#or if you need fic help describing viscera

[nethhiri]

Oof chapter 51 was heavy af, but your ability to write gore is concerningly amazing 🤨 you don't have actual experience with torturing people do you? 🤔 Can't wait for 52, super excited, please tell me there will be loads of fluff (I mean after the super not fluffy revenge) I feel like I need some aftercare after that omg 😂

Ummmm no but close….. 😅 Observing at the state medical examiner’s office was eye opening to say the least. And I have quite a bit of autopsy experience. (To be perfectly clear though, I absolutely abhor doing them.)

YES THANK FUCK. I mean it’ll be a tinge angsty bc of the trauma but it will be sweet as well.

[courtingchaos]

Feast

Pairing: Eddie x Reader x Steve, past Eddie x Steve (set in my Line Cook Eddie AU)

Word Count: 9.8K

Summary: It’s a Graveyard Lake House Smash 🎃

A/N: When I tell you Woof, I mean WOOF. I don’t want to tell you all how long I’ve had this sitting in the crockpot. It’s surprising it didn’t turn to ash. Instead I got this! Struck by what I can only describe as mania I was able to finish this and edit it all with the help of @jo-harrington . Now I have many many MANY people to thank for this even being an idea for me to play around with and I won’t fill this page up with a bunch of tags. Those of you that were there for its inception know and that’s what matters. Talk about a fucking labor of love. I pulled this out of my own viscera, I hope you like it ❤️ (Also, reference is made to the fic Strawberry if you guys want to go look at that smut too, but it is not needed.)

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine, weed), Drinking, DVP, Unprotected sex, Sex while under the influence

NSFW 18+ No Minors

“Oh this is cute.” The flyer invite is bright orange and full of Eddie’s little doodles.

“Yeah? You like it?” Eddie leans over your shoulder. “Made it all by myself.”

“You even signed it, look at you.” You grab his chin and give it a wiggle before he plants a kiss on your cheek.

“Obviously we’re invited. I’ve got my costume all planned out already.” He heads into the bedroom and misses you pulling a face.

“Well I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I won’t be there.”

His head sticks out around the doorframe, “What?”

“Yeah, too many requests off. I gotta close.”

“Okay? You’re off at what, 9:30?” Eddie waves you off before disappearing in the bedroom. “I’ll pick you up and we can be to Steve’s by 10, 10:30. Piece of cake, piece of crumb cake.” He does his best Father Guido from inside his closet and it makes you laugh.

“I’m gonna be tired, Ed.”

“And I’m gonna have weed.” He reappears with a different hoodie on.

You huff. “I don’t have a costume.”

“I’ll find you one.”

“I hate bagged stuff!” You aren’t really arguing with him, just pushing his buttons enough to see where his exasperation will take him. It sends his arms over his head while he goes headlong into all the costumes you could put together with the shit in your own closet.

“So no bagged stuff! You could pull off a Nancy Downs or a Sidney.”

“Will you go as Stu?”

Eddie stands like he’s upset with you, arms crossed and voice dropping low for a moment. “You know damn well I’d have to go as Billy. Plus,” he flits his hand beside his face, “like I said I already have my costume.”

“You won’t tell me?” You don’t even fake your pout. “I need help with an idea! Come on!”

“It’s a surprise!” He shakes your shoulder and when you don’t stand he hauls you up by your hand so you can finally run errands for the day. “Look, when we’re done at the store I’ll help you dig through your shit and piece something together.”

By store he really meant every shop in town with a Halloween section and only a quick run into a grocery store for mac and cheese. One of your last stops is at a Party City where you’re staring at the wall of masks feeling a little dejected. Halloweens haven’t felt fun in a while and this one was shaping up to be just as disappointing. You’re eying one of those big articulated scarecrow masks when Eddie comes bounding up to you with a clutch of cellophane in his hands.

“I figured it out.” Is all he says before practically skipping back the way he came, right into the latex and spirit gum section.

“Ed I don’t want to do a whole thing, especially if I can’t wear it at work.”

“No this is easy shit, it goes on like a temporary tattoo.” He holds one of the thin packs up against your face before shaking his head and tossing it back on a hook. Another one he’s been clutching skims your cheek and his eyes light up. “No this is perfect.”

“You gonna let me in on this little secret?” You crane your neck to see what he has. “Is that a pentagram?”

“Do you still have that cheer skirt?”

You think you might know what he’s getting at. “The black and red one?”

He nods his head and picks up a packet of ‘fresh’ colored blood.

“Yeah.” And with that he’s off down the aisle again, beelining for the color coded tailgating section.

“If they have them in stock—hell yeah.” He holds up a red and a black pompom. “Cookin��� with fire now.” His grin is infectious.

“You know I don’t have any costume contacts, right?”

Eddie’s ‘pshh’ is so self assured. “With this it won’t matter.” He points at the pentagram transfer. “See? I told you I’d figure it out.”

In the small bathroom at work you feel only slightly ridiculous.

It’d been a few Halloween’s ago that you’d worn this skirt and now it’s a little more snug, sits a little higher on your thigh and hugs your stomach a little tighter. The cropped tee doesn’t leave much to the imagination and the thigh highs feel a little like overkill.

It’s cute, objectively. You know it but you still spend a little too much time staring at the back of yourself as best you can, making sure your whole ass isn’t out on display. A soft knock on the door reminds you of your faithful coworker waiting on you to finish up so they can run off to their own plans.

“Sorry, one sec!” You shove your work clothes into your tote bag and give yourself one last hard stare. “You’re gonna be fine.” You say with some finality to your reflection, black press on nail tapping on the glass.

Outside Eddie sits in his truck, idling next to your car and you take your sweet time strolling over to him. His eyes glint in his side view while the rest of his face stays obscured and you wonder just what costume he’s put on, right until you catch the tilt of his head and you see what sits there. Your pace quickens and you have to hold the hem of your skirt down when you all but run across the parking lot, stopping at his open window to stare at him wildly.

“Oh no, you did not.”

He most certainly did.

The cigarette clenched between his fangs glows in the dark cab, shimmering lips pulling into a smile around the filter. “Do what?” He asks like he has no idea what’s on his body. The run of chains around his neck clink and catch the light of the street lamps. From under his curls the tips of pointed prosthetics peak out, gold rings pierced through the latex. The matte red body paint lays in a thin layer on his face and just barely down his neck, his chest on full display under his barely buttoned black shirt.

“Not the Bard.” His hands glint with more rings than normal, jeweled gold he’d picked up at last year’s Ren Faire. You catch the black claws stuck to his nails and he laughs at your shocked expression.

“What’s wrong with my Bard?”

You gesture wildly at his whole being and you haven’t even started to look up at the horns on his head. Long red ones that curl against his crown, gold chains dripping off the curves. Painted bands shimmer just like the gold on his lips and you almost open your mouth to cancel your plans.

Eddie clicks his tongue at you like he’s read your mind. “Hop in quick, it’s like a 45 minute drive.”

You huff, hands still anchored on the window while you gawk at him. His make up is perfect, his clothes thrown on too easily. There’s a smokey scent that lingers, something not from his cigarette, and you wonder if he got into your perfume oils; Incense and wood fire swirling around him. He taps your knuckles to get them off his door and when you go to walk around the bed of the truck he just whistles at you, nodding his head towards the hood.

“No no, give me a little preview.”

You almost don’t give in. The doubt is trying its hardest to claw up your back but you ignore it and let the headlights cast your shadow on the building. Eddie’s delighted laughter rolls from his open window and when you get into the truck his hand finds the exposed swath of thigh above the socks.

“Told you it’d come together.” A firm squeeze and a straying pinky when you twist around to set your bag in the backseat, the soft pads of his fingers grazing higher under the hem of your skirt.

“You like it?” You sound a little unsure, like he wasn’t the one to lay the outfit out for you to give your seal of approval. It isn’t like you need his constant validation but it feels nice to let him ogle you every once in a while.

“If I didn’t have promises to keep I’d be taking you straight home.” He leans in toward you, careful of all his pieces and face paint, lips close but just out of reach.

“The quicker we get out there, the quicker we can get home.” You try to bridge the distance but Eddie pulls back, another sharp grin aimed at you.

“You should finish your makeup before we get there.” He taps the glove box before leaning back into his seat. “I saved you something for the ride over.”

He keeps his hand in place the whole way to Steve’s. Even when you pull out the joint he rolled for you, in the fun striped papers you’d shown him weeks ago. You relax and try to get your eyeliner done first before you’re too high to care and when you’ve finally put your bag away Eddie becomes your sole focus.

His hand might stay firmly planted but yours don’t. It starts off easy enough, plucking at his necklaces and pendants, letting them fall back on each other and clink. A twist of a ring on his free hand and pulling at the bracelet warmed by his wrist. You run a light finger along his pointed ear and you don’t miss the slight shiver that runs down his neck.

His neck.

You drop that hand and trail the tip of your fake nail over his skin to pull up goosebumps, carefully avoiding smudging any paint. He lets you drop a peck or two but he’s serious about not messing up his makeup, “at least not yet.”

Since you’ve been denied a treat, you pull lightly at his collar so you can nibble on his shoulder. Fingers trailing down the wide open valley of buttons, your other hand dancing across his lap to scratch at the seam of his jeans.

“You’re terrible.” He admonishes you but it’s all for show, if he was serious about you taking your hands off him he wouldn’t have grinned at you like that.

Halfway out of your seat and draped over the center console is how you spend the last half of your drive, an earring between your teeth while you distract him just enough to swerve a few times.

The lake house emerges along the horizon suddenly, almost like you’d been distracted by the button on Eddie’s jeans. The gravel crunches under the tires down the long drive and orange, green and purple string lights help direct you to the actual house.

Steve’s family’s lake house is a mimic of a rustic cabin, one big peaked roof and a massive back deck that wraps around the side. It looks like someone pulled a giant A-frame directly up out of the ground, Halloween decor and all. You stare up at it surrounded by trees, the big windows flashing intermittently with light, music thumping dully out into the sleeping nature.

“Whoa.” Actually you loose all focus of what’s in Eddie’s pants as you finally grasp the size of the property and the crowd outside.

“See? Could have missed all this if we’d just gone home.” Eddie parks and unbuckles himself so he can twist around carefully for the bag in the back. “Now sit still, I gotta put your pentagram on.”

That pulls your attention back to him, especially when he sets a water bottle down first. He peels the transfer apart and you watch him silently, lulled by a full work day and the haze of weed. He’s right, it does go on like a temporary tattoo and when a drip of water falls between your breast you giggle.

“Making a mess already?” You hold the edges of your cut up collar away so you don’t get it stuck and Eddie just shakes his head.

“Are you gonna be like this all night?”

“Do you want me to be?”

Eddie’s hand is flat against your chest to hold the prosthetic in place so you know he feels the uptick of your heartbeat. It’s close and cozy in this cab, close enough that you can see the corner of his mouth twitch and the crinkle of his light crows feet. His eyes drop from your chest to your cleavage and you lean in a little more, push your arms in a little tighter.

“Can I have a kiss?” Whispered just between you two. “Since I’ve been so good tonight.”

He hums, lips pursed, and checks on your pentagram instead. The paper lifts and his hand moves away and you follow him, lips leading to the golden shimmer you’ve been eyeing. It’s quick but it’s what you wanted, just a little more of his attention on you.

He huffs when you pull away. “See this is why I wanted to wait.” His thumb rubs against your chin and he pulls it back to show you the smear of red. “Now you’re marked.”

You think if you can crawl into his lap right now he might abandon this deal tonight. He looks at you from under hooded eyes, eyes that linger on your bare skin. There’s a moment when he takes a deep breath you think you can maybe break him with a well placed purr of his name but—

“Eddie!” The rap of knuckles on the window makes you jump and with it the spell breaks. Robin is waving at the two of you, grinning wide and unknowing of what she’s done. “You guys look great!” Her voice is muffled by the glass so Eddie opens the door and starts his personality up for the show.

You figure out that Robin has gone as Weird Barbie and you love it, especially because she’s obviously a few Malibu and Pineapple’s deep and she keeps you slung close while she directs you and Eddie around.

“Jon and Nance are Beetlejuice and Lydia.” She points in a vague direction of the house where you see neither of them. “Lucas and Max couldn’t make it because they’re doing the ‘parent thing’ obviously.” Her air quotes almost make her spill her drink and Eddie takes it from her with a sigh.

“It’s not even midnight yet, Rob.”

“Hush! I don’t actually know what the hell Dustin is, I think it’s a chemical compound.” She says out of the side of her mouth, gesturing at Eddie to give her a sip from her solo cup. “Will is an amazing Orville Peck, he made his own mask! The fringe is so long!”

You laugh at her pointing at meaningless areas, no one being where she thinks they are.

“And where’s our host?” Eddie asks, scanning the heads outside.

“Oh he’s been so lame. You know, he slapped a name tag on an hour before the party and called it his costume?” Robin looks so disappointed. “I offered to make him a Ken three months ago and he acted like I’d insulted him.”

“Well what’s he wearing? I’d rather him not blow up my phone.”

“Black hat, backwards like an asshole. Red sweater.” Robin drops you off at the doorway into the cabin and snatches her drink back from Eddie. “Name tag says ‘God’.” She leaves you with a heavy eye roll before slipping into the masses.

A quick schmooze around the open downstairs and you’re finally left to your own devices, drink secured in your hand.

“Now don’t go running off without me, okay?” Eddie puts a stern finger in your face and you snap your jaws at it. He ignores you. “I’m serious, meet me up in the loft.” He points the same finger upwards and you nod wordlessly. “Hopefully this shouldn’t take too long and we can go hang out on the dock.”

You frown. “It’s kind of cold out.”

“Oh no.” Eddie waves his hands at you, feigning being distraught. “I guess we’ll have to cuddle, oh no!”

You flip him off as he walks away and he blows you a kiss and immediately you begin timing him to see how long it will actually take him.

You don’t recognize anyone here. Maybe a few people from Stacy’s, some of the line cooks and waitstaff, but no one you can start a conversation with that wouldn’t end up feeling awkward. There’s the obvious close friends of Eddie’s but even they aren’t as known to you and even so, you’ve spotted them chatting with other people already. You sip on your drink and you sigh and resign yourself to waiting it out.

Leaning on the bannister of the loft you look down and spot Eddie animatedly telling someone something, his jewelry sparkling in the flashing lights. His voice carries sometimes, even in a party like this and you watch him with amusement. It doesn’t take long to loose him though and you pull your phone out to distract you, just before a flash of maroon catches your eye and you turn to find Steve looking surprised with two cups in his hands.

“I was trying to sneak up on you, how did you know?”

“I bet you’re one of those guys who doesn’t say ‘behind’ at work, aren’t you?”

“Oh no, I learned my lesson there.” He sets the drinks on the bannister and pulls up his sleeve to show you a silvery scar near his elbow. “That’s where I took a parring knife around a corner, I don’t fuck around in there anymore.” He laughs.

“Was it Eddie?” You ask like you already know the answer but Steve shakes his head hard.

“No, some other dude but Ed did yell at him for walking around with a knife held out in front of him. ‘What are you trying to do, shiv him?’” He puts on a face that you correctly guess is an imitation of an angry Eddie.

“Aw, did he look out for you?” You reach out and pinch Steve’s cheek and he swats you away, his ears flushing a bright red.

“Speaking of, where is he? He has my weed.”

“I don’t know, I lost him in the masses.” You gesture at the crowd below just as the music and lights change, making it darker and harder to make out a detail.

“Shit.”

“Shit indeed. My high is wearing off and there are too many people I don’t know here.” You finish off your drink and Steve is holding up one of his cups to replace it. You raise an eyebrow in question and he just swings it at you so you’ll take it.

“I saw you up here, thought I’d bring you a drink. Didn’t know how long you’d been here.”

Something about his expensive smile always makes you want to giggle. You know that he’s aware of his charms but even then you can’t help how easy he makes it. The flattery is always there, especially if Eddie is around, and if you didn’t know any better you might have the sneaking suspicion he was flirting.

“All by my lonesome?” You shake your new drink at him and he rolls his eyes.

“Not like that, I brought two in case Ed was up here.”

He’s always flirting actually, you think it might just be an integral cog of his makeup at this point. You’ve seen the way it slips into the most innocuous conversations with Eddie, though he’s always trying to banter.

You drop the sly accusatory look and shrug. “Good luck. I was told to stay put till he came back.”

“Or, and hear me out, we could go find him together.” He says it like it’s the best idea he’s ever had and honestly? You look around at the sparsely populated loft and check the time on your phone, noticing you’ve already wasted half an hour doing nothing.

“I’m in.”

An hour of wandering and you haven’t run into Eddie again. He didn’t ditch you, far from it. You know your blood covered boobs and incredibly short skirt wouldn’t leave his mind but you do know he how he loves to talk. Someone must have gotten him on a kick and he’s been passed around through groups, his storytelling making bursts of laughter float up from different corners of the party.

“Did he really tell you stay upstairs?” Steve asks, shouldering through a group with a short wave.

“Yeah, but he looses track of time at parties. You know how he is.” You’re a few drinks deep now so any annoyance has burned off, especially since Steve has been nice enough to walk around with you. The view from behind while you followed wasn’t bad either. It makes you smirk and you hide that in your drink, your wandering gaze following his long legs.

One more inside lap before you both stop at the kitchen island covered in bottles to top up and Steve finally calls it.

“Wanna go sit outside?” He nods his head towards the back deck. “Quieter.” He heads for the wall of windows where people filter out to sit by the water. You weren’t kidding earlier when you said it was chilly and you really hadn’t thought to bring a sweater with you for some reason. Steve notices you hesitate though and seemingly understands. On his way to the door he lifts the seat of a bench up and pulls out a blanket.

Water laps at the deck softly and the chatter dies down finally, the music a distant thump and you feel a little sober taking in the fresh air. Steve holds up the corners of the blanket for you and when you don’t immediately move in he shakes it at you.

“I’m not gonna bite.”

“Aw, really?” It slips out before you can catch it. To Steve’s credit he takes it in stride, barely breaking a grin when you finally snatch the blanket from him. He digs around in his front pocket for a moment and pulls out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. There’s one already tucked behind his ear and you’re about to remind him when he holds up a slim joint.

“I know this is a sad offering, but you want?”

As if on cue there’s a peal of laughter followed by a big splash and you step closer to Steve on the dock to get away from the rippling water. “Jesus, please.”

He eyebrows twitch up and he points lazily at the name tag. “Actually it’s God, but same-same.”

He pulls two Adirondack chairs together and you slide back into one remembering to keep your knees together so you don’t accidentally flash Steve. He holds the joint out to you with his lighter and you gasp theatrically.

“And a gentleman at that!”

It takes a few strikes to get the beat up bic to light and you can feel Steve staring. At first you think he’s judging your lack of finesse but when you go to hand him his lighter his eyes snap up from your legs, a tight smile flashed at you before he holds his hand out to take the joint back. He keeps the conversation light, he tells you about what this lake house used to look like and how much his parents sunk into it to remodel it. He makes small talk seem fun when he frosts his words in charm and you remember the last night he’d been particularly plucky with you.

“I.D.?”

“Steve it’s me.”

“Can’t trust it, gotta see I.D.” He shrugs and holds out his hand and gestures at you when you don’t make a move for your wallet. There’s not even a hint of a smile on his face and you wonder if maybe he’d gotten in trouble for giving you so many free extra pours.

“Okay, okay fine here.” Behind you Eddie is deep in conversation with Jeff about switching a shift and hasn’t noticed the third degree yet. When you finally get the plastic slipped out of your wallet Steve snatches it and leans back with it held up close to his face. He studies it like he’s never seen you or an I.D. before and he keeps flicking his eyes back and forth between it and your face.

A nervous grin breaks out of you when the situation isn’t changing. “Steve? Did I do-“

“There it is.”

“What?” You laugh through your confusion.

“I just needed to see that smile.” Steve hands your card back and slides your drink across the counter with an easy grin.

The high is returning and with it the questions that slip easily from your brain and straight out of your mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

It takes Steve a moment to tear his eyes away from the surface of the lake where it reflects the string lights. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Remember a few weeks ago when you did the thing with my I.D.?”

His eyebrows scrunch together hard when he tries to piece together what you’re saying. “Your I.D.? Did I loose it?”

You flap your hand at him to try to get him to remember. “No no, the smile thing.”

“Oh!” It dawns on him, his glassy eyes widening. “You like that? That’s one of my better ones.” He seems proud of himself for a pick up line.

“Were you just trying to piss Eddie off or do you just flirt with everyone?”

“Honestly?” Steve scratches his chin lightly, staring back off into the lake’s glassy surface. “I really like messing with Ed. He trusts you so I like to push his buttons.” He shrugs. “Also I do flirt with a lot of people, it gets me good tips.” His laugh makes his eyes crinkle and it makes you think of Eddie.

You take a break to find the bathroom, and to scan for your boyfriend, and when you come up without him you grab two beers from the massive cooler and head back outside. Steve seems a little more alert than when you left him and he points to a space under the deck where two people are cloaked in shadow.

“See that?”

You lean your hip into Steve’s shoulder to balance yourself as you squint, two things becoming harder to do especially together. It isn’t until a wig gets tugged off and both of you gasp, finally realizing that Robin has found a different Barbie. She tugs at Robin, hauling her towards the boathouse and Steve starts laughing.

“Should we help her or…?”

“Nah, she’ll find me in the morning.” Steve sighs and runs his hand up the back of your thigh.

Hm?

You run that feeling through your cotton stuffed brain again. The back of your thigh, the part that is so very bare and just under the hem of your skirt is hot, skin sticky where a palm sits now. It’s wide and a little rough and his fingers give a quick squeeze to the fat there and then proceeds to sit still. You move slowly, your head dropping down to stare at Steve’s easy posture.

“Steven?” You ask slowly.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you with not even a twinkle in his eye. If he were to move his thumb just the slightest bit up he’d be grazing the cuff of your ass and you wonder if he can even feel the sudden heat rolling off you.

“What’s that you got there?” You don’t break eye contact with him.

“Something soft.”

The giggle escapes before you realize it and something in Steve’s features shifts into what looks like pride. You don’t forget where you are so much as you take the bait and turn towards him, leaning down so you’re close to his face and can see the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“I think,” you whisper and cast an exaggerated look around, “you’re tying to get a rise out of someone.”

“Oh?” His cheeks flush, just a tinge of pink that catches your eye.

Steve’s head goes back with a tug of his backwards cap.

“Harrington.” Eddie makes his grand reappearance, seemingly stepping from the shadows to stare down at Steve who stares up in dumbstruck awe.

You’d noticed horns approaching when you’d leaned down and maybe it was the combination of liquor and weed but something bold had taken over, especially when you knew you had Eddie coming to swoop in.

“Finally finished your rounds? I’ve been waiting.” Steve asks your boyfriend, who keeps the bill of the baseball hat between his knuckles.

“You finally finished feeling up my girl? I’m waiting.”

You don’t expect that, the warmth in his tone. The little chuckle, the joking grin. Something about Eddie taking this on the chin makes you pay attention.

“Oh what’s a thigh between friends, huh?”

You can hear the edge in Steve’s voice now, the push to Eddie’s pull. That palm stays firmly planted on you while the two men stare at each other. It’s like they’re speaking in silent code, cats flicking their ears to get their point across. Eddie seems to give in first with a small shrug, letting go of Steve’s hat though his head remains lolled back to stare at the red demon above him.

“Is this imposter bothering you?” Eddie gestures at the peeling name tag stuck to Steve’s sweater and you think about it, honestly.

Where you are right now, is it bothering you?

The hand cradling the back of your thigh, is that bothering you?

The way Eddie seems to be reading your mind, his eyes bouncing between your own and the smile you just realized is warming up your face, does that bother you?

“No.”

This feels like earlier in the night. A heavy hand anchoring you to the moment. A little buzz from your warm high. You’re listening to Eddie smooth talk Steve but all you want is something tactile. Eddie crouches down so he’s eye level with Steve and they lean into each other to conspire, you’d know that look on his face anywhere. It’s one he’s shot you over countless drinks and through crowds and at dinner with friends. He’s got his mind set on something.

He’s too far away though for you to absently run your fingers through his hair so you grab the next best thing. The fringe sticking out from under Steve’s hat is so soft when you rub it between your fingers. Little flips of sun bleached brunette that curl up under the brim and around your finger, twirling between your press ons.

“How is your hair so soft?”

Eddie tilts his head just as Steve slowly turns to look at you with a confused smile. “I spend a lot of money on conditioner.”

“What’s it made of, spun silk?” You drag your nails up the back of his head and he shivers.

Eddie looks downright gleeful. “I told you.”

“Told him what?” Distracted by Steve letting his head fall into your palm you miss Eddie shooting his friend a look.

“How are you feeling?” Eddie asks suddenly. “You still wanna head out?”

“No.” You scratch Steve’s scalp and watch him melt down into the lounge chair. “This is fun.” His hand finally sides down to wrap around your thigh, holding you against him.

“Well Steve has told me something very interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s got a little surprise I think you might enjoy.”

“Oh?” You grab a handful of hair and give Steve a light tug. “Did you bring me a gift?”

“It’s for all of us, actually.”

2 am and the party continues outside the heavy door to Steve’s bedroom. No one blinks an eye when you pull Eddie through the doorway minutes after Steve disappears in there. Not even a knock when Eddie kicks it closed and spins you around to face him.

“You sure about this?” He asks quietly, walking you backwards into the room.

“Absolutely.” You grin, nodding at him.

“Positive?” He holds your gaze to make sure you know he’s serious. Your hands clamp around his face and you pull him in close.

“Yes Eddie.”

Steve’s solid chest bumps into your back, the sweetness of his cologne bursting around you.

“You got it?” Eddie looks past you to ask Steve.

Steve huffs. “Yeah I got it.” He moves around behind you, digging something out of his pocket and his knuckles drag over your ass before his hand appears around you with a little twisted bag between his fingers. “You wanna do the honors?”

“Oh please, it’s your party.” Eddie plays with the hem of your skirt but he watches Steve untwist the bag. Eddie gives you a peck when he catches you trying to turn your head, pulls at your hips to make you face Steve and that self assured grin is present when Eddie holds you still.

“You ever done this before?” Steve asks when he holds up the baggie, eyes dropping to your lips.

“Uh, once. Didn’t really like it.” You watch him work while Eddie stands behind you and runs his hands right up under your skirt. He laughs into your neck and his breath slides under the ripped up collar of your t-shirt. “I don’t think I was with the right people.” You stare at Steve while he dips his index finger into the powder.

“You’ve never done this together?”

“Nope.” Eddie answers for you, his face peeking into your periphery. “Strictly a weed and liquor household, like god intended.” His laugh sends a zap through you, slowed and tingly against your current high. “Isn’t that right baby?” His hand sneaks up under your jaw where his fingers press into your cheeks making your lips purse and part slightly. When Steve’s fingertip grazes your bottom lip you open wider and both men laugh.

“Eager.” Steve says before his finger pushes past your lips and rubs down the side of your gums. The taste is an immediate bitter tang followed by the salt of his skin and you grunt quietly, closing your lips around him. “You’re telling me she’s not a natural at this?” Steve looks past you to Eddie, ignoring you tonguing his finger.

“Not with coke, but she’s real good with things in her mouth, aren’t you?” Eddie’s hand runs down the front of your throat and you hum in agreement. Steve’s finger pops out of your mouth and dips back into the powder, swirling around while he watches from half lidded eyes Eddie kissing along the back of your neck.

“One more.” He promises with a smile and when his finger dips into your mouth again you start to feel the tingle along your gums, something that dances up along your cheeks and zips through your hairline. It fights against the sluggish feeling of the weed and lights up a part of your brain that was trying its best to stay focused through the liquor. Steve is eyeing Eddie while the latter pushes up your shirt, an exchange again made through glances. Steve barely gets his finger out before his mouth is on you, his tongue pushing past your lips to chase your new high.

He’s so warm everywhere. His lips against yours and his chest pressing in and his hands that go right for your jaw those long fingers in the strands at the nape of your neck that give you a shiver up your spine and Eddie must feel those goosebumps when they sprout, they appear so fast and right under his lips and—

“Hey,” Eddie says, turning your head to the side “take a breath.” He breaks your kiss and you whine at the missing warmth of Steve’s soft mouth. “Yeah I know.” He soothes, running a thumb down your cheek. “You still gotta breathe.”

You roll your eyes and take a deep, dramatic breath to show him you still can. Beside you Steve sniffs off the back of his hand before he attaches himself to the side of your neck. His tongue trails over your pulse and Eddie holds your gaze and your chin before he leans in to kiss you.

The coke makes you less hazy, takes the soft edge of the weed and brings it into focus. The feel of Steve’s lips moving up your neck and Eddie’s fingers around your chin. His tongue in your mouth and his other hand slowly tugging up your skirt and Steve’s big palms running up your sides. You can hear the thump of the music outside that feels like it’s trying to keep up with your heartbeat.

There’s a hand pulling at your shirt, pulling it over your head and a hand running up the side of your neck and you hold onto the front of their shirts. You have the distinct feeling of floating while you get pulled and pushed and somewhere in the flurry of caresses you whine into Eddie’s kiss.

A break of lips on your skin and Steve’s shirt hits the floor and then your skirt is getting pushed down to meet them. The strappy set you’d picked out last minute, with all its crisscrossing bands over your hips and across your chest, form a rude arrow between your tits to guide their eyes.

Eddie stares and runs a fingertip under one of the bands to snap it. “Special occasion?”

You don’t answer him, too busy trying to get at his buttons to get his shirt off too. Those tattoos sing at you to be seen and you want to see the starkness of Eddie against Steve’s sun kissed shoulders.

Behind you Steve slides a hand up over your bra and the other down your spine, his lips on the back of your neck. It takes you a second to realize he’s trying to get you to the bed but Eddie notices and changes his stance. He knows how to move you around when he wants and he grabs you around the ribs to give you a push. It’s like all your other games now especially when Eddie starts to follow you back as you shimmy towards the pillows.

The clink of a belt buckle reminds you that Steve is still here. He holds out the baggie to Eddie. “Before you loose track.”

You notice it then, the lack of inebriation in Eddie. Sure he’d been a little toasted from the drive but while he made his rounds it seems like you and Steve were the only ones drinking.

“Actually, come here.” Eddie takes the coke but stops crawling toward you, instead sitting up on his knees and motioning for Steve. “Let me try something.”

Steve can’t get out of his jeans fast enough. He almost trips in his eagerness and Eddie uses it to his advantage. Steve’s flipped on his back with a laugh and all you can do is watch, fascinated with whatever Eddie has planned.

“Do you remember that time we all came up to see you play in college? Like all of us, I think it was the game you tore your shoulder.” Eddie looks down at Steve getting comfortable and throwing his arms out to the side. “That party the night before? What was that girls name?”

“Becca.” Steve says, shifting his gaze to look at you. “Stupid college fling.”

You nod wordlessly and start trying to unhook your bra without moving much. Eddie laughs and holds the baggie open so he can dip his finger in.

“Ah, Becca. She broke up with you the night before a championship game dude. That was cold.” Eddie acts like he’s swirling candy through sugar the way he twirls his finger around but the way you and Steve watch him it might as well be. “Remember how like, no one could find you in the morning? They thought you had gone off and drank yourself stupid over a girl, but where were you again?”

Steve just laughs but you want to know, you want to be in on the joke. Like most times it feels like Eddie hears your thoughts and he turns those big eyes full of mirth to you.

“He was actually passed out in the back of my van, naked.” Eddie gestures at Steve wearing only his boxers and smiling up at him. “This kind of reminded me of that.”

Eddie hovers over Steve, finger ghosting over his lips. “Open.” Steve’s grin splits and Eddie’s claw disappears behind white teeth. Dark ringed eyes flick up to find you where you’ve gone still against the pillows. He looks unbelievably wicked in this room, the gold shimmer on his lips barely mused from kissing you. He must have tossed the small fangs earlier but his mouth still poises danger while Steve sucks on his finger.

You finally find the momentum to drive off the pillows and over to the two of them just as Eddie follows his finger in with his lips. Steve lets a soft moan escape before Eddie covers his mouth with his own, gold staining pink.

You drop your shoulders mid crawl to stretch your hand into Steve’s hair again. You run it through the roots while you stare at them kissing, Steve groaning in the back of his throat when you pull.

“Like that?” You whisper so you don’t break their spell and Steve nods as he looks for something to hang on to. His fingers catch on your bicep and in Eddie’s hair and he’s anchored, hips rolling up into nothing while you tug on the crown of his head.

There’s a little bit of time that seems to slip away from you. One moment you’re watching Eddie take Steve apart and the next he’s moved you again, his arm slung around your middle to pull you flush against his chest, your underwear clutched in his fist, your thoughts soft

Steve watches Eddie’s tattooed hand slide gently around the front of your neck and he knows he’s in trouble. It’s both of you really, not just Eddie, driving him insane. He tilts your head back onto his shoulder and smiles down at you with what Steve thinks is pure adoration. When Eddie shifts his attention to Steve there’s a swooping low in his abdomen at the thought of being let in on whatever this is.

“Wanna help me out?” Eddie tilts his head toward you and that’s when Steve realizes that both you and him are fully naked. Clothes shed in the fast moments between kisses and yet Eddie still has his jeans on. Steve could break out his machismo here, could challenge this and let it be over quick and fast and typical or he could let the reigns go for a night. He thinks about letting himself not be in charge as Eddie moves above him while nudging you forward, knees straddling his hips and before he knows it he’s almost fucking you.

“That feel good baby?” Eddie’s teeth glint in the low light when he bites lightly at your cheek and leaves another mark of red and gold. You laugh breathily and nod your head, pushing your hips down just a little and the head of Steve’s cock pushes in. Both of you gasp and Steve thinks he feels a tear escape. The immediate wet surrounding him and the little display Eddie is putting on above him goes right to his balls and for a moment he thinks he won’t last past this. Eddie’s other hand trails down your stomach, fingers seeking further and further until they reach your bush and the gold rings distract Steve for just a second before they sink into your folds.

You crumple and slide down his cock further and Steve is trying to be respectful, as respectful as he can be, but he’s testing his own limits. A swift buck of his hips and he’d be home.

“I think you should give Steve a break, he looks like he’s loosing brain cells.” Eddie keeps you pressed to him, head lolled back and mouth open and panting, hips searching out his teasing fingers on your clit. “C’mon, give it up for Stevie.” He fake pouts at you and then turns it on Steve.

“Fuck you Ed-“ He’s cut off by the fall of your hips now seated flush against him. Everything about you is warm and wet and soft and amplified. His hands fist into the sheets beside him in an attempt to keep them to himself for the first time tonight, an attempt that Eddie calls out.

“You can touch her Steve, she isn’t gonna break.” He demonstrates this by digging his fingers in a little around your neck and you squeeze around Steve in response. “You want him to touch you, right?”

“Please.”

“Oh, she’s asking so nicely.”

Steve tries to think back to the first time he ever made a passing comment about you and wishes he could kick himself. He’d gone into this night with one other threesome under his belt, some half met happenstance from ten years ago. It’d been sloppy and messy and he’d bent the two girls around to his will but this? He’s unprepared. Any and all of his personal history with Eddie should have given him some kind of clue, but the two of you really are nothing but a flashing red light of trouble.

Your knees dig into his sides while one hand ghosts over his abdomen, looking for purchase. Eddie still holds you close but keeps his eyes on Steve, a suggestion in his gaze.

“Go ahead.” Eddie purrs and Steve finds himself lost in more than just his high. If he didn’t know any better he’d be convinced of his friend’s true nature, a pest of a demon hellbent on driving Steve certifiably insane. However he finds his hands running hot over your thighs and up your sides, over your stomach and under the swell of your breast. Anywhere he can run his hands over the soft skin you’d kept barely hidden all night, skin that he’d been staring at.

Eddie chuckles when Steve finds a nipple, a fierce pinch to it making you gasp and roll your hips and Steve can’t help himself anymore. He grips and thrusts up to punch a sharp moan out of you. Eddie’s fingers stay buried in your cunt and splayed across your throat to keep you pinned to his chest. Steve’s immediate fast pace makes you bounce and he’s transfixed when Eddie sneaks a finger into your hanging mouth to hold your jaw open.

“You should hear her.” He drops a kiss to the corner of your mouth before letting go, lowering you to lay on Steve’s chest. A whine comes from you, a deep sound that pitches up when Steve shifts to hold you in place. He already sits so deep but when he winds his arm around your neck to hold you close you gasp. You can feel Eddie move on the bed, can feel his hand run over your ass, can feel the brush of his suddenly freed cock along your inner thigh. Steve adjust you so your cheek is flat against him and pulls at your hip to spread you open for Eddie.

“Fuck now isn’t that a pretty sight?” His thumb is rough against such sensitive skin when he glides it around your cunt. You try to move your hips as much as you can but the angle you’re at only affords you short rolls of your hips.

“Oh you can do better than that for Steve, can’t you?” Eddie teases and you whine into Steve’s chest.

“He’s being mean isn’t he?” Steve whispers to you. They both laugh at your groan but Steve shushes you, palm rubbing over the back of your neck where he holds you down. “I’ll be the nice one then, huh?”

Struck dumb by the feeling of Eddie pushing forward ever so slightly, all you can do is nod. He tilts your chin up to hold your gaze, his pupils blown out wide and dark and you wonder if yours look just as big.

“Can I—“ Cut off by the feeling of something cold dripping on your ass you almost sit up out of Steve’s grip before Eddie giggles a quiet apology and tosses a little bottle of lube over the side of the bed.

“What do you want?”

“Coke.” The zing is fading and you want to feel it again. The race of goosebumps across your bared flesh. The tingle over your scalp as Steve’s finger glides along your teeth.

Eddie laughs and reaches over to grab the bag and hand it to Steve, tasking him with your request. Still held in place, Steve brings his finger, wet now and dipped in white again, back to your mouth. His finger rubs your gums again and the head of his cock nudging deep and the feel of Eddie’s pressing where Steve already is and you don’t know how much more full you can get. It’s a stretch just with Steve but the insistent pressure from Eddie, the feel of his cockhead popping in makes your breath catch. He’s being careful, just so careful but that need to feel everything and move and moan takes over again and Eddie puts a heavy hand on your back.

“Breathe, baby.”

Instead you whine, held between two solid bodies that keep you still, that stroke your spine and run rough fingers into your hair to keep you from spinning out.

“That’s a pretty sound.” Steve says lowly and out of the corner of your eye you watch him hold his hand up to Eddie who sucks that same finger into his mouth.

The thought is brought to the forefront of your mind quickly, the image so clear and grounding, of Eddie sucking your purple strap. It stops the other spinning thoughts and that initial head rush fades. Against Steve’s chest you mumble about Eddie’s pretty sounds, dazedly watching Steve’s long finger pop out from between those gold lips.

“What was that?” Steve sounds a little breathless.

“Eddie makes pretty sounds too.” The images shuffle in your brain. “When I fuck him he whines and it’s like he’s about to cry or something it’s almost too much.” Behind you Eddie laughs and thrust his hips and you choke on your words, his cock pushing further in and stretching you more. Steve’s laugh turns into a hiss and the hand on your neck clamps down when Eddie’s cock rubs against his.

“Keep talking.” Eddie is breathless but still the only one not blissed out. “You gonna tell him how good I look sucking dick?” He rocks his hips forward gently and ghosts a palm over your lower back. “Steve already knows about that, don’t you big guy?” Eddie teases before leaning over you to catch Steve’s eye. The smear of gold on his bottom lip drives Eddie crazy and the laugh turned stuttered moan when he drives deeper into you makes him wish he had more than just two hands.

“Or maybe Steve can tell you about when I’d drive out for those big parties.”

You like it when Eddie’s gets mouthy. When he starts sparring to get the upper hand. You’re smiling into Steve’s chest with just the barest glimpses of Eddie above you. He rocks in and out of the corner of your vision and under your ear you can hear the rumble of Steve trying his best to keep it together.

“Remember almost getting caught in the frat your freshman year? What a bunch of dumbasses.” Eddie’s laugh has an edge to it now and your chest swells with some kind of pride that he’s finally starting to falter.

“Yeah…b-because you c-couldn’t shut up.” Steve finally speaks, his hips starting to falter the slow rhythm he’d been keeping up. “It’s why we had to mo-ve to the van.”

Eddie’s hand appears when he lays his whole body on you so he can reach for Steve’s hair to give it a tug. The change in angle and Steve’s moans cancel out any quip you were trying to cobble together, a calm instead seeping in as the coil low in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie runs his mouth but you can’t pay attention to him with the way him and Steve seem to work in tandem for a blissful moment.

It’s too much and it’s not enough and you pant and whine and scratch at Steve’s chest. There’s no more rhythm then, just the snapping of their hips against you while they race to their own ends. Steve grips you hard before he slams his hips up one last time and stills, a long groan from deep in his chest your only warning before he cums. It’s a chain reaction of Steve going boneless and Eddie cursing behind you, picking up pace and bullying that tender spot enough to make you seize up. It sneaks up on you so fast, makes you loose your breath for a moment. A leg shaking orgasm, your fingers wound tightly enough in Steve’s hair to make him hiss, all you can hear is the guttural groan coming from you and Eddie’s praise. It tumbles out of his mouth with little sense and you know he’s done in when his thumbs rub tight, fast circles on your hip before he stills.

Hearing and speech aren’t really a thing for you yet but you do grunt in appreciation when Steve seems to come to some of his senses and reaches up to pull the stupid horns off of Eddie’s head that’s resting between your shoulder blades.

“Thanks.” Eddie’s breath fans over your sweaty skin and he makes no attempt at moving yet. Someone has fingers in your hair, you can’t tell, and Eddie is rubbing his face against you and giving you little kisses along your shoulder. Steve’s breathing is finally calming down and in turn it makes you even out too, realizing how sticky you are everywhere.

“I hate to break this up,” Your voice is scratchy and small coming from between them, “but I need to go to the bathroom.”

You stumble back into the room, falling down into the bedding and Eddie slithers up from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed to leave a trail of kisses all the way up. He winds himself between your legs and drapes them over his hips and continues to leave kisses up your stomach and over the peeling prosthetic on your chest. He dots your neck and cheeks and all around your mouth before he finally gives you a real kiss. He makes you giggle with his doting and when he tries to put your underwear back on for you but the straps outwit him. Instead he tugs on the sheet beneath you and tucks in around you, leaving your clothes on the floor for later.

“Do you need anything?” He says it quietly, thinking Steve is dozing beside you. “Other than water I mean.”

You’re tired and achey and still high from various things and all you can think to ask for is: “Crackers.”

“In bed?” Eddie gives you an unbelieving look but when you just grin sleepily at him he shrugs. “I won’t kick you out.” He gets up slowly and kicks stuff around on the floor to find his own shirt when the shifting of bed springs grabs his attention. Steve is seemingly trying to sneak out of the bed without saying anything, keeping his back to the two of you while he toes his underwear over to himself.

Eddie waits for some kind for acknowledgement but when it doesn’t come he clears his throat lightly. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He says it like he’s surprised that you and Eddie are still there. “I’m gonna get out of your hair…I gotta make sure no one set anything on fire and like, find Rob…” He looks around for his pants and won’t meet Eddie’s eyes.

“I’m just going to get water, you don’t have to leave. It’s your room anyways.”

“Well I’m not kicking you guys out.”

“Steve.” You don’t mean to admonish him but that’s what happens. With the sheet tucked up around your chest you pull on the slack to show the other side of the bed. “Get back in here.”

He doesn’t move, just sighs deeply and reaches for his cigarettes.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie watches you point at the empty spot with some finality and he almost tells Steve it’s in his best interest to listen to you.

“I just—“

“It’s cold. I’m cold. Get back in the bed.” You slap the pillow. “Please.”

Steve does look at Eddie then with concern and all Eddie can do is chuckle. “I’d get back in there unless you like spit in your iced lattes for the next however long.” He leaves for the promised water and Steve sits on the edge of the bed and acts like you’re making him go to the dentist.

“Hey, if you want to leave you can, I was trying to be funny.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.” Steve sighs and throws himself back onto the pillow. “You guys were having a moment.”

You pull a confused face. “Do I need to remind you what we were just doing?”

“No.” Steve laughs.

“Because I can’t give you graphic detail but I can tell you that I got pretzeled up pretty good.” You reach over to rub a hand over his chest, running your fingers through the dark curls. Eddie sneaks back in and you notice the music isn’t at the level it was when you came in here.

Around the blinds is a light blue border bleeding in and you would really like to bury your head under the covers and keep petting Steve. Eddie makes you drink water though before anyone can get comfortable, even bullies Steve into finishing his. Eddie does his normal and climbs into bed to immediately lay half on your back, his arm flung over to mess with Steve until he relents and tilts his head over so Eddie can twirl a strand around.

Tucked between the two of them you’re almost asleep when you remember something from the heat of it all and you shake with silent laughter.

“What?” Eddie asks and Steve gives you a half awake eyebrow raise.

“You know he’s a tiefling right?”

That wakes Steve up a little. “What?”

“Yeah, his tiefling bard. You called him a demon earlier and it made me laugh.”

Steve sighs and ignores your sleep talk and you try to expound but the heavy, comforting weight of Eddie and Steve’s warm chest under your palm cut you off before you even realize you’ve fallen asleep.

[hyuninho]

How do you write horror?

I actually had like a conversation with my friends abt this a little bit ago so I'll talk about it here- this is a very broad question so I am going to answer it to the best of my abilities (like, how do I write vs. how do I write horror), so,,, pls be patient with me haha.

So, to kind of lay the groundwork I've kinda come to the conclusion that there are maybe 3 types of horror writers/ways to come at horror?? Or at least, that's how it gets categorized better in my head! Inspired by a post where someone described Jacob Geller as an architect's mindset, I think the 3 main ways to come at writing horror are as follows;

- The Language

- The Philosophy

- The Architecture

Keep in mind that this is all like ENTIRELY my own opinion and just how I come at writing my favorite genre, & I was/am an on and off fic writer and that's where most of my style was able to be developed!

Understandably these categories do seem a bit random but I think the example I can use best to explain it is gore, probably?

So with gore & body horror as an example, I'll go in the order of Philosophy > Language > Architecture for it to kind of make most sense.

Philosophy - Gore is many things. A lot of times the human mind meets it with, "that's wrong- that's wrong, wrong, wrong!"- and it gets worse with body horror, which seems to almost make an art form out of it. It is grotesque and obscene, and it forces you to be vulnerable- all things the mind hates. Organs that were never supposed to see the light of day are now being exposed to air they were never supposed to touch- and it's incredibly disturbing and upsetting because this isn't supposed to happen.... and worse, the longer you sit in it all, and you let it fester, it starts to become a "What really makes us human?" kind of thing. Everyone's reaction to the initial reaction to horrifying vulnerability of viscera is different.  Some curiously engage with it, some will become obsessed with how intimate it is, some will still desperately want to get away from it. It's always a fun little "how will I write these gore scenes this time" & understanding how I want ppl to react, which brings me to the next bit- language

(P.S. no body horror in it, but if you do want a good horror book that delves into like the "What Makes Us Human?" bit of things, I rec Obscura by Joe Hart!! like it literally becomes an overarching theme in the book! A+)

Language - I spend a lot of time trying to put human experiences down on paper, and it just... doesn't work because language as a whole is not enough of a vehicle to get across all of my thoughts and my feelings on this one subject- this one subject that is, undeniably intricate (no matter what subject it is, at any point in time). With body horror or just generally terrifying scenes where I really need to get across what exactly is happening and why it's so terrifying and you should be scared too- it helps to find words that are as specific as possible to the moment, especially with gore, because it forces the character(s) and the reader to be vulnerable. I focus a lot on character's reaction to things as well, as a way to convey like 'holy shit this is NOT OK!!! I am not cool with this!!', and really- it wouldn't be a good story if I didn't intrigue myself a bit imo- whether I terrify, or I scare, or I just get myself obsessed... understanding the concept of what I want to get across as much as I can, so I can then spend as long as I want trying to get it across as accurately as possible in a way that will have others sharing my fear/intrigue/obsession... that is my personal goal!

Architecture - Your terror needs legs to stand on. Your dread needs legs to stand on. Fear/scares can be induced from a simple movie's jumpscare, or a couple of terrifying lines that build a scene quickly and get the ball rolling- but for good 'ol gothic terror it's a bit of a consistent slow burn that slowly grows over the course of the story. It's usually why the gore happens towards the end of a story if it's the climax of the story, or, in other cases, gore tends to be used as a way to break a character. It's not only about the structure of the story, it's about the structure of the character. When you develop a character it's like you've carefully constructed a small building- and in this case, the gore scenes are direct attacks on where this character's support beams would be. A building within a building.... within a building...? If you will.

Kathe Koja's short story The Neglected Garden (Extremities) is actually a perfect example of this, as it starts off with the gore straight off the bat- and from there it's a slow decline (in this story specifically, it's akin to watching a team of workers construct a house incredibly quickly, then being like "it doesn't seem that sturdy-" right when a storm comes by and the house itself sinks and gets *really* fucked up... and then from there starts to slowly deteriorate and crumble.)

I think this applies to writers as well lol- like, I'm definitely more of a language oriented horror writer because of how much I focus on my vocabulary, my sentences, my prose, etc- and not even in a way where grammar is my strong suit. In fact, I am like, incredibly bad with grammar and this post is probably a prime example of it! but I really try hard to get across a concept/idea with the tools available to me and I try to expand those tools when I can, because it frustrates me when there aren't enough words in the dictionary for "he screamed".

Outside of gore and body horror, I usually have a concept, and then I write the scenes were I'm very into the concept of it and what I want to be portrayed... and then I start expanding from there and building plot, etc, until I eventually sit down and write it in it's entirety- so my personal order tends to be; Philosophy, Architecture, then Language.

(And yes, these are all just fancy words for plotting and drafting but they help me think about it easier so pls be nice to me LMFAO)

[mydetheturk]

These are some of my wips for @organsoutsidelovinglydescribed's Trigun Body Horror Week!

i thought about making separate posts but that's a lot more work than i want to do right this minute, so i'm going to a blanket warning of: gore, blood, ... alien weirdness of varying degrees, and frankly erotic organ touching. all the pieces are going under a cut due to the varying levels of the aforementioned warnings, with more specific warnings with each snippet.

heed the warnings and enjoy!

Major tags for this first piece, a dominai fic, where two independent plants sharing one body poke around with the nervous system; it's gonna be rated e for a combination of "domina splits knives like a peach (sexy)" and "whatever's going on there is definitely xeno". Alien weirdness, is all I'm saying. shockingly tender, but alien weirdness nonetheless.

Domina doesn't talk about most of them. Doesn't like to think about how people – humans entirely too full of hubris – cracked her open to see what made her tick. She knows she's lucky she lived. She wears the scars as badges that say “I lived.” The scientists who'd carved her rib cage open like she was so much meat had the audacity to be shocked when Domina reached out to someone else to ask for help. She'd been young then and should still be young now. Now, she's dying. But she's not alone anymore.

Crimsontrip/Crimsonfang with shockingly erotic organ touching. Shockingly tender? The boys are having a Time and if you ask Elendira about it she'll gut you. Warnings include: blood, viscera, insects, mildly graphic medical descriptions, and hints of past traumas. organs and gore as well.

Elendira returned to their side. “How much of this are you feeling?” she asked. Finally, a clearer workspace. She slid her fingers along organs, gently pried them up from where they were tucked in Livio and Razlo’s musculature and viscera. “Wish we could feel more of you,” one of them said. “Bet it’d feel pretty great, havin’ your hands all up in us like this.” Elendira paused with her hand cupping her fools’ liver. She kept her hand on the organ and leaned up and over to press her lips against theirs. When she leaned back up, her lipstick stained their lips a bloody red. “If you two weren’t so fucked up right now, I would slice you apart like a succulent fruit and take you apart one piece at a time.” “Oh.” Elendira peppered a few kisses on their face, leaving marks there. “We’ll have to do this part again, my loves.” She went back to searching, pulling dead worms from inside of them and dropping them on the floor. Worms crunched under Elendira’s feet as she moved. Livio and Razlo’s organs were slick under her fingers. “I have you.” One of them made an almost kitten-weak agreeing noise.

this next piece is from a fic ive been sitting on for two months, I've described it as "a comically biblical amount of insects brings a fallen angel of the lord to climax" and have gotten several people to lose their minds at that phrasing. its less comical, but really, what do you expect from knives of all plants? Warnings include: insects, alien fuckery, xeno. shockingly little gore in this, or at least this part of the fic - knives and zazie have a tussle in the larger fic and bugs are eaten. plants are predatory, imo. it explains their teeth.

Zazie does-doesn’t understand, doesn’t-does understand in a way that is wholly inhuman, a collective, not an individual. Knives is an individual of a collective, a single voice just out of harmony with the rest. Zazie fills the ache, guts him to the core, while Knives claws at Zazie’s carapace, digging trenches, and hissing-clicking and reverberating loud and hard enough to stun many of the small Worms, collapsing them into the sand. Zazie is hot against him, still holding Knives’ face in their mandibles. A mockery of a human kiss. Plants don’t kiss that way and Worms have no need. Knives goes for a headbutt but only taps his forehead against an empty space between Zazie’s endless eyes. Between one breath and the next he reaches out with that part of him that sings with his sisters and touches Zazie’s Whole. Knives burns.

And lastly, a bonus fic for the week, one that i hadn't planned on writing originally but it's getting written anyway, yet another knives vivisection fic. this one's a little different - 2nd pov instead of my usual third person. Warnings for this include: medical horrors, knives having a panic attack, false reassurance that someone's ok in a bad way, more alien freakiness, and Dr. Conrad's special brand of unhelpful bedside manner. eye trauma as wel,

The doctor – false, liar, ripped the creature that should’ve been your older sister in two – looks down at you. A scalpel drips with your resin. The clearest words you’ve heard are spoken. “Subject Knives, this part you might feel.” The blade descends. You stop breathing. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. There is pressure but it doesn’t hurt. It should hurt. A knife, silver in appearance. Blade only an atom wide, perhaps more. It slices the doctor’s cheek but melts as soon as it does. The doctor’s blood drips. It mingles with your resin, pools where the scalpel has sliced open your eyelids. [Well done little brother! You just have to do that harder next time!]

I hope you enjoyed the pieces here and i cannot wait for body horror week to start 💜

[adorablele]

@riothae ♡ to my darling table leg 💞 this is to push the doyoung dream boy agenda. and also i’m sorry for not releasing this on your birthday, please accept this belated birthday gift.

☍ pairing; kim doyoung x reader ☍ genre; fluff, romance, a little bit of angst but mostly fluffy // apocalypse!au, zombie apocalypse!au, strangers to lovers!au, soulmate!au, parallel world!au ☍ word count; 4, 210  ☍ summary; you have your very own dream boy, a literal man of your dreams and he goes by the name of Kim Doyoung ☍ a/n;  don’t be fooled by the beginning, 99.9% of this is just dialogue. also I tried my very best to avoid using the word zombies to describe the people who were affected by the virus because...yeah it has something to do with the characters mindset but i didn’t get to explore that because I wanted to focus on the romance lmao ANYWAYS PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED since this is my first ever apocalypse!au and longest fic (in general and for doyoung)

trigger warning(s); mentions of weapons, use of weapons (doyoung uses a machete, mc also uses a weapon to kill the zombies), mention of blood 

This has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. 

“Hey!” you screamed, banging together two pots. 

The growling behind you started to multiply. 

You smirked, continuing to clash up more noise, “C’mere!” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw two rotted figures make their way towards you. The adrenaline in your veins pushed your legs to move faster. You heard the growling behind you grow louder, more shuffling of feet syncopated between your own. Out of either confidence or pure insanity―quite possibly both―you turned around to admire the hoard of creatures that you managed to gather.   

Disgust swirled in your stomach. They were ugly with skin so pale that you could see the infected black veins running through their body. They snapped at you with rotted teeth, blistered lips and blood-shot eyes. 

You laughed. “You’re so slow.”

Those vicious, viscera eating monsters didn’t seem to like your taunt. With inhumane twists of their bodies, they started to sprint towards you. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Still, you shouted at them and banged your pots. Your pace was already outmatched by theirs, but it didn’t help that you were walking backwards. 

“Just a little closer, I know you can do it!” you cheered. 

By now, more monsters have noticed the ruckus that you’ve caused and they decided they wanted to join in on the fun. That’s when you decided to continue running. You could hear their growls growing closer and closer. For a split second, there was a single drop of fear that touched your spine, or rather, a finger. Acting on instinct, you slammed the pan into the head of the intruder. 

You were done for. They were catching up to you. 

And yet, you kept running, faster than you’ve ever ran. Despite the fact that any one of the, probably, hundreds of virus-infected bodies were one step away from tearing you limb from limb, you laughed. 

This was it. This was the end. 

This was where you die.

The maniacal smirk on your face never ceased. You didn’t know how long you’d be able to run for, but you kept going. At least, you tried to until you were suddenly slammed by a body quite larger than your own. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, the buildings behind you a blur until you were pulled into an abandoned convenience store. 

“Are you insane?” the stranger scowled. 

One second, two, three before you gathered up your wits. 

“Let go of me,” you shouted, pushing off the stranger, “and yeah, I am.”

You aimed your gun at the stranger who held his arms up in surrender. 

“A thank you would be nice,” he frowned. 

The tall man was dressed in tattered jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. Around his wrists were newspapers bound by masking tape. He was covered in blood, dirt and grime; chapped lips and sharp eyes; black hair nestled messily on top of his head. Aside from all the cuts and bruises, you would deem him handsome. Although, that’s not of importance right now. 

“What would I be thanking you for?” 

“For saving you,” he replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I didn’t need saving.”

He scoffed, “You were about to die.” 

“I’m already dead,” you muttered, “we all are.”

The stranger raised his brows, “Is that so?”

“There’s nothing to live for,” you replied.

He stared you in the eyes. “Then go back out there. Go say hello to your fanclub.”

A brief staredown occurred, his gaze challenging your own. Both of you knew that you wouldn’t walk back out there. At that moment, you wanted to see how close you could get to Death, but when it really came down to it, you didn’t want to die, not to those things anyways, and―as much as you’d like to say otherwise―most definitely not now.  You were on the brink of insanity, yes, but you weren’t completely diving in head first. You also knew that deep-down, you’re relieved that he saved you. 

And he knew that too. 

“Don’t move!” you shouted when he started to lower his arms.

He paused and looked over to the counter, “I’m just reaching for the candy.”

You eyed the counter where a bag of food laid and followed his movements closely as he reached for the opened bag of gummy bears on the counter.

“You’re human, just like me. We’re not like those...beasts out there, but if you really want to become like them, then go ahead.” He reached for the backpack lying on the floor by the counter and slung it over his back, “I already tried saving you once, though your actions aren’t in my controls.” 

He opened the back door of the grocery store and left. 

Your shoulders finally relaxed. You lowered your gun, then glanced out the window at the horde of monsters that roamed around aimlessly looking for the meal that had escaped them. Those soulless creatures were easy to read, easy to know what their intentions were. You turned back to the door where the stranger walked through. Who knows what his intentions were?

Yet, you decided to follow him.

For a block or two you followed him, watching as he slashed through the creatures with his machete. Occasionally, you too, killed the monsters that made their way towards you. Eventually, he entered a building and climbed all the way to the roof. 

You found him sitting at the edge, feet dangling as he stared ahead. His weapon lay next to him and his previous bag of opened gummy bears sat in his hand. You joined him by the edge, and this might be even stupider than attracting a mob of bloodthirsty fiends. 

Rather than shoving you off, he offered you some gummy bears which you accepted. He didn’t turn to look at you once. In silence, the two of you observed the abandoned city in front of you. Rubbled buildings weakly stood, streets filled with crashed cars, various monsters (who were once human) lingered on the sidewalks. The prettiest of all the ruins was the sky. A toxic mix of orange hues. Shapes of clouds filled the sky, providing no rain and no shade. The Sun was half over the horizon. It sent out constant waves of warmth. 

“I’m Doyoung,” he whispered, as if it were sacred to share his name. He turned to you, eyes vulnerable, a soft brown like the fresh soil used to plant a flower, “Kim Doyoung.”

You gasped out your name as you woke up. 

You sat up in your bed, dazed from the dream. Or, was it a dream? Panic slowly tickled your spine and you immediately turned on the news, phone dialing with numbers of your loved ones. 

After constant reassurances from your friends and family, you slumped on the couch. It was all just a dream. It was just a dream! You shook your head and went to wash your face in the bathroom. It was just a dream. A dream that you vividly remember. 

A dream with Kim Doyoung.

-

For the next few months―each month―you had one overly vivid dream that included Kim Doyoung and the apocalyptic, orange skied world. It mostly consisted of the two of you running around in empty fields, abandoned cities and hacking away at monsters. In many ways, it was you and Doyoung against the world. 

“Any updates on dream boy?” Kara, your best friend, smiled, sitting at the bar-counter of the diner you worked at. 

You placed her usual order of coffee in front of her. “You’re still calling him that?”

“Well, isn’t he?” she shrugged.

“Yeah…”

She smiled, “Any updates?”

Your heart thumped slightly at the question, the memory of the dream you had this morning resurfacing. 

The squelch of flesh echoed against the walls of the room as you and Doyoung explored the bakery. 

“Believe it or not, I was a baker,” he shared, slashing at a crazed waitress

“A baker?” you asked, raising your brows, quickly opening the door to the kitchen area. Running towards you was a murderous customer who, you assumed, didn’t receive the food they wanted. After taking care of the virused creature, you frowned at the disemboweled chef on the floor, “Should we bake in this kitchen?” 

“Do you want to?”

“Not with this on the floor,” you mumbled with a pout, “I thought we finally found a place!”

He shrugged, “Let’s just move the body.”

Together, the two of you, while trying not to gag, dragged away all the dead bodies in the kitchen and tossed them out. After another check around the bakery, the two of you barricaded the windows and doors, also checking through them to make sure no more rotted mouths were running towards you. 

Once all safety precautions were taken care of, Doyoung took out a container of sanitary wipes.

You snorted, “Are you really going to clean?”

“I told you, I was a baker, and in order to cook or bake, you need a clean area.”

You didn’t say anything, only smiling in amusement as he started to wipe the counter. 

“Aren’t you going to help me?” he asked.

Your smile turned upside down as you saw the dusty counter, bloodied floors and molded dishes. “Do I have to?” 

Doyoung threw the container of sanitary wipes at you. You caught it with a grumble. After a good three hours, the kitchen was finally clean enough for Doyoung’s standards. 

“I can’t believe you wanted to clean on your birthday. We could’ve just grabbed one of the pastries or gotten a cake from another place,” you sighed. 

“Well, if we did that, then you wouldn’t make me a cake.”

“Aren’t you the baker?” You countered. 

“Yep!” he leaned against the counter, “but you’re the one who promised to make me a cake.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, dragging your feet as you made your way over to the pantry. 

Somehow, you managed to follow the recipe that you tore from a cookbook and not burn down the entire building. You grabbed the cake from the counter, “Let’s hope you enjoy this, Mr. I’m-a-baker-so-I’m-going-to-give-your-novice-attempt-at-a-cake-a-rating-out-of-ten.” 

“Just an FYI, I had my own bakery,” he proudly added.

“Showing off now, I see,” you chuckled, placing a one tier cake with a very messily and unnecessarily large ‘Happy Birthday Doyou’ written on it. “I ran out of space for your name,” you explained as you added a candle, “but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“2 points off,” Doyoung called out, “didn’t complete your decorations, y/n? Not good.”

“No mercy, huh?” you tsked, lighting up the candle, “not even one point for the effort?”

He shrugged. 

“Guess I’ll just have to impress you with my singing skills,” you sighed. 

Doyoung watched with amused eyes, “You can try.”

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Arden- ” 

“Minus another two points.” 

Your jaw dropped, “What, I totally was hitting that high note!”

Doyoung shook his head, “First off, no. Secondly, who even is Arden.”

“Don’t know, maybe it was a classmate of mine whose birthday just happens to be today,” you shrugged. 

He raised a brow.

”Look, I just wanted to say a random name other than yours.” 

“Another point off.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Insulting the judge,” he shook his head, holding back a smile, “another point.”

“Doyoung!” you whined.

He laughed, “Okay, okay. I’ll give back two points if it tastes good.”

“Four if it blows you away,” you bargained.

“Deal.” 

Although you watched with a confident smile, your heart pumped nervously in your chest. You weren’t the best cook, nor baker, so you knew that there was a chance that the cake wouldn’t taste that good. And you were right. 

Doyoung’s face twisted into a sour expression. 

“It’s…”

“Just say it,” you sighed, “don’t hold back.”

“Horrible.”

You sighed and sat down next to him. You took a piece of the cake to taste. Upon the abomination you called a cake landed on your tastebuds, you realized that you deserved a final rating of -54325/10. 

“This tastes like…very salty sand,” you gagged, “did I forget the sugar or something?”

Doyoung got up from his seat and analyzed your ingredients. “My love, I think you did.” He then placed the bag of what you thought was sugar in front of you. 

“It’s salt?!”

Needless to say, Doyoung saved his own birthday cake by making one himself. You insisted that you should help which, reflecting back on it, you weren’t sure was a good idea or not. Multiple times, you got distracted by the way the dim lights of the kitchen seemed to highlight his face, or the way it felt too comfortable with his hand over yours when he would teach you how to do something. It left your stomach flipping, palms a little sweaty, and your heart ready to burst out of your chest. 

“And it’s done!” he smiled, finding the last flower decoration on the cake. 

It was clear who decorated what. 

All the orderly placed strawberries, raspberries and blackberries, along with the prettily swirled flowers and legible font were obviously Doyoung’s expertise whereas the little random patches of unevenly placed blueberries and poorly attempted flowers that ended up looking like dots were your humbly added touches. 

“Wait, I want to add one last thing,” you told him.

You took the piping bag full of royal icing from him and started to shakily draw on the corner of the cake. 

“Is that...a bunny?”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you concentrated, “Yep.”

“Why a bunny?”

“You look like a bunny when you smile,” you nonchalantly confessed.

Doyoung didn’t say anything.

“Alright!” you smiled, proud of the animal that you drew. You turned to Doyoung who you were surprised to see already looking at you. “Doyoung?”

He looked towards the cake and cleared his throat, “You uhm, you ready to sing?”

“I thought we were just going to eat it?” 

“Oh…”

“Well, I mean, unless you want to hear my amazing vocal-”

“Let’s just eat,” he grimaced.

You laughed, taking a knife and slicing a piece. You offered for him to take the first bite. 

“No, no, you taste it.”

“You’re the birthday boy,” you countered.

“And as the birthday boy, I want you to take the first bite.”

You frowned, “Pulled that one on me, huh?”

He only gave you the bunny smile that made your knees weak. 

“Fine,” you grumbled, taking a bite of the cake. It tasted a thousand times better than the cake that you made. “Oh my- This is really good! You need to try it.”

You didn’t get a chance to fully give Doyoung a piece of cake because he gently cupped your jaw, turning your chin to face him. 

“I think I’ll try it now.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you. It was quick, unexpected on both sides of the party. That didn’t stop him from kissing you a second time though. This time, it was less hesitant and a little longer. He pulled away, yet again. 

The two of you took time staring into each other’s eyes. His thumb rubbed against your cheek. 

“You’re absolutely breath-taking,” he confessed.

You smiled, “Doyoung…”

“Completely stunning,” he whispered, leaning closer. 

Your eyes started fluttering close as you muttered his name.

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.”

Kara’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with mischief, “Oooo someone did have a dream.”

Your face felt hot. 

“Someone had a dream?” Felix asked curiously. He took the seat next to Kara and placed a plate full of waffles in between the three of you. 

Kara stuffed a piece in her mouth, “Dream boy strikesh ahjain.”

“What?” you mused.

She swallowed her food. “I said, dream boy strikes again,” Kara smiled, “perhaps, a little something happened?”

“Maybe a little something.”

“Like…” Felix trailed off. 

“Like… a kiss.” 

“You kissed him?!” your friends both exclaimed. 

Luckily, at the early hour of 6 in the morning, the diner was always empty except for the three of you. You rolled your eyes. “So what, we kissed,” you shrugged, “it’s just a dream.”

“Y/N,” Felix sighed in an exasperated tone, “it’s not just any dream-”

“It’s a dream with your dream boy!” Kara finished. 

“He could be your soulmate!” Felix gasped, “What if he’s having dreams like this too!”

“C’mon,” you gave your best friend a look of disbelief, “he’s not even real.”

“You don’t know that,” Kara told you, “there are people out there named Kim Doyoung.”

Felix tilted his head and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “You know, his name does sound pretty familiar.”  

You shook your head, “You guys are crazy.”

They continued to converse about people named Doyoung and possible suitors for you which you ignored and, instead, focused on continuing to wipe down the counter. The door to the diner then jingled as a customer stepped in. 

“Welcome in!” you greeted, still not looking up from the counter. Not hearing a response from the customer, you looked up. The rag in your hand dropped onto the counter. At your reaction, your friends stopped talking. 

Doyoung.

The man dressed in all black that stood at the door, smiled slightly, “Hello.” 

You felt the eyes of your friends. 

Clearing your throat, you nodded, “Oh uh, hi. Sit where you want.”

He nodded before making his way towards a corner table. 

“Looks like someone likes-” Kara started, but you interrupted her. 

“It’s him,” you told them quietly. 

“He’s the man of your-” they both exclaimed.

“Shut up!” you hissed before they could finish their sentence. 

They both glanced over at the man looking out the window before turning back to you with wide grins.

“He’s the man of your dreams?” they both asked excitedly.

“You two are unbelievable,” you mumbled, taking a menu and walking over to the man.

“Here’s your menu. My name is y/n, I’ll be serving you today. Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” you smiled. 

When Doyoung, or the man that looked like Doyoung, heard your name, you could’ve sworn that his eyes widened slightly, but you shook off the thought and left when he mutely nodded his head at you. 

“It’s dream boy,” Kara immediately said once you returned back to the counter. 

You shook your head in disbelief, looking over at him before back to Kara. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” Felix quietly whispered.

“Just because it looks like him doesn’t mean it is him! He’s just a dream,” you nodded over at Doyoung, “that guy, he’s real.”

While you bickered quietly with your friends, Doyoung spared another glance your way. It was odd seeing you in normal clothing, ones that weren’t tattered or bloodied. You weren’t holding your usual weapon, and you most definitely weren’t bashing heads. Though, he couldn’t help but admire you in the same way he had in his dreams. 

“Completely stunning,” he mumbled. 

When you dropped the rag, he was sure that you recognized him; recognized him as the Kim Doyoung from NCT. When your friends kept whispering and looking back at him, he knew that, not only you, but also your friends knew who he was. Doyoung turned back to the menu.

He doubted you knew had the same dreams as him. He did feel a bit awkward considering the fact that he dreamt of kissing you without knowing that you were an actual person. Maybe he should leave? After all, he was hoping to come to this diner because it was relatively empty, and he just hoped that the people in here wouldn’t know him. 

He glanced once more over to the counter where your friends quickly turned their gaze away from him. 

“Guys, he’s looking over here,” you muttered, “you’re making him feel uncomfortable.”

“You’re right,” Felix mumbled, “we can’t destroy your chances at dating dream boy.”

Kara nodded, “Yes, we’ll leave.”

“What?” you exclaimed, a bit louder than intended. Lowering your voice, you sent a panicked glance at your friends who were packing up, “Where are you going?”

“Well, I have to go to work now,” Kara sighed loudly, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “I’m going to get going.”

Felix followed Kara’s lead and stood up, “Yeah, I have to go walk my cat.”

Before you could process that Felix doesn’t have a cat, they were out the door, leaving you alone, in the diner, at approximately 6:37 AM with a boy that―just this morning―you dreamt of kissing. Your face felt heated again. 

Shaking your head, you looked over at Doyoung who was analyzing the menu. 

For the first time, you could clearly see him. His hair matched the color of his black long-sleeve turtleneck that was tucked into some black jeans. No blood, no dirt, no machete, just him. Just him and the highlight of the Sun on his cheeks. That reminded you of the dream you had and you shook away the daze, turning your attention to the very interesting tile of the counter that looked like it needed some serious scrubbing (not really). 

“I’m ready to order,” Doyoung softly called out. 

You quickly walked over to him, jotted down his order, then ran away to hide in the kitchen. Your body worked on auto-pilot as you prepared his meal. With his drink and food in hand, you started to walk back towards his table. Doyoung was staring out the window and he was humming. 

As you got closer, you realized that you knew that song. 

“Do you remember what the stars looked like?”

In the middle of an empty grass field, you laid with Doyoung. Your head was rested on his chest, and you felt his voice vibrate throughout his chest. 

“Yeah,” you told him, “they look like your eyes.”

You could feel Doyoung roll his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“So am I!”

He chuckled and brushed his fingers through your hair. “Did you ever stare at the stars and see everything you wanted? Did you ever see your ambitions? Your achievements?”

“Getting deep here, aren’t we?”

Doyoung sat up, “Have you?”

You stared at him for a moment before turning to the endless orange sky. The Sun never seemed to move from its place over the horizon. 

“Yeah, I have.”

A pause of silence. 

“When I looked up at the stars, I saw my future. I saw the plans I had, the answers to my problems, I saw hope. However...” you smiled sadly at the orange hues, “they all went up in flames.”

Doyoung placed his hand on yours. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get that deep,” you crookedly smiled, but Doyoung only pulled you into a hug. And the two of you stayed like that for a while. 

“What did you see?” you asked when the two of you were back to laying on the floor. 

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Me on stage, singing.”

“Singing?”

He sighed, “Yep. It was nothing more than a hobby, but my grandmother would tell me that I was a singer in some other life. She told me that if I looked at the stars, they would show me.” 

You chuckled, “Kim Doyoung, a singer.”

“I’m sharing a heart-touching story and you’re laughing.”

“Sorry,” you gave his knuckle a kiss, “it’s my coping mechanism.”

He intertwined his hand with yours, “I’m just kidding, but is seeing me as a singer that funny?”

You shrugged, “A bit hard to believe.”

“Really?” he asked, sitting up, untangling your hands.

“A little,” you admitted. 

He stood up and lent you a hand. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, taking his offer. 

The two of you were back to traversing through empty fields and abandoned streets (fighting zombies along the way) until you stopped in front of a music store. Ripped posters hung from the window, a broken open sign dangled from the door, and a few savage creatures were lingering inside. Using the power of teamwork, you and Doyoung were finally able to do what you pleased.

“So why’d you bring me here?”

He sat a keyboard, “I’m going to play for you.”

“Doyoung, that’s going to attract a lot of noise,” you peeked through the boarded windows, “is this really a good idea?”

“Aren’t you five kills behind me?” Doyoung asked.

The competitive side of you perked at the mention of your kill counter. You were reminded of the little daily game that you and Doyoung decided to play. It was simply just to see who could kill the most virus-infected barbarians you could in a day. 

But, your smarter side still worried about safety. 

“I’ll sing you two lines,” he told you, “just two lines.”

“Fine,” you sighed.

“This is an original, by the way.”

“Wow, an original song,” you teased, “just for me.”

He winked, “Of course.”

“What’s it called?”

“Lost Souls,” you mumbled, “the song is called Lost Souls.”

“You’re actually my dream boy,” you blurted.

“What?” 

You awkwardly placed his food down on the table, along with his drink, “Uhm-”

Outside the window behind him, you could’ve sworn you saw the setting change and a creature run head first into the window. You gasped as Doyoung quickly turned towards the noise. “The apocalypse,” he mumbled. 

Slowly, the blue sky started to change. “Orange skies,” you announced.  

The tables were rusted, chairs torn, walls peeling. “Empty buildings,” he added. 

Doyoung turned to face you, the same warm eyes as in your dreams staring right into your own. A certain dream resurfaced. 

You looked at the familiar looking convenience store, “Is this the building where we met?”

Doyoung didn’t answer you, only saying, “I hope you like watermelon ring pops.”

“What?” you laughed, watching as he reappeared from between the aisles.

He stood in front of you, unwrapping the watermelon ring pop. He then bent down on one knee. 

“Just you and I?” he asked.

“Against the world.”

[dressthesage]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774231

Really excited to post the first chapter of my first real attempt at writing a long-term fan fic. Of course it’s Edeleth, but I put a spin on Byleth’s upbringing, specifically the “raised by mercenaries” piece that I think will be fun to watch play out. Please enjoy!

Byleth propped herself up on a long, strange sword in the middle of the throne room across a plush red rug from a short, silver haired woman. The woman was clutching an axe that was the stuff of nightmares, its head seemingly made from misshapen bone. The red fabric of the drapes and lavish rugs did little to hide the blood covering the room. The bodies of dozens of armored soldiers covered the ground, their polished silver armor dulled by the dried viscera caked over it. They we’re not alone however. Scattered around the room was nearly a dozen or so other people, their clothing all distinct and varied, almost none of it seeming fit to be on an actual battlefield. A man with bright green hair lay dead on the ground next to a large wyvern, the color of his robes warped by the blood soaking them. Two women lay a few feet away from him, one atop the other as if trying to protect them. Though it had made little difference as both were filled with long silver arrows. One of them was wearing strangely cut clothes that looked to be made from leather and covered in beads, while the woman laid over her wore a long red gown. Another 7 bodies were splayed across the floor, one with long orange hair, another with it short and choppy. A blue haired man in armor and a young man in long green robes both lay dead on the ground, hands inches away from eachother as if reaching for help that would never come.

“It seems as though your path ends here, my teacher…” The silver haired woman said as she slowly walked towards Byleth. There was no joy in her voice, nor malice. The woman held no hatred in her eyes, just a grim, exhausted determination. “Please know I feel no joy in claiming this victory, but I must strike you down here, and now.” Her heavy footsteps stopped, ending right in front of Byleth, who turned her gaze up to stare at the horned woman, too exhausted to fear what was to come. “Right now, across the whole nation people are killing each other, Byleth. It has to end. If it doesn’t end here, then it will go on forever. Fódlan's future lies across your grave, and if that is the path I must walk than so be it.” Byleth felt a cold, calloused finger hook underneath her chin and lift her head up so she was staring into the woman’s tired lilac eyes. “I had wanted...so badly to walk with you, my love,” the woman paused as tears began building in the corner of her eyes before roughly pushing Byleth away.

Byleth lay there, looking up as she heard a voice that was hers and yet at the same time not whisper. “El….Please….” But the axe tore into the side of her throat all the same.

Byleth’s eyes shot open as she sat upright, turning to her side as quickly as she could before violently expelling the contents of her stomach onto the smooth stone beneath her. Never before had a nightmare had such an intense effect on her. She stood up slowly, knees weak. The area around her however was just as unfamiliar as her dream had been. A large, seemingly endless stone-floored room, with a staircase leading up to a large throne, on top of which was draped a rather tired looking young girl, who’s hair was a similar shade of green to the man Byleth had seen next to the wyvern…..maybe? Things were starting to get muddled in her mind as she slowly regained her footing. Details seemed to blur a bit here and there, but this wasn’t the time to dwell on that. The young girl stared at her with a curious look in her eyes.

“How did you ever manage to end up here again?...” Byleth looked at her, confused. “Well, no matter. It’s rather rude of you to interrupt my well-earned rest, very rude indeed. Now come to me, I wish to have a look at you. Something’s different this time….” As Byleth walked towards the strange girl a bit more light shone down on her. Looking down Byleth felt some relief to see her clothes were unchanged from the night before, as opposed to the fading memory of the unwieldy garb she’d worn in that dream. Her hair was still the same short choppy blue mess that ended just above her jaw and her armor was simple. Her black, knee length tunic and black pants were untouched by the dirt and moisture that filled this room. Her midsection, shoulders and arms were covered in a lighter plate armor than the heavy steel of her boots, and both had clearly seen their fair share of battles. Her cloak was seemingly nowhere to be found, but otherwise, she was clothed.

“Hmmmmm, I’ve not seen you like this before,” the child paused before asking ”tell me, who are you?”.

“I…..I am Byleth.” She said. This child seemed kind enough, but it felt much like looking at the water in a canal, the surface was calm, but there was a feeling of something underneath that should terrify her.

“Huh, I had never thought I’d be accustomed to human names, but it seems a small mercy that you hold onto the one I know best. How strange! Hmm. It all feels so familiar, yet at the same time so very very…different. I think it may be time for yet another nap...something seems to have drained me, and I find my mind getting foggier by the moment. Now, get on your way. ”

“Hey, kid, It’s time to wake up.” Byleth’s eyes dragged open and she sat up from her small bedroll, trying to make heads or tails of anything from her dream...either of them. The first had faded so quickly from her mind it was a mess of colors and emotions more than any coherent image.

“Were you having that dream again?” Jeralt asked, kneeling down so his face was closer to level with Byleth’s, resting his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, shaking her head slightly to try and clear it of what remained of the fog of sleep.

“I...dreamt about a woman. She was short, and her eyes were...what were they?” She wondered aloud. She’d remembered the exhaustion in the woman’s eyes, but she’d lost the color of them to the fog.

“You’ve described her to me before. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that, green hair and all.” Jeralt said as he stood and patted Byleth’s shoulder.

“No, it wasn’t her...well it was but before…” Jeralt cut her off, though byleth was more whispering to herself than anything so it seemed just as likely he hadn’t heard her in the first place.

“In any case, just put that out of your mind for now. The battlefield is no place for idle thoughts. Risking your life is part of the job for mercenaries like us. Letting your mind wander is a sure way to get yourself killed.” Byleth nodded and stood up, taking Jeralt’s offered hand to help her up.“OK, soon it’s going to be time to get moving towards our next job in Farghus. It’s far from here, so we’ll need to be ready to leave at dawn.”

"Of course, Sir." Byleth replied as she and Jeralt turned to hear the sounds of armored boots clanking down the road cobblestone paths could be heard.

“Good grief, it seems the entire camp is up and waiting for us out there. Let’s go see what…” The door behind Jeralt swung open and a hastily armored mercenary ran into the room.

“Jeralt! Sir, I’m sorry to barge in like this, but you’re needed immediately.”

“Vladimir, what happened?” The young mercenary opened his mouth to reply when suddenly three clamoring masses forced their way through the door. Three people stood, panting desperately, between Jeralt and Vladimir. One of them, a blonde young man with a blue half-cape draped over him was the first to speak.

“Please forgive us for such a rude entrance sir, we wouldn’t bother you were the situation not absolutely dire.” His voice, between his rapid panting breaths, was deeper than would be expected from someone his age.

“What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?” Jeralt’s voice held no animosity toward the three of them, but Byleth could see in the way his shoulders were set, he expected a fight.

“We’re being pursued by a group of bandits. I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support.” The blonde boy replied. Jeralt had been right.

“Bandits? Here?”

“It’s true. They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.” This time the person to reply to Jeralt was the young woman to the left of the blonde they’d just been speaking with. Her attire was rather strange. While the other two were wearing somewhat sensable pants and ornate shirts, with armor scattered around in various places, she wore a pair of black shorts and red tights, along with a pair of black heeled shoes.

“We’ve been separated from our companions and we’re outnumbered. They’re after our lives…not to mention our gold.” the last member of the trio, a young man with a yellow cape draped over his left shoulder, explained.

“I’m impressed by how calm you all seem considering the situation. But, I have to ask, your uniforms…”

“Sir! A large group of bandits have been spotted, just outside the village!” A mercenary screamed out, before he and Vladimir ran out the door, presumably to assemble whatever forces they could.

“I guess they followed you all this way, then. We won’t abandon you to a bandit’s blade, but ensure you do not get in the way.” Jeralt said as he looked over his shoulder at Byleth. Byleth nodded, face blank of anything betraying an emotion, and grabbed a pair of iron brawling gauntlets off of the floor. Jeralt began walking towards the door. “Come on, let’s move. I hope you’re ready for this, all of you.”

The five of them ran out of the building. Jeralt was the first to speak.

“Kid, take the three students and meet me in the northern forest. I’ll get my mount and meet you there with as many men as I can rally.” Byleth gave another nod and turned to the three kids, students but of what she had no idea, and finished sliding her gauntlets into place.

“Follow closely.” They all three nodded, not a moment of hesitation among them. The four of them ran towards the large forest to the north of the mercenary camp. Byleth was preparing to find a clearing to wait for Jeralt and his men, when the yellow-caped student called out.

“Bandits, to the left!” And he was correct. Out of the trees roughly 100 yards away, several large bandits were emerging. The largest of them, a bearded man, had clearly already had seen the four of them, as the bandits began rapidly moving towards them. The girl to Byleth’s right took hold of the blunted Iron axe that had been slung across her back, While the boy in yellow and the boy in blue pulled out a bow and lance respectively.

“Keep close. Red, I want you to my right. Blue, to my left, and Yellow stay behind us. Make sure as few of them get to us as possible and we’ll make sure none of them make it to you.”

“We do have names you know.” The girl in red muttered, clearly none too pleased.

“Make it out of this alive and I’ll learn them. I know enough dead men’s names to last a lifetime, I don’t need any more.” Byleth’s reply, paired with the blank expression she wore, set all three students on edge. “If I tell you to do something and you don’t, your death is on your own head. Understood?”

“Understood... I must wonder if all mercenaries are as strange as you. Well fine, let’s see what you’ve got.” Edelgard said, shifting into a lower combat stance and readying her axe.

“Understood. Thank you for lending us your strength. A death here wouldn’t do, so let us fight together!” The one in blue said to Byleth, his lance poised for blood.

“Understood. Keep me alive, and you will have my eternal thanks.” The young man in yellow said, almost jovially as he readied an arrow.

Byleth nodded and with a “Charge!” the quartet sprang forward. Three bandits ran at them from the left. The lancer charged towards the one leading the pack, smacking the side of his spear into the man’s head, while the archer launched a shot into his head, the blunted training arrow knocking him onto his back unconscious. . The girl in red charged forward and slammed her axe into the shoulder of one of the bandits, a second later Byleth brought her iron-clad fist into the side of the man’s head, bone cracking loudly as he fell dead.

The last conscious member of the initial bandit charge ran forward and swung at the girl in red, leaving a long gash along her right arm. One bandit who seemed to come from the woods to their right charged towards the boy in yellow, but the lancer in blue stood in his path, taking a blow to his side before swatting the bandit back. The lancer took the opportunity and lashed out and swung for the man’s head, catching the side of his jaw and sending the man to the ground, out cold. The archer ran forward and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Dimitri, are you ok?!”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Claude. A flesh wound at worst. Don’t lose focus.” The one in blue, Dimitri, replied as he clutched at his side, leaning on his lance. “Go help Edelgard and that woman, I’ll watch your back and catch up in a moment.” The boy in yellow, Claude, smiled and nodded at him.

“Ok. Just don’t take too long looking at my ass and not cover your own.” Dimitri chuckled as Claude ran towards Byleth and Edelgard, who stood over the unconscious form of a large axe wielding bandit. Once Dimitri was finally caught up the final four bandits were upon them, including the man with the beard. Two charged forward towards Edelgard and Byleth, and were felled quickly by the duo. Claude and Dimitri tore away from the two women and charged at the bandit that was trying to come up from behind.

Finally, it was time to fight the bearded bandit leader. All four ran towards him, Byleth going forward, with Edelgard running at him from the left and Dimitri from the right. All the while Claude shot at him from behind the trio. The bandit fell to the ground with barely a sound except a dull thud. Even Byleth was left a bit winded by the battle, with the three students all gasping for air desperately. Byleth sat down, leaning against a tree as she began to regain her breath. After a moment or two, the girl in red stood up, having been leaned forward with her hands braced on her knees, and looked at the mercenary.

“Edelgard….my name is Edelgard Von Hresvelg.” She said between pants.

“Good for you.” Byleth mumbled, her tone was as blank emotionally as it ever was. She held her hand out, which Edelgard took in her own in a firm handshake. “Byleth, my name is Byleth Eisner.”

Edelgard...it was quite a pretty name but strangely familiar, as if she had heard it before. Perhaps it was one of her father’s old stories, or some noble she'd heard gossip about. But that wasn’t of much importance. Byleth stood, preparing to begin walking as she heard the sounds of hooves drawing near. Presumably belonging to her father’s mount.

“Come, we need to regroup with the rest of the encampment and see if there are any more bandits around.” The three nodded simultaneously. Dimitri and Claude went to pick up their weapons, while Edelgard continued forward, past Byleth.

Suddenly the quiet was pierced by a loud battle cry. “Die! You noble brat!” Rang throughout the woods as Byleth turned to see the bearded man running at Edelgard with his axe in hand. Edelgard was fumbling with her axe but she wouldn’t make it in time. Byleth launched forward, shoving the girl aside before turning in hopes of presenting some kind of fight, but the axe was inches from her throat when it stopped suddenly. Byleth looked down, and saw everything, even the grass which had been billowing in the wind a moment ago had stopped. When she looked up she saw not the bandit leader, but that strange green haired girl on the throne.

“It seems some things never change with you. I don’t know whether to be happy you seem to be your same foolhardy self or even more angry! Honestly, what were you ever hoping to achieve with that little “noble sacrifice” stunt?” The young girl yelled down from her seat. Byleth could only shrug and look up at her.

“I….she needed help.” Byleth said, looking up as if that was all that needed to be said. The room was silent for a long moment, as the strange girl looked at her with eyes that struck Byleth as almost mournful. After another long moment she sighed and leaned back, slumping against the backrest of the throne.

“Well… I am at the very least glad to see you’re still yourself, with all the hopeless shortcomings that entails. But I can’t expect you to protect your life if you don’t remember the value of it. I am Sothis, the goddess that watches over this land and it’s people, and I guess It’s up to me to guide you from now on. Here is the hope that from this moment on things can make a bit more sense.”

“Sothis? The goddess? You speak of me as if you know me, yet I’ve never met a child so odd as you to claim to be the goddess herself.”

“You think me a child, still? Yet again it shows that all your differences aside you’re as bullheaded as ever. I just saved your life! It’s not the first time I’ve done so either! With how you seem to act I highly doubt it will be the last as well. What does that make you?” Sothis was standing now, her arms crossed in front of her as she looked down on Byleth.

“I am indebted to a child.” This seemed to take Sothis by surprise.

“I suppose you are. Now, I believe we have a more pressing matter at hand. You threw yourself before an axe to save just one girl, and were it not for my quick intervention you’d have died.” Byleth looked at her confused, or at least Sothis believed it to be confusion. On Byleth’s stoic face that meant little more than a slight crease in the corners of her eyes. Of all the things that could’ve changed between their first meeting and whatever had gotten them here, Sothis wished Byleth could have kept a bit more of the emotional spectrum she remembered the young mercenary having. Although she was starting to have trouble remembering what exactly Byleth had been like before. “It is just your lucky day that, whatever has changed, I still seem to be able to rewind time as well as pause it. Only so far, it seems. I feel so very drained and yet I can’t seem to figure a reason why. But I can do it all the same! Now, this time around, please try a bit harder to actually protect yourself, lest you condemn us both to a painful, if very very dramatic, end.” With that, her hands raised into the air, light arranging itself into intricate patterns in front of her as Byleth felt her stomach lurch, and suddenly she was back in the forest, Edelgard standing with her back to Byleth as the bearded bandits shout rang across the trees. Byleth didn’t hesitate for a second, swiftly moving between the two of them and raised her arms in front of her. The Bandits axe lodged in the iron of her gauntlet, and while he struggled to pull it loose, Byleth brought her unburdened fist up under his jaw. His head flew back, and he fell over onto his hands and knees, panickedly crawling away until he was finally stable enough to get up and run. Byleth turned to Edelgard as Dimitri and Claude both reached them, weapons at the ready.

“Edelgard, are you injured?” Dimitri asked watching the bandit disappear into the trees.

“No, Dimitri, I am fine. She was fast enough to stop him before he even got close.” She replied, gesturing to Byleth, who was now busy trying to dislodge the axe currently stuck in her gauntlet. By the time she had succeeded her father and several mercenaries had arrived to the clearing. Jeralt dismounted from his horse.

“Byleth, did you just….” Suddenly a man wearing a suit of armor with a frankly ridiculous shoulder spike, along with several other well armored men came out from the forest where they had just seen the bandit disappear.

“The Knights of Seiros are here! Fear not good students, for we shall cut down all who terrorize…...wait, where are they?” He turned to the men behind him. “Go hunt them down!”. The men nodded and ran back into the forest, while the man came closer to Byleth and Jeralt, calling out as he walked.

“Thank you so much for protecting the young students my kind man! May I ask your… wait…Captain Jeralt!? Is it really you? Haha! It’s been nearly 20 years! Do you recognize me? Of course you do! How could you ever forget your old right-hand man, Alois? I knew you couldn’t be dead!”

“Alois, I see you haven’t changed much in all these years, least of all your volume. But I’m not your captain anymore, I’m a mercenary, so quit with the formalities. If you need me, I’ll be packing up the camp with the rest of my men, we have work in the Alliance.” Exhaustion was clear in her father’s voice.

“Wait! You can’t just walk off, this is fantastic! I insist that you return to the monastery. Lady Rhea will surely want to thank you for protecting her students.

“Garreg Mach….I suppose this was inevitable.” Jeralt’s tone said plenty. He was less than ecstatic, even by his usual standards.

“And what about you, kid? Are you the captain's child?” Alois asked, seemingly sizing her up. Byleth’s response was a quick and simple nod, followed by a rather uncomfortable silence that was finally broken by Alois coughing awkwardly. “Well it does seem while not much was inherited regarding appearance, you certainly learned his way with words. Haha..but still! It’ll be wonderful to show you the monastery as well! I assume you’re coming along?” Byleth gave another quick nod and Jeralt began walking away, giving orders to the men around the camp and preparing for travel.

“Now captain! Don’t go running off again!” Alois called towards Jeralt.

“Even I’m not that daring, Alois.”

Byleth wandered back to the cabin she’d occupied the night before and packed her few personal belongings. She left out a small bottle of healers brew, a strong alcohol used to clean wounds, and a bundle of cloth that had once been a shirt she used for bandaging. She sat on top of her travel pack and now-rolled-up bedroll, slowly undoing the various buckles that held her armor in place and sliding the armour and tunic over top of her head. She finally was able to start examining the damage from the morning. There was a long but rather surface lever gash in her forearm, an arrow wound in her left thigh, and a few bruises where her armor had protected her from a blade but not the force behind it. She made quick work of cleaning out the wounds and wrapping most of them in bandaging before taking time to stitch the arrow wound. She’d always healed faster than most of the brigade so she tended not to want to bother the few mages with healing magic they had, lest they need that magic to save another man later.

It was right about when Byleth had slid her roughspun cotton under-shirt back on that she heard a knock from the front door. She sighed, stood, and turned on her heel toward the door, throwing it open without even a second thought. She’d lived with the company as long as she could remember, and living among nomadic sell-swords meant there were vastly lower bars for personal boundaries than in other groups. However, when the door opened on a slightly nervous looking Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude, two of whom proceeded to go wide eyed and beat red, all the while Claude remained completely unphased, Byleth began to realise just how stark that difference in standards might be.

“Can I help you?” Byleth asked, leaning against the door frame as she crossed her arms in front of her.

“I...I wanted to thank you. Your help was greatly appreciated, and your skill is beyond question. You’re clearly an experienced mercenary. N..not that that’s at all surprising given your father was a former Knight Captain, Jeralt the Blade Breaker.”

“Hmmmm, I never knew he was a captain. He’s been a mercenary as long as I’ve been able to remember.” Edelgard looked up from what must have been a rather fascinating patch of grass at her feet, if how intensely she had been staring at it was any indication. Making her the first of the awkward duo to be able to look Byleth in the eye. She had a strange look in her eyes, the lilac color notwithstanding. It was something like a vague hope.

“Curious….I’m sure the reasoning for that must be a fascinating story.”

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to hear the story. You’re coming with us to the monastery, correct? I’d love to bend your ear during the trek back to the officers academy. It’s at least a day and a half’s walk from here.” Claude smiled at Byleth as he asked.

“What’s the matter, Claude, trying to ensure this nice woman is there in case there are any more bandit’s you need to run away from?” Edelgard asked, smirking at the archer.

“Now Edelgard, leave him alone.” Dimitri said, a small grin crossing his cheeks. “I’m sure he was only acting in our best interest by leaving us behind to fight those bandits alone.” Claude laughed and soon the conversation devolved into a bickering match filled with accusations of paranoia, cowardice, gullibility and all other sorts of weak-at-best insults until Byleth snapped her fingers, getting the three student’s attention.

“May I ask which part of this pertains to me?”

Dimitri spoke up first.

“Please, forgive our digression. I was hoping to bend your ear for a moment. I’m the heir to the throne of the Holy Kingdom of Fargus, and what I saw of your skill today made me certain that our ranks would be strengthened immensely by having someone of your caliber at the helm.” Dimitri was in the middle of a breath when Edelgard spoke up.

“Your skill on the battlefield truly was beyond impressive, and I’d like to ask you to consider lending that skill to the Adrestian Empire. I’m the next in line for the Imperial throne and I…” Edelgard had taken a step closer as she spoke, but Dimitri put his hand on her shoulder as he tried to continue his point.

“Edelgard, please, allow me to finish my own offer before stepping in with your own. The Holy Kingdom of Fargus would be greatly appreciative of a tactician such as you. If you’d like, I would be honored to extend an invitation to return to the kingdom with me.”

“Whoa there you two,” Claude chimed in, hand rested on his hip. “A little lesson in subtlety would do you both well. Trying to recruit someone you’ve only just met? I’d expect this kinda thing from you Edelgard, but you as well Dimitri?” Claude ‘tisked’ audibly, shaking his head before chuckling a bit.

“These three, I swear, they really never held much in terms of tact even at the best of times. It seems the more things change, the more they stay the same. So, where shall we start this time?” Sothis asked, her voice ringing through Byleth’s mind like a bell. She looked between the three of them. All three looked her in the eyes this time.

Claude's eyes felt cold and empty when examined with any scrutiny, like staring at the eyes of a painting, any emotion you see is placed there specifically to be seen rather then being genuinely felt. On to Dimitri; his eyes held a genuine hope, which Byleth found reassuring, but something behind it felt off, like looking at a fox and not being sure if it intended to befriend you or go for your throat. Finally, Edelgards eyes held a strange mixture of determination and distrust within them, but something was bubbling up underneath...Fear, it was fear, of what Byleth had no idea but this girl was terrified of something. She felt something heavy and, in a way, distant in her chest. It was as if she’d been hit with a stone a split second before and was feeling an echo of the pain. It was such a strange sensation, but Byleth took it as a sign, and stepped down the few wooden steps out of the front door and held her hand out towards the red-clad heiress. Edelgard’s lips stretched into a polite smile before she took the hand and shook.

“A wise choice. While the Empire is not as glorious as it once was, we’re not a nation to be easily broken, and that will not change once I’ve taken the throne.”

“I look forward to working with you. Now, if it would be of no inconvenience, your highness, may I go put the rest of my clothes on?” Byleth asked, her tone and face so blank Edelgard couldn’t tell if the request was sarcastic or genuine. Her face went red and she dropped the mercenaries hand, nodding quickly.

“Y...yes of course, apologies for the inconvenience.” Edelgard said, blushing. Byleth didn’t reply, simply turning and returning to the cabin.

“Always such a hurry with those three. She is certainly refined, but she’s none too subtle about the way she evaluates everyone around her. What could strike such fear in the heart of a future empress?” Sothis wondered as Byleth donned her armor.The door opened a minute or two later, with Byleth standing in her tunic and coat as Alois walked up alongside a very tired looking Jeralt.

“That’s enough catching up! It’s time to head back.” Alois exclaimed, clapping his hand on Jeralt’s shoulder. The students and Byleth nodded, moving to join the departing mercenary company. The sun was just cresting over top of the treeline,it was a beautiful site, but the light stung Byleth’s eyes.

[adorablele]

thank you so much for your giving my fic a chance, it means a lot to me 🥰🥰 and thank you for the feedback!

I’m glad that you were able to visualize the zombies well! I thought hard about what I wanted my zombies to look like lol and how to describe them.

you caught onto the alliteration 🥳🥳🥳 I lowkey love using alliteration and viscera was such a beautiful word that I wanted to use. I’m so happy that you were able to get a nasty feel from the sentence since I wanted to establish that mc hates those creatures.

ahh yes, the two-liners 😌😌 I thought it was a good idea to use it despite one side of my brain telling me that I was being extra. I’m relived it worked tho!

haha yeah, doyoung is a witty guy! I wanted to establish someone who was nice, but guarded (if that makes sense). And his wittiness helps him banter with mc which I’m glad didn’t get too dull or anything. I really enjoyed writing their dialogue because I’d probably say the same things lmao

I don’t know what to say about this last point because I’m still overjoyed at your praise :��) to be honest, describing setting is something that I need major improvement on, so I’m grateful that you were still able to stay tuned into the story because I wasn’t sure if I described it well enough.

AND YESS JANNA’S DREAM BOY 😂😂 I was this ll close to fully immersing myself in this apocalyptic world and completely disregarding the whole part about it just being a dream, but then I remembered that this was a fic that is supposed to support the janna x doyoung ship 😌😌

either way, I don’t know how to express my gratitude other than thank you. this review made my day and if you ever read my other fics, please don’t get your hopes up because they are cringe </3

@riothae ♡ to my darling table leg 💞 this is to push the doyoung dream boy agenda. and also i’m sorry for not releasing this on your birthday, please accept this belated birthday gift.

☍ pairing; kim doyoung x reader ☍ genre; fluff, romance, a little bit of angst but mostly fluffy // apocalypse!au, zombie apocalypse!au, strangers to lovers!au, soulmate!au, parallel world!au ☍ word count; 4, 210  ☍ summary; you have your very own dream boy, a literal man of your dreams and he goes by the name of Kim Doyoung ☍ a/n;  don’t be fooled by the beginning, 99.9% of this is just dialogue. also I tried my very best to avoid using the word zombies to describe the people who were affected by the virus because…yeah it has something to do with the characters mindset but i didn’t get to explore that because I wanted to focus on the romance lmao ANYWAYS PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED since this is my first ever apocalypse!au and longest fic (in general and for doyoung)

trigger warning(s); mentions of weapons, use of weapons (doyoung uses a machete, mc also uses a weapon to kill the zombies), mention of blood 

This has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. 

“Hey!” you screamed, banging together two pots. 

The growling behind you started to multiply. 

You smirked, continuing to clash up more noise, “C’mere!” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw two rotted figures make their way towards you. The adrenaline in your veins pushed your legs to move faster. You heard the growling behind you grow louder, more shuffling of feet syncopated between your own. Out of either confidence or pure insanity―quite possibly both―you turned around to admire the hoard of creatures that you managed to gather.   

Disgust swirled in your stomach. They were ugly with skin so pale that you could see the infected black veins running through their body. They snapped at you with rotted teeth, blistered lips and blood-shot eyes. 

You laughed. “You’re so slow.”

Those vicious, viscera eating monsters didn’t seem to like your taunt. With inhumane twists of their bodies, they started to sprint towards you. This was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Still, you shouted at them and banged your pots. Your pace was already outmatched by theirs, but it didn’t help that you were walking backwards. 

“Just a little closer, I know you can do it!” you cheered. 

By now, more monsters have noticed the ruckus that you’ve caused and they decided they wanted to join in on the fun. That’s when you decided to continue running. You could hear their growls growing closer and closer. For a split second, there was a single drop of fear that touched your spine, or rather, a finger. Acting on instinct, you slammed the pan into the head of the intruder. 

You were done for. They were catching up to you. 

And yet, you kept running, faster than you’ve ever ran. Despite the fact that any one of the, probably, hundreds of virus-infected bodies were one step away from tearing you limb from limb, you laughed. 

This was it. This was the end. 

This was where you die.

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