow, but obviously that isn’t going to happen, but in the classroom where they meet up, there’s a cupboard full of food and some water,” Sunghoon tells you and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk this hesitantly before.

You look back up at Sunghoon and instantly regret it because he’s so beautiful. “Oh. Okay. Do you have a plan yet? Am I even included in that plan? Because I can leave you all alone if you want. It might be easier since I’m probably a burden to you.”

Sunghoon stares at you. He stares at you for a long time that it becomes uncomfortable. “Do you think you’re a burden, Y/N?”

You shrug half-heartedly. “It’s easy to tell when I’m not wanted.”

“You’re wanted, Y/N,” Sunghoon says intently, his eyes never drifting away from yours.

You don’t say anything in response. How could that be true? It’s clear to see you’re a burden in the way the boys regard you, it’s clear to see you’re a burden in the way Jongseong talks to you, and it’s clear to see you’re a burden when you heard Jaeyun’s words.

“Y/N. .” Sunghoon says softly. You’ve never heard him speak like that before. It’s gentle like he’s coaxing a cat from underneath a car. It’s a comforting voice, one that makes you want to dive into and soak forever in. “You’re wanted.”

You scoff and look away, your heart tremors beneath your ribcage. Butterflies bloom and stick themselves to your gut. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

There’s a pause.

“Because I --” Sunghoon falters. His eyes slide away from your face and you feel your heart burn. “You should get some sleep, Y/N.”

“Right. Of course. Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

You don’t get any sleep that night.

—-

You’re allowed out of the recording booth when you wake up. You’re still regarded with caution, but you don’t care, you’re just glad to be out of the room. Sitting on the floor next to Sunoo, you listen to the conversation happening around you. They’re discussing a way to get to the debate room without alerting any Zombies to their presence.

“I have useful information if anyone wants to hear it,” Jaeyun says, raising his hand.

“What is it, Jaeyun?” Heeseung asks. “We’ll take anything at this point.”

“I think I know how to get past the Zombies.”

Everyone leans in and listens eagerly. “Sound attracts Zombies,” Jaeyun starts to explain. “And we’re in the broadcasting room. This is where the morning school announcements are made which means there are speakers all over school connected to this exact room. So, if we play a song, all the Zombies will move to wherever that sound is coming from. It’ll give us a clear path to the debate room.”

“I love it when you speak like that, Jaeyun,” Sunghoon comments, wearing a teasing smile. Seems like someone got a goodnight's sleep, you think bitterly to yourself. You were so sure Sunghoon was going to say something last night that was going to completely change your relationship. You were proven wrong, though.

“Someone needs to stay back though, right?” Riki asks, “because who will turn off the music?”

“I’m sure we can keep it going until it stops,” Sunoo pipes up.

“Yeah, but how will it stop?” Riki presses, “there’s no timer. It would keep on playing and we’d all go crazy.”

“I don’t think any of us should separate from the group,” Jungwon says firmly. “Separation is the last thing we want to do now.”

“What song should we play?” You ask, “because I suggest Red Velvet. Playing Zimzalabim would be so funny.”

Beside you, Sunoo giggles.

“I was gonna suggest Ring Ding Dong by SHINee,” Riki says, a wicked grin appearing.

“We’re immediately vetoing that idea,” Jongseong says, scowling in Riki’s direction.

“What about classical music?” Sunghoon asks, “that shit doesn’t get too repetitive, right? It’s just a bunch of instruments playing over and over again. No lyrics, just vibes.”

“No lyrics, just vibes,” Jongseong mimics and Sunghoon whacks him in retaliation.

“Let’s try to find some music, surely they have some in here,” Jaeyun says, standing up.

“First, I need to use the toilet,” Riki announces. “Should I pee out the window?” Riki earns disgusted groans in return and a small giggle from you.

“No. No peeing out of windows,” Jongseong says firmly. “We may be in an apocalypse but that doesn’t mean we don’t do our best to remain hygienic. We need to set up some kind of toilet, maybe in the recording booth? We’re not going to use it anymore, right?”

“I sure hope not,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest. “Because there’s no way I’m going back in there under suspicion with it smelling like shit and piss.”

“The recording booth it is,” Jungwon says, “I did boy scouts when I was younger, let me build the toilet.”

“Me too!” Sunoo pipes up, eagerly pushing himself off the ground, “I was your group leader, remember Wonie?”

Jungwon’s smile is fond as he remembers his past memories, and together he and Sunoo begin to build the make-shift toilet. All around you, everyone falls into conversation to pass the time leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

You begin to wonder how hard you had pushed Sunghoon to make a dent in the metal lockers to the left of you. In fact, you’re 100% certain you aren’t even that strong. You’re pretty weak so for you to be able to make a permanent mark on metal terrifies and oddly intrigues you -- what more can you do? Surely the small bit of blood on Suyeon’s that infected your bloodstream carries some kind of weird mutation causing you to be this way -- you hope you get answers soon because all this uncertainty is driving you insane.

“Get a good sleep, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, sitting down in front of you.

“Yeah. You?”

Sunghoon hums. “The best I could get.” There’s a lull in the conversation. You immediately think back to earlier in the recording booth -- you were so sure Sunghoon was going to confess, or something because the way he was looking at you, and the way he was phrasing his words, made you believe. It made you find hope in this bleak apocalypse. “How are you feeling?”

You give Sunghoon a deadpan look. “This question? Again?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “I think it’s warranted in a situation like this.”

You smile softly. “Yeah. I suppose. And I’m feeling a bit nervous because we don’t know what’s out there. I hope Jaeyun’s right. I hope this plan works. I hope --” you sigh heavily, your chin resting on your knee.

Sunghoon reaches forward and takes your hand into his. “We’ll make it, Y/N.”

“Okay,” Jungwon and Sunoo step out of the recording booth. “Who is first?”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says loudly, “ladies first. People who need to shit go last.”

“Riki, you’re going last then!”

“Shut the fuck up Sunoo.”

It took quite a while for all seven boys to use the toilet. After numerous rock-paper-scissor games and fights, Heeseung left the recording booth with the nastiest look on his face. “When we make it to a safety zone you all better sleep with one eye open.”

“Even me?” You ask, pouting.

“They’ll call me Misogynist Heeseung.”

“Alright, Misogynist Heeseung, do the honors,” Jaeyun gestures to the booth, “go back in there and turn on the music.”

Heeseung hisses at Jaeyun and turns on his heel, taking a deep breath before entering the recording booth once more and turning on the classical music you’d found in one of the dented lockers. With the first note of Four Seasons playing, the school speakers become a target for the Zombies limping through the school grounds.

You, along with the others, watch out the window in awe. Jaeyun was right, Zombies are attracted to sound.

“It’s showtime,” Jongseong rolls his shoulders back and rolls his sleeves up. “I will do anything to make it to the room of treasures even if it means leaving you weaklings behind.”

It’s silent. Overwhelmingly silent.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Yeah,” Riki hums, “we all know you’d be the first to die.”

“We’re running out of time, let’s go already,” groans Sunoo heading over to the door. “I’m opening up this damn door and running all the way to the debate room. I am about to eat Y/N/’s hair.”

You touch your hair, frowning. “Why my hair? Why not Jaeyun’s?”

Sunoo shrugs. “First name that came to mind was yours. Okay, opening the door in 3. . 2. . 1 --”

“-- WAIT --”

Sunoo wrenches open the door.

Nothing happens.

There’s a pause in the music. And then it starts all over again.

The look Sunoo gives the rest of the group is one of pure jubilation. “Last one to the debate room is Zombie bait for our next mission!” And then he’s flying out the door, Jaeyun and Jongseong shouting after him.

“Do they think the music will drown out the noise they’re making?” Jungwon asks with a shake of his head. “Stupid. Idiots. All of them are.” He steps out the door, Heeseung following behind. Sunghoon reaches for your hand and smiles down at you. Behind you, Riki groans, “keep the heart eyes to a minimum around me, please.”

“Let’s go, Y/N.”

Stepping out, you stare around you in amazement. Zombies are desperately trying to reach for the speaker, climbing and standing on top of each other to try and satiate their hunger. At the end of the hallway stood the rest of the ground. Jaeyun was holding Sunoo by his collar.

“We have to climb up two flights of stairs,” Jungwon explains quietly, but loud enough for you to all hear over the music. “Be aware of your surroundings. There might be a few Zombies who haven’t gone towards the speakers.” With one final shared look, you begin your long ascent to the room full of food and water.

You were nearing the end. Sunghoon’s hand was tightly gripping yours and you could see your final destination in sight. You realized you truly had nothing to worry about because Jaeyun’s plan was foolproof --

And then you’re being yanked back by your hair.

With a loud shriek, you go flying backward, your hand losing Sunghoon’s. Pain explodes as you land on your back harshly. Standing above you with their hand still curled in your hair is Joon. The boy from the nurse’s office. His face is bloody and there’s a long cut down the middle of his face, the sight of it makes you retch. His eyes are the darkest black you’ve ever seen.

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, desperate to get away. Your stomach churns and you wonder why Joon specifically targeted you, and how Joon was still a functioning human. Reaching up, you try to pry Joon’s hands away from your hair, but he was too strong.

Snarling, the older boy yanks your head back harder, a harsh pulsing pain beats rapidly against your skull. Is this how you die?

“Joon?” Jake sounds astonished. “You’re alive?”

You had no clue what was going on. Fear creeps into your bloodline and sets your heart alight. You struggle in Joon’s grasp and cry out, a sob wrenching itself free from your throat. Maybe you didn’t want to die. Maybe you wanted to survive because there was still some hope deep within you that everything will be okay if you make it out of this alive. (Maybe you were feeling this hope because of Park Sunghoon.)

“Of course I’m alive, idiot,” sneers Joon, his hand tightening in your hair. “Why would they kill patient zero?”

You reach up and claw at Joon’s arm, your nails snagging his skin, cutting the boy open and he begins to bleed. “You’re such a bitch, Y/N,” Joon growls, his other hand wrapping around your neck and dragging you up from the ground, your breath hitching as you struggle to breathe.

“Let Y/N go, Joon,” Sunghoon demands, his eyes only focused on you. You feel pathetic, you’re unable to do anything -- you can’t even breathe. Maybe it would’ve been better if they left you in the broadcasting room.

“Why should I let her go?” Joon’s voice was close to your ear. You could practically taste the black blood spilling out of his mouth and onto your clothed shoulder. “She’s just like me. She’s another Zombie and you’re willingly keeping her in your group?”

“Zombie or not, let go of Y/N,” Sunghoon says, his voice low, and his eyes finally looking at Joon. He steps forward and then takes another step, and another, and another -- and then Joon snarls. It’s not loud enough to be heard over the music pouring out of the speakers, and yet, all the Zombies turn and focus their deadly black eyes on the group of seven boys, with Sunghoon in the front.

Terror floods your veins and you struggle in Joon’s grasp. You couldn’t let more people fall victim to Zombies because of you. With all eyes focused on the seven boys, a chill creeps up your spine. “One move,” Joon begins, his voice threateningly low, “and you’ll join them.”

Joon lets go of you and you instantly gasp for air, your chest heaving in delight. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Joon says, a hand reaching out to grip the back of your blouse. “Y/N’s a Zombie. The moment Suyeon’s blood entered her bloodstream, Y/N began to turn.”

“We locked her in the recording booth for a night,” Jungwon says, his eyes carefully passing over every Zombie looking at them with hungry black eyes, “nothing happened. Nothing changed.”

Joon laughs. It’s loud, but the Zombies don’t move. “But something did happen, didn’t it, Y/N?” He yanks you back towards him and you shriek, desperation filling your veins again. “What happened, Y/N?” His fingers curl through your hair, brushing it away from your face gently.

“I -- I pushed Sunghoon.” You struggle to speak, fear hindering your every move, and every word. “And he dented the lockers in the broadcasting room.”

Joon hums. “That’s an oddly inhumane amount of strength, don’t you think?”

“Please let me go,” you beg.

“Do you believe me now?” Joon asks, ignoring your begging.

“Y/N’s not a zombie,” Sunghoon says, and it sounds like he truly believes it.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper, crestfallen.

“Fine, I’ll make you believe.” Without warning, Joon’s hands settle on your chest and rip your blouse apart, your eyes widen and immediately your arms come up to cover your bare torso. One hand wraps around your neck while the other produces a knife. It’s one from the kitchen in the cafeteria and you’re paralyzed by fear.

“Watch me,” Joon growls, “or I’ll kill Y/N.”

Seven sets of eyes settle on your bare body and if this was any other circumstance you would blush. You look at Sunghoon again and it’s hard to make out what he’s feeling as he stares back at you. You want to say something to him, you want to comfort him, you want to tell him to run and leave you here, but you don’t. You feel the cool touch of a blade against your abdomen, settled just beneath your bra, and then you’re being cut open, the blade digging into your skin and you cry out.

A long line is cut into your abdomen and blood flows out of the cut. It’s dark red and it matches the blood already on your hands. You collapse to the ground once Joon lets go of you and you continue to cry, the pain overwhelming. You push your hands against the wound to stop the bleeding but to no avail.

You were dying and no one was helping you. It was a picture-perfect scenario because you did nothing to help Seeun. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” And then, little by little, the pain lessens. Little by little, you stop bleeding. Little by little, the cut on your abdomen heals itself.

Grabbing you roughly by the hair, Joon forces you up and your hands away from your now-healed cut. “Do you believe me now?”

You look over at Sunghoon. His eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly ajar. You don’t dare look at anyone else. For the final time, Joon lets go of you and you collapse back onto the ground. Your head pounds and your upper body feels overwhelmingly hot. “I’ll be back,” Joon warns. “This is only a warning.” He snarls again, and every Zombie in the hallway trails after him, their black beady eyes never leaving the group of seven boys.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says, darting forward. He rushes to your side, crouching down in front of you and reaching out. You quickly back away, tears pouring down your cheeks as you keep your head down and arms wrapped around yourself.

“Leave me alone Sunghoon,” you say, your voice thick with tears. “I’m a Zombie, don’t you understand?”

“Y/N, look at me,” Sunghoon says softly, he takes off his blazer and covers you with it. “Zombie or not I still want you with me.” Hesitatingly, he reaches out to brush strands of hair behind your ear. He then cups your cheek and his thumb brushes your cheek. “Come on, Y/N, I bet you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, for brains,” you mutter under your breath, angry at the world. Looking back up, you see Sunghoon smiling. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You feel shy beneath Sunghoon’s gaze.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Sunghoon answers, “Jongeong’s brain can be the first to get eaten.”

—-

You reach the classroom that holds all of the debate club’s food and water for the trip they were supposed to take today. Your eyes stare at the food stacked up, and the water lying on the ground. You felt like you were in heaven.

Jaeyun’s the first to move. He darts forward, swipes the Home Run Balls, and the rest follow, squabbling over who gets what. Sunghoon nudges you. “What do you want, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you answer, hugging Sunghoon’s blazer tighter around you

Sunghoon smiles and steps into the cupboard. A few seconds later he reappears with a chocolate bar and water. “Here, you’ll probably need a lot of water after what happened, Y/N. And chocolate just because everyone loves chocolate.” After handing you the water and chocolate bar, Sunghoon takes some snacks for himself and leads you over to some chairs.

You both eat silently, letting the loud yet quiet voices of the others fill up the silence. You didn’t know what to say -- what were you supposed to say after a situation like that? You feel Sunghoon’s shoulder brush your’s and you instantly become aware of how close he is.

“Sunghoon?” You ask hesitantly.

Sunghoon glances over at you, humming slightly. His stare pins you to your seat. He still looks beautiful, you think to yourself, like a star. He still looks like he was hand crafted from heaven above, and he still looks so out of your league. No matter the time, no matter the place, no matter the situation, the answer will always be the same; Sunghoon will never be yours. He’s destined for things bigger than your small village, and he’s destined for someone better than you. And yet --

And yet he’s sitting next to you.

And yet his school-issued blazer is wrapped around your body.

(You remember bringing Park Sunghoon up to your mother one night. She laughs and shakes her head, finishing dishing the takeaway chicken she bought after work onto your plate. “Park Sunghoon, that boy is destined to be a star, Y/N.”

He’s out of your league is unsaid. You’re no good for him is unsaid.

“There’s no point loving someone like that, Y/N,” your mother warns gently. “He’s a star. And you know how bright they shine.”)

If this is how a star shines, you think, eyes trailing over Sunghoon, then I want him in every way possible.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling slightly.

“For what?”

You shrug and glance away from Sunghoon.

“Ah,” Sunghoon can read between the lines. He reaches for your hand and squeezes. “I’d do it again, Y/N.”

“Sunghoon?” You turn back to him. “You’d do what again?”

Sunghoon’s ears burn red. “Don’t make me say it, Y/N.”

You grip Sunghoon’s hand tightly. You don’t want to let this moment slip away like last time in the darkness of the broadcasting club’s recording booth. “Sunghoon,” you say, your eyes hold the unspoken desperation.

There’s a scrape of a chair being pushed back, and then Jongseong’s voice echoes through the room. No, you think, no, no no, this can’t be happening.

The moment is over. Sunghoon’s hand falls from your grip and you watch him slip away from you for the second time. You reach after him, but you capture nothingness.

“We need a phone,” Jongseong says, “and we need it now.”

The music flowing through the speakers shut off. An unsettling chill lingers in the room and everyone’s thinking the same thing; Joon. “We need a phone,” Jongseong repeats, “any ideas?”

Looks are shared and nothing is said. Jongseong groans, “come on. Give me something to work with here!”

“My phone,” Riki says, “it’s in Mrs. Jang’s room.”

Jaeyun snorts in amusement. “Now how did that happen, Riki?”

Riki scowls. “Apparently learning English is more important than Alice in Borderland.”

“Okay, and how far away is Mrs. Jang’s room?” Jongseong asks, looking slightly more alive ever since Riki’s announcement.

“Since we’re in the debate club’s meeting room,” Sunoo thinks aloud, “the floor beneath us.”

Jongseong looks at Riki and scowls. “And you didn’t let us know any sooner? We literally walked past her room on the way here, Riki! And Joon is probably there waiting for us!”

“No one asked,” Riki answered, “so I didn’t provide.”

“You’re going to be the reason for my death, mark my words.” Jongseong’s eyes fall on you and you feel uncomfortable. “Y/N. Joon can somehow command the Zombies to do whatever he wants, can’t you do that? Y’know, considering you’re like, half Zombie-half human or some shit like that.”

It’s a weird silence you sit in after Jongseong’s remark. “I mean. . It’s cool if you can’t though,” Jongseong chuckles awkwardly. You find you quite like this situation; Jongseong awkward beneath your bland stare, it’s a situation that should happen more often.

“Speaking of,” Heeseung pipes up, “shouldn’t we talk about what happened back there?”

“What is there to speak about?” Jungwon asks, “Y/N is a Zombie. But she’s also a human.”

“Clearly,” Heeseung responds, “we should also find Y/N a shirt, but what about Joon? How he came to be. . . That, is unknown and what he said? ‘Patient zero’? Isn’t that at least a little bit concerning?”

“Obviously Joon and Suyeon were some experiment,” Sunoo says, “gone wrong. And now everyone is paying the consequence.”

“Someone was probably trying to make a superhuman,” Jaeyun jokes, his eyes sparkling, “Y/N and Joon have enhanced strength, which is super cool, and Y/N even has enhanced healing! I would suspect Joon does too, but from his appearance. . I don’t think so.”

“Superhuman,” Jongseong mutters under his breath like it was the missing piece to a puzzle.

“Boring. Let’s talk about this later,” Riki says suddenly, “it’s getting dark. Who volunteers as tribute to go and grab my phone? It has a pink sparky case and a small little Yuuji sticker on it. From Jujutsu Kaisen. I say let Y/N go. She can self-heal and can push people off her and into lockers.” Riki winces after being on the receiving end of many glares. “Too soon for jokes?”

“It’s okay, Riki,” you wave him off, too tired to involve yourself into this conversation. “Wake me up when you make your decision, I’m feeling sleepy.”

“Right, of course,” Jaeyun hums, “obviously there are side effects. You can sleep, Y/N, we’ll make sure nothing disturbs you!”

You smile at Jaeyun, thankful.

——

When you come to, it’s pitch black. The only light source is a yellow-tinged light shining on Jungwon and Sunoo who are seated together and whispering to each other. The light is sourced from a flashlight, how they acquired said flashlight is unknown.

Sunoo catches your movements and beckons you over. You shuffle over to the two boy and carefully take a seat beside Sunoo, scared to wake up the sleeping bodies lying around the room. “Sleep well? Feeling any better, Y/N?” Sunoo’s words are kind, and his gaze is kinder.

“It was a good sleep. I’m feeling much more energized.”

“That’s good,” Jungwon says, “because Sunghoon’s the one who went to search for the phone.”

You stop breathing. “What?”

“He left an hour ago and he’s not back,” Jungwon informs you, the yellow-tinged light shining on Jungwon’s face makes the boy look older than he actually is. “Heeseung always says to not think of the worst, but I’m thinking of the worst right now.”

Images of Sunghoon lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood flash through your mind. Images of Sunghoon as a Zombie flash through your mind. Images of Sunghoon with Joon’s hands wrapped around him flash through your mind. You can’t let Sunghoon slip through your grasp for the third and final time. You need Sunghoon safe and you’ve never needed anything this desperately before.

“I’ll go find him,” you say to Jungwon, your words oddly sounding like a goodbye. And a promise.

“Y/N --” Sunoo starts.

“Sunoo,” you cut him off. “Let me do this. Let me not feel like a burden for once.”

“Okay,” Sunoo whispers, “okay.”

You rise to your feet and pad over to the door. “Y/N,” Sunoo hisses through the dark, “be safe.”

You want to laugh at Sunoo’s words. Your palm touches the cool handle of the door and you gently slide it open, cold air from the hallway rushing into the room behind you. You begin to feel uneasy and goosebumps spread across your skin as you step out of the warm classroom and into the unknown. The last thing you see as you shut the classroom door is Jongseong staring at you.

You don’t know what to expect as you slowly walk down the dark hallway that’s only illuminated by the night sky. The moon and the stars hang above you, unintentionally guiding you to where Park Sunghoon lay. Keeping your hands pressed close to your chest and your eyes focused on your surroundings, you do your best to not bring attention to yourself by any means -- one noise and it’s all over for you. You wander down a familiar hallway that has become unfamiliar and you truly begin to question how this all happened; how easily your hometown succumbed to a Zombie apocalypse.

A loud bang shakes you out of your thoughts. It came from inside the classroom next to you and terror floods your senses. You hold your hands tighter against your chest and try to even out your breathing. There’s another bang and you quickly stride past the classroom, making your footfalls as quiet as possible.

Everything felt so off; not a single Zombie roaming down the hallway you were in, not a single Zombie chasing you down -- you were expecting the worst would come when you find Sunghoon. Your heart races at the thought of something bad happening to Sunghoon. You don’t want anything bad to happen to Sunghoon, he’s the only good thing you have left in your life right now.

You pad down the steps and enter the hallway Riki’s phone was supposed to be on. Here, you finally see the Zombies you were looking for. A sudden cold chill lays itself over your skin as you dare to enter the hallway crowded with Zombies.

Even though you know you shouldn’t, you hold your breath as you maneuver around the Zombies in complete silence. Sometimes, they let out random groans and it frightens you, but you keep your terrified shrieks contained within you. One single noise and you’re a goner.

You reach Ms. Jang’s office and a Zombie is blocking the door. Inhaling quietly, you step around the Zombie and reach for the cold silver doorknob. As you twist the doorknob it makes a shrill sound and you halt, not daring to move another inch. The Zombie right next to you lets out a groan and steps closer to you, their arm brushing yours and suddenly they’re latching onto your arm.

You can’t help it and cry out, ripping yourself out of the Zombie’s grasp and throwing yourself at the door. Growls fill the air and the Zombie in front of you begins to sniff, seeking out a smell. You could smell the death on the Zombie and begin to pray that this isn’t how your life ends -- you don’t want to be a Zombie because what happens then? You become Zombie and then what? Where does your soul go? Your conscious?

A tear trails down your cheek and the Zombie is stepping away, wandering back down the hallway and leaving you pressing up against the door, your hand curled around the doorknob. Without hesitation, you open the door and jump inside, letting the door shut gently behind you.

The first thing you see is Park Sunghoon lying on the ground, unresponsive -- but breathing. Immediately, you drop to your knees and shake the boy, “Sunghoon,” you whisper, not liking the odds of this situation. There’s a cut on his temple that’s bleeding. “Fuck sake. Sunghoon!” Your shaking gets more aggressive as each second passes and Sunghoon doesn’t shoot up, gasping for breath.

Desperate times call for desperate measures so you slap Sunghoon. You weren’t sure what you were expecting to get out of this action, but it certainly wakes Sunghoon up. His eyes fly open and his hand comes up to clutch his cheek. Scrambling to sit up, Sunghoon looks at you with wide eyes. “Did you just slap me?”

“What? Was I supposed to kiss you awake?”

It’s silent for a moment. “I mean. I wouldn’t have been opposed to a kiss, Y/N.”

You glare at Sunghoon and slap his bicep. “You are such an idiot! Why were you unconscious? And why are you bleeding? Sunghoon, what happened? We were -- I was worried.”

“Y/N, you -- you were worried?” Sunghoon asks, a little breathless.

You scowl and slap Sunghoon’s bicep again. “Are you even listening to me? What happened?”

“I got scared and fell over, hitting my head on the way down,” Sunghoon explains sheepishly. “I did dream of you saving me though, Y/N.”

“Dork. You’re a fucking clumsy dork, did you know that, Sunghoon?”

“A dork for you,” grins Sunghoon and you push him away, falling onto your bum and feeling hot, taken aback from Sunghoon’s sudden flirty nature.

“Consider us even, then,” you say, “you saved me and now I’m here to save you.”

Sunghoon’s smile is soft, a small dimple peeking in the curve of his cheek. “I have Riki’s phone, though, you ready to go?”

“What about your temple?” You gesture to Sunghoon’s head, “you’re bleeding, Sunghoon.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N, we’ll patch it up later. I don’t know about you, but I still feel uneasy being by ourselves and separated from the group. It’s better we get back quickly before Joon sniffs us out.”

You hum and stand up, holding out your hand for Sunghoon to take. His hand is warm in yours and you ignore the gentle squeeze he gives your hand as you pull open the door slowly. “Remember, be quiet,” you whisper to Sunghoon.

“Of course, Y/N.”

You both step out into the darkness.

The sight that awaits you both is unexpected. Suyeon’s body is sprawled out in the middle of the hallway, her eyes falling out of their sockets and her head smashed in. You immediately avert your eyes as your stomach lurches.

“Oh shit,” Sunghoon hisses, “her throat was slit. Gross. Do you think it was Joon who did this?” Sunghoon’s question is answered soon enough as Ahn Yujin steps out of the shadows, her black hair falling across her shoulders angellically, and bloody covering her hands and splattered across her face. In one of her bloodied hands, she holds a knife. “Oh shit,” Sunghoon repeats, but this time more terrified.

No words are spoken as Yujin charges towards you and as you push Sunghoon away. You weren’t going to let someone else die because of you. You willingly let Yujin’s knife enter your body as she flings her body into yours. You crash into a wall behind you and you hiss in pain, which turns into a bloody cough.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon calls out, but you ignore him.

“Yujin,” you croak, seeing humanity left in her eyes, “Yujin. Don’t do this.” You already know the stab wound is futile, you could feel your wound healing around the knife still stuck in your body. It’s a weird sensation, one you can’t describe.

Yujin twists the knife and you cry out, your hand reaching for Yujin’s hair you tug hard, momentarily taking the girl off guard. You push her away and rip the knife out of your stomach, blood splattering the ground and you hear Sunghoon gasp.

Yujin growls and charges again. You muster up all the strength you have and backhand her, flinging Yujin into the wall. There’s a loud crack and Yujin slumps to the ground, blood trailing down the wall to her slumped figure, her head hanging.

You reach for Sunghoon’s hand again. “Let’s go.” Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate and you both fly down the hallway, not caring if you were loud enough for the Zombies to find you.

—-

To stay the other’s were surprised that you didn’t come back with just Sunghoon and Riki’s phone would be an understatement. The bloodied knife was handed off to Heeseung, and Jungwon had simply sighed, shaking his head. “We really need to get you a new top, Y/N,” Jongseong says, “maybe like a whole pack because you like ruining clothes, don’t you?”

“It’s not like I chose to be stabbed,” you huff bitterly.

In the midst of all of this, Riki falls to his knees and cries out. Instantly, you all fear the worst. “What? What happened, Riki?” Jaeyun asks, his eyes wide and his hand coming to pet Riki’s head. “Is everything okay?”

“My Yuuji sticker!” Riki cries, “it’s not here!”

Sunoo mimics strangling the boy with wild gestures and Sunghoon snorts. “That sucks, but we got a phone for a reason. Don’t let me going unconscious for a few minutes and Y/N getting stabbed by some psycho girl to all go to vain.”

“It wasn’t a few minutes, Sunghoon!” You exclaim, whacking the boy again, “it was an hour!”

“It felt like minutes to me,” Sunghoon shrugs, “though I would love to wake up to your face more often.” The silence that follows after that declaration is awkward.

“Right,” Jungwon says, ripping Riki’s phone out of the crying boy’s hands. “Let’s see what the internet is saying, shall well?” A few seconds later Jungwon is groaning, “why is everything in Japanese? Jongseong? A little help?”

“But it’s Riki’s --” Jongseong cuts himself off as he looks at the unresponsive, crying boy curled up on the ground and Jaeyun hovering beside him awkwardly. “Right.”

“Well?” Sunoo says after a few seconds of silence, “what does it say?”

“It’s loading, Sunoo, patience,” Jongseong snaps, glaring at the younger.

“Old people are so slow,” Sunoo moans.

“You brat --”

“Translate for us, Jongseong,” Jungwon cuts off the older boy, thrusting the phone into his grasp.

Jongseong’s eyes trail over the phone screen in front of him. “Well, the electricity and power and phone service is getting cut off in twenty-one hours.” A heavy silence settles over the group, “so, that means we’ll have no contact to the outside world in twenty-one hours.”

“Well that fucking sucks,” Sunghoon mumbles from next to you.

“Hurry up then, Jongseong,” Sunoo rushes, “see who is still alive. And where the nearest quarantine zone is. I want to get out of here and see my family!”

“Alright, alright,” Jongseong sighs, “get comfortable, it’s going to be a long night. Did you happen to bring a charger with you, Sunghoon? Y/N?”

The two of you share a look. “Uh. . We were supposed to?” Sunghoon replies.

“Airhead. We have two fucking airheads in this group,” Jongseong grumbles and Jungwon comforts him with a look of amusement.

Ignoring Jongseong, you take Sunghoon’s hand into yours again. “Let’s get you patch up, dork, where’s the first aid kit again, Heeseung?” After Heeseung points you in the direction of the first aid kit, and you settle onto the floor a bit away from the group with Sunghoon, you get to work on cleaning up the cut to Sunghoon’s temple.

“How clumsy are you, Sunghoon?” You mutter, slightly amused. “How were you able to hit your head that hard?”

“I get scared easily!” Sunghoon defends himself, pouting slightly. “You would too! Being all alone, surrounded by Zombies and with the threat of a murdererous weird Zombie-person running around hanging over your head!”

You snort and shake your head, tilting Sunghoon’s head to the side slightly. “But,” Sunghoon continues, his voice more softer. “Thank you. For saving me. Twice. The slap wasn’t nice, though.”

“I was desperate, okay,” You say, scowling, “and worried. And concerned -- you weren’t waking up, Sunghoon.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Sunghoon. This might hurt.”

Sunghoon hisses and you send him a smile in apology. “You care about me, Y/N?”

“Of course I do,” you mutter, “you are all I have left. And the others.”

“But mostly me?” Sunghoon smiles a cheeky smile and you scowl, purposefully pushing down on his cut harder.

“Don’t push it, Park.”

Sunghoon reaches up and pinches your waist, making your yelp in surprise. “Sunghoon! I’m cleaning your wound! Don’t make me make it worse on purpose!”

Sunghoon laughs. It’s the laugh you’ve been dying to hear ever since you were fourteen. His smile is wide across his and his eyes crinkle up. He really shines like a star in moments like these. You can’t help but smile, it’s all soft and fond, and love is what makes your smile curve wider. He’s a star that’s shining for you.

“I like it when you laugh, Sunghoon,” you blurt.

Sunghoon holds eye contact with you for what feels like the longest time. “I like it when you smile, Y/N. And I like it when you get so focused your tongue pokes out of your mouth. And I like it when you blow your hair out of your face. And I like your eyes, especially when you’re laughing and I -- I just like you, Y/N.” Hesitancy spreads across Sunghoon’s face and he averts his eyes, cheeks turning a soft red. “I know this is all sudden but -- but you’re not a burden, Y/N, and I hope you don’t think of yourself as one. I care about you, Y/N, and I want you with me, Y/N, that what I wanted to say that night in the recording booth. If I didn’t want you with me, then I wouldn’t have pulled you away when I did.”

The cold, jarring truth strikes you. Sunghoon could’ve left you to die, but he didn’t.

“I want you with me, Y/N, all the time,” Sunghoon admits, more certain of himself now. “So, thank you. For saving me. For patching me up. For being with me.”

“How could I not?” You respond, shaking your head and laughing breathlessly, “you’re all I think about.”

“Y/N --”

“I wasn’t joking when I said you were all I had left. Seeun’s a Zombie and my mother probably is too.” Your voice quivers and you sniff, Sunghoon’s stare getting too intimate for you, so you glance at a spot over his shoulder. “Please don’t leave me either, because I don’t plan on leaving you.”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon whispers, “why would I ever leave you?”

That’s all it takes for you to dissolve into a sea of tears. Sunghoon wraps you up into his arms and holds you close to his chest, his hand gliding through your hair, over the nape of your neck, and down your back.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon cups your chin and tilts your head up, wiping your tears away, his eyes soothe you. “I know this might be a bad time, but there’s nothing better than the present. Can I kiss you? I’ve always wanted to kiss you, did you know that?”

Your heart skips a beat. All the air is knocked out of your lungs. Sunghoon is a star. He’s unbelievable. He makes wishes ceom true. “Sunghoon,” you whisper, “you don’t even have to ask.”

Sunghoon kisses you and the world explodes. His lips are warm. Everything about Sunghoon is warm. He makes you feel warm. He makes you feel special. Sunghoon makes you feel less alone. Sunghoon settles you onto his lap, an arm slipping around your waist while the other cradles the back of your head. He keeps you close to his chest as your mouths move.

Maybe suriving the apocalypse is worth it since it brought you to the exact moment; Sunghoon kissing you.

“Wait,” Sunghoon’s pulling away, sounding breathless, “you like me too, right?”

You giggle. “I like you too, dork,” and you pull him back in for a kiss.

—-

Having a phone works wonders. Jongseong finds out where the nearest quarantine zone is, and he finds out that the apocalypse has spread throughout your small province. Jongseong also found out damning news; in forty eight hours, the school and everything around it would be blown up by bombs dropped from the skies above.

“We need to move quickly,” Jungwon addresses the group. “Today, we need to leave the school and get to the forest. From there, we’ll hopefully have some cover, and be able to reach the zone a couple hours before the bombs are expected to drop, but we have to move quickly.”

“I will move the quickest out of anyone in the group,” Sunoo proclaims confidently. “I want to get out of this hell hole.”

So with the first rays of sunlight peeking through, you and the seven boys move out of the classroom, a backpack strapped to Heeseung and Jungwon’s backs full of enough food and water to make the eight of you last the two day journey.

“At the first sign of Joon, just run,” Heeseung tells the group gravely, “we don’t have time to engage with him. He’ll be blown up shortly anyway.”

As you pass through the hallway where you were stabbed by Yujin, your hand in Sunghoon’s warm embrace, you find her body missing. You share a glance with Sunghoon but neither of you point it out the rest of the group, not wanting to unsettle the happy mood everyone was in today.

Today was full of luck. Everyone was silent and you were all able to easily slip past Zombies. The knife you hold in your free hand didn’t need to be used. Your new t-shirt was bright white and clear of blood. It made you feel good, feeling slightly clean.

You reach the school gym in no time, finding it clear of all Zombies. There, you decide to take a rest, and Jungwon decides to call Kang Taehyun. The dialing tone rings throughout the gym and it’s picked up seconds before the last dial tone rings.

“Riki?” Taehyun asks in disbelief.

“Taehyun,” Jungwon cries out, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re okay.”

“Won,” Taehyun repeats, still in disbelief. “You’re okay? Oh my god, what about the other’s --” a loud clamor takes over Taehyun’s side of the phone. You hear the familiar voices of Yeonjun, and Soobin, and Beomgyu, and Kai. The boys on Jungwon’s side of the phone all crowd around the phone and everything is a mess. (A happy mess, you think.)

After the phone call ends with promises of seeing enach other soon, Jungwon looks over at you. “Y/N? Do you have anyone to call?”

You smile and shake your head. “I have no one, Jungwon.”

“Oh, sorry I asked,” Jungwon seems a little embarrassed and you laugh him off with a wave of your hand.

“It’s okay. Thank you for asking, though.”

“You have us, Y/N,” Sunoo says with a smile. “You’ll always have us, now. Our bond is thicker than blood!”

You laugh, “thank you, Sunoo. I’m glad I have you.”

—-

It rains that night. It pours, but Jungwon doesn’t let up. Loud thunder booms through the sky and the lightning lights up the darkness. You continue to creep around the Zombies in silence, the storm masking any loud noise you make. The storm was a blessing in disguise.

You had entered the forest a few hours ago but none of you had wanted to stop, especially as it began to rain. You all wanted to reach the quarantine zone desperately, already tired from all the running and surviving you had been doing.

Sunghoon squeezes your hand. “Are you doing okay, Y/N?” His voice was close to your ear.

You squeeze back. “Yeah!” You shout over the storm, and that’s when you somehow catch a glimpse of it. A white ribbon. Your breathe stutters and you stumble over, Sunghoon keeping you upright. “Seeun,” you breathe. She moves carelessly through the forest, stumbling over like many of the Zombies you had seen do before. You face the truth you had subconsciously been denying this whole time; Seeun’s a Zombie.

Slipping out of Sunghoon’s grasp and ignoring everyone’s loud calls, you walk over to Seeun. You need to see her one last time. You need to say your apologies one last time, and if you die trying, then so be it. You reach within an arms length distance of Seeun and watch her stumble about quietly. “I’m sorry,” you shout over the storm. “I’m sorry, Seeun.”

She turns towards you and snarls, stumbling forward and stopping in front of you. She copies the movements of the Zombie who you stood face-to-face with in front of Ms. Jang’s office. She sniffs the surrounding area of your body, and then turns away. She lets you live, like that other Zombie did.

Turning back around, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s and the sympathy he holds make tears slip down your cheeks. No one says anything when you return to the group and stick yourself to Sunghoon’s side.

The further you all went into the city you grew up in, the further reality sinks in. Zombies fill every nook and cranny, and the loneliness of the city makes your skin crawl. You all push on, and your eventually have to begin to hide and use your knife as the Zombies become more ruthless and pick up on every small sound.

You grow tired, but you still push on. With Sunghoon beside you, holding you and keeping you safe every step of the way provides you with the strength and energy to push on.

“Would you believe me if I said I was looking for you that day, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks during one of your short breaks, his finger twirling your hair.

“I don’t know. Were you?” You respond, smiling.

“Well. I was looking for any sign of an adult, and also for weapons, but when I saw you, Y/N, all I thought about was keeping you alive and safe.”

You melt against Sunghoon, your head resting on his shoulder. “I like you a lot, Sunghoon,” you whisper, “and maybe if we weren’t in a situation like this, we could be going on a date right now.”

“What kind of date?” Sunghoon asks, oddly interested.

“We’d go ice skating,” you say, “because you’re good at ice skating and I’m shit. You would help me skate, and we’d hold hands, and then we’d go eat something warm and spicy. You’ll make me laugh, and I’ll make you laugh, then you’ll take me home and kiss me goodnight.”

Sunghoon kisses you temple. He doesn’t say anything and you just bask in the silence and the warmth of Sunghoon. “That’s if either of us confessed,” Sunghoon says, “because I don’t think I would’ve ever confessed.”

“Me either,” you admit. “You felt so out of my league, and I never had your attention, so the thought of confessing frightened me.”

Sunghoon laughs and you peer up at him, perplexed. “What’s so funny?”

“You always had my attention, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, and he kisses you.

—-

You reach the quarantine zone and you’re met with guns pointed at you. With your hands raised, you all shuffle into a line and are being tested with a thermometer device. It’s raining again and you shiver, missing the warmth of Sunghoon’s hand holding yours.

“What are you doing?” Jongseong asks the soldier.

“A colder temperature means you’re a Zombie,” the soldier informs Jongseong.

“But what if someone is sick?” Jongseong asks, “then what if you’re leaving someone out to die?”

The soldier smiles, but it isn’t a nice smile. “Would you like me to show you what happens when this thing identifies a Zombie, and then what we do after?”

Jongseong’s immediately shaking his head.

Sunghoon’s herded into the zone before you, and the smile he sends you is a sweet one. It calms you down as only thoughts of Joon’s words fill your head. You hope you’re able to pass this test. You hope you’re able to live a relatively normal with Sunghoon by your side.

But, luck runs out at some point.

A high pitched squealng sound emits from the thermometer device and the world shifts and everything happens at once.

“She’s a Zombie!” The soldier yells, raising his gun and pointing it at you.

“Y/N!” Sunghoon shouts, running to you, his arms wrapping you up as more soldiers swarm the area. “Y/N, everything will be okay, the device probably made a mistake, they just need to do it again --”

“Sunghoon.” You cut him off.

“No,” he says, “I can’t lose you, Y/N, you said you wouldn’t leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Sunghoon,” you admit, “but I have to.”

“How are you so calm about this?” Sunghoon asks, his voice low, “I feel so desperate, Y/N, I feel desperate enough to kill --”

“I was expecting the worst, Hoon.”

Sunghoon stares at you. There are so many emotions flooding his face, your stomach churns. Suddenly, he’s ripped away from you and he struggles, calling out your name. “Y/N! I love you! I love you, and I’d save you again. I’d save you again and again if I had the choice.”

You did your best to keep your tears at bay. You couldn’t have them falling over now. You couldn’t cry. You had to remain strong, even with a gun pointed at your head.

Sunghoon breaks free from the soldier’s grasp and flings himself into your embrace again, clutching you close.

The rain falls harder, soaking you both to the bone.

“Y/N, I love you,” he kisses you so passionately and desperately it makes your heart break. “And I’ll come for you. I’ll find you, Y/N, I promise. I promise that once I find you, I’ll take you ice skating and catch you every time you fall.”

“Of course you will,” you laugh as the tears begin to fall. “You’ll always catch me, no matter what, Hoon.”

“And we’ll be the happiest people on earth, Y/N.”

“Of course we will, Hoon,” you say softly, cupping Sunghoon’s face, “you will always make me the happiest.”

Sunghoon’s ripped away from you and you instantly shiver, the cold overwhelming you. “I’ll find you, Y/N!” Sunghoon shouts, his words tearing your heart apart. “I promise I will!”

You watch as Sunghoon and the rest of the six boys are pulled away from view. You refuse to look at the others because it’ll only break your heart more.

A gun is pointed at your head.

You close your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper to whoever is listening. “Please forgive me.”

author’s note, well that was wild and crazy and goofy and im sorry if the pacing seems rushed but i wrote most of this at 1/2/3am when i was tired and sad and completely delusional. there are lots of unanswered plot points like omg what happened to joon?? and suyeon?? and yujin?? why was she so crazy🤣🤣 and how did the infection start?? and did y/n really die?? and i left some of those points unanswered in case i ever decide to write a part two in the future..Gasp😨😨 anyway. i hope u enjoyed reading this mess. i hope u love it😆😆

#stars will fall #enhypen #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #park sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon angst #sunghoon fluff #zombie apocalypse au #apocalypse au #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen au

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boohorns1136439 · 2 days ago

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Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (06)

And we are back for another chapter !

Warning: cursing (maybe)

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

05 <- 06 -> 07

Masterlist

Taglist

Todoroki’s heat had finally passed after three long days. He’d spent them either with Kirishima buried deep inside him or wrapped in his muscular arms, their bodies entwined in moments of quiet warmth. It had been all too easy to lose himself in the haze of desire, letting the weight of everything else fade away in a blur of passion and closeness. But now, as the intense flush of heat left his system, his mind was painfully clear.

Embarrassment hit him hard. What was I thinking? He asked himself repeatedly, and almost felt lightheaded as he recalled the desperation—the way he’d thrown himself at you like some lovesick teenager in his first heat. It was reckless and stupid. Worse yet, he’d let himself imagine all sorts of salacious fantasies involving you, Kirishima, and himself throughout his heat. It was utterly inappropriate. The clarity felt almost unbearable as shame surged through him, dense and stifling. If it were just about embarrassing himself, he could eventually deal with it. But the memories of that day went beyond the dizzy haze of horniness, beyond the scent of peaches and yours warm touch against his skin. He also remembered Kirishima’s raw rage and the deep red of your blood covering your face and the hospital floor. Shame gnawed at him from within, leaving in its wake buds of guilt, which blossomed as images of you walking around with a crooked nose and split lips flooded his mind.

Thankfully, it had been Kirishima who picked him up from the hospital that day. The red-haired hero had been too considerate to press him on what had happened; his only priority was taking care of him. Yet, as Todoroki had laid beside Kirishima on the third and final night of his heat, he knew that by morning, he’d have to face the rest of the pack. And neither Katsuki nor Izuku would spare him the questions he dreaded.

Morning came too soon. By the time Todoroki left his room, Kirishima was already gone and it was still early, he knew no one had left for work yet. He rushed to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water might somehow calm his nerves or at least give him a moment to gather his thoughts. For the first time in his life, he almost wished his heat had lasted longer—anything to delay the inevitable, awkward conversation but no amount of scalding water could cleanse the mess of emotions swirling inside him. After a dozen of minutes, he resigned himself, finished his shower and got ready for the day.

The moment he emerged from the steamy bathroom, Izuku was waiting, worry pooling in his green eyes and his rough, scarred hand instinctively lifted to cup Todoroki’s face. His touch was warm and steady, grounding him and quieting the chaos within him. Despite the awkwardness of this whole situation, seeing Izuku made his heart flutter, and he smiled softly in his mate’s arms.

“Shoto,” Izuku murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wanted to be there, but I was tied up at the agency and..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a fast ramble, "Just... if you need anything, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. I already called your agency and told them you’ll need a few more days off. Kirishima told us a little about what happened, and I swear, we’ll track down that doctor. We’ll make sure—”

“He doesn’t need you babbling in his damn ears, Deku.” Katsuki’s voice cut through Izuku’s rambling. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Todoroki—not unkind, but piercing.. “He gets it. He’s not helpless, you know.”

Izuku shot Katsuki a small frown but remained unfazed by his blunt interruption. Beneath the sharp words, Todoroki could sense Katsuki’s genuine concern. The familiar edge in Katsuki’s tone was oddly comforting, and he knew that Katsuki’s refusal to coddle him was just his way of showing respect and consideration.

As they moved to the dining table, where Kirishima was already eating breakfast, Todoroki took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and took his seat around the table. Izuku quickly joined him, sitting beside him and reaching over to place a comforting hand on his knee. Todoroki felt a rush of gratitude for the quiet support, and even Katsuki, despite his sharp gaze, gave him space to speak without pushing him.

“So... you were the one who threw yourself at her?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, his doe eyes blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to process Todoroki’s recounting of the events.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Katsuki scoffed in disbelief.

Todoroki’s face flushed deeply with embarrassment, his cheeks burning so much that he thought he might actually burst into flames. This was a lot more mortifying than he’d imagined. Izuku had started off so supportive, leaning in to comfort him, but as Todoroki went on and explained the situation, he watched Izuku’s expression shift from understanding to confusion, and finally to what felt like... judgment. Slowly, Izuku had began to scoot away from him, casting side glances full of disapproval and making it impossible for Todoroki to meet his eyes. Katsuki was more disappointment than anything else. Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. To him, this was beyond stupid—something a too-hormonal high schooler might do and definitely something Todoroki should’ve known better. But it was Kirishima’s silence that unnerved Todoroki the most. The red haired kept his gaze down, uncharacteristically quiet, before abruptly standing up and storming toward the door.

“I need to go apologize!” Kirishima’s voice was laced with urgency, tinged with panic, but Bakugo grabbed his arm and halted him.

“You can’t go back to that hospital, Eijirou,” Katsuki said firmly, tightening his grip. “What are you gonna do, knock on the door and ask for the doctor you beat up? You’ll only make things worse.”

“Kacchan’s right. She’s probably scared right now, and she’ll run the other way if she sees you again,” Izuku added, stepping in front of Kirishima and blocking his ways like a barricade, while exchanging a look of silent agreement with Bakugo.

“But I can’t just stay here! I hurt her—badly. She even tried to explain, but I wouldn’t listen,” Kirishima’s voice grew agitated. The vivid recollection of your tear-filled eyes and bloodied lips coiled within him, guilt tightening its grip on his chest. What kind of man hits an innocent woman? he thought, fists clenched as he struggled to free himself from his mates' hold.

“I’ll go,” Todoroki interjected suddenly. His words startled the others and they turned to him, puzzled. “It was my fault. I should apologize to her.” His voice was calm but resolute, slicing through the tension in the room and carrying a steadiness, calmness, that sought to soothe Kirishima’s agitation and remorse. “Izuku’s right; you can’t go there directly, Eijirou. I’ll go and apologize on behalf of both of us.”

"But I have to do it myself! I was the one who hit her. I should at least cover her medical bill!" Kirishima protested, spurred by a faint voice in the back of his mind reminding him how unmanly—and even less heroic—his actions had been.

“I’ll tell her you want to apologize in person too. If she’s okay with it, I’ll give her your number so she can reach out to you,” Todoroki assured him gently. It pained him to see Kirishima like this, especially knowing it was his fault. All he ever wanted was to see him smiling, radiant and untroubled, and judging by the looks on his other mates’ faces, it was clear they all shared the same feeling.

Kirishima’s expression wavered, torn between making a run to the hospital or listening to his mates, but Katsuki ended his internal debate with a firm arm slung around Kirishima’s shoulders, steering him toward the door.

“Come on, shitty head, we’re gonna be late. It’s Shoto’s mess, he’ll handle it,” Bakugo said, his voice losing its usual edge, and softened just enough to offer some reassurance to Kirishima.

Izuku lingered behind, casting Todoroki a final glance filled with quiet suspicion. Todoroki could almost see the gears of his mind turning, overthinking as always, but then Katsuki barked Izuku’s name from the doorway, urging him to hurry up. With a sigh, Izuku followed the red eyes pair and they all left for work, leaving Todoroki behind in their appartement.

Todoroki paced in circles around his apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He kept telling himself that he needed to apologize, but every time he neared the door, a wave of nerves yanked him back, making him turn and start another lap around his living room. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—unsteady, so... nervous as the weight inside him grew heavier, sinking like an anchor. He’d never been one to feel so unsettled—he was usually straightforward, never having trouble apologizing when it was needed. If he made a mistake, he fixed it; he owned up. But this felt different. Today, shame, guilt, and apprehension mingled within him in a discomfort he didn’t fully understand.

“Okay, it’s just... an apology. You’ve done this before,” he muttered under his breath, trying to summon his usual calm. He had told his mates so confidently that he would do it, but look at him now. “Just go in there, say you’re sorry. It’s not complicated.” Yet the words didn’t settle him. Instead, they only seemed to make him more anxious. Why was facing you so daunting suddenly? He couldn’t explain it—he didn’t understand it.

After what felt like ages, he forced himself to grab his keys and head out the door, before he could talk himself out of it again. But the nerves only grew worse when he settled into his car and sat behind the wheel. The flashes of three days ago replayed in his mind, flashes of him almost humping the backseat. They made him wince as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and started the car.

The hospital wasn’t so far away from his apartment, a short 30-minutes drive, but he had to will himself to stay focused on the road. When he paused at a red light, he found himself wondering if your scent would be as intoxicating and bewitching as he remembered it to be and the thought made him groan as he banged his head on the steering wheel, mumbling to himself, Focus, Shoto.

As he drove past a flower shop, a quiet voice in his mind suggested he bring you something. He considered it for a moment, pondering on how appropriate it would be to bring flowers to someone he didn’t know, especially someone who had been beat up because of him. Yeah, no, even he could tell it would be weird. But somehow, he found himself making a U-turn, parking his car in front of the flower shop, and stepping inside.

The floral scent enveloped him immediately—a soft, sweet fragrance that seemed to soothe the edges of his nerves. Before him laid a sea of vibrant and cool blooms stretched out in rows: roses blushed in shades of crimson and coral, delicate peonies, soft violets, cheerful tulips, and vivid anemones. The shop was beautiful, but he knew he had to leave fast when he realized he was searching for flowers that would complement the color of your eyes. He almost laughed at himself. Ridiculous, he mused, but there he was, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and a minute later, he was holding a bouquet of dahlias. With the flowers in hand, he made his way to the counter, quickly paid, and rushed back to his car, feeling the steady thrum of nervousness in his chest.

Finally, we got to see Izuku and Katsuki in this fic. It took us 6 chapters but we made it through!!

I hated writing this chapter, omg, it took me almost a whole week. You guys have no idea how many versions of this chapter exist 😭. The length wasn’t the issue—I tried to make it a bit longer than usual (not by much, though; I’m usually around 1.5k words, but today I hit 1.9k). BUT omg, nothing really happened here. I think it was just a boring chapter (at least to write) 💀.

I’ve always referred to the characters as Todoroki, Kirishima, Izuku, and Katsuki in my head. But it’s kind of weird how half of them go by their first name and the other half by their surname in the narration, right? It’s also a bit confusing when I use both in the same chapter, so I’ve decided to stick with Izuku, Katsuki, Kirishima, and Todoroki for the narrator. The reader will use their first names once she meets them properly.

As always, criticisms are welcome.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

05 <- 06 -> 07

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby ; @midnight-nightmare ; @bluepatrolbear ; @talilosha ; @bawlangya ; @optimisticprime3 ; @purplescorpi0 ; @astrolovedy ; @desiree-lee ; @okaysxx ; @the-faceless-bride ; @thelameone101 ; @gethexxed ; @lowkeyhottho ; @bvirrious ; @heespretty ;

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thejakeslayla · 11 months ago

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hihii if it isn't too much to ask, could you make a oneshot of either an argument w comfort of riki or sweet intimate (i mean like tooth rotting fluff heheh) moment w riki?

pairing bf!niki x gn!reader ୨୧ genre fluff, idol au, established relationship, hurt with comfort ୨୧ warnings: argument, niki neglecting his health ୨୧

your arguments didn’t happen so often, the relationship you had with niki was closer to peaceful. but when they happened it tended to get tense. especially with your boyfriend losing his temper and saying stuff he doesn’t really mean, which also occurred this time.

“niki, i’m just telling you that you need to rest,” you urged as he settled on the couch beside you. having observed his exhaustion, as he came back home, you could tell he practiced more than he should by how he went to bed straight after stepping his foot in your shared apartment, you expressed concern. “you barely ate today, i’m just worried about you,” placing a gentle hand on his thigh, you awaited a response.

but niki remained silent, seemingly organizing his thoughts. recognizing the need to give him space, you sat in quiet contemplation, studying his side profile.

“i don’t need your nagging every single time that i get home tired, this is my work. i thought you got used to it by now,” he retorted, his words piercing your heart.

"please, just tell me what's wrong," you implored, but his volume escalated.

"how many times do i have to repeat myself? i. don't. need. your. nagging." each word accented with frustration.

he looked at you, genuine anger in his eyes, as yours conveyed confusion and sadness. you didn’t know what to say, his anger caught you off guard; previously, he hadn't seemed bothered by your concerns for his health. unsure of what triggered this outburst, you refrained from further conversation, knowing it could worsen the situation.

so, you just stood up, quietly leaving the room. your heart ached. but you basically couldn’t do anything, your boyfriend was too stubborn, you knew you are not able to talk him out of this. you entered the bedroom, sitting down on the bed you just thought what could happen or maybe some of your words hurt him? you began to spiral in your thoughts, overthinking everything you said since niki arrived home.

as hours passed and night fell, you heard niki moving around the house. however, he never entered the bedroom where you sat. a heavy sigh leaving your lips, as you realised you need to be the one breaking the silence between you. when you stepped outside the room, you bumped into someone, which you quickly realised was no other than niki.

surprised, you both made noises, and he quickly moved away, his hand poised to knock on the door. apologetic and regretful look on his face, he spoke, "y/nnie, i'm sorry. i was just extremely tired. i didn't mean to burst out like that."

"it's okay, riki. you're allowed to feel tired; you're human," you reassured him with a weak smile. seeing your forgiveness, you noticed how the weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"is it okay if i hug you now?" he asked, your smile widened, and you agreed.

"of course," and with that, he quickly pulled you towards him, pressing your cheek to his chest as he tightly embraced you.

"i'm sorry," he repeated as you wrapped your arms around him.

"there's nothing to be sorry about; it's okay now," you assured him. pulling away slightly, he kissed the top of your head. niki mumbled something, which you just couldn’t make out. after asking him to repeat himself, he did so with pride and clarity.

“i love you, y/n.”

smiling into his chest, you squeezed him slightly. "i love you too. let's go to bed and talk, okay? i want to hear about your day." looking up, you witnessed your boyfriend's beautiful smile spreading across his face.

requests: open

#thejakeslayla #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha x reader #enhypen x you #riki x reader #niki x reader #enhypen #niki fluff #niki imagines #niki scenarios #niki soft hours #niki x you #riki x you

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s4lv4tions · 1 year ago

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innocence and the art of losing it;

pairing; kamo choso x fem!reader (modern!au) wc; 1.1k cw; suggestive content, making out, post-makeout clarity, second hand embarrassment ? lol an; no thoughts just loserboy choso. a virgin who's never kissed anyone who literally hands his heart over the second u bat your eyelashes at him :3

Choso kisses you once — drunk, high, more teeth than lips — in the wish-wash strobe lights of a college house party, and is thrust face-first into obsession.

It’s his first kiss. Yes, he's 22, and his first kiss is a sloppy, intoxicated mess, and he doesn't care. He’s covered in glitter from when someone had thrown a glitter-bomb at the wall above his head, sweating off his eyeliner and face paint, delirious enough to wonder whether his cup is still in his hand or not. But you’re real. Firm and sweet-smelling and voice husky when you bow your head towards him, just as drunk as he is but wearing it far better. Dark kohl lines your eyes, lashes big and dramatic. The kiss is messy and bitter with the lingering taste of vodka, but he presses himself further into it, cheeks hot and ears hotter.

He doesn’t really remember the rest of the night. He remembers the kiss, and your face, and the untrained, inelegant way his tongue had explored your mouth; he remembers how you’d patted his arm after and told him you were gonna go crash in the bath tub upstairs and try to sober up — extended an invitation to him, too — before you disappeared around the corner. It was an invitation he would’ve taken if not for the sudden tugging on his sleeve.

Mahito — grinning all sleazy at the smear of lipstick on Choso’s face — steadies a blacked-out Jogo against one bony shoulder. He whines something about not wanting to take care of him, and Jogo slurs something else (most likely about Hanami, who he'd never had the courage to ask out, and was now dating a "ripped lifeguard"). They’re annoying at best and assholes at worst, but (begrudgingly) Choso admits they’re his friends. He’s never been able to refuse a friend in need.

He mournfully leaves the party — and you, upstairs, lying in the empty bath with a warm blanket and open arms — to help Jogo regurgitate his guts in Choso's apartment. He sobers up pretty quickly between retches, only left with a passing headache and a deep lethargy; still, when Jogo and Mahito collapse on his pull out couch (fully dressed, might he add), he lays in bed, bloodshot-eyed and blushing. He doesn’t know how he found your Instagram — your name’s not even in your username — but he’s staring at your pretty face and scraping his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth. He shouldn’t be doing either of those things. He’s so fucking tired, but he can’t look away.

An OOTD. A coffee cup and a fancy looking pastry. You and your friends hugging each other at a party, grinning and glitter-eyed. Another of you on your own, at a Halloween party last year — because that’s how far he’s scrolled — dressed as Morticia Addams, dark and sultry and smiling all the while. His heart is thudding so hard in his chest he swears it’ll erupt and splatter over the ceiling.

Fuck. Fuck. It’s the alcohol pooling in his stomach, he’s sure — the alcohol rushing from his head to his, uh, smaller head. The faint synthetic taste of your lipstick and the smell of your perfume — sweet and dizzying, good enough to eat — they cloud his head in the same way those incessant clouds of vape and weed had earlier. He remembers how your long, pointed nails had scraped through his hair and brushed against his scalp, shivers rolling down the hunched length of his spine. The softness of your chest against his. You’d been so funny, made him feel so comfortable where he’d normally shut down and go silent. Fuck.

He scrolls further, fixated on every detail — who’s that man standing just beside you? Why is that girl’s hand so tight on your waist? You were part of the Art Society two years ago, he wonders if you’re not anymore. That same year you visited Vienna in the summer, snapping photos in front of the Hofburg in a dark summer dress. Your jewellery makes your eyes look even more sparkly than they are in real life. He’s about to scroll further, when—

❤️ You liked this post.

“No,” Choso mutters to himself, shooting up in bed. “No, no, no, no—”

He fumbles with his phone — drops it out of his hands and then scurries to pick it up again, dread settling over him like a threadbare blanket. Nope, his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. Shamefully, he unlikes the post and turns his screen off, pressing his palms into his eyes.

A post from two and a half years ago. 30 whole months. And he’d liked it accidentally. His stupid fucking thumbs — and it wasn’t like he could play it cool. Even with unliking it, you’ll see the notification. You’ll know that he was snooping. That he was thinking about you.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have drank so much. He shouldn’t have gone to that party in the first place, he had exams to study for and this wasn't the example he wanted to set for his brothers, but — if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have kissed you. And he’d liked it. A lot. He liked you.

Choso stares at his home screen — his brothers and him, all huddled up at one of the tables of their favourite restaurant, taken before he’d left for college. Big grins and glassy eyes and Choso steels himself. If this happened to one of his little brothers, he knows what he’d tell them — to not think too deeply on it, and that everyone makes mistakes. That it’s not the end of the world no matter how much it feels like it. He has to make mistakes so his brothers don't — and how can he preach emotional maturity if he can’t follow through on it himself? Especially over something as small as an Instagram like.

So Choso sets his phone aside and ignores the half-hard problem in his pants, shutting his eyes with a little more force than necessary. He’s going to sleep. He’ll be able to think — and have a cold, cold shower — in the morning. Everything will be fine. You probably won't even notice, who is he kidding. He's sure you get a gazillion likes every day — surely his will be lost in it all.

(Except the morning comes with an Instagram notification that pulls his heart into his throat.

[01:22] stxrgxrl: like what u see? :p

Fuck emotional maturity. Choso’s gonna be sick.)

#choso x reader #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #choso smut #choso fluff #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk fic #anime x reader #anime fic

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darkfluffydragon · 5 months ago

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Cookie Run AU Ideas #8: Timeless Kingdom

what if Pure Vanilla Cookie, instead of being amnesiac outside with Black Raisin, was instead trapped in the Vanilla Castle time loop? But because of the Light of Truth, he's aware of it? he's been stuck there for...hundreds of years, watching his people die over and over again nothing ever changes no matter what he does and then finally, Gingerbrave shows up. I mean, PV may be nice but there are only so many times he can hear the same monologue before he gets reaaaally sick of it gonna join GC on the hate train and he physically isn't able to do anything "out of script". Every time he tries, he sort of 'loses control of his body', since it's a memory time loop you can't just change a memory and since he's a part of it, it'll force him to go along with it. To play his role. Gingerbrave and his friends probably wouldn't even realise he's not a memory at first, that the Pure Vanilla is the real one.

And an extra I wrote for the AU >:3

Pure Vanilla Cookie awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open to the familiar sight of his bed’s golden canopy. His head throbbed, and his mind felt muddled, a fog of pain and confusion clouding his thoughts. He struggled to sit up, the effort sending sharp jolts of agony through his body. As he gathered his bearings, fragments of memories began to resurface—the battle against Dark Enchantress Cookie, the ruins of his castle, and the faces of his friends, Golden Cheese Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie, Hollyberry Cookie, and White Lily Cookie.

They had arrived to aid him, late, their expressions grim and determined. By then, he had already spent hours running through the chaos, trying desperately to heal his people. But no matter how hard he tried, the cake monsters kept coming, relentless and unyielding. He remembered the wounds they all bore. The exhaustion that clung to their bones as they fought to protect their home, their kingdom. With his magic reserves depleted, there had been a point where he had started reaching into the depths of his being, drawing upon his very essence—his life powder and soul to fuel his spells.

He remembered the final confrontation against her, he had used Dark Moon Magic, a power he had sworn never to touch. ~~The magic most natural to him.~~ The last time he had seen it wielded, it had led to the academy's destruction. But there had been no other choice. He had cast the banishment spell, lifting himself into the air as Dark Enchantress Cookie tore their Souljams, their very souls, from them. The explosion had ripped through the kingdom, the pain blinding and all-consuming. And then, nothing.

Now, here he was, awake once more. Why? How? As these questions swirled in his mind, he felt a strange sensation, as if invisible strings were tugging at his limbs. Panic surged through him as he realised he was moving against his will, his body tracing the exact path of his memories. He tried to speak, to cry out, but no sound escaped his lips.

“No! Run! Dark Enchantress is coming! Evacuate the cookies!” he screamed, his voice hoarse with desperation. But the words seemed to dissipate into the air, unheard and unheeded. The cookies outside moved about their routines, oblivious to the impending doom. Children played in the streets, vendors hawking their wares, and guards patrolled, all blissfully unaware of the threat looming over them.

The nightmare would unfold before him with horrifying clarity. His friends—the heroes—were nowhere to be seen. Instead, dark silhouettes had taken their place, shadowy figures that seemed to mock his efforts. Was it because of the Souljams? Could this memory not replicate them because of the artefacts which housed their power?

The endless battle raged around him, the air thick with the stench of smoke and the cries of the wounded. Cake monsters swarmed the castle, their grotesque forms looming over the terrified cookies. Pure Vanilla’s attempts to heal his people felt like trying to stop a flood with a sieve. Every spell he cast seemed to evaporate into nothingness, swallowed by the overwhelming darkness.

The invisible strings tightened around him. It constricted his movements, squeezing his mind. His autonomy slipped further away with each passing moment. The fog in his mind grew denser, suffocating his thoughts.

He felt every wound, every drop of jam that spilled, every life that was lost. He could see the faces of his people contorted in terror and agony, and hear their screams echoing in his mind. His friends fought, their forms blurred by exhaustion and jam. Yet no matter how hard they fought, the cake monsters kept coming, an endless tide of destruction.

The sky would fill with magic circles, blue eyes of the runes staring down at the target as he used magic that he swore to never use, for the second time. He would see her malevolent grin, and feel the agony of the explosion that followed.

And then, he was back in his bed, the cycle beginning anew. The loops continued, over and over, each one more harrowing than the last. As time stretched into eternity, Pure Vanilla Cookie felt his thoughts growing quieter. Centuries seemed to pass, each loop eroding a bit more of his will. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, and soon, he feared, he would no longer be able to think. In the moments of silence, his mind would turn to White Lily Cookie, the one he had loved so deeply. She had become Dark Enchantress Cookie, the architect of his suffering and the destroyer of his kingdom. Yet, despite everything, he still loved her.

The pain of that love was like rose thorns digging into his heart, a constant, aching reminder of what once was. He had loved her so dearly, had kept her transformation a secret from their friends, hoping against hope that she could be redeemed. But now, as he watched his beloved kingdom and its innocent people crumble time and time again, the anguish was almost too much to bear.

To love White Lily Cookie was to love a rose. To love her was to let the rose crawl up him, letting its hurtful thorns dig into his fragile dough. His jam would paint the delicate petals red, and once gone, wounds and scars would be left to taunt him of his foolish desire.

She had been gifted a bouquet of hearts, yet the only one his moon had taken was his own. She dangled the prize in front of him like a carrot on a stick, and he ran the race despite being the only competitor. She blindfolded him of the fact, and let Pure Vanilla run himself ragged until he could give no more. Then, she left. Left with everything that was Pure Vanilla, left him empty and hurting. Trapped. Left in all her gentle and loving glory, as her beautiful soul was tainted and twisted into the monster that had taken her place.

He did not care for the traitorous thoughts wondering if he was feeling the wrong feelings and thinking the wrong thoughts. He could not care, for he loved her nonetheless. Loved her poisonous, uncompleted promises. Loved her for the nights of waiting by the academy garden, gazing up at the sky, at clouds that would never part to allow him a glimpse of her smile. Loved her for the incomplete dances she swore she would return for, leaving him alone and abandoned in an empty ballroom. He loved her unconditionally. And for this, White Lily Cookie had become his greatest torment.

Each encounter felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart. The sight of Dark Enchantress Cookie, her once gentle eyes now filled with malice, was a reminder of everything he had lost. She had been his moon, his guiding light, and he had loved her with a purity that he had thought unbreakable. But the darkness that had taken her was relentless, and it had shattered her, and him, beyond repair.

The White Lily Cookie he loved was gone, replaced by the Dark Enchantress Cookie who revelled in his suffering. She was the creator of his endless torment, the reason his kingdom lay in ruins, and his people were lost

What a fool he was.

Pure Vanilla Cookie, awoke in a bed not his own. His limbs were not strung by strings that cut into his dough, and his thoughts were…loud. Clarity such as this was so incredibly rare.

He took in the room, noting how the other cookies, the ones who had…saved him, were still asleep. Quietly, he slipped out of the room, his steps soft and deliberate, as if any sound might shatter this fragile moment of peace. The hallway was dimly lit, shadows playing along the walls. He moved with purpose, though his heart was heavy with the familiar ache of his memories.

Reaching the garden, he paused for a moment at the entrance, breathing in the cool night air. The scent of flowers and earth was a reminder of simpler times. He walked towards the patch of lily flowers, their white petals glowing softly under the moonlight.

Sitting down among the lilies, he stared up at the moon, its pale light casting a gentle glow over the garden. The tranquillity of the night wrapped around him, and for a brief moment, he felt the weight of his sorrow lift.

His thoughts turned, as they always did, to White Lily Cookie. The moon reminded him of her—bright, beautiful, yet distant and untouchable. He remembered their nights in the academy garden, the way she would laugh and talk about the future with such hope. Those memories were bittersweet now, coloured by the centuries of pain.

The garden was silent except for the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Pure Vanilla Cookie closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. He could almost hear her voice, see her smile. But then the image would shift, and he would see her as she was now—cold, dark, and filled with a malice that seemed impossible for someone who had once been so kind. He hated that he loved White Lily, a love that had once been pure and untainted. But he loathed Dark Enchantress to the point it hurt.

As the night wore on, Pure Vanilla sat alone. Though he could pretend that he was not, that there was another by his side. Perhaps…even four, all five of them together, underneath the starlit sky with the scent of campfire smoke in the air. He did not know how long this clarity would last, how long before he would be pulled back into the muddy thoughts and fog. But for now, he rested in the peace of the garden, and the bittersweet memories of the one he loved.

Under the moonlight, surrounded by the lilies, he allowed himself to simply be. To remember, to grieve, and to love, even if it was only for a brief, stolen moment.

#fyp #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #cr kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #vanillaverse #timeless kingdom #white lily cookie #he's like a NPC most of the time #spent too long being strung around like a robot #peepaw can't handle too much information at once #like a really really old computer trying to run Minecraft shaders #sad boi #the blue in his hair? Forgotten academy part 2 >:3 #the light of truth basically fused into his soul trying to keep him stable in the timeloops

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handful0fteeth · 1 year ago

Text

sexy when you scream

stranger kinks 2: roleplaying

summary: you told eddie you wanted him to stalk you. he obliges, and makes your wildest fantasy come true.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: slight 90s!au, smut, minors DNI, explicit language, lots of dirty talk, A LOT of cnc, stalking kink, kidnapping kink, bondage, fearplay, (slight) knifeplay, rough sex

words: 9.7k

Oh, you are so fucked.

The cold, hard metal of your keys bite into your palm as you clench your hands together, pressing them against your chest as you slowly take inventory of your porch.

You wouldn't believe it if you weren’t standing here and seeing this with your own eyes. But here it is, in all its terrifying, thrilling glory. You worry your bottom lip with your teeth and take a step back.

Hundreds of daisies have been sprinkled on your front stoop; some rest in clumps atop the seats of your wicker chairs and a dusty metal table, while others are threaded through the thin whorls of metal within your iron porch columns. A path of daises led you to this discovery in the first place, smatterings of pink, white, and red petals and long green stems guiding you to your home from the driveway. In front of your door, pink clusters have been arranged to form the first initial of your name inside of a crude heart.

A cold wind blusters a few flowers across the tops of your tennis shoes, and you retreat down the concrete steps leading up the porch a little further. This egregious display was most certainly not here when you left for the gym an hour ago. You adjust your duffel bag on your shoulder and swallow hard despite your suddenly bone-dry mouth.

You know who did this. You spin on your heel, scanning the sparse forest encasing your home for anything - or anyone - who shouldn’t be there.

“Hello?” Your voice is small, scared, fluttering away on the autumnal breeze with all the conviction of a mewling kitten. The forest remains defiantly silent.

You see it when you’ve stepped onto your driveway, back turned to the floral explosion blocking your door. Nestled about one hundred yards away from your house, mostly camouflaged beneath a tapestry of oak leaves that have gone red and orange with the October chill, is the white-brown front bumper of a car.

No, not a car - a van.

Your stomach flips as you ascend your porch steps. The trees are blocking the windshield, so you can’t see if anyone occupies the van’s interior, but it feels like eyes are on you. Trying to find your house key proves difficult as your hands shake, and you keep glancing over your shoulder to ensure the van doesn’t move. Losing sight of it somehow feels scarier than knowing it’s there.

You finally slip the correct key into the lock, but when you turn it, there’s resistance. You try again - no luck. You hold the knob and lift, shimmying the key inside the door to dislodge whatever lay inside, but nothing gives. Sweat beads at your hairline and pools in your palms, and just as you’re about to throw the keys down in defeat, you notice your silhouette is pasted against the door. The world is suddenly much brighter than it was moments ago, and when you chance a look behind you, you realize why.

The van’s headlights have flared on. You blink against their harsh yellow light as your stomach drops into your shoes.

Shit. You bend, trying to peer inside your lock's narrow channel to figure out what’s jamming it. The dying evening light doesn’t give you much clarity, and you curse yourself for forgetting to switch on the porch light before you left.

A loud rumble pierces the air, disturbing a few nesting birds nearby into flight; he’s revving the engine.

Yep, definitely fucked.

You scrape the tip of your key along the rim of the lock, hoping you can dislodge whatever’s inside to unlock your door. White and pink petals crumble out, and it dawns on you as the glow of the headlights abruptly shuts off, and the engine cuts out.

He’s stuffed daisies in the door.

“Motherfucker!” you growl, slapping your hand uselessly against the doorjamb.

The sound of a car door slamming shut makes you whip around. The oak trees still obstruct your view, so all you can make out of the figure now slowly stalking toward you are a pair of dingy white sneakers crunching over the carpet of rotting leaves.

You don’t think - you just act. You swing your duffel back off your shoulder, offloading the unnecessary weight, and hear it crash into one of your wicker chairs as you dash down your porch steps. You fly around the side of the house, mud squelching and slipping beneath your tennis shoes, and just before you reach your backdoor, you trip.

All the air in your lungs whooshes out as you collide with the cold, wet ground, and mud squishes up between your fingers as you skid forward on your stomach. Pain zaps through the knee you landed on like lightning, and you gasp, but you don’t have time to sit here. He’s gaining on you. You can feel his presence at your back, if you can just get inside before he reaches you…

You scrabble forward, clawing at the mud and flinging clumps behind you as you struggle back up to your feet. Footsteps squish behind you, measured, slow.

The screen door crashes against the wall as you fling it open, but you hardly hear it over the blood rushing through your ears. Luckily, or stupidly, you never lock your back door, and though you have a hard time grasping the knob with your mud-slick palms, it gives way quickly as you barrel your entire body through it. When you slam it shut, your whole house rattles. A silence settles over you, thick like smoke and just as suffocating. Over the roar of blood in your ears, all you can hear is your own ragged breathing.

Then, you laugh.

You bend over, hands gripping your knees, lungs still burning, heart still pounding, and you start laughing. Mud is drying on your skin and clothes, and as your body quakes from the force of your laughter, flakes drift to the floor in front of you. Adrenaline throbs through your body, and something stirs in your stomach, intermingling with the fear that’s still got your teeth on edge and your hands shaking. Before you can name it, the doorknob in front of you jiggles.

He’s trying to open it.

You slap both hands over your mouth to stifle the giggles still pouring out. You wonder if he can hear you, if your girlish sounds of mirth are amusing or irritating to him. The knob wiggles harder, more insistently, forcing the door to tremble on its hinges, and just when you think it’s going to shake itself loose - it stops. The quiet creeps back in as you lower your hands, giggles under control for now. Seconds bleed into minutes, and you’re just standing by the door, watching it expectantly, like at any moment, the lock will magically fail and allow your unexpected guest inside.

Bangbangbang!

You can’t help the scream that bursts from your lips. The sound of a demanding fist pounding on your door rings out like a shot, and you aren’t even aware that your feet are whisking you away and into your kitchen until you’ve almost run straight into the counter. When you whip back around, ready to threaten the presence at the door and bluff your ass off, the banging stops as suddenly as it started.

Oh, he’s good.

You scurry to the living room and snap the curtains closed on all the windows, but not before peering outside. You eye the spot where the van is supposed to be parked and are met with nothing but empty forest.

Where did he go? He couldn’t have driven off that quickly, could he? Surely you would’ve heard the tires squeal over the forest floor, and surely he couldn’t have disappeared in a matter of seconds? You nibble your bottom lip again and back away from the windows.

You rub your bare arms, trying to soothe the gooseflesh that’s apparated over your entire body and take a deep, shuddering breath. Your heart still thunders against your ribcage, so much so that you’re sure it’d be audible from across the room.

You only notice the envelope taped to your fridge when you turn to face the kitchen.

You almost scream again. The writing on the outside is a familiar scrawl, addressed in black ink to a “Sweetheart.” Your legs are like lead as they shuffle over to the fridge, and when you bring the letter to your face with trembling fingers, a blend of cigarettes, weed, and something earthy-sweet wafts into your nose. Your resolve melts a little when you peel open the envelope and read the note within:

Hope you liked the flowers. I picked ‘em special for you. I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart, even if you don’t see me. Behave yourself.

A shiver ripples down your spine. You run your fingers over the letter, feeling where he’s pressed the pen into paper so hard it’s left indentations. God, you’re so tempted to run outside and call for him now, to end this little game before it’s even truly begun - the heat in your cheeks and the throbbing between your legs demands it. But where’s the fun in that?

You hug the note to your chest, chewing your lip, and slide down to the floor like a smitten schoolgirl instead of someone who should be terrified that their house was broken into and that whoever broke in left you a note promising constant observation. And on some level, you are scared. But the fear is the best part of all of this.

When Eddie asked you weeks ago if you ever had any fantasies you’d be interested in roleplaying, you’re sure he was expecting you to say you’d love to be the naughty student to his seductive professor or even something in a fantastical, magical vein that he could really sink his teeth into, but you didn’t. You hadn’t wanted to answer him at first, truthfully, because for all the dark, wicked things you’d already confessed made you embarrassingly wet, you didn’t think Eddie would be very on board with the idea of acting like some psycho stalker while you pretended to fear for your life.

Oh, how wonderfully wrong you were.

You hardly had to elaborate on the finer details of your fantasy before he emphatically agreed to participate, and he didn’t allow you to leave anything out, either. When you tried, when you curled in on yourself or tucked your head out of shyness, Eddie was there, grabbing your chin and crowding into your space, encouraging you with his velvet-soft tenor to keep going. The words tumbled out of you so freely it was like you weren’t even thinking about them - you confessed to wanting to be desired so fiercely that nothing would stop Eddie in his pursuit, not even you running from him. You wanted him to obsess over you, to make it clear that he was always there, always watching and waiting for another opportunity to express his devotion, whether you liked it or not.

You admitted, with Eddie’s deft fingers rubbing tantalizing circles around your clit, that you wanted him to make you scared. True, bone-chilling fear isn’t what you were after; you just wanted that thrill, that dump of adrenaline that kicked your body into overdrive, like when you’d watch a scary movie. In the face of mundanity, the dreary day-to-day that was living in Hawkins, that jolt of fear let you know, doubtlessly, that you were alive.

The shrill chime of the phone tears you from your thoughts, and you yelp. You back into the fridge reflexively, eyeing the phone on the adjacent wall like it’s a wild animal rearing to bite if you make a move toward it. Your heart batters so hard against your chest that you’re sure it’ll burst free at any moment and plop on the floor in a bloody, steaming heap. Gross.

You don’t move, and the phone rings out. The house isn’t silent for a full second before a second call jars the receiver, and you swallow thickly. You wonder how many calls you’d have to ignore before Eddie came banging around the house again, and for a moment, you consider doing just that. But that’s not part of the game. You’re supposed to be a poor, helpless victim who does just the wrong thing at just the wrong time. So you stand, your thighs quaking with the effort of keeping you upright, and pick up the phone.

“H-Hello?”

“Why’d you run from me, sweet thing?” Eddie croons. His voice is dark and smooth, and even through the receiver, it rumbles right down into your core. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Who is this?” you ask, and though the tremble in your voice is real, it isn’t from fear. You’re so fucking excited. You have to chew on your thumbnail just to suppress the giggles building in your throat, and you’re glad, for once, that Eddie can’t see the smile on your face.

“Aw, what, you don’t recognize me?” Eddie pouts, and you can practically hear him jutting out his bottom lip. “That hurts, sweetheart. Really stings.”

“Who…who the fuck are you?”

Eddie sucks in a hissing breath through his teeth. “Ouch, such foul language from such a pretty girl. I should wash your mouth out for that.”

The thought is, confusingly, very arousing. You decide you’ll table that and bring it up to Eddie at a later date.

“Anyway. D’you get my note?” he asks, as cool and casual as ever.

“I…How the fuck did you get into my house?”

He laughs. “Let’s not pretend you live in Fort Knox here, sweetheart. All I needed was a few tools and five minutes, and boom - it opened up like it was waiting for me. Just like you will.”

Fuck. You choke on your tongue as you press your back to the wall, knees buckling and threatening to drop you to the floor. You wonder where he’s calling from, if he drove away from your house, or if he just retreated further into the woods. If he’s out there now, watching, waiting.

“I’m not doing shit for you, you fucking weirdo,” you snarl, and Eddie laughs again.

“I am definitely gonna have to teach you some manners, aren’t I? Rude little thing, you are. I wonder if you’d be so keen on mouthing off if I was standing right in front of you.”

“I’m not scared of you.” A lie; you’re most definitely scared, but you’re also so fucking horny you’re having a hard time thinking straight. By sheer force of will, you don’t beg down the phone for Eddie to just come and take you now. You want to wait and play this whole thing out just as you two had planned, but God, it is so hard to have patience when he condescends to you.

“You should be,” Eddie purrs. “‘Cause you know what I like to do to mouthy little brats like you?” You hear him shift wherever he is, and the sigh that billows past his lips sends a shiver down your spine. You know that sound intimately, and how his breath hitches as he speaks confirms precisely what you’re thinking.

“I like to make them scream. Break ‘em ‘til they beg for mercy. And it’d be so easy to do, tiny little thing like you can’t even run two feet without tripping over herself.”

Your mind goes blank. An embarrassed flush rises high on your cheeks, but you hardly notice; Eddie’s low, almost imperceptible groan is bouncing around the inside of your skull, and you know for a fact you heard the jingle of his belt coming undone. He’s touching himself, maybe pulling his cock out of his jeans as you speak, so aroused at what he has planned for when he gets his hands on you that he can’t help himself. You clench your thighs tightly, pretending your panties aren’t getting wetter by the second.

“I-I’m gonna call the cops,” you threaten weakly. “I’m gonna c-call them right now, and when they get here they’ll-”

“They’ll what, sweetheart? Hm? C’mon, don’t be silly, you know they won’t believe you. Not like they’d be faster than me anyway. By the time they busted in, I’d already have my cock down your throat.”

You have to bite down on the back of your hand so hard it hurts to stop the moan that wants to spill out. This side of Eddie, this arrogant, cold, mean side of him, is unexpected but dizzyingly sexy. You can’t help the image that trickles into your brain: you on your knees, your hair fisted in Eddie’s hand as he thrust himself so deep in your throat that you’d have no choice but to gag on him, blinking tears from your eyes as your supposed “rescuers” came face-to-face with the very man you called to report in the first place.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N,” Eddie promises, his voice gruff with arousal. “But I’ll make sure you don’t see me ‘til I want you to. Think you can be a good girl for me ‘til then?”

“Fuck you,” you spit, and he laughs.

“I thought so.” There’s a pause, and when Eddie speaks again, it’s softer, quieter, like he’s afraid someone is eavesdropping. “Are you okay, by the way? Like, really. That fall looked like it hurt.”

You smile, twisting the phone cord around your fingers. “I’m okay, baby. Just muddy. I don’t even think I scraped anything.”

“Good. Do you remember your safeword, angel?”

“Mmhm. Mercy.”

“And what happens if you call mercy?”

“Everything stops, right there and then,” you say, repeating what you’d gone over probably dozens of times before tonight. As excited as Eddie was, he refused to participate in anything risky like this without a safeguard, for both of your sakes. As he’d put it, “If the whole point is you sayin’ ‘no,’ how am I supposed to know when that really means ‘no?’”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s my good girl. Alright, go get cleaned up. I’ll be watchin’ you.”

The line goes dead without another word.

You stare at the receiver for what feels like a long, long time. You’re half expecting him to call you back, maybe to taunt you some more, but he doesn’t.

You’re still so fucked. And you’re thrilled.

~~~

Days pass without much incident.

When you wake up the next morning, the daisies have all mysteriously disappeared from your porch, as if they were never there. Your duffel bag has been propped up in one of your wicker chairs, but when you unzip it, it’s empty, save for a single pink daisy at the bottom. You don’t know if Eddie’s around or watching, so you stealthily pluck the flower out of your bag and tuck it close to your chest. You suppose it sort of ruins the illusion if you keep your “stalker’s” creepy calling card, but beneath that, who are you to throw away the flowers your boyfriend gifts you?

You try to go about your life normally but catch yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, flinching at every twig that breaks in the woods, running to the window to fling the curtains open if you think you hear a voice on the breeze outside. There’s never anything there, but you always check. Nighttime is when Eddie’s decided he’s going to mess with you the most. He doesn’t need to break in, as you gave him a key ages ago, but you’d discussed that feeling more authentic for the fantasy, so he does it.

He comes in at around three o’clock every night - you awake to footsteps creaking along your floorboards, shadows rippling over your wall, and dissipating in the blink of an eye, but when you gather the courage to storm down the hallway, he’s nowhere to be seen. You only know he was there because his scent lingers behind him, earth-sweet and smokey with cigarettes. The anticipation makes it harder to fall asleep every night, like a kid waiting to catch Santa Claus in the act.

After a week, he amps it up. You awake to daisies in front of your bedroom door, and when you return home from work that night, a white one is on your pillow. He’s edging closer and closer to you, circling like a vulture readying its descent toward its meal. You start waking up to calls in the middle of the night, but when you pick up, Eddie doesn’t speak. He only breathes, deep and slow, into your ear until you scream at him and hang up. You toothlessly attempt to brat at him, perhaps bait him into just doing whatever the fuck he’s planning already, but he remains cool-headed. When you swear at him, he merely chuckles, a knowing, expectant sound, and any insults you can conjure during your calls go unheeded.

That’s possibly the scariest part about this - Eddie does not, and has never, taken your bratting lightly. He enjoys nothing more than putting you squarely back in your place should you decide to put even one toe out of line, so the fact that he’s permitting abject disrespect and taunting from you means he is biding his time. You know he’s running a mental tally in his head, and you will soon reap the consequences.

That thought runs rampant in your head when you doze off one night, too exhausted to keep your eyes open. The book you’re reading lays askew on your lap, and the rain pattering against your window lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep. You don’t know what time you drift off at, nor how long it is before you’re jostled awake, but when you regain consciousness, you’re immediately cognizant of three things.

First, you are upside down. Blood pools in your skull, making it very hard to concentrate on anything but the dull, persistent throb in your head.

Second, you can’t move. You thrash uselessly, but your arms burn in the position they’re forced into behind your back, and your legs have been bound at the ankles.

Lastly, your mouth is full. You try to scream, but the sound comes out garbled behind a thick, round hunk of something that’s been shoved so far into your jaw that it aches. You can feel thin straps on either side of your face, digging into the tender flesh of your cheeks, and when you poke at the strange object with your tongue, all you feel is smooth, rubbery roundness.

The fog of sleep stubbornly refuses to clear quickly enough for you to orient yourself, so all you can gather for a moment is that you’re cold. When you shiver, a dark, gleeful sound slithers up your spine, one you’d recognize any day.

“Well, good morning, gorgeous,” Eddie hums, and when he shifts, you glean a better understanding of what’s going on. He’s thrown you over his shoulder as if you weigh less than nothing and brought you outside somewhere. You can’t tell if you’re just outside your house or if this is a different part of the woods - all you can see are the dark, spindly shadows of dying trees against the velvet black of the night. You thrash futilely, screaming obscenities at him as best you can as buzzing heat cracks through your veins like lightning.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Didn’t order a wake-up call, huh?”

His voice sounds oddly muffed, though you can’t discern if that’s due to the blood roaring in your ears. Something clatters open ahead of him, and before you can blink, you’re being tossed through the air. You shriek and land on something warm and soft; when you flex your fingers against it, you realize it’s a pile of thick, fuzzy blankets laid atop what appears to be a mattress. You don’t need to look further to realize where Eddie’s dumped you - you’re inside his van.

He’d modified the back of it ages ago, when you first started dating, partially because having sex on the floor was murder on your back and hips, but mostly so you two could have somewhere private to sleep and hang out. Eddie didn’t have anything against going to your place, but he always seemed…stiffer, somehow, inside the four walls of your home. Like he was acutely aware that he didn’t belong there, or at least didn’t feel like he belonged. Your house's tidy, eclectic decor was so different than the cluttered, shabby interior of his trailer, and that had never bothered you, but it so clearly bothered him.

When your eyes fall on Eddie’s face, you realize why he’d sounded so strange. He’s wearing a mask, one he no doubt procured from a Halloween store - the long, white face appears perpetually frozen in a mournful scream, and its black eyes are narrowed at you in apparent anguish. A black shawl hides Eddie’s long hair, blending in with his all-black outfit tonight. He tilts his head at you slowly, crossing his arms and leaning against the van’s open door.

“Whatsa matter, pretty girl? You look so scared. You scared of me?” His voice is cloyingly sweet, deliciously patronizing. You whip your head from side to side, viciously denying it, even though your entire body is shaking and your heart is hammering against your chest. You’re coming to regret your choice of pajamas tonight, as the thin, silky nightgown you’d chosen before slipping into bed does nothing to protect you from the frigid air trickling into the van.

You’d also forgone panties entirely, something you aren’t sure Eddie’s noticed yet.

How long had it taken him to tie you up? You wiggle your arms within their bonds and glance down at your legs, noting the white, plastic sliver encompassing your ankles. Zip ties? Where the fuck did Eddie get zip ties? And how did he manage to use them without you waking up? Surely, no one was that careful.

Drool oozes from the corners of your mouth, dribbling embarrassingly down your neck, heedless of your attempts to rub it away with your shoulder.

“If you behave, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Eddie coos. He bends toward you, and a single, black-gloved finger crooks beneath your chin. He angles your face toward him, expression entirely indiscernible beneath his mask. His thumb brushes over your cheek so gently, mopping up some of your saliva, and you have to remind yourself of the part you’re playing so you don’t lean into his touch.

Then, Eddie’s hand is gone from your face, only resuming occupancy on your body when it closes around your throat. You squeak, a wet, pathetic sound from beneath your gag, and your eyes go wide as saucers.

“Although, you seem fucking incapable of behaving yourself lately,” he snarls, jostling you back and forth. “What’d you think was gonna happen, hm? Acting all fucking high and mighty, talking to me like I’m some scumbag? You need to learn some fucking respect, girl, some goddamn humility.”

You whimper, Eddie’s threats tingling pleasantly down to your pussy. Tears well up in your eyes, and you desperately try to communicate an apology, but it all comes out as broken nonsense. You knew this was coming; you knew he wouldn’t let you off scot-free for anything you’d said over the past week, but something about the white-hot indignation in his voice makes the fear smoldering beneath your arousal burn that much brighter. You try wrenching out of his grip, but all that earns you is a fist knotted in the hair at the back of your head.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Eddie mocks, pitching his voice higher. “Yeah, I bet you think you are. But you’re gonna learn what sorry looks like soon, what it really feels like. I told you, breaking little brats like you and making them scream for mercy is one of my favorite pastimes.”

Eddie shoves you onto your back, and the faint light from the yellowish bulb inside the van vanishes as he crawls on top of you. The chalk-white features of his mask hover just above your face, shiny and thick and reeking of powder. You wail in protest, hurling muddled insults at him while trying in vain to tug yourself free of the zip ties. The struggle feels good, cathartic, in a way. It helps to alleviate all the jittery, excited energy pent up inside your body, and it thrills you to know that Eddie won’t stop fighting you right back unless you call mercy. He’ll take what he wants from you as roughly as he pleases, and in turn, you’ll give him everything you have. You trust him implicitly, so when he grabs your throat again and squeezes until you’re gasping around your gag, you lay there with raw, feral arousal roiling in your belly instead of fear.

“How’s my angel?” Eddie whispers into your ear, and you relax further into his hand. His fingers slacken just enough to allow you a small, shallow breath, and you nod vigorously. You hope your eyes can communicate what your mouth can’t right now.

“Good girl, you’re doing great. If you need to tap out, I want you to kick your feet down three times, okay?” He raps his knuckles by your head to demonstrate his point. You nod again.

When he lifts his body off yours, cold air sweeps you up in its grasp, and you shudder. Wordlessly, Eddie hops out of the van and slams the door shut, leaving you alone in the back. He jumps in the front and revs the engine just as you’ve begun to scream and flail around again.

“Scream all you want, sweet thing,” he encourages. “No one’s gonna be able to hear you anyway. Nobody’s comin’ to save you from me.” The metallic squeal of a guitar suddenly bursts into your eardrums; Eddie’s turned on the radio and cranked it almost full blast, effectively drowning out all your cries for help. If anyone were outside the van, they wouldn’t even know you were there.

Eddie hits the gas, and the van thunders to life before speeding off into the night.

~~~

You must be more tired than you’d initially thought because somewhere between your initial “kidnapping” and the van finally skidding to a stop, you doze off again.

It’s hard not to - Eddie blasts the heat, probably because he can see you shivering in his rearview mirror, and the blankets pressed beneath your nose smell just like him. How can you not bury your face in them? And you only intended to shut your eyes for a second, honestly.

A hand caressing your cheek pulls you from your sleepy haze, and you blink at Eddie’s still-masked face. Having briefly forgotten he was wearing it, he startles you, and you suck in a sharp breath as best you can through your gag. He chuckles.

“Just me, pretty girl. Look at you, drooling all over yourself already.”

You feel the slimy wetness of your saliva coating the side of your face as soon as he mentions it, and you self-consciously try to wipe some of it away by rubbing your face into the blanket. He lifts the corner and dabs it along your cheek and jaw.

“Do you need a minute, baby?” he asks. “You look so comfy.”

You shake your head. You can sleep back here whenever you want, but Eddie’s gone through all the trouble of dragging you out here (wherever here is) for a reason. You’re dying to see what it is.

Satisfied with your answer, Eddie wraps his fist in the front of your nightgown and pulls so hard he forces you into a sitting position. Your arms tingle and your head spins with the sudden decrease in blood as he tugs on the loops holding your gag secure. As they fall away, the rubber ball in your mouth plops into your lap, but your mouth isn’t empty for more than a moment before Eddie’s gloved fingers slide across your tongue and press into the back of your throat. You gag and gasp in surprise, trying to flinch away, but Eddie holds your head in place with his free hand.

“If you scream, the next thing going in your mouth is gonna be my boxers,” he warns, and you wrinkle your nose. That’s a soft limit, something you’re not entirely willing to try but are open to having your boundaries pushed about, especially for a punishment. Admittedly, a dark, perverse thrill slinks through your gut at the thought. Having Eddie on your tongue like that, inescapable and unavoidably pungent, is equally humiliating and intriguing. But you don’t have time to try and weigh that thought out, so you just whimper and rock your head from side to side as much as possible.

“That’s what I thought. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”

He drags you out of the van by your gown, swinging your body in front of his as you settle unsteadily on your feet. You squint into the surrounding darkness and realize with a cold squeeze of dread that you have no earthly idea where Eddie has driven you. The trees are thicker here, dying leaves black in the moonlight, and there are no stars when you look up at the sky, only bulbous clouds. The air is still and cold, dense with the threat of rain.

The edge of something scintillatingly sharp drags itself down your spine, dangerous even through the fabric of your nightgown. You don’t dare turn around, but you can feel Eddie pressing himself closer as he allows that pointed edge to linger on your flesh.

“Feel that?” he asks. He taps it against your thigh, and you gasp.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak.

“That’s my knife.” Fuck. You have to hold your breath to prevent the moan that wants to spill out.

When Eddie kneels by your legs, he takes a moment to drag both hands appreciatively down either side of you, fingers flexing and kneading the soft flesh of your thighs as his blade pokes menacingly through your skirt. Then, in one swift motion, he slices through the zip tie around your ankles.

As if sensing your inclination to bolt away immediately, Eddie stands and snatches the plastic loop still ensnaring your wrists and tugs you backward against his chest. He wraps his other arm around your neck and the steel of his blade glints from the corner of your eye. You refrain from inhaling his scent, leather, cigarettes, and sweet earth, but just barely.

“Hold on, bunny, don’t hop away just yet,” he murmurs against your hair. “I haven’t explained the rules of our game yet.”

“Game?”

“Mmhm. And if I hear one bit of attitude from you, I’m gonna cut this pretty little dress off you and make you run around these woods stark-naked. Do you understand me?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you bite, not entirely understanding why you feel the need to do the exact opposite of what he’s just told you to do. He laughs, a downright sinister sound.

In one fluid movement, his knife cleaves through the front of your nightgown, splitting it open all the way down to your belly and allowing your breasts to spill out. Your nipples harden immediately from the frosty air, and you gasp, hands instinctively trying to cover yourself up.

“What were you saying? I wouldn’t dare?” Eddie teases. He nudges the torn fabric aside purposefully, further exposing you and taking the opportunity to grope your soft, chilled flesh. Warm breath washes over your ear, and he grinds shamelessly into your ass from behind.

“Now, our game. I’m giving you the chance to run, run, run aaall the way home. If you can find the way back through the woods and make it there before I find you, you’re free, sweetheart. I’ll leave you be and won’t darken your doorstep anymore. But…” Eddie bends you over forcibly, ghosting his lips across your skin as he speaks. You want to beg for him; your body cries out for it, but you don’t. You’re so fucking wet from all of this, from his threats and the glaring danger of his blade, that your thighs stick together every time you adjust your stance to gain some semblance of balance.

“If I find you before you make it home,” Eddie purrs, “I will spend the rest of the night breaking you, bit by bit until you can’t remember why you ever wanted to run from me in the first place. You’ll be my perfect little victim. Sound fair?”

“I…I…” You’re certain your brain just split clear down the middle. Something inside of you, something ancient, urges you to flee, to make your way back to safety by any means possible. But something else, the very same need that demanded it be known all those weeks ago when you first told Eddie about it, desperately wants to be caught. You want to streak through these woods, possibly getting yourself hopelessly lost in the process, only to have Eddie successfully hunt you down and make you suffer so beautifully for him. It’s so overwhelming that you don’t notice Eddie’s cut through the zip ties on your wrists until both arms have fallen limply at your sides.

He steps back, leaving you uncomfortably cold all over again, and lands a hard swat on your ass. You yelp and twirl around to face him, glaring heatedly at that morose white mask. His arms are folded, his posture is relaxed - you haven’t even started running yet, and he’s already so confident, the bastard. You pinch the sides of your shredded nightgown together and step back from him.

He flaps the hand clutching his knife at you, waving you off. “Go on,” he says. “Run along. I’ll even give you a thirty-second headstart since I’m so nice.”

When you, stupidly, don’t move a muscle, he heaves a sigh and pulls the sleeve of his jacket up to look at his watch. “Twenty-eight, twenty-seven-twenty-six…”

Shit. You pick a random direction and sprint.

The sound of him counting fades as distance mounts between you, and once you’re alone, in the total silence of the forest, Eddie is not the only thing you’re afraid of. You’ve heard stories about these woods, the frightening disappearances, and general odd goings-on that happen within. As you leap over a dead, fallen log while determinedly holding your rapidly disintegrating nightgown together, you recall what happened a few years ago to the kid Hawkins deemed Zombie Boy. Supposedly found long dead in a reservoir, bloated and green with decay, his family even held a funeral for him - only for him to turn up, alive and well, weeks later. What could’ve caused such a terrible misunderstanding? What’s worse, who’s to say that whatever - or whoever - caused that misunderstanding isn’t still out here? Who’s to say that they aren’t listening to every branch that snaps below your bare feet, that they haven’t picked up on your scent by now and are tracking you with all the stealth and efficiency of a wolf?

You shake the thought from your head and persevere.

You can’t remember, for the life of you, what direction home is in. You must start down half a dozen different paths before you think better of it and double back to the place you started, and none of your options seem correct. You curse yourself for dozing off in Eddie’s van instead of trying to count how many turns he took, what direction he was going in, anything that might help orient yourself now.

Something rustles the bushes a few yards behind you.

You don’t think - you pick a path and fly down it, swatting low-hanging branches out of your way and ignoring the brambles that hook into the fraying hem of your nightgown. Maybe you should’ve let Eddie cut this cumbersome thing off you when you had the chance. All pretense of trying to be sneaky, of trying not to attract attention, is gone - you are running blind, panting, heaving, whimpering, slapping down tree limbs, and crunching over dead leaves in the hopes you manage to stay just out of Eddie’s reach.

You are terrified. You are exhilarated. You’ve never felt this free in your entire life, and you can’t believe it’s taken you so long to ask Eddie for this.

You weren’t sure before, as you’d tried to tell yourself it was just the sound of your own footfalls echoing in the woods, but you’re certain now that you can hear Eddie’s boots striking the ground as he gains on you. Your thighs burn with the effort of propelling you forward, and every pull of ice-cold air into your lungs is like swallowing needles, but you press on. You want him to catch you, but he needs to work for it, and as you swing a hard left over fallen logs, his hysterical laughter explodes into your ears.

You chance a look over your shoulder. Eddie’s lithe body weaves and slinks through the forest behind you, seemingly unaffected by the foliage that’s presently slicing open the bottoms of your feet and legs; his mask bobs mournfully above his black clothes, a bloodless beacon reflecting what little moonlight leaks through the thick stormclouds above. He’s so close that if he really wanted to, he could reach out and snatch you up by the nape of your neck like a kitten.

You scream. The sound reverberates through the trees, shrill and elated, and another round of laughter booms from Eddie like thunder.

You’ve just managed to leap over a gnarled root without tripping over it or slipping in the mud when you feel fingers at the back of your neck. You squeal and swat aimlessly, which is a stupid fucking idea - Eddie nabs your wrist and pulls, forcing you to come to a skidding halt.

“Let go of me, you fucking freak!” you wail, thrashing against him as he gathers your hands together and snickers into your ear.

“Looks like I win, pretty girl,” he breathes. Something jingles just beyond your head, and before you can wonder what it is, Eddie shows you - steel handcuffs, silver and glittering, dangle in front of your eyes. You whimper and drive your elbows backward, fighting with everything you have to force Eddie off you. You succeed, albeit minimally, and can free one hand. You swing and claw at him, fingers scraping for something to grab hold of until they finally pinch one of his mask’s eye sockets. Lightning cracks across the sky overhead as you rip the mask off Eddie’s face.

The brief flash of light gives you a full look at his face. His brown eyes are wild and bright, crinkled at the edges from the maniacal grin splitting his cheeks apart. His skin is pink and glowing with sweat, and you can’t help how your heart swells as you stare at him. Perhaps if you ever do this again, you’ll set a shorter time limit - you don’t know if you can handle not seeing him for over a week again.

“If you’d stop squirmin’, this’d all go so much faster, sweetheart,” Eddie huffs, trapping your hands together again as you uselessly pound them against his chest. Despite your best efforts, Eddie snaps one cuff around your wrist with a soft click and, as he works on the second one, pushes you both up against the broad trunk of a tree. The bark scrapes painfully along your shoulder blades as you shriek and try to kick him off of you, but it’s too late. He wrenches your arms above your head by the thin chain connecting the handcuffs, and browning leaves descend onto your face as he loops them over a branch.

It’s so high up that you must stand on your tip-toes to avoid burdening your arms with all your weight. Because of that, you can’t gain enough momentum to swing them back down, and Eddie takes a leisurely step back to admire how well and truly stuck you are. He pants, leaning forward on his knees and staring at you through his dark lashes.

“Goddamn, you are a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, giggling breathlessly.

“Get me down from here, right now,” you growl. Admittedly, it’s very hard to be intimidating while your tits hang out of your shredded nightgown, but you still try.

“That’s not what we agreed on. I told you - I catch you, you’re mine. Good thing, too, my dick was just achin’ watching your cute little ass running from me.”

You whimper as Eddie straightens himself out, heaving one final, deep breath before passing a hand through his hair. You don’t realize he’s flicked his knife out again until he’s got the blade right beneath your nose.

“Now, let’s get this shit outta the way.”

You gasp and reflexively bend your body away as Eddie plunges the sharp edge down through what remains of your nightgown, hacking away at it as if it’s personally offended him until it’s reduced to nothing but a pile of silken scraps by your feet. You shudder, wholly unprotected from the cold now and utterly incapable of hiding the arousal smeared down your inner thighs from him.

His breath clouds in front of him as his eyes roam over your naked body with all the hunger of a predator eyeing its meal. The pink of his tongue darts across his bottom lip as he stalks up to you, already making quick work of his belt.

“D-Don’t touch me, don’t you fucking touch me!” you howl, even though the idea of his hands on you right now makes your stomach flutter. He ignores you, of course, and casts his gloves aside before resting both hands on the trembling flesh of your biceps. He’s so wonderfully warm, blood pumping right below the surface of his skin.

“I can’t wait to split this pretty pussy open,” he murmurs, mouth hovering just above your cheek as he drags his fingers down, down, down until they’re slipping between your hips and cupping you. You try to disguise the pathetically aroused sound that falls from your mouth by shrieking in faux disgust.

“Stop it! Get off, get off!”

“Dirty girl, you’re soaking wet for me already.” Without warning, Eddie plunges two fingers deep inside you, chuckling at how your eyes roll into the back of your head, and a scream tears itself from your throat.

“S-Stop it,” you sob. You throb around him, unable to disguise your body’s physical reactions, and it only sweetens everything for you. The way your cunt betrays everything you’re saying, twitching and clenching and gushing around Eddie’s fingers in the face of your pleas for him to stop, your insistence that you don’t want him, pulls you deeper into this fantasy.

“I don’t think you really want me to stop,” he muses, thrusting in and out of you so slow you’re confident you’ll go bat-shit insane soon. “If you did, you wouldn’t be dripping for me. What a nasty girl you are, all worked up for the big, scary man who chased you down in the woods like a scared little bunny rabbit.”

“Fuck…fuck you,” you say weakly, and stars explode behind your eyes as Eddie curls his fingers inside you. You screw your eyes shut and press your lips together to trap the noises threatening to burst out of you.

“Oh, I will,” he promises. “I’m gonna fuck you stupid. And then, I think I’ll keep you all for myself. Take you home and keep you tied to my bed like a good little pet. I’m sure you’ll learn to love it.”

You could cum just from listening to Eddie talk. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it beneath your tongue, and if it weren’t for the steel around your wrists forcing you upright, you’d sink to the ground and beg for him to fuck you already. You don’t care if it’d break the illusion, if it doesn’t coincide with the game - you are desperate, dripping just as he said, and the lust fogging your brain makes it impossible to consider anything but your own arousal.

“P-Please,” you whimper, hoping all you need from him is conveyed in that one word.

Something hot and hard nudges between your legs, and you gasp - you didn’t see him do it, but Eddie’s removed his cock from his jeans. The hand not buried against your pussy is fisted around the base of it, pale against his red, wet shaft and thick head. You gulp hard.

“Please? What a sweet word out of that filthy mouth.” He crushes you harder against the tree and lifts one leg over his hip, stroking himself slowly as you struggle to keep your eyes forward. His fingers leave your weeping cunt painfully empty for a brief moment, and then he slides his cock through the slick puddling just below your hole and teases his head around the rim.

“Oh, darn, looks like I forgot a condom, too,” Eddie says, sucking his teeth and shaking his head at his apparent negligence. Your stomach clenches, and heat pools between your hips. “I’m sure you don’t mind, do you, dollface?”

When Eddie enters you, you tip your head back and moan. It’s been a criminally long time since you’ve felt him inside you like this, hot and raw and forcing your muscles to stretch around his thick cock. It burns just a little, but the lack of prep and the pain hueing your pleasure makes it better.

“God, God, oh God…”

“Nope, just you and me, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s teeth latch onto the flesh below your jaw, pinching and sucking it into his mouth as he bullies his cock deeper inside you. Usually, he’d take his time getting you ready for it, loosening you up around his fingers and drawing a few orgasms out of you until you were perfectly pliant for him. Right now, though, he doesn’t have it in him to bother with all that, and you are so grateful.

Fat drops of rain plop onto your hair and dribble down the sides of your face as Eddie starts fucking you in earnest. His hands come around to grasp greedy handfuls of your ass and pull you in tighter against him, and he quickly litters the side of your throat with hickeys as his hips snap forward. You can’t help how you squeal and groan as you’re jostled against the tree, and you realize with a shudder of humiliation that you’re getting close already.

“P-Please…please, Eddie, please…” You don’t particularly know what you’re begging for; you just hope he’ll take pity on you for it and give you more. You need impossibly more. You need him to ruin you properly. The way he throbs inside you reminds you of the lack of protection, and you beg for him again.

“What a fuckin’ whore. I knew you wanted it,” Eddie snarls, the edge of his teeth rasping against your jaw.

“I…fuck, Eddie, please, it’s so much,” you whine, choking on air as he buries himself as deep as he can get. He shushes you, and another flash of lightning in the sky illuminates his handsome face as he pulls back to look at you.

“Do you need mercy, baby?” he asks, blinking rain from his big brown eyes. Your hair sticks wetly to either side of your face, and you can’t tell if you’re shivering more from cold or pleasure. You whip your head from side to side.

“N-No, no mercy,” you mewl, “I-I just…please, please just fuck me, break me, I need it so fucking badly, baby, please.”

He doesn’t respond, not verbally, anyway. He yanks your other leg around his hip, settling your weight entirely in his lap, and the slight change in angle pushes him just that little bit further inside your twitching cunt. Your mouth drops wide open as he quickens his pace, the denim of his jeans slapping against your bare ass so hard it burns, and the way he grunts from the effort makes your toes curl.

“I didn’t think you’d be such an easy fuck,” Eddie teases. “Guess you’re just a dirty slut after all, huh?”

“Fuck, oh God, fuck, I’m cumming, I can’t stop, E-Eddie!”

Your orgasm scorches through you like molten lava, burning you from the inside out and robbing you of enough air to scream. As Eddie continues pounding into you, you claw at the branch beneath your fingers, desperate for something to anchor you to reality. You don’t think you’ve ever cum this hard in your entire life, and the fact you did so without even once touching your clit fills you with an odd sort of pride.

“Fuckin’ squirting all over me, fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie growls, and you only realize he’s right when warmth starts trickling down your thighs. You blush, trying futilely to bury your face in his neck out of embarrassment. When he doesn’t stop fucking you, and your orgasm ebbs enough for pain to start lapping at the edges of your pleasure, you whimper.

“H-Hurts, hurts.”

Eddie shushes you. “I’m not done with you yet. Just shut up and take it, like my good little victim.”

He crushes you tightly against the tree, huffing and panting into your ear while he desperately chases his own pleasure inside you. You cry out openly, the chill of the rain intermingling with the heat of his body against you so deliciously that you think that if lightning struck the pair of you right now, you’d die a happy woman.

“You’re gonna take every drop of my cum, understand?” Eddie snarls. “If even one drop leaks out of you, you’re gonna lick it up.”

“Yes, fuck, I understand.”

“Your pussy clenches so hard when I threaten you, baby, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

Thunder claps overhead as Eddie presses stills inside you, cockhead pressed as deep as it’ll go inside your throbbing slit and starts cumming with a wanton howl into the night. Liquid heat floods into your core, and though you weren’t even aware of it building again, your second orgasm crashes into you as you realize the risk you’ve just partaken in by letting Eddie cum inside you. It feels so right, allowing him to claim you this way, bearing his mark on the deepest part of you, and you know for a fact that after tonight, you will beg him to never use another condom again.

When he’s finished, Eddie sags against you, trembling hands digging into the globes of your ass as he shakily supports your weight. You pant, blinking rain out of your eyes, and kiss the wet curls beside your face.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

~~~

Turns out, Eddie didn’t take you far from home at all.

In fact, he drove only a mile away and spent about forty-five minutes doing circles in the woods because he didn’t want to disturb your nap. He tells you this as he leads you out of the forest and back to the van, holding his leather jacket above your head like a makeshift umbrella.

He retrieves a towel from inside and wraps it around your shivering, rain-soaked body before planting you in the driver’s seat. After he drapes a thick, flannel blanket around your shoulders and points all the vents toward you as the heat blasts, he cups your face in both hands and kisses your forehead.

“You did such a good job, sweetheart,” he murmurs, trailing his lips down over both eyes, your cheeks and finally landing on your trembling lips. His mouth, despite everything, is still so warm.

“I did?” you ask sleepily. He nods and rubs your arms to inspire blood flow back into your extremities.

“You did. I’ll draw a bath for you once I get you home, okay?”

“Join me?” Eddie smiles and pinches the sides of the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

“I would, but someone’s gotta feed us both.”

When he hops into the driver’s side, you note with a snort that he’s stripped down to his boxers. He laughs and revs the engine, throwing an arm over your seat as he reverses out of the forest.

Eddie doesn’t allow you to walk the few paces up the steps and across the porch to get inside your house. Instead, he cradles you against his chest, bridal-style, and struts through the door he purposefully left unlocked before setting you down on the toilet in the bathroom. You slump against the sink as he readies your bath, arms pillowing your head and eyelids drooping. Steam fills the room and carries the sweet, light scent of roses, and the flash of a pink bottle in Eddie’s hand clues you into the fact he’s dumped some soap into the faucet to create huge piles of white, frothy bubbles.

You’re nowhere near steady enough to lower yourself into the tub alone, so Eddie grips you by the elbows and slowly sinks down until your butt hits the water. It’s almost too hot at first, but after your body adjusts to the sudden change in temperature, you recline against the porcelain at your back and sigh. Eddie brushes a hand over your hair and kisses your forehead again.

“Thank you,” you mutter, eyes closed.

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, you handled everything like a champ.”

You glow under his praise and nestle further into the hot water and bubbles. It’s going to be a challenge not to doze off here.

When you blink your eyes open, Eddie’s still hovering next to you, lips quirked in a small, soft smile as the early morning light falls in purplish shafts over his face. You reach for him, sliding your palm through the hair at the back of his head, and bring him close enough to kiss his lips. He tastes like rain and cigarettes.

“I’ll come get you when the food’s ready, alright?” he whispers, squeezing the hand you’ve rested on the rim of the tub before standing. You nod dreamily.

“I love you,” you call after him, and though his frame is bleary through the steam condensing in the room, you see him turn back and smile at you.

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

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