#zombies oneshot

[fangdokja]

In the world of the dead, he was the only thing keeping you alive—and tearing you apart.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Zombie Apocalypse! Survivor x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 886

The world had gone to hell long before he found you—a blight of rotting corpses, the stench of decay clinging to the air like wet fabric. He’d watched cities crumble, mothers devoured by children, lovers split apart by jaws that once kissed. Humanity reduced to a desperate scramble for survival. He’d survived because he was better, stronger, smarter. Not like the others. Not like you.

The first time he saw you, it was through the jagged slats of a broken-down shack—you, filthy, trembling, a pathetic little thing clutching a rusted knife like it could keep the monsters at bay. You didn’t know it then, but the real monster wasn’t outside that door. He let you run, let you think you’d slipped away. He liked the chase. Liked watching your frail little body collapse from exhaustion after days of running. He followed your trail of broken twigs, discarded scraps, bloodied rags. You bled so easily. It excited him.

When he finally cornered you, it wasn’t with the blunt savagery of the infected, but with the calculated precision of a predator. His voice was honeyed, deep and soothing in a way that made your legs quiver despite the terror clamping your chest. “Easy, little one,” he murmured, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over your crouched form. “I’m not here to hurt you.” A lie, but you didn’t know that yet.

You screamed when he grabbed you. Oh, how you screamed. His hand clamped over your mouth, thick fingers swallowing your cries. “Shh,” he cooed, dragging you against his chest. The muscles there were hard as steel, his arms unyielding as they pinned you to him. “You’re safe now. No more running. No more fighting. Just be good for me.”

You fought, of course you did, but he liked that about you. Liked the way your nails raked against his skin, the fire in your eyes even as tears streaked your dirt-smeared cheeks. It made breaking you all the sweeter.

The place he kept you was dark, damp, a bunker carved out of the earth’s rotting guts. Chains rattled when you moved, the heavy metal cuffs biting into your wrists and ankles. He made sure you couldn’t escape. You’d tried once, crawling like a desperate animal through the narrow tunnel he left unguarded. He found you before you reached the surface. You still remembered the taste of dirt and his boot on your back as he dragged you, screaming and sobbing, back to your prison.

“Disobedient,” he’d called you, his voice like a father’s scolding a wayward child. Then he’d smiled, and that smile was worse than any snarl. “But you’ll learn.”

The days blurred together. He fed you, bathed you, kept you warm with his body when the nights grew cold. “You’re mine now,” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “No one else will touch you. No one else can. They’re all dead, you know. Out there in the dark. In here, it’s just us. Forever.”

Sometimes he was tender, brushing the hair from your face, pressing lips to your forehead like a lover. Other times, he was cruel, tightening his grip around your throat until you saw stars, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if he wanted to devour you whole.

“You’re so fragile,” he murmured, running a calloused hand down your trembling arm. His fingers stopped at your wrist, pressing just hard enough to feel the thrum of your pulse beneath the paper-thin skin. “So easy to break. But I won’t let you. I’ll keep you safe, even from yourself.”

When you cried, he mocked you for it, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. “Tears won’t save you, my little prey. You’re mine, whether you like it or not.” And yet, when your sobs subsided into quiet sniffles, he cradled you against his chest, rocking you like a child. “Good girl,” he’d croon, his hand stroking your hair. “Good, obedient girl.”

Escape was impossible. He made sure of that. Shackles bound you when he wasn’t there, and when he was, his watchful gaze never left you. Those eyes, sharp and calculating, missed nothing. You learned to fear the tilt of his head, the narrowing of his gaze when you stepped out of line. His punishments were swift and brutal—a backhand that left your cheek throbbing, a hand around your throat until you gasped for air.

And yet, there were moments when he was almost kind. When he brought you clean clothes, when he stroked your cheek and murmured promises of a future where you’d thank him for saving you. “You’ll see,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “I’m the only one who can love you like this. The only one who will.”

The infected were the least of your worries. The true horror lived in the man who kept you alive, the man who smiled as he reminded you that you belonged to him, body and soul. You learned quickly that resistance was futile. He thrived on your defiance, twisting it into something dark and intimate.

And every time he whispered in your ear, every time his hands claimed you, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was right. That in a world gone mad, there was no escape. That he was your salvation. Your damnation. Your everything.

[luveline]

Missing my zombie!steve husband 🫶🏻

quiet day at the camp… hope something bad isn’t brewing… zombie apocalypse au <3 fem, 2k

Steve loves the sound of the river, but he only allows himself a moment to lay down on the riverbank during laundry hours. 

You stand knee deep in the water with your pants and sleeves rolled up, the corrugated metal of an old shed roof that’s been repurposed into a washing board held to your chest. It was pointless to roll your sleeves up, you’re soaked to the bone, even your hair, but the summer sun keeps you warm. 

“Don’t get too hot!” you call. 

“I’m fine,” he says, unwilling to shout. 

“He’s fine!” Robin shouts from beside him. “Numbskull.” 

Steve stares at you, locking you in, so to speak, the nice shape of your hip and stomach, the mess of your wet hair. Tonight, he’ll help you fix it, but there’s no rush and no hurry to dry off while the sun is out, and the fences are up. He turns onto his stomach. Grass tickles his cheeks. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Robin asks quietly. 

“Fine. Can you tell me if she needs help?” 

“Sure.” He listens to the sounds of her moving, likely pulling the slim lengths of her legs against her chest to hug herself, the tan leaves of a book spread out just in front of her. 

Steve could really go for a cigarette. You swapped the last box you found for toothpaste, isn’t that how it always goes? You and Robin found a cheat code in the apocalypse, nicotine with a capital ‘N’. You swap Arctic chewable for socks without holes and boxes of Marlboro’s for the bathroom essentials. Everybody wants them, and you’re great at finding them. Steve never thought he’d crave a cigarette again considering he wasn’t addicted, having smoked for a couple of months in high school to feel cool with his friends, stopping when his mom asked him to. He doesn’t remember why. She’d asked, and he’d listened, as he used to do. Swim team, cross country, basketball, lifeguard training, mowing the lawn, not upsetting his father, taking out the trash, vacuuming, no drinking and driving; task after task after task. Some of it was easy. He liked doing the dishes, and he loved taking care of his mom even if she didn’t feel the same. 

Not that it matters now. Does it matter now? He’s never gonna see her again. She’s a memory. She’s a bad memory, most of the time. 

The more he reflects on it, he decides. She was a bit shitty, but she’s his mom, and she’s likely gone, so he’ll try to remember the cookies they made together and the way she’d smile at him after she tied his shoelaces before school. And also the mean fucking bitch she’d turn into when she drank two glasses of wine. 

“What are you thinking about?” Robin asks.

“That’s the wrong soap,” you say from the river. Your voice floats over the breeze. 

“Fuck off, soap is soap,” Eddie says, your not-so-new friend, Steve’s sworn enemy. 

“I’m just saying,” you laugh. “Look, I’ll wash, you rinse.” 

“I’m thinking about that time,” Steve begins, holding his hand out toward her, open but not expectant, “when my mom and dad came home early from his business trip in Missouri and found us sleeping together.” 

“I’d never heard your dad laugh before,” Robin says. 

“My mom really didn’t like you after that.” He smiles as she takes his hand. They were a lot more touchy, pre-apocalypse. He misses that sometimes. 

“I don’t even think she thought we were dating.” 

“She was disgusted.” 

“She said we were being weird teenagers.”

“I guess we were. I never had a friend like you before so maybe I can’t blame her,” he says. He has something special with you, you’re a best friend because you’re half of his heart, but Robin was his first proper best friend, and remains it. “I missed you a lot when we were stuck in Indiana. There were a ton of times where shit would go wrong and I would get mad at you because I knew you’d know how to fix it, but you weren’t there.” 

“You’d get mad at me?” Robin asks, squeezing his hand. “You jerk. Be mad at yourself.” 

“Can you wait for me next time?” he asks.

Robin’s quiet, then she laughs, “I’m nodding but you can’t see.” 

He wonders how she’s feeling. He admits to not doing that much in the past. Not that he didn’t think about how he made others feel, he was always worrying about that after Nancy, but he can’t say he thought of it in the moment. Steve forces himself to sit up and offer his arms for a hug, which Robin gladly accepts, her frazzled laugh on his neck as he pats her back. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. 

“You know Y/N says I’m possessive?” 

Robin leans away, fingers curled around his elbow. “You’re fighting?” 

“No, just. She says I’m possessive, that I get mad about, you know, my people.” 

“Right. Isn’t everybody?” 

“I never thought I did. I’m not, like, too proud most of the time.” 

“Steve, this is super introspective,” she says, frowning, smiling, a weird expression somewhere melding in the middle of happy and concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay? It’s fine if you’re not.” She laughs shrilly. “I woke up the other day and cried and then ten minutes later I felt fine. I’m far from okay.” 

Steve glances past Robin’s head to watch you in the river. You’re sitting down amongst the stones. It really isn’t too deep, water to your ribcage washing suds down to Munson, who’s smiling at you kindly, not smarmy or flirting, just smiling. 

“Why did you cry?” he asks quietly. 

“I missed my cousin, I think.” 

Steve curls his arm behind her head and encourages her in for a fiercer hug. 

“Think we should probably go help them,” she mumbles. 

He takes it for the brush off that it is; sincerity is too much to take, sometimes. If she wants to be evasive about it that’s okay, she already took the leap and admitted to getting upset. 

“I cried thinking about Y/N’s hands the other day,” he says. 

“Steve.” Robin rubs her eye with the heel of her hand. “I don’t even know what to tell you.” 

“What? I’m trying to show you I’m pathetic so you don’t feel bad.” 

“I know you’re pathetic, and I don’t feel bad.” She climbs off of the ground and brushes broken grass off of her legs. Steve climbs up next to her, nudging her with his elbow. “You’re mucho pathetic. It’s kind of crazy.” 

“I think I might try and drown him,” he says conversationally. 

“Why now?” 

“Why do you think?” Steve asks, toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, nearly pitching forward on the wet bank closer to the river.

You and Eddie look up as they approach from different spots of the water. Your smile at seeing him winds him for the thousandth time, just so happy to see him, so in love with you he doesn’t even know what to do for a few seconds. “Hey, honey,” he says, “can I help?” 

“Now you wanna help?” you ask, gesturing to your soaked front. 

You’re messing with him, and he doesn’t care anyways, you can talk to him like crap if you want to. He shuffles down from the mud of the riverbank and into the water, cold and wet like a shock against his ankles, softer as it climbs to his knees. You’re sitting where it’s more shallow, opposed to Eddie on his knees and almost drowning further down. He puts his hand on your wet shoulder and kneels down in the water beside you. “Wanna hug?” you tease. 

Steve hugs you. Doesn’t care that you’re soaking or that the water is freezing against his crown jewels, though he shivers by your ear, prompting your laugh like bubbles in his own. “It’s cold,” he says. 

“Freezing!” 

Not to be a freak, but he can feel your chest pressed to him, and he knows you get achy in the cold. He wraps his arms doubly behind your back and rubs at your sides. “How much laundry’s left?” he asks. “We’re gonna get hypothermia. Again.” 

“You didn’t get hypothermia,” you remind him, folding into his space. “Steve… is everything okay?” 

“Do I look mopey today? Robin just asked me the same thing.” 

“You don’t look mopey, but you’re being touchy. You’re cuddling.” 

“How am I not supposed to cuddle you, dummy? I’m keeping you warm enough to function right now. Without me you’d be an ice cube floating down the river.” He leans back to hold your face in one hand, your cheek under his thumb, water racing down his wrists and your neck. 

You push against his hand gently with your cheek. 

“Sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

For lots of things. “I didn’t realise how cold the water was. I would’ve come to help you.” 

“It’s fine. I scrub everything and then Eddie catches it. We’ve only lost one pair of underwear,” you say. “The river’s like a long washing machine.” 

“How much do you have left?” he asks. 

“Nothing. I was just about to get out.” 

“Couldn’t have told me that before I came to get you?” 

“No,” you say, lifting your chin. Not challenging, but close. It’s an offer, Steve decides, kiss me or don’t kiss me. You don’t seem to realise he doesn’t decide, he needs you. If you always wanted to kiss him, you’d always be kissing, all the time, everywhere. 

Steve gives you a quick peck. “Come on, let’s go set up the line.” 

You somehow, together, make your way back to the tents without freezing to death after throwing your clothes on a drying line between trees. It’s warm enough that stripping down to your skivvies is mildly pleasant (away from the eyes of the other campers). You get dressed in the softest clothes you own upon Steve’s insistence, sweatpants and a dark hoodie, three pairs of socks and the tent door left open, before he lays you down on the sleeping bag, and settles between your legs, his full weight bearing down on you, his face nestled in the damp crook of your neck. 

“I couldn’t kiss you the right way,” he confesses. 

“Why?” You pull mildly at the ends of his hair. 

“‘Cos I always want more than one kiss.” 

“That’s a strangely romantic way to say you wanted to make out with me,” you whisper. 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, even though he does want to, and he did in the river, and he does all the time.

“You’re getting kinda heavy, Steve,” you mumble. 

“What?” 

“It’s a good thing.” 

“How dare you.” 

“We got sorta frail for a bit.” You wrap an arm around his head, tip of your nose to his forehead. 

“Yeah. Lucky we’re in camp Eddie now,” Steve says. 

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” you murmur, so close to sleeping Steve can tell. You just need a feeling of security to nudge you over the edge. 

“Lucky we’re together.” He climbs off of you slowly so as not to rouse you too much, kissing your slack cheek as he settles on your shoulder. “You and me. I don’t care where we are.”

He ends up falling asleep not long after you, lulled by the rhythm of your light snore. 

[reds-skull]

I haven't drawn anything for it in months, but I haven't forgotten about the Cyberknights AU...

[deathbyathousandspiders]

HELL–BOUND. ₁

mcu!peter parker | zombie–apocalypse au. CHAPTER ONE.

IN WHICH you’re the last hope to saving the world from HYDRA’s destructive zombie outbreak.

read chapter two | three | four | five.

✨masterlist.✨

1.9k.

“You were born for this.” The words were tattooed on your existence, handwritten on your destiny. “We made you for this.” And your fate was embroidered with such words, such purpose, even as your footsteps echoed on the ashes of humanity. The last remaining remnants that society existed were crushed beneath your leather boots, and broken along the cracking pavement. 

It had been four weeks since the outbreak. Four weeks since you’d been kidnapped by HYDRA; since you’d been separated from the avengers, since the death of Steve Rogers and since the downfall of America. The rest of the world was slowly catching flame with the fire that HYDRA started, withering away at the mercy of people who were stupid enough to try and fly out to salvation. 

But this virus wasn’t a disease, it was a creation. These infected people weren’t able to be cured, they needed to be stopped. And the only person who could stop it kept trekking on the pavement, white knuckles on a gun and a backpack. 

The fate of the world rested in that backpack, in your brain, in your blood. And you didn’t even give yourself time to process. You'd been running for days.

Natasha’s words still rang through your head like some kind of broken record, a senseless beacon of hope you tried to make some sense of. She’d come to free you, to inform you of the state world currently laid in. “If we get separated, I’ll find you.” She’d used the gravest tone you’d ever heard her muster. “And if you get lost, meet me in Massachusetts.”

You never would’ve thought that she’d be the one to get lost. To sacrifice herself just to get you out, and you knew why. You also knew you’d find her. You had to, needed to, or she’d find you. You’d find each other. Somehow, someway, soon, you'd be reunited. It was only a matter of time. 

But that was a week ago. 

Thank God you made it out, yet you were anything but hopeful. You could tell this was only the beginning. The start of something gut—wrenchingly inhumane. You were nearly out of New York, trekking on foot to Massachusetts like she’d told you to. Driving would put you at too much risk right now, especially when trying to journey alone. This helped you to better navigate your surroundings. 

Hearing the low glottaled groan of an infected, you craned your head in the direction. They were stuck beside a tree, webs restraining them to the trunk and their body deteriorating as the hours passed. The stench of their corpsing complexion alone was lethal. Still, you knew what you had to do. 

Aiming your gun, you kept your distance. Loading, squinting an eye, and firing like HYDRA was right all along: you were born for this. You made a clean shot, putting the victim out of their misery and continuing to trek along the ruins of a road. 

Until you heard a twig snap behind you. 

Your instincts were too fast as you loaded and aimed your gun once again, turning on your heel behind you to find yourself staring at a familiar face. Your eyes widened, lowering your gun only a little. 

“Peter Parker?” It was the first time you’d spoken in days. The words felt wrong on your tongue, and seeing him was something you weren’t sure what to make of. 

He looked older, matured, aged. Aged by the things he had to endure when the world ended; matured by the things he had to do to protect people, to witness the losses he did. He was older, in experience, in life, and in the days he knew were numbered. 

His hands were raised, but his eyes told you that he knew you wouldn’t shoot him. You were classmates, after all. Teammates, Avengers. Something more. You should’ve felt relief to have seen him, and part of you did. But the other part of you drove the actions that led you to put your gun in its holster at your hip and pace towards him. Peter stayed where he was as you slapped him across the face. Your blood boiled with rage. 

And he just let it. 

“This is your fault!” You spat at him, fighting the urges to punch him, to hug him, but even you knew that anger would get you nowhere; even you knew a huge part of you was undeniably grateful to see him alive. Unharmed. 

His jaw clenched and he’d finally averted his eye contact. Peter knew you were right, even as outlandish as the accusation was. “Y/N, please..” His voice was softer than you remembered it being, perhaps because of how apologetic his tone was. It almost thawed your anger. It almost reminded you that perhaps things weren’t as grim as you’d begun to believe. You couldn’t let it, though. 

Your fist raised to throw a punch. A roar far off in the distance ceased your actions. Your whole body froze, and Peter’s did, too. Cold blood and a trembling fist to your side, and you looked to Peter for a directive out of this. 

He grabbed your hand without hesitation, leading you into the forest beside you. Not a word was said. You were silent, invisible to your surroundings. Cutting through overgrown greenery, and stepping over fallen branches and knee–high grass. Peter led you past trees and bushes, over rotting bodies and patches of dry dirt, until you got to a twenty foot gate randomly placed in the middle of it. 

Like procedure, he placed his thumb on a touch screen and the gate opened, programmed to only open up a crack so he could squeeze through, and thus you behind him. The gate closed less than a second after you were through it, and just beyond it was a bolted door. 

Peter dropped your hand, unlocking the door and helping you inside. This must have been where he’d been resigning since the last time you saw him. He, too, had been taken by HYDRA when you were. He, too, had been worked and experimented on, just the same as you. And he, too, wasn’t a stranger to the way the two of you led the world to its demise. 

Did he know the part he played in all of this, though? Truly?

Silence reigned over the two of you as you calmed down, and Peter led you through the bunker he had been living in. There were walls of canned food, loads of weapons, working technology, and piles of papers. He’d been writing, documenting. 

Perhaps, he’d been alone. 

Peter was the first to break the silence. “Are you hungry?” He’d noticed you staring. “Cold? Want a change of clothes?” Even when the world had gone to shit, he still knew how to be a good host. Even when he knew you were upset with him, he knew how to make you feel comfortable. Seen. 

It took you back to moments before everything happened. Before everything changed. It brought back memories of a world you now only knew in slumber, things almost too painful to think about in waking moments. 

Taking a breath, you turned to face him. “Are you living here alone?” You ignored his questions. Typical. The query ached in your throat, you had to ask it. “Are there– umm.. Are there any of us left besides–”

“This is Natasha’s place.” He knew who you were trying to ask about. You watched the way he turned on a heater in the middle of the room. How his shoulders hung lower the deeper in thought he got, how many seconds were in between his answer and the realization that it might just be the three of you left. “I don’t know who’s left. Besides you and me, and Nat.”

And that’s when you realized the part she was playing in this; she had been protecting Peter, the same way that she’d been protecting you. The two of you were merely kids, after all. Clinging to the hope of getting back to a world where you could get college degrees, and they would mean something. 

You walked further into the room, following the warmth as it poured into the space. “When was the last time you saw her?” The rage you’d felt towards Peter just moments prior had already begun to thaw, already losing sight on where the anger came from. You were more focused, more worried, about Nat right now.

He sat down on a chair in the space, tapping his finger on the arm of it and bouncing his leg as he pondered. “The last I saw her, she was on her way to get you.”

That realization made your heart stop. Your feet glued to the floor, and your whole body froze. It seemed like Peter’s body caught whatever sensation of panic flooded yours. He froze, too. 

“Peter.. That was a week ago.” The words fell heavy from your lips, like the fate of the world was tied to them. And it was. 

He stared back at you, not daring to break the eye contact. Whether it was to provide comfort, or to better read your expression. “I know.” Even he understood the weight of this. The weight of whether Natasha was still alive, safe. Or worse. 

You looked at him, taking a breath. Realizing you were quick to your anger earlier, and realizing that maybe Peter didn’t know what role he played in this. Regret put you in a chokehold, the bitterness of death taking reign on the tension in the room. It stole any kind of wishful thinking you’d had, and made its dire presence known by sounding off in the ticking of a clock—hand. 

Grabbing your backpack, you went for the folder you’d kept inside. You fumbled to grab the papers, handing them over to Peter. “We need to find her.” 

A puzzled look danced across his face in the light. He wasn’t entirely sure what you were getting at, or what you handed him, which meant you were right. He had no idea what part he played in this. “We need to find her, and we need to get the fuck out of this continent.”

He looked through the papers, eyebrows pressing together as he processed the writings. “Y/N, what the fuck is this?”

“Did she tell you what our plan was?” You asked him, trying not to let your anxiety boil over. You needed to keep your composure. “Did she ever tell you what we need to do?”

“What the fuck.. What the fuck am I looking at?” He ignored your question. 

You looked at Peter and took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time to panic, you knew it wasn’t. “Peter, I know how to stop this outbreak.”

Instantly, he met your eyes from where he sat, his entire expression changing the tone it directed at you. Misunderstanding morphed to confusion, curiosity. Hope. “How?” He forced the words out, needing to know the answer. 

“We need to find Natasha, and get to Wakanda.” You told him, hugging your knees closer to your chest. “When we get to Wakanda, they’ll know what to do.”

Peter wasn’t satisfied with that. “And then what? How does the world just go back to normal?” His questions were urgent, but not judgmental. He didn’t ask with a tone to attack you. In fact, the weight they gained told you he might’ve caught on to what you were about to say. “How do we cure these people?”

Anxiety ran a course through your system, gnawing at your insides and sending a chill down the length of your body. You stilled, minus the fidgeting of your fingers. Your breaths became trembled, and you procrastinated your answer. “We have to get me to Wakanda.. so that they can kill me.”

And the whole world went quiet. 

[hongjoongspoetry]

Bones, Blood and Teeth Erode | Deleted Scene

⚠️ Summary: The chance of turning into a walking corpse was greater than finding love in the jumbled mess of despair and death, yet you happened to stumble upon the other half of your soul. After many fights and misunderstandings, you and Yunho explain each side of the story and decide to make your mouths do something far more enjoyable than spitting harsh words and biting remarks. Starts from where the oneshot ended.

⚠️ Pairing(s): Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

⚠️ Genres/Tropes: Non-idol AU, zombie apocalypse AU, romance, smut, golden retriever x black cat (kinda, not really)

⚠️ Warnings/Tags: Female reader, no use of (Y/N), safe sex (wrap before you tap), oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering (f receiving), brief breast play, pantie sniffer Yunho, minor breeding kink, praise, aftercare, petnames (angel, darling, good boy/girl), not beta-read

⚠️ Wordcount: 6.3K

⚠️ Author's note: So... this is what was going to happen after Yunho and MC proclaim their love to each other, but I decided to leave the smut scene out hehehe. However, my lovely @bvidzsoo got a whiff of the deleted smut scene and well, here we are! Everyone say 'thank you Ari!' 😄 I would highly appreciate it if you checked out Bones, Blood and Teeth Erode first! Keep in mind this is my first time writing smut so be kind lmaoo.

This is all fiction and not meant to represent the idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs refrain from reading this work!

AO3 Masterlist Moodboard Click on me! Permanent taglist

“I need you… I need to show you how much I truly adore you. Please, may I paint you with my love until you’re covered in nothing but the shade of me?”

“Yunho…”

“I won’t be mad if you don’t want to. I’ve already said what my heart desires the most in the world, but I want to do this for us. For you, angel.”

“Show me then.”

The most mundane words made him into the happiest man alive. He weaved his fingers through yours and tugged you in the direction of the watchtower furthest away from the prison building. An exchange of comforting squeezes lasted the short journey and Yunho even looked over his shoulder every few seconds to assure himself you were really there. You weren’t any better. You couldn’t take your eyes off his back and stumbled over your own feet in the process. The inside didn’t exceed your expectations. The tower was twice the size of a prison cell with a lot more space to move around in. A somewhat clean mattress was pushed up to one side of the room. Yunho gently closed the trap door behind you and plopped down on the poor excuse of a bed. As much as he longed to kiss you until both were on the verge of passing out, he let you take in the new setting. The last thing he wanted was to rush you. The night had just begun and you had all the time in the world to explore each other, to learn the way your bodies function. 

Yunho silently patted the empty space on his left and you obeyed. His hand was warm on your thigh and you fought back the shiver pleading to glide down your back. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered and you nodded. “Words, please. I need to hear you say it.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and he nearly ascended to heaven then and there. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed a heavy gulp of nervous saliva and moved his hand to rest on the soft cushion behind you. Leaning in closer so his breath fanned your cheeks and lips almost grazing yours, Yunho feigned confidence as he flashed a devilishly handsome smirk.

“And now?”

“It’d be better if you just kissed me.” 

Your wish was his command. The previously bare skin of your neck was embraced by his palm while his other hand found your hips and maneuvered you to lay down. Your own hands latched onto his bicep and the side of his face to ground yourself from the heated kiss. The sweetness he showed you minutes ago was abandoned on the field and replaced by urgency as well as the need to taste you again. It was filthy with a lot of spit and your tongues rolling against each other. 

He left open mouthed kisses along your skin and trailed down your neck to your collarbones, even reaching your earlobe which Yunho gently bit down on and whispered softly, “You drive me crazy, angel.”

Having had enough of his teasing, you rolled him on his back and plopped down on his crotch. The element of surprise mixed with your clothed cunt pressing against his half-hard cock caught him off guard, and a gutted groan slipped past his bruised lips. You seized the moment and peppered harsh suckles to his neck, determined to leave an array of beautiful roses and sweetpeas on his pale skin. His hands flew up and gripped your hips, and the image of his finger leaving dark blotches on your skin heightened the ache between your legs.

“Be patient, darling. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” 

You were once again on your back, this time with Yunho pushed between your legs, groins aligned and chests touching. You needed Yunho like he was the means to survival. He was the nectar you’d search for in the wild, the sun you’d grow to reach and the water you’d boil to drink. Patience wasn’t a word in your dictionary anymore. Not when he held you softly and kissed you like there was no tomorrow. An overwhelming feeling of warmth and belonging stored in your chest, but you couldn’t label it for what it was because you had never experienced such strong emotions before. Not even when the world was still normal. It was so frustrating that tears gathered in your eyes and eventually escaped down the valley of your cheeks. 

“Why are you crying, my pretty girl?” Yunho cooed and wiped the salty liquid with his thumbs. “You’re so pretty. Your eyes and nose, lips, and everything. So pretty.” He left chaste kisses to the corner of your eyes and mouth, and on the top of your nose.

“I don’t know,” you admitted and turned away from him as heat attacked your face.

He caught your chin between his thumb and index finger, and gently guided you to look at him again. “Don’t do that, angel. It’s okay to cry, just don’t shy away from me.”

Vulnerability was almost as scary as a biter, the only difference was you knew how to handle the latter. So, for once in your life, you heeded his advice and clasped your hands around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. In a perfect world, Yunho would have his lips locked with yours for all eternity. You let out a whine of dismay — a noise you didn’t know you had in you — as he broke apart and Yunho couldn’t help but smile as he pressed a kiss to your sternum. Aroused and curious, you leaned back on your elbows to get a better look at what he was doing. Yunho continued his path further down your clothed body; your ribs, belly button, hips and even dared to graze your lower abdomen, right on your mound. In the wake of his kisses, your skin sizzled with excitement and your breath got heavier.

Yunho intensely held your eyes, not once looking away, as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and slowly lifted it to expose the button of your pants, but didn’t go further than that. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realize he was waiting for your permission. With a wordless nod, he unclasped your bottoms and slowly stripped them off your legs leaving you in thin black panties doing nothing to cover your pussy. It was with great restraint that Yunho held back from tearing the flimsy material and going head first between your legs. To have you writhe and moan at the wonders of his tongue and fingers as he fucked you open, spreading your juices all over his nimble limbs and listen to you fall apart over, and over again. Instead, he caressed your legs, starting from your ankles and gliding up your calves to massage the expanse of your thighs. Much like before, he dropped searing kisses along the same paths his fingers had touched your skin. Each leg was thrown over his shoulder and your heart quickened at the closer proximity. 

Terms of endearment were let out in the open and his whispers of ‘so good for me’, ‘my pretty angel’, ‘only for me’ heightened the fire lit in your stomach. 

You sucked in a sharp breath of air as Yunho nibbled on the inner side of your thigh, leaving his mark on the beautiful canvas that was you. A harsh hiss escaped your lips as he gave equal attention to your other thigh and he would have decorated your skin in more vivid colors if it weren’t for your plea of touching you where you needed him the most.

“Anything for you, pretty girl.”

The barely-even touch of his finger skimming over your clothed sex had you falling back down against the mattress, your hands squeezing the shit out of the sheet below in a futile attempt to calm down. Each nudge of his digit sent a crackling jolt of electricity up your spine, but it faded out before you could even feel as much as a buzz of euphoria.

“So wet for me.”

“Yunho,” you hissed, but it proved success as he inched your panties to the side and took a long, surprising lick up your slit. 

Your gutted moan mixed with his lewd slurping noises just made your cheeks burn hotter. Yunho was relentless as he dragged his tongue through your folds and collected your wetness. It got you gripping the sheets and bucking your hips up, needing him closer. In return, Yunho pinned you to the mattress with an arm pressed over your stomach. He could die a happy man right then and there; between your legs and face stuffed with your cunt. The vibrations of his hum combined with the skilled movements of his wet tongue made you all the more vocal.

“You’re delicious, baby.” The praise had you grinding your hips the best you could with the restraint holding you down. “Oh, you like hearing that, don’t you? My sweet little thing tastes so good I could sit here all day.”

“Yunho,” you whined and bucked up again.

“Shhh, just relax for me.” 

He lowered himself down again and you squirmed as his warm breath fanned over your pussy lips. Expecting to feel his mouth, you didn’t know what to do with yourself as his finger was swallowed by your wet hole. With screwed eyes and mouth wide, you basked in the pleasure of his finger working you open. It was when he pulled out and added another digit that you took a hold of his wrist, the sensation getting too much for you, but Yunho had other plans. He intertwined your fingers with his free ones and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“You’re so good for me, just hold on a little longer. Could you do that angel?”

Yunho smirked at your little nod. Plunging back his fingers in you, he quickened the pace and gave your clit an overwhelming amount of attention filtering between his tongue and thumb. His name fell from your lips, an indication that you were close to release and who was he to deny that? He waited until his fingers were deep in you and curled them just enough to stroke the spot that made you see stars. The combination of his mouth sucking on your clit and fingers exploring your needy hole pushed you over the edge. As you lay there, legs shaking and chest heaving, Yunho continued worshiping you with his mouth. It was his life mission to suck you dry and he didn’t stop until you weakly pushed his head back. Obliging, he pulled his sticky fingers out and wasted no time wrapping his mouth around them. The sight of his eyes rolling to the back of his head, chin glistening and lips red could make you come again and if the prominent bulge in his jeans was anything to go by, Yunho could cum untouched. 

You didn’t know what came over you. One second you were laying limp, unable to catch your breath let alone move and in the next you were pouncing on him. Tasting yourself of his tongue and grinding against his hard on. 

“I need you.” You kissed him and he returned it with just as much passion.

“You have me.”

“I need you in my mouth,” you elaborated and pressed the heel of your palm to his groin. It was incredibly arousing to see the effect you had on him and admittedly, it was hot to know a big guy like Yunho could crumble with the touch of your fingers. The fun didn’t last long though.

“We’ll get there, angel, but right now it’s all about you so just lay down for me.”

Handing over your dominance like it weighed nothing, you scooted down from Yunho’s lap and leaned back on your feet. Your hands, though, didn’t inch away from him and trailed the edge of his shirt.

“Go on then, take it off.”

The material was immediately pulled over his head and thrown haphazardly somewhere in the room. You didn’t care, not when you were whisked away by his striking body. Chiseled with fine lines tracing the contours of his abs and muscles. It was hard to look away. If not for the muscles, then for the scars portraying his survival. You traced each and every one with the tips of your fingers and lingered on the healed bullet wound. Sensing the change in your demeanor, he took hold of your hand and gave it a kiss. He didn’t want you to think about that now, God knows you deserve a break from fearing for your lives.

Yunho mimicked your action from earlier and got your shirt off, leaving you in nothing but a black bra and matching panties. You slapped his chest as he whistled and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. Whispering a faint ‘fuck off’, you covered your face and fell back on the mattress.

“Don’t get shy on me now, I’ve already seen how pretty you are.”

He caught your flying foot and you let out a screech as he pulled you toward him. It was muffled by his lips massaging yours. His hands explored your body, gripping and squeezing anything he could take hold of, and he got drunk on the sounds you were making. Nothing could beat the beautifully erotic moan that spilled out of your mouth when he skimmed over your boobs and it was his cue to give them some more attention. He laid his whole body weight on your legs and gently wrapped each hand around the sides of your torso while simultaneously pressing his thumbs into your nubs, and slowly swirled them around your covered tits. The pleasure flared up in you like fireworks, but it wasn’t enough to make you unravel for the second time and you couldn’t do anything to hasten his pace. Unless you begged.

“Yunho, faster.”

“Mmm, what did you say?” 

You could hear the smile behind his words and if it weren’t for your lust filled senses, you’d give him something to smile about. Despite having a taste of you, Yunho was adamant on taking things slow and it felt like forever until he took your bra off. Cheeks burning and body growing hot from the sudden bashfulness of being laid bare before him had you covering your chest, which Yunho tutted at and hastily grabbed your wrists.

“Please don’t do that. You’re beautiful, angel, and it’s just me. Just your Yunho.”

Reluctant, you searched his face for a hint of dishonesty. You hadn’t given yourself to anyone in a long time — courtesy of the dead, quite literally wanting to eat you — but you’ve experienced a fair deal of men trying to get into your pants through flattering lies, and it wouldn’t surprise you if Yunho shared that cursed behavior. However, one thing was clear; you wouldn’t last another day in the prison if he did. The emotional hurt would be unbearable. But this was Yunho. Your Yunho. 

“Okay.”

“Good. Now… lay back and relax for me. Let me make you feel good again.”

That he did. Again and again, and again. The arch of your back didn’t come from his fingers moving in and out of your cunt or the flat of his tongue flicking your clit. It was the result of Yunho’s mouth hallowing around your boob, tongue swirling around your erect nub while the other got the full attention of his hand. The nipple was caught between his forefinger and thumb, twirling and pinching it enough to send ecstasy through your veins.

“Yuh–” You moaned and cradled his head closer to your chest. “More.”

Who knew a man licking and sucking on your tits could make you feel so alive? Yunho let go with a pop, his lips red and covered in saliva — just like your tit — and blew air on your nipple making it harden before giving the same treatment to the other. Glancing down, you found his eyes already on you, even with his mouth occupied. Focused and following every flex of your facial muscles, it felt like he was looking deep into your soul. Something was telling you he enjoyed watching your face contort into pleasure more than he’d like to admit. If he could tease you, why wouldn’t you do the same? Throwing the caution of anyone overhearing your intimate moment, you parted your lips and let the loudest of moans rivet the walls. The stutter of his hips against yours was proof your plan worked. 

“You’re really making it hard to take things nice and slow, angel,” he groaned and grinded his pelvis against your cunt, allowing the wetness to seep through his pants.

“Then don’t,” came your breathless reply. “Don’t hold back. You’ve already shown how much you like me. What I need is you to fuck me, hard and fast. Please, Yunho.”

Maybe it was your whining tone or perhaps your straightforwardness making him scrap his plan of intimate lovemaking. It wouldn’t surprise him if your vulgar language set him off, hearing you explicitly say what you wanted him to do. Deep within, Yunho knew it was the Godforsaken way his name rolled off your tongue. Being left with nothing but the brain of a caveman, he ripped your panties into two and scrunched the material in his hand, and brought them up to his nose. The sniff he gave them was long and got you dripping like a broken faucet. You were intoxicating in all possible ways and Yunho already longed for the next day he could unravel you again. But first, he’d make you come on his dick, once, twice, even three times if you’d let him.

Distracted by the scent of your panties, Yunho didn’t notice you discretely guide your fingers to your soaping cunt. He missed the way you parted your pussy lips, glistening with your juices and the excess of Yunho’s spit, and teased your clit. Being in charge of your own pleasure, you didn’t hold back and filled yourself with two fingers and pushed the heel of your palm against your throbbing clit. Waves of warmth spread to your toes, but you soon realized your fingers weren’t reaching the same spot as Yunho did. The desperate and clenching sound of your digits going in and out of your hole grounded Yunho. He nearly fell over at the beauty before him; you spread open and fucking yourself, whimpering and biting down on your lip to hide the sinful sounds.

“Like– uh… what you s–h-ee?” You asked through a moan. 

“Gorgeous,” Yunho replied and leaned back on the ends of his feet. He reached for his belt buckle and undid it at a snail’s pace, giving you all the more reason to grow frustrated. 

“Hurry.”

You were always so snappy and demanding even when clouded by the need to be stuffed full of cock.

Undoing the zip of his bottoms, Yunho was reminded of the important package he stored in his pocket. The sudden slap of the condom had you sliding your fingers out of yourself. The foil packet was cold against your stomach. You took it between your index- and middle fingers, and looked up at your lover.

Glancing in Yunho’s direction, you did a double take at the blue tinfoil packages in his hands and grew hot from embarrassment. Your look was all it took for Yunho to defend himself.

“What? I doubt people want to reciprocate at this time.”

He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make you feel any better or stop the sensual image of Yunho. His naked body tangled in sheets looming over you and the very same condom you just saw in his hands, now stuck between his lips. Then you shook your head, as if to make the thought disappear before it could delve into an even more lustful scenario. The naked Yunho was gone, but the heat burned your cheeks worse than the sun on a summer day.

The huge grin on Yunho’s face told you he thought of the very same memory. The condom was pried from your hands and placed on the mattress a little further away as he stepped back to stand up. He then guided you to the waistband of his pants and raised a brow, the corners of his mouth curling up. There was no need to say it out loud because you knew exactly what he was hinting at. Getting up on your knees, you were quick to push the material of his pants and boxers down midthigh, allowing his erect cock to break free of its confines. His member stood tall and proud, the tip flushed a beautiful hue of red and weeping a little bit of pre-cum. You salivated at the image and wanted him– no, you needed him in your mouth. Now.

You peered up at him, eyes big and your tongue rolling out, as your fingers fell like dominoes around the hard length of him, starting from your pinky and ending with your thumb. Yunho hissed and his dick twitched at the contact. You leaned closer to the tip, mouth open and drool dripping from your tongue, but you weren’t going to give him what he wanted just yet. A gust of cold air swept over his hot member and Yunho weaved his fingers into your hair, not pulling at it, but using it as an anchor to not topple over from your mischief.

“Aren’t you a good boy?”

Yeah, Yunho was a goner. His eyes fluttered shut and his chest heaved as his cocked lived a life of its own; twitching and oozing more precum. You stroked your hand up and darted your thumb over his slit before moving it back down to the base. Sparks of pleasure spread to every nerve in his body and he got lost in the blissful sensation.

“Answer me, Yunho.”

“I’m ah, a guh– good boy!”

The glint in your eyes at his words was dangerous, but all Yunho could think about was the feel of your wet and warm mouth, him hitting the back of your throat, feeling you gag around him, oh boy. Nothing could beat the real thing. You licked a stripe up the underside of his member and then tapped the tip once, twice on your tongue before enveloping it in your mouth and suckling on it like a lollipop. He threw his head back with a groan of appreciation. You spread your spit diligently down his cock and spread the wetness further down his shaft, gradually taking him deeper into your mouth. Yunho had a pretty cock, that you would admit; long and curving with a very prominent vein decorating the side.

The first few seconds were spent getting adjusted to his size — something you’d have to undoubtedly do later too — but when you got the hang of it, you had no issue bobbing your head up and down. You wanted him to lose all sense in his limbs and were determined to make him see beyond stars. Yunho released a shuddering moan in response to your hum teasing his sensitive cock with vibrations.

“Please, don’t stop.”

He opened his mouth to continue with his praises, but the tip of your tongue gliding into his slit drew out another strained moan instead. It sent throbs of arousal to your core. The gurgle of words dying in your throat at his thick cock made Yunho grow harder and more aroused. The drool spilling out the sides of your mouth left a trail down your neck that was so messy and nasty, but he loved every second of it. You hollowed out your cheeks and sucked harder, even massaged his balls until his pleads were nothing but a mess of jumbled words and moans. 

“Angel, my– ah my angel!” 

Yunho couldn’t stop the involuntary thrusts upward, but you were unphased by the jab of his tip to the back of your throat. All you did was suck harder, tongue caressing the underside of his cock and sending him to heaven. He tightened the grip on your hair, but not so you couldn’t move if you desired to do so and a broken string of moans echoed in the room. Goosebumps broke out on the surface of his skin as his vision faded to black. Your mission of having him see the stars went beyond that as he was met with an exploding supernova. 

Your nails dug into his hips, holding him in place so he had no other choice but to spill his seed onto your tongue. There was so much cum it was impossible to keep it all inside that the white liquid trickled onto the mattress, making you look so fucked out. You swallowed the bit that hadn’t gone to waste. Coming down from his high, Yunho cradled your cheek and smeared the rest of himself all over your face. He brought you into a kiss, not caring about tasting his warm and salty release on your tongue. Your angelic giggle filled the room and Yunho smiled against your lips before pulling apart.

“You’re amazing,” he panted and guided you to lay on your back as he crawled over you.

“I know,” you replied and ran your fingers through his wet bangs, styling them to expose his forehead. You could never get enough of Yunho’s ethereal face, even when sporting sweaty and glowing cheeks.

The sight of your teary eyes and swollen lips had his cock stiffening again in record time. How couldn’t it when you looked so pliant beneath him? All traces of playfulness were wiped off his face and he tilted your head up to look straight into his dark, hooded eyes half-lidded with desire. 

“I need to fuck you angel, to watch my cock go in and out of your needy little hole. You’ll take me nice and good, won’t you? Every inch and drop of cum I have to offer. I’ll fill you up until my cum trickles out of you and then fuck it back in– oh fuck! Please, let me make you feel good.” 

If there was anything better than hearing a man moan, it’d be to hear him beg. Lucky for you, you got the best of both worlds. Taking a hold of his member, you guided the cockhead through your folds and both groaned in unison.

“Wh–wait!”

In the blurry haze of pleasure, Yunho hastily grabbed the forgotten condom and flimsily tore its package. A whimper of dismay reverberated in the room and your pout had him reconsidering whether the wrapper was necessary or not. Gaining clarity amidst the thick fog of lust, he shook the awful idea out of his head and rolled the condom on. Raising a child or getting a STD wouldn’t be ideal in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, no matter how much he’d love to see you full of his seed or cradling a newborn.

“‘M sorry angel, but that’s non-negotiable.”

“I know,” you sighed and cupped his cheek, dragging him down into a heart fluttering kiss. You hitched a leg around his waist and pulled your bodies closer. His cock grinded against your cunt and you inhaled in a sharp breath as he gently teased your entrance.

“We’ll go slow, darling.” He spread his fingers through yours and pressed your intertwined hands against the mattress while his elbow kept him from crushing you, his thumb still rubbing soothingly against your cheek. “Anytime you need a pause or need me to stop, just tell me, alright?”

You were wet and ready, had been from the moment Yunho rolled you beneath him. The chaste feel of your lips on his palm was the confirming answer he was searching for to get started. The tip nuzzled against your entrance and your walls immediately clenched against nothing. 

“Breathe, angel. Breathe.” 

Yunho didn’t progress until you relaxed and didn’t pose the threat of snapping his dick in half. His movements were slow and careful. It required time and patience, but he eventually managed to bury himself completely in you. His cock prodded your belly and Yunho had to screw his eyes shut or he’d come on the spot. You whimpered at the lack of movement and wiggled impatiently.

“Yunho, you can move now.”

“Are you sure?” He swiped a trickle of sweat off your forehead, his eyes constantly searching for an indicator of discomfort.

“Yes! Please, just fuck me!”

Yunho moved with precision. He was just about out of you — only keeping the tip engulfed by your heat — and then in one long stroke, he filled the empty space taking your breath away. He planted kisses along your jawline and relentlessly thrust inside you, not giving you a chance to catch your breath. You raised your free hand, blindly searching for something to grapple onto and Yunho guided it around his neck, and hoisted you to sit on his lap. Your legs wrapped around him instinctively and he guided you up and down on his cock. The sudden change in position had him reaching everything and beyond, and dragged out a heavenly cry from between your lips.

“Yunhooo!”

The sound of skin slapping and incoherent sobs filled the room. Your heat and wetness gripped him tighter with each ram of his hips. He was stretching you out deliciously. Your lips meet in a sloppy, open mouthed kiss, sighs of pleasure grazing your face. The arch of your back positioned your clit to be rubbing against his abdomen and you threw your head back, your eyes rolling somewhere deep in your mind as he thrust again and again, never letting up on his pace.

“You’re taking me so well, angel.”

Your cunt sucked him in and you felt your body tightening, getting ready for sweet release. Yunho wasn’t too far away either, shuddering as your ass bounced up and down.

“Yun– Yunho…”

He licked a long stripe along the side of your neck, nibbling on it like a piece of cheese and bucked his hips harder. “I got you. I got you, angel. Let go f’me.”

It was the graze of your nipples against his, him biting harshly on the skin on your neck and cock slamming hard against your cervix that pushed you over the edge. You dug your nails into his shoulders and climaxed unannounced. He wrapped his arms around you, elevating slightly from the mattress and rutted into you like a rabbit in heat. Your broken sobs spurred him on until his body stuttered and cock released spurts of cum into the condom. Yunho gently let you down and cursed the human anatomy for not letting him follow in tow, but he couldn't, not until he tended to your needs. He discarded the spent wrapper in the bin across the room, put his boxers back on and returned with a water bottle. Helping you sit up, he coaxed you into drinking some water before pulling the spare blanket over your quivering body. You were both in need of a shower, but that could wait a few more minutes. 

Back in high school, he remembered the nurse preaching how important it was for girls to pee after sex. Something about minimizing the risk for an infection, he wasn’t really paying attention as he wasn’t interested in that stuff at the ripe age of sixteen — courtesy of his fear of getting a girl pregnant — but either way, he had to get you to a bathroom sooner or later. A mental timer was set for thirty minutes as he slotted up behind you. Another thing he learned was the importance of aftercare, not just cleaning and giving good, but to actually be present emotionally. So he made sure to keep you connected in some way and settled on having an arm curled around your waist, and chest pressed to your back. Time stopped as you regained your breathing and came down from the high of having your guts rearranged. You both lay there, basking in each other’s presence and letting the overwhelming emotions settle into place. Yunho eventually broke the silence.

“You alright there?”

You hummed, making yourself comfortable and played with his fingers resting on your abdomen. “Yeah, ‘m just sleepy.”

“Mmm, me too, but I don’t wanna sleep just yet.”

“Why?”

“Cause I have duties to attend to and I can’t do that and keep you in my arms.” 

Your chest rumbled and he joined with a chuckle of his own. The long press of your lips to the back of his palm awakened the butterflies in his stomach and embraced his heart in a blanket of warmth.

“Thank you,” he suddenly said and buried his nose in the crown of your head, eyes fluttering shut at the comforting scent that was you. 

“What for?”

“For trusting me in the most intimate way possible.”

You turned around, your eyes were quick to latch onto his. “Thank you for taking care of me. For staying true to your words and showing me how much you need me. I really felt…”

“Felt what?” He breathed out, sensing your hesitance.

“I felt… the love. Your love.”

Your confession hung in the air and Yunho’s heart stilled, eyes freezing and mouth agape. His fingers trembled as they curled around your neck and jaw, massaging your cheekbone and searching for anything that indicated this wasn’t real. He found nothing, but the reflection of everything his soul thirsted for; love, belonging and a home. 

At a loss for words, he could only do what felt right in the moment and leaned down to capture your lips in a feverish kiss. Sealing your souls yet again in an unhurried rhythm. Your body responded and you worked your mouth against his, the sexual tension was long replaced by pure affection. Although it was his first for both making love to you and kissing you, Yunho would always choose the latter over the other. He could kiss you for all eternity. He wanted to start his day tasting your morning breath and end it in the same way, catching a glimpse of what fun adventures you went on. Between the long hours stretching from dusk to dawn, he’d sneakily steal a plethora of kisses that would make life worth living.

Yunho’s breath ghosted over your lips. “Good, because my heart beats only for you. The only time it won’t is when it completely stops working.”

“You are out of your mind.”

“Ask me… Ask me if I love you.”

“Who even says that? ‘Stops working’… You’re crazy.” 

Persistent to get what he wanted, he kept repeating it until you gave in.

“Fine! Do you love me?”

He broke out in a boyish smile, cheeks on display and stars flickering in his eyes. “More than you could possibly imagine, angel. You’re too tangled into my soul to the point where life isn’t possible without you by my side. I love you. Oh God, I love you! I am in love with you!”

“Be quiet,” you hissed and clasped your palm over his mouth. “Someone will hear you!”

The lovesick fool had another trick up his sleeve as his tongue darted out and swept across your hand. “Let them, I want them to! I am in love with–” 

He didn’t get to finish the sentence as you shut him up with a kiss. 

“Are you done now?” You breathed out to which Yunho murmured a no and pulled you back into a more passionate kiss, his hands trailing down to your ass and making you straddle him. Before it could progress into a heated make out session having you both lust for each other again, Yunho parted from your delicious lips.

“Now I’m done.”

For the rest of the night, you lay there in each other’s embrace. Yunho’s fingers glided over the surface of your soft skin and hummed a soothing melody. The rivet of his chest combined with the lulling sounds forced your eyes close. Before you could completely succumb to dreamland, Yunho’s voice cracked the cloud of drowsiness.

“I’ve been thinking…” 

You made a noise to let him know you were awake and — somewhat — listening.

“And I want to marry you.”

The confession smacked out every ounce of sleep from you and you found yourself sitting up at the speed of light, eyes and mouth wide open. Yunho didn’t flinch nor squirm under your gaze. He held his ground and stood by his words.

“What…?”

“I want to marry you,” he repeated and took your hands in his, allowing his fingers to fall in the empty spaces between yours.

The proposition sounded insane. Before people married with the purpose of survival, to stabilize financial struggles and have a secure pillar to lean back on when needed or to strengthen the relationship between powerhouses. People rarely ever marry with the sole intent of love if they weren’t already comfortable in their Louboutin heels and Valentino dress shoes living in a mansion big enough to fit five households. What good did a ring on your finger bring in a world with the dead crawling around?

“But why?”

“Because I already almost lost you once and that was before I even got to tell you about my feelings. I don’t want to relive the past and make the same mistake of waiting until something happens to one of us before I take action.”

“What if you regret it?”

“Angel, the day you walked out from behind that shelf with a gun aimed at my head, I knew you were the one… So, what do you say? May I live out the rest of this fucked up life with you by my side?”

Tears hanging onto the corner of your eyes and your lips wobbled with emotion. Nodding, you flung your arms around his neck and sealed the union with a kiss, pouring your everything into it and hoping to convey how much truly you loved him. There were no witnesses to your unity, but the stars and the moon would have to speak of your love for generations to come. 

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[cute-sucker]

note: so yes i'm having sarah cameron brainrot :))) ESP her being dominant + in an apocalypse au !! please send me requests about her i'm begging :(

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would lead you on you gently, with your hand wrapped around her pinkie as you guides you to a safer place. you would have her bandana in your mouth to keep quiet, and she'd make sure you didn't trip because you were too clumsy for your own good.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would sit you on her lap when you got too silent, and try to coax the words out of you with gentle words, "yeah, what do you need? i've got some beans we can share, yeah?" and you would pucker your lips, tears welling up in your eyes.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would know how stressful the situation is, and so when you got too sad, she'd try to pop in a dvd, a silly episode of winnie the poo as she held in you in her arms. you would fall a sleep immediately, warm in her strong arms, slobbering all over her sweater.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would try to make you smile at the weirdest times, while the two of you were running away, she'd try to give you her smile, winking at you while telling you that you were her smart sweet girl.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would fold you in her arms so tightly, you'd succumb to sleep in minutes, and if you felt her arms unwrap from you, you would wake up, fear striking your soul that she was gone.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would know exactly when you were going to fall, ready to protect you at all costs, and sometimes she knew when you felt too tired, as you toppled down, she'd catch you without a breeze sometimes causing raised eyebrows from pogues.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would tell you to pucker your lips before kissing you, telling you that you looked prettiest right next to her, relishing the way that you blushed during sunset, the dewy colors matching right next to her girl.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would have sharp knifes tapped to her sides, and sometimes when she didn't pay you attention, you'd wrap your fingers around the weapons, pretending to drop them. she's immediately scold you for your reckless behaviour, and you'd settle a shy smile on your face. you always got what you wanted.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would make you a solid meal, cracking some eggs, and sometimes when it was good some bread and beans, because it was a necessity to have you eat. you'd be sitting in her lap, as bouncing to something on the radio, smiling with a full stomach.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would be the worst when you put yourself in danger, sneaking out to the woods to be a fairy, because you felt whimsical, and you would sob telling her nothing was fun anymore. she'd coo telling you it wasn't safe anymore and if you wanted to be a good girl you had to listen to her.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would tell you about star signs when the two of you were on the run, and you forgot all the dangers of the world staring at her explain things to you, her finger pointed at the sky, and a determined look on her face.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would get overwhelmed sometimes, and she hated when you were near her when it happened, because she needed to take care of you, but instead you would take things into hand, braiding her long hair, and soothing her by holding her hand. she would fall asleep from your soft hands, and wake up with a sleepy look on her face.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would hate it when you kissed her in front of people, hating the PDA of it all, the way that jj would tease her about how soft she was with you, and then she'd give you a secret smile while you gave her a knowing look.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would ramble to you in her sleep, fingers grasping for you, seeking you even she was asleep, and you'd rest your hand on her warm cheek, as you tried to nestle closer to her soft body.

sarah cameron in an apocalypse would take care of you no matter what <3

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Apocalyptic Winter - Platonic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

It's been months since the outbreak happened. You had been separated from your family and friends, forced to wander alone. You don’t know if they are dead or alive, and you may never find out. People were a rare sight, and you liked it that way. You were more scared of desperate people than slow, dumb zombies.

It got harder to move forward as winter drew closer, food became harder to come by. Warmth, harder to hold onto. You avoided areas where people would be, towns, cities. You’ve heard rumours from the people you do manage to stumble upon that the military has been going around looking for survivors. A last ditch effort to preserve some sort of society.

You drag yourself through the snowstorm, the sun starting to set. You had gone to get water from a nearby stream that had not yet frozen over, needing fresh water for the night. You approach the little camp you had set up, a tent and a campfire in an old concrete building. You slow your steps as you notice.. Tire marks…? You feel your stomach drop. These are fresh marks.

Someone is nearby. You reach for your knife, snow crunching under your boots as you enter the building as you see a snowmobile parked outside of the window to your right. You see the familiar crest of the National Guard and another you don’t recognise. Your heart is beating out of your chest, you snap your head to your set up, someone has gone through the tent…

The sound of a gun reloading over the sound of the snow storm makes you turn around fast. You find yourself looking down the barrel of a gun, a shotgun, held by a man in tactical gear and a skull balaclava.

The man seems much better prepared for the winter weather than you, at least judging by his white camouflage heavy duty cold weather gear- compared to your scavenged coats and boots. His voice is low and emotionless as he clicks the gun’s safety off and speaks in a low, dangerous voice.

“Drop the knife.” He says, his voice eerily calm. In a panicked state, you drop the gun and make a run for it. You hear a gunshot ring out, and you fall to the ground. He shot you in the leg. You are horrified by the pain and how much blood seems to seep from the wound.

He is at your side in less than a second, his gun lowered as he kneels down beside you, checking your leg.

"Stay still. I’ve hit your knee. I don't know how bad it is."

There's something in his eyes- it might look like pity, but it's a bit too cold and hard to really call it that. Even so, he reaches out to help you sit up. You immediately try to scramble away from him, blood painting the cold concrete below you red.

"Hold still. You aren't going anywhere."

He grabs your waist and forces you to sit still, keeping his grip firm. He seems pretty intent on forcing you to stay put, and he's strong- you'll struggle against his grip as much as you want, but it's not going to do any good.

"Now don't try to crawl anywhere. You'll just bleed out even faster. You're going to sit there and listen to me now, no matter how much it hurts, alright? You don't have any other choice."

He uses your scarf to wrap the wound, making sure that you won’t bleed out and die. Your tears freeze to your face as you dry heave at the sight of blood. He then drags you over to the snowmobile outside the old building, and you see that he's packed up your things in the sled attached to the back of the snowmobile.

You whimper and sob the pain is blinding. And he lifts you up to get you to sit on the back seat of the snowmobile. He makes you sit back there, and when he's pulled the strap of the seat tight over your chest, he stops and pauses, looking at you- really looking, almost for the first time. He can really see the exhaustion on your face from fending for yourself.

He gives you a pat on the leg, and then gets into the driver's seat, starting up the snowmobile.

"You're just going to have to ride with me. And then we're going back to my cabin." He grabs a spare helmet from the side compartment beside him and he puts it over your head, making sure it fits correctly.

He holds the helmet in place and buckles it on your head, starting the motor of the snowmobile as he does so. Once you're all buckled in, he starts driving through the thick, white snow.

"Hold on. The ride might be rough."

He doesn't wait for you to respond, starting the engine before the words have fully left his mouth. Every bump and turn makes the pain in your knee shoot up your leg, it hurts so much.

One hour, then two. The snow is thick and the snowmobile struggles over the rough terrain. Simon glances back at you every now and then as he drives, checking your expression.

At last, after what feels like an eternity of bumps and jolts, the snowmobile finally starts to level out, and he spots a small cabin nestled in some trees up ahead.

He pulls the snowmobile into a shed that looks old and weathered. The roof is almost collapsing, and the walls are made out of plywood.

He unbuckles you from the back of the snowmobile and helps get you to your feet. He is still silent, but he seems calmer somehow.

"We're here. Come on."

He starts walking towards a door on the side of the cabin. You limp, almost falling over. You clench your teeth, the pain feels like it's burning.

He keeps a grip on your arm, helping you limp with him as he leads you into the cabin. The cabin is small, but tidy, with a stove in the middle and a few shelves along the wall- he closes the door behind the both of you, and locks it.

He helps you out of your winter gear, hanging each piece of your clothing up to dry- the jackets, boots, and pants. He watches you closely as he helps you take the layers off, noticing the tears still running down your face- he's not used to someone crying in front of him.

He guides you over to the couch, sitting you down gingerly on the sofa. Every movement is agony, and you haven't stopped crying.

He goes to a shelf, grabbing a first aid kit. He comes back to you, sitting down next to you on the couch. He starts to open the first aid kit, a grim expression on his face.

"This is going to hurt, so try and lie as still as you can, alright?"

He works quickly but carefully, his movements practiced. He's been doing this kind of thing for years in the military. He pulls out the bullet with a pair of surgical tweezers, and after some delicate stitching, he finishes up the wound. You feel like your gonna pass out from the pain.

"There. All done."

As he speaks, you notice how his voice is almost softer than usual. You are breathing heavily, not managing the pain very well. He gives your wound one more once-over, wiping away the excess blood with a cloth. Then, he pulls out a pair of fuzzy socks and puts them on your feet, slowly starting to warm your feet with your boots and snow pants set to dry.

"There. They should warm up soon."

He glances up at you as he sits back, noticing your tears and how you're crying. He frowns almost imperceptibly, as if the sight of you crying is making his stomach twist a bit.

He quickly grabs some clean cloth from a shelf in the next room, bringing them in and sitting back down on the couch next to you. He starts to wrap the cloth around your knee, securing the makeshift brace around it. He ties the ends together, holding the cloth in place over the injury.

"There, now you won't be able to move that leg, let alone bend it. That should help keep that knee from getting worse for now.."

He's quiet for a long moment, just sitting next to you on the couch as you cry. He's watching you carefully, an almost unreadable look on his face. His eyes take in every detail of your expression, almost like he's committing it to memory.

After a while, he speaks, breaking the silence between you.

"You should probably try and rest, okay?"

[deltaharrington]

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

PAIRING: Milo Manheim x Reader

SUMMARY: Small towns. Everyone knows everyone and everything about each other. How will you and Milo triumph the odds of your relationship?

WARNINGS: Rich Guy, not-so-rich new girl Small Town Forbidden Romance!!

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the picturesque town as you found yourself standing outside of your boyfriends house. The air was thick with anticipation and a tinge of nervousness, as you contemplated the forbidden romance that had taken hold of your heart.

Milo Manheim, the son of a prominent family in the town, and you, a newcomer to the area, were worlds apart. Your paths should never have crossed, but fate had different plans.

From the moment you laid eyes on each other, there was an undeniable connection, a magnetic pull that drew you closer despite the consequences.

You had heard the whispers, the murmurs of disapproval from the townspeople. They spoke of the divide between your backgrounds, the expectations placed upon Milo to conform to the expectations of his family and social status.

But none of that mattered in the secret moments shared between the two of you.

Behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, you reveled in the stolen moments of passion and intimacy. Each touch, each stolen kiss was electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within you that couldn't be extinguished.

The world faded away when you were in each other's arms, the outside judgments and barriers forgotten for a brief, blissful moment.

But the weight of the forbidden nature of your relationship weighed heavily upon you both. You couldn't help but feel a mixture of guilt and longing, knowing that societal expectations threatened to tear you apart.

The fear of being discovered loomed over you, casting a shadow over the love you shared.

Yet, despite the challenges, you were both determined to fight for your love. The heart wants what it wants, and neither of you could deny the depth of emotion that bound you together.

You found solace in the secrecy, cherishing every stolen moment as if they were stolen pieces of eternity.

Late-night rendezvous became your refuge, the cover of darkness providing a veil of protection for your forbidden love.

Whispers of "I love you" mingled with the soft rustling of sheets, the intensity of your connection overpowering any doubts that lingered in the back of your minds.

But the world has a way of unraveling secrets, and eventually, the truth began to seep out. Gossips whispered, disapproving glances were cast your way, and the weight of societal expectations threatened to crush your love beneath its weight.

As the pressure mounted, Milo and you found yourselves faced with a difficult choice. The path ahead was unclear, fraught with heartache and sacrifice.

Would you defy the odds, stand strong against the judgments, and fight for your love? Or would you succumb to the pressure, allowing your love to become a bittersweet memory of what could have been?

No matter the outcome, the romance between you and Milo would forever be etched into your hearts. For in the depths of forbidden love, you had found a connection so profound, so unyielding, that it transcended the boundaries imposed by society.

And as you stood at the crossroads of your love, you knew that no matter the path you chose, the memories of your forbidden romance would forever burn brightly within you, reminding you of a love that dared to defy all odds.

A/N: Short but sweet! I don’t usually write this metaphorically but I was in the mood!! (I was also LOVING the word forbidden-).

[slashv1xen]

Hiii! I have an idea in my mind, but you don't have to write about it!!!

Maybe Otis brings home a person he liked (not a victim, they met somewhere else) and waiting for them to realise about his deeds and THEN he can kill them because of their reaction. But the person is like "Oh, cool" and continues talking to Firefly family carelessly. What would be his reaction?

ooh this one got me thinking 💭

i reckon otis would be stunned, and have a blank expression on his face as he thinks why this person isn’t scared senseless. ‘what? how they ain’t scared?’

but if otis is interested in u he would probably have a smirk on his face and probably keep u around (ur also now baby’s best friend, good job!), but if not he’ll most likely kill u out of spite.

the two of u probably met in either a bar (this man is a heavy drinker), captain spaulding’s gas station or at red hot pussy liquor (he’s incredibly sleazy what can i say).

one shot 💗

“okay, enough!” you announced as you put the shot glass down, gasping from the taste of the strong vodka. the man beside you, who introduced himself as otis just laughed and took a swig straight from the bottle (much to the bartenders protests).

“what’s wrong honey, i thought you could handle this, hm?” he teased, chuckling at your annoyed expression. “not more than 8 fuckin’ shots!” you snap, in disbelief as he looked at you, amused.

“how about you come home with me, i ain’t so drunk i can’t give you a ride liar and my mama can fix ya somethin’ real nice. least i can do, especially after you paying.” you rolled your eyes at his offer, but a small smile on your face was present.

“fine, you’re right. least you can do after giving me damn alcohol poisoning,” you say, to which otis laughs and says that you’re being dramatic.

after 20 minutes otis pulls up into what looked like an abandoned farm house. if you didn’t know you’d think the house was derelict. the door happened to be unlocked, to which otis let out a grumble and pushed it open, the two of you stepping inside.

the house was a mess, to say the least. you stepped over the empty glass bottle and year-old newspapers and sat on the couch, smoothing over your pants. otis said that he’ll be back in a second, and for you to just “hang tight cutie pie”, smiling as you laughed.

after what seemed like a few minutes two women came down the stairs. a younger one, about your age, and an older one who looked about 55. they both sat down next to you and introduced themselves as “mama firefly but just call me mama” and “baby”.

you were chatting with baby about movies while mama was making you a “special meal”, when otis pulled you aside, a devilish grin on his face.

“well, i figured now would be a good time to tell you…” he started, purposely being slow to create tension (to be an asshole)

“yeah? what did you need?” you reply, looking back at baby who waved to you, and you waved back. otis sighed, that grin still present.

“i tell this to everyone that comes here, and well, none of ‘em have made it out…” you were confused, why was this man talking in riddles? “i’m gonna kill you.” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath on the nape of your neck.

“shit, really?” you ask, no emotion in your voice. he nods, waiting for your reaction. “okay, just make it quick then.” you shrugged and walked back to the couch with baby, chatting again as if nothing happened.

otis however, was dumbfounded. he just said he would kill you, and you didn’t care? how? he was so confused, he can’t even think straight. hell, he can’t even think at all. the smirk slowly returned to his face as he thought of his next move.

‘maybe we could have a future together…’

hi hi, this was so much fun to write! in my eyes, this is so in character and i can totally imagine something like this happening in one of the movies. please never shy away from requests, i’m happy to do anything (that is SFW ofc). have a good day and i hope you enjoyed!

[starlightandfairies]

Hey! Since requests are open may I request Daryl x reader where they separate after the governor attacks the prison but they reunite in Alexandria, or Daryl finds readers dead body being eaten?? You can choose which one <33

If your comfortable with it I would prefer reader with she/her pronouns, thank you <3

Description: The reader and Daryl are separated after the attack on the prison and are reunited back at Alexandria.

Warnings: fluff, swearing

*I'm so sorry for how long it has taken me. I might also do the other option as well*

Requests are open!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 883

The attack on the prison was brutal and heartbreaking, it had been a home and things had been going wrong for way too long. It was only bound that this was going to happen, groups were formed as they went separate ways in order to get away from the herds and the wreckage. Daryl had been separated with Beth, all the others had someone but Y/N. She was all by herself, it killed her and being alone did nothing good for her. She needs people and needs to have someone with her so she was hoping that she could find someone soon. Better yet, hoped that Daryl was alive and that they find each other again. 

Y/N had a system, she walked throughout the day, barely any stops and sipped water all throughout her journey on foot, then would find a new body of water before it was dark and would hide in a car as the night went on. The first moment she saw another form of human life, she hide in the back, her gun firmly in her hand as she watched a man check the back of cars and then leave them. Not wanting to create a problem for herself, she stayed hidden and hoped that the man would look in the back of the car and even if he did that he was nice and would leave her alone. 

Her heart jumped in her chest as the man ran into the car she was currently in, she placed a hand over her mouth as he closed the door hiding from a heard of walkers and holding something in his hands which appeared to be a number plate from a state that she couldn't make out. She placed the gun to his head, speaking quietly, not prepared to make any moves as she didn't want to kill anyone. 

"Tell me your name, what you're doing and your morals, I'll put the gun down as soon as you tell me this and if I agree with your morals then we can both hide in here before they go. Okay?" 

"My name is Aaron, It sounds really silly, I know but I'm collecting state number plates for my boyfriend, it's something that we do. You know, to pass the time and deal with this world. I won't hurt you, you look like you've been through a lot and I can take you to my community you can rest there, have some food and if you don't like it there you can leave." Y/n sat back, apologising to Aaron for holding a gun at him and agreed to go with him. 

Y/n sat in a room, staring at the camera nervously as she answered the questions, it brought on emotions she didn't want to deal with. She was terrified of the fact that she did not have Daryl, that she didn't have her friends and begged that they were all okay and that she would see them again soon. 

A couple of weeks passed, and Y/n had decided to stay for that time, going on runs in the hopes that she would see someone she knew and turned up empty-handed every time. Y/n had come out of her house after what had been a few days. 

Aaron had been stopping by, giving her food, making sure she was still alive and still living amongst the others. The girl sat on the porch, reading a book, feeling happy and proud to touch something new, to read a book that she hadn't touched before and she felt at peace for a short while. 

The girl glanced up, searching the area for a moment, freezing as she saw a familiar face. She threw the book to the side, stumbling as she raced over to the group, tripping over air and already had tears in her eyes.

"Daryl!" She shouted, panting as she ran as fast as she could to finish the distance between them both. Daryl stared at her, he couldn't believe that the girl running towards him was alive and she was safe. He dropped his crossbow to the ground, finishing the distance and picking her up in his arms. He whimpered lightly, Y/n cried in his arms and gripped at the iconic leather vest the man always wore.

Daryl slowly dropped to his knees, soaking into the ground with the girl in his arms and placed kisses on her forehead. Sobbing lightly as the girl was finally in his arms again and seemingly unharmed and in a place that seemed to be safe and with decent people.

"I was so scared, I thought you were gone." She whispered, smiling as he tightened his grip and held her off the ground. 

"I've got you," Daryl whispered, feeling everything he has been feeling for the last little while come back to him and had a couple of tears well in his eyes as he held the girl in his arms. Daryl did not want to let her go, did not want to let her out of his sight. The girl he loved was alive, with him and he felt safer with her back with him. 

[k1ng-ej]

RZ!Michael myers x GN!reader

Requests open!

Michael observed you from a shadowy corner as you danced in your kitchen, humming to the music that was playing over your speakers. You spent quite a while gathering and measuring ingredients, then mixing them in a bowl. While he couldn't tell what you were making, the aroma from the oven was delicious.

You twirled gracefully in the kitchen, completely oblivious to Michael standing ominously in the doorway. Frustration simmered within him as you remained unaware of his presence. Slowly, he advanced into the room, a knife clenched tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning pale with tension.

You let out a startled gasp as you crashed into his chest, stumbling slightly before quickly turning around to identify the person you had run into.

“Oh, Michael!” you exclaimed, a wave of relief washing over you as you placed a hand over your racing heart. You noticed the knife in his hand, but ignored it knowing he wouldn’t hurt you. “I had no idea you were here; you startled me!”

Michael tilts his head at you. You had barely given him attention all morning, and he would never ask for it directly, he just bugs you until you finally figure it out.

“What’s up? Hungry?” 

He shook his head.

“Do you need something?” You furrowed your brows, trying to think of why your murderous friend was suddenly bothering you. 

Michael stepped closer, causing you to instinctively retreat. This back-and-forth continued until you found yourself against the counter, where he seized the moment to corner you, placing his hands on either side of you. You looked up at him, bewildered, your hands pressed against his chest to create some distance. It was clear that Michael had no concept of personal space.

Michael bent down to your level, locking eyes with you. You could just barely hear the sound of his breaths escaping behind the mask. Confusion washed over you; you had no clue what his intentions were or what he wanted from you.

He was frustrated that you hadn't yet grasped his needs, especially considering you were the one person who could effortlessly read him, a skill honed from your countless moments together. Despite his attempts to mask his emotions, you always seemed to understand his feelings. Michael knew that his body language often betrayed him—clenching his fists when rage bubbled beneath the surface or tugging at the fabric of his coveralls in moments of discomfort or embarrassment. So why was it different now? Why couldn't you decipher what he was yearning for?

The delicious smell of brownies caught your attention. “Did you want brownies? Is that why you’re being like this?”

Michael blinked at you, then shook his head.

“You have to tell me what you want! I’m not a mind reader.” You groaned, lightly hitting his chest.

A muffled huff escaped from behind the mask, and from the corner of your eye, you noticed him pulling one hand back from the counter.

Michael reached behind him, pulled a strand of dirty blonde hair forward, and let it slip through his fingers.

Oh.

“You want me to brush your hair?”

A nod.

With a soft sigh, you gently pushed against Michael’s chest, freeing yourself from the confines between him and the counter. He trailed closely behind as you strolled into the living room, leaving his knife on the counter. You sank onto the couch, stretching your legs across the cushions, and beckoned Michael over. He eagerly complied, settling comfortably between your legs and reclining against you, his head resting on your chest.

A smile crept across your face as your fingertips grazed the edge of his mask. It was a rare privilege for Michael to allow you to remove it. With a gentle motion, you lifted the mask away from his face and placed it on the coffee table. Michael tensed at the sudden exposure; he despised being without his mask. Yet, he found solace in your soothing fingers running through his hair, making the moment bearable.

The moment you began to run your fingers through Michael's long hair, you could feel him instantly relax. As you gently untangled his hair and occasionally massaged his scalp, you couldn't help but think about how incredibly soft his hair could be if he paid it a bit more attention. Despite your efforts to help him with his hygiene and grooming, getting him to sit still was like pulling teeth. He often got up in the middle of your care, wandering off while your calls for him to return went unnoticed.

Minutes slipped by as you ran your fingers through Michael’s hair, the air filled only with his soft breaths and the faint beeping of the timer you set for the brownies. Lightly tapping his shoulder, you drew his attention, signaling that it was time for you to get up.

He grumbled, earning a chuckle from you.

Reluctantly, he rose from his seat, reaching for his mask on the table and pulling it over his face. The sudden absence of his warmth sent a shiver through you; you definitely missed it. Standing up, you headed towards the kitchen, where you opened the oven door and were greeted by the enticing aroma of freshly baked brownies. Donning oven mitts, you carefully removed the pan and began slicing generous portions for both you and Michael.

[fangdokja]

“I could let you go,” he says, his voice almost soft. “But where would the fun be in that, little prey?”

He paces around you, a predator circling its prey, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “No, I’d rather keep you. Watch you squirm. Hear you beg.”

When you recoil, he laughs, low and menacing. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says, crouching to meet your terrified gaze. “You’re the one who ran. And now?”

He grabs your chin, forcing you to gaze up at him. “Now, you pay the price.”

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Zombie Apocalypse! Survivor x Fem. Reader

[luveline]

do you think you could do something with zombie au where reader is on her period? thank you!!

thank you for your request! fem, 1k

You’ve gotten your period three times since the apocalypse began. The first time, you and Steve were just beginning to get along, and he’d proved why you trust him as you do, treating the whole thing with kindness. More recently, he’s your unofficial boyfriend. Like, kissing you and holding you, but foregoing the conversation that would make you an official couple. 

Either he doesn’t want to be official (which is fine, it’s not like he’s going anywhere), or you’re official without words. You’ve assumed the latter because the former makes you nauseous. 

Not that you need much help in that department. Your stomach churns like a tide, bouts of sickness and pain that hit you rampantly as you follow Steve downstairs. 

“Can I take my shoes off?” you ask. 

“Why are you asking me? It’s not my house.” Steve descends the last step and holds his hand behind him for you. Seemingly to help you down a step you don’t need help with. 

You’re asking because taking your shoes off means getting comfy for the night, and he doesn’t want to do that at every house you break into.

You don’t explain yourself. You follow Steve into the living room, hoping he’s going to take your hand again. He nudges you with his hip into a mildly dusty couch. 

You sit. “What, are we gonna watch TV?” you joke. 

“You look sickly.” 

That’s not nice. “I do?” you ask, all teasing gone from your tone. You often wish you were much prettier, and occasionally beg fate to drop a bottle of medical grade body wash into your lap, if just to make Steve see you that way. But Steve’s kissed you with a greasy nose and blood on your chin. You were hoping appearances didn’t matter. 

“You look awful,” he says, his eyebrows stitching together as he heads into the kitchen. “Stay sat down!” 

“Awful?” you ask. 

He doubles back, face peeking around the doorway. “Not like that,” he says hurriedly. “Just, sick. I’m gonna cook you something.” 

“I don’t need to be sat down, I’m fine.” 

He disappears again. “That why you’re glaring at me?” he calls, his voice echoing against tile. 

You don’t have the energy for whatever it is that’s happening. You kick your legs out on the couch and begin kneading the swollen mess that is your stomach, debating on telling him why you’re grumpy. It’s not like he cares. He never finds it gross, but you don’t want him to pity you either. It’s just a period. 

(It really sucks.) 

“Alright, the hot plate is on,” he calls. “What do you want, huh? We got the split pea soup, or the chicken casserole?” He laughs. “The casserole, duh. Ten minutes and it’s yours.” 

Your breath rushes out through your nose. Stomach hurts, head hurts, he’s making you dinner and laughing where you can’t see him. You force yourself to get up, shuffling to the kitchen with a pout already in place. 

“Ten minutes is not right,” you say, announcing your movement so he doesn’t stab you. 

“Is too right. How come you never listen?” 

“Steve, please don’t be mean to me, I’m on my period.” You wince as a pang climbs your back. 

“Oh, you are?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Well… I’m glad, sort of. Better that then the flu, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

A couple of weeks ago, he would’ve told you to go back to the couch, and he would’ve brought your food in to you, wrapping a blanket over your legs and leaving you to it. But this is now. Your unwilling protector has gone remarkably soft on you. 

“Is it like last time?” he asks, holding out his arm. 

You drift toward him, pretending it isn’t to be hugged. “It hurts, if that’s what you mean.” 

“It hurts,” he repeats in a murmur as his arm finally curls around your waist. He pulls you into his side.

“You’re pitying me.” 

“You like it,” he jokes, his tone still held in that soft murmuring. 

You close your eyes, driving your nose into his chest. The hot plate gurgles weakly on the stove, using the last of a canister of camping gas, a few days from the end of its life. Your eyelids feel heavy closed, achy not with tears but fatigue, and your head aches with a migraine you know from experience won’t be defeated using tylenol. But Steve hugs you with one arm and leans against you as you press into him. Stuck together. He doesn’t move for ages. 

“I’m glad I don’t get my period,” he says. 

“You act like you do.” 

“Were you not gonna tell me? I guess you don’t have to, but if you’re in pain, I’d like to know.” 

“Don’t need you to feel any more sorry for me.” 

“I don’t. Just like rubbing your back.” 

Your heart skips a beat. That’s as close to a confession of feelings you’ve ever gotten from him. Well, verbally. His sporadic kissing says a lot. 

“Thanks for telling me,” he says. You have to strain your ears to hear him. “I don’t think there’s much iron in chicken casserole. I wish we… How much iron is there in squirrel?” 

“I don’t wanna eat squirrel.” Again. 

“It’s good for you.” 

Doubtful. You turn completely into his touch and hug him. “Please don’t make me eat squirrel.” 

You sound a teeny tiny bit pitiful, and you earn yourself an even better hug than the first. “I won’t, I won’t, I was just kidding,” he promises, “I just figure you need it. Maybe if we look through the medicine cabinet they’ll have some multivitamins or something.” His hand grabs at your side. It’s not a careful touch, though he’s far from spiteful. “You need painkillers, right? I could crush a Vicodin into your casserole.” 

“Yes, please.” 

Steve’s nose presses into the side of your face. You feel close to him in a way that chokes you up, but you don’t need to talk any more. 

“Half a Vicodin,” he deliberates, “and I’ll rub your back.”

[spearsillustration]

°[The Doctor's Out]°

Note: I really hope this turns out well. I've had an old hyperfixation reemerge, and I had to write something before the motivation slipped away. Recently, I have been quickly moving from one thing to another. Most of the time I have trouble writing longer fics. But I'm so excited to work on something for Richtofen. I've hardly seen any good fanfiction for him so I'd love any recommendations.

Word Count - 4,604

Page Number - 12.5

[Hurt Edward Richthofen x reader] SFW

------------------------------------------------------------

        I had finally found him slumped against a wall after looking all over for him. Only to find him bleeding out from a wound in his abdomen. It seems he had enough energy to fight off some zombies before I arrived, but he was badly injured in the process. Seeing him like this almost knocked the breath out of me. 

        "I thought you vere going to leave me to bleed to death, it was so sad." He says quietly in a lighthearted manner, though his voice was weak.    

        "Keep quiet, you can joke about this as much as you like once I patch you up," I said quickly rushing to his side holstering my gun clearly worried about him. "How'd you even manage to bang yourself up this bad?" 

        He lets out a low chuckle, wincing in pain as he does. "I got cornered by a few of those damn things. You can only keep them off for so long before one of them gets the jump on you."

        He grunts in pain as I kneel beside him, struggling to speak through the pain as blood pours from his wound. "How is it looking, my dear?"

        "Well, you're the doctor, shouldn't you know?" I asked jokingly trying to lighten the mood up a bit more.

        He lets out a weak chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. I know roughly how it looks, but I'm a little...distracted."

        He glances down at his wounded abdomen, his hand hovering over the gaping wound as the blood slowly soaks into the tattered fabric of his shirt.

        He was losing blood faster than I originally thought making my eyes widen and uncontrollably gasp. I quickly sat down on the ground next to him and threw open our med kit. I rummaged through grabbing what I needed. 

        He watches me silently, taking note of the look of shock on my face seeing the extent of his injury. His eyes follow every movement meticulously, analyzing my every reaction to the situation.

        "I'm going to be fine, don't worry." He assures you quietly, trying to maintain a calm demeanor as his face twists in pain. Despite his attempt to appear unbothered, his hands clench into fists as his eyes narrow with discomfort. "I've had vorse."

        "I'll stop worrying once I get you patched up." I had everything I needed and moved closer to his injured side. I had him lie down fully so I could get a better look to see what I was working with.

        He complies with my request, grunting in pain as he slowly lowers himself to the ground, trying to avoid putting too much pressure on his wounded abdomen. His breathing quickens slightly as he sees the medical supplies in my hands, knowing that the pain he's about to feel is just the beginning.

        "You can still leave me...if you want." He offers, half-jokingly as he looks up at me from his position on the ground.

        "Don't even joke about that," I said sternly looking him in the eyes for a moment before getting back to work. I removed some of his outer layers and pushed up his shirt to get a better view of the injury.

        He let out a sharp breath as I moved his shirt, exposing the ugly wound on his abdomen. The area around the wound was already turning a dark purple color from the internal bleeding, and the actual gash on his skin was still seeping with fresh blood. He grits his teeth, bracing himself for the pain that's to come as he looks up at my face again.

        "Just do your work, dear." He mutters in a strained voice.

        I gave him a sympathetic look knowing this was gonna hurt like hell, fixing this with what little we have.

        He nods slightly in acknowledgment of the sympathetic look. He steadies his breathing, trying to mentally prepare himself for the pain that's about to come as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back, resting it against the cold, hard wall behind him.

        "Do your worst, love." He says quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

        "I'll be as gentle as I can okay?" I said before starting to clean his wound.

        He nods silently, bracing himself as best he can as I start to clean his wound. He grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he feels the cold touch of the antiseptic against his skin. Every muscle in his body tenses up, waiting for the pain to come.

        "Just...get it over with, quickly please."

        "I'll work as fast as I can. But if I don't do this right it'll only make it worse." Cleaning the wound helped slow down the blood flow making it easier to fix before stitching him back up. "But I'll have you back in one piece soon."

        "I'm trying to hold still for you." He mutters through gritted teeth, struggling to keep from flinching as I touch the sensitive, wounded skin.

        After a few minutes, I removed my hands and got the needle ready to sew him up. "We're almost finished, just need to sew you up and we're done," I said gently caressing his cheek with my hand for a moment before going back to work.

        He nods quickly, a mix of relief and anticipation clear in his expression. The thought of being sewn up brings a grimace to his face, but he knows it needs to be done. He leans into the touch of my hand against his cheek for a moment, finding comfort in the soft caress.

        "Just... do it quickly, okay?" He manages to say, his voice strained and shaky.

        I quickly sewed him up and made sure it was secure before fixing his clothes. "All finished hon,"  I said with a sigh of relief. "I'll keep the medical work for you next time."

        He let out a long sigh of relief himself once I finished stitching him up. He glances down at his abdomen, inspecting the work I did.

        "Thanks, love. I'm sorry you had to stitch me up like that." He shifts slightly, trying to get more comfortable on the cold floor as he looks up at me once again. "You did alright despite zero medical training." He adds jokingly, unable to resist.

        "Well, I never wanna have to stitch you up again, that better be the last time. Be more careful." I said putting everything back away.

        "Now stay right there, I need to do a quick lookout to make sure we're safe to stay here for a while. You need to rest for a bit, and I don't need zombies cornering us before we meet back up with the group."

        He nods in agreement, reluctantly admitting that I was right. He leans back against the wall, resting one arm over his wounded abdomen as his eyes fill with a mix of irritation and exhaustion. "Fine, fine, I'll stay put. Just be careful out there."

       "I'll be right back," I said making sure my gun was fully loaded.

        He watches me check my weapon, "Give 'em hell, my dear.." He says quietly, a hint of a smile on his face as he leans back and closes his eyes.

        "Always do," I said leaving him there safely in the room we were in.

        I wanted to make sure the building was safe to stay in over the night. I looked around checking every room hardly noticing a thing. Well, that was until I heard something. A lone zombie by itself it looked like from the corner I hid in trying my best to keep out of sight. It hadn't noticed me so I quickly rushed back. It wasn't the best but our circumstances could be far worse. As long as we stayed hidden and quiet we'd be fine, most likely. It wasn't one of my best plans but we didn't have many options. The group has been separated and my only teammate and medic got hurt. 

        He waits patiently in the room, his head leaning against the wall behind him and his eyes closed as he tries to rest. It had only been a few minutes since I left when he heard the door burst open suddenly. He quickly opens his eyes, looking up at me entering the room, noticing the tense look on my face.

        "Everything alright?" He asks, raising a concerned eyebrow.

        "It's fine. Only a few zombies lying around." I closed and locked the door behind me. "But we need to stay quiet and I prefer to take extra precautions." We were hiding away in an old office so I pushed the desk in front of the door along with the bookcase. This wouldn't do much but it's better than nothing. "This will do for tonight," I said dusting myself off and wiping the sweat from my brow. 

        He watches as I barricaded the door, his expression a mixture of resignation and irritation. He knew I was right to take extra precautions, but he seemed frustrated at having to hide away in an old office.

        "Great, just great... we'll be stuck in here for the night then." He mutters, wincing slightly as he shifts his position on the floor, his injured abdomen still throbbing with pain most likely. 

        "Well we can't do much now, and you need to rest," I said turning to face him with another stern look. 

        He had already been pushing himself to the limit, and the strain of today's events had taken their toll on him. His exhaustion shows on his face as he leans back against the wall, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible on the hard floor.

        "I guess you're right. I could use some rest. But.. what about you? You still haven't slept either.."

        "I can wait, you need to rest. Doctors orders or so you'd say. Plus one of us needs to keep watch just in case anything happens. I'd hate to see what happens if both of us were taken by surprise. We probably wouldn't survive that one."

        He rolls his eyes at my mention of "doctor's orders," but can't help letting out a small chuckle.

        "If you say so, Liebling. I suppose I'm in no position to argue right now." He lets out a weary sigh, closing his eyes again as he tries to relax his aching muscles. 

        He was already hurting from his wounds so I hated to see him uncomfortable too. I walked back over and sat next to him. "Well, the wall isn't very comfortable is it?" I patted my shoulder gesturing for him to lean against my side and make himself comfortable.

        He glances at me, a mix of surprise and gratitude in his expression. He sighs quietly, reluctantly accepting the offer as he slowly shifts his position to lean against my side, gingerly resting his head on my shoulder.

        "I'm too tired to argue about this.." He mutters, his voice low and weary. But there's a hint of affection in his tone as well.

        "Whatever you say, doctor," I said with a smile.

        He lets out a soft breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as he moves into a more comfortable position, resting against my side. Despite the situation, he can't help feeling a sense of comfort from my presence, even if he would never admit it out loud.

        "That's better." He mutters quietly, his eyes fluttering closed as he leans into you. "Just wake me up if anything happens, got it, love?"

        "Just rest, let me worry about everything for now," I said tenderly.

        He nods silently, his eyes still closed as he takes a deep breath, his weary mind slowly starting to relax allowing himself to simply unwind and rest. "Just for a little while.." He mutters, the fatigue slowly taking over as he allows himself to drift off to sleep.

        I just lightly hummed in response.

        The sound of soft humming fills the quiet room, its soothing melody acting like a lullaby that slowly lulls him to sleep. He leans even closer, his head resting against my shoulder, his breathing slowly becoming more steady and regular, a clear sign that he is gradually falling asleep.

        I smiled as he fell asleep. He definitely needed it. I just listened for anything coming and kept guard as he slept. This was the first time I've seen him take anything remotely close to a break. However these days it was almost impossible for any of us to get a break. But it did bring a smile to my face to see him get some rest though I was almost envious. 

        ---

        A few hours passed as he slept quietly, the room filled with the silence of the night and the soft sound of his steady breathing. During the first few hours, he remained motionless, too exhausted and in pain to stir. It wasn't until later in the night that he began to shift and murmur restlessly, his sleep disturbed by some unknown nightmare.

        A few times here and there I could hear something moving around outside keeping me alert. As long as we were quiet and weren't located we'd be safe. I noticed him stir a few times here and there but I didn't think much of it since I can't believe anyone could have a truly restful night's sleep these days. 

        As the night progressed, his nightmare continued to cause him to stir and murmur in his sleep. Now and again he would let out a low gasp of pain or fear, his body tensing and flinching involuntarily as if trying to escape from whatever horrors his mind was tormenting him with.

        After a while of this, it started to worry me too much to let it be. "Richthofen...Richthofen." I repeated gently trying to wake him up in case his nightmare caused him to hurt himself even more or make too much noise giving away our location.

        His eyes snap open instantly, his expression one of disoriented confusion and fear. His heart was beating fast, his chest heaving heavily as he tried to figure out his surroundings in the darkness. It takes him a moment to realize where he is.

        "S-Scheiße, what...where..?" He stammers, his voice hoarse and strained as he slowly regains his bearings.

        You were having a nightmare, are you alright?

       He takes a deep, shaky breath, his hands trembling slightly as he runs one through his messy hair. The nightmare still had him feeling on edge, and his heart still felt like it was racing.

        "Ja, I-I'm fine. Just a bad dream, that's all." He says, trying to downplay the situation. He didn't want me to worry about him any more than I already was.

        "It seemed like a rough one. Not that I wanna pry. You were starting to move around and I didn't want you ripping your stitches or anything."

        "Danke, liebe.. I appreciate your concern, I'm alright. Just need a few moments to catch my breath." He says, his voice sounding strained and weary as he tries to calm his breathing.

        A loud crash outside the door interrupted us making me jump as I covered my mouth keeping myself from making noise. It sounds like something was knocked over right outside the door.

        Edward's tired mind quickly snaps to alert at the sound of the crash outside the door and he instantly goes tense, his eyes wide as he looks at me.

        "What was that?" He whispers, his voice low and urgent. He was fully awake now, adrenaline starting to course through our veins as he scanned the room anxiously, ready to defend the both of us if needed despite his injuries. 

        "Sounds like one of them knocked something over. It's probably nothing but we should stay quiet for now." I barely said over a whisper almost shaking as my hand rested over my gun.

        Edward nods in agreement. Every little noise and shadow seemed to make us more nervous, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly.

        "Right, let's stay quiet.." He mutters, his voice low and tense. "Hopefully it was just a stray zombie and it will pass on by."

        "That's what I hope for."

        He was used to dealing with hordes of undead regularly, but the stress of the situation was starting to wear on him. Sitting in a small, dark room with a group of undead roaming outside wasn't exactly on his list of preferred places to spend the night.

        "Hopefully it won't try the door." He mutters, his eyes flickering toward the barricaded door.

        "Well, don't jinx it," I said halfheartedly.

        He lets out a low chuckle, trying to make light of the situation. "Right, my apologies. No jinxing allowed. That'd be bad luck, wouldn't it?" He teases, his voice still edged with nerves.

        Suddenly a low, guttural noise comes from outside the door, causing both our hearts to skip a beat. 

        I unintentionally grabbed his arm for comfort as we both froze in silence and looked up at him with wide eyes.

        His eyes flickered over to me as I grabbed his arm. He glanced at me and then back at the door, his breath caught in his throat as the noise got louder.

        "Stay calm," He whispers, gripping my shoulder reassuringly as he speaks, trying to keep his voice steady.

        I only nodded as I kept my hand hovered above my weapon.

        The noise continued, almost sounding like a low growl. It lasted for a few moments, then slowly faded, leaving the room shrouded in an eerie silence. Edward exhales a shaky breath, his hand still gripping my shoulder. 

        "I.. think it moved on.." He says quietly, his eyes shifting toward the doorway.

        "I hope so," I said feeling slightly relieved, and let my tense body relax.

        Edward sighs, his body still tense as he keeps listening intently, straining his ears for any sign of movement outside. The silence was almost deafening, his heart still beating a little bit too fast for comfort. However, the fact that the sound seemed to have faded gave him a slight sense of relief.

        "Looks like we're in the clear for now..." He mutters, his hand still on my shoulder, his grip a little tighter than usual as if trying to assure himself that I was still there.

        My ears were practically ringing so I shook my head to get rid of the feeling. "Let's hope it stays that way."

        He nods, his eyes still flickering toward the door every now and then. Even though the room was silent now, the tension was still thick in the air.

        "Yeah. No sense worrying about what's outside. We just need to lay low and hope it stays quiet out there."

        He pauses for a moment before speaking again, his voice a little softer than usual. "Hey, look at me for a second, love."

        I turned to face him tilting my head slightly with a questioning look.

        Edward's gaze locks onto mine, his blue eyes studying me intently. He looked tired, yet the concern was still showing on his face. “How are you holding up?” He asked suddenly, his voice gentler than usual. His hand that was on my shoulder gave a light squeeze.

        "I'm doing al- I'm doing the best I can with our current situation." I didn't know how to answer. I was completely exhausted and overwhelmed with him being hurt, and everything was just crazy right now.

        He notices the hint of distress in my voice knowing I was trying to downplay my stress for his sake. He knew me all too well. 

        "Hey, hey, it's alright." He says softly, his hand moving gently to cup my cheek. "You know you can be honest with me, love. It's just us right now, I'm here." He says, his thumb stroking my cheek gently.

        "I-I'm just tired," I said leaning into his warm touch.

        His fingertips brush gently over my skin as his hand rests against my cheek. My tiredness was apparent, and he couldn't blame me for feeling worn out. The stress of the day was taking a toll on both of us.

        "I know, I know. But you've been through a lot today. You should rest." He says sincerely, his voice laced with a hint of concern and tenderness. His hand continues to caress my cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles against my skin.

        "I'm fine, you're the one who needs rest, you're hurt. I can rest once we get back with the group." I mumbled out, sounding far more pitiful than I ever imagined myself sounding.

   He sighs, shaking his head slowly as he looks at me. He can hear the fatigue in my voice and can see the shadows under my eyes. He knew that I was pushing myself to my limit, putting up a strong front for his sake.

        "Love, I appreciate your concern, but you need to rest. You're just as tired as I am. There's no point in pretending otherwise."

        His eyes were gentle and understanding. He didn't want me to push myself past my limits, especially not for his sake.

        "But-" Is all I got out before being interrupted.

        He cuts me off, shaking his head firmly. "No buts, not this time. You need to rest. I'll be fine, I've been through worse."

        He says with a smirk, his hand moving to gently brush a strand of hair out of my face. Despite his joking tone, his eyes were serious, wanting me to take care of myself for once.

        "Fine, but only because I'm too tired to argue."

        He chuckles lightly at my response, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll take what I can get."

        He says, his hand still caressing my cheek, gently tracing the outline of my face with his fingertips. He could see the exhaustion in my eyes, the weariness etched onto my features. "Get some rest, love. I'll keep watch, alright?"

        "Alright, fine," I said before moving closer and cuddling up to his side like I had him do with me earlier.

        He let out a slight laugh as I cuddled closer to him, a small smile on his face. He slides his arm around me, pulling me closer to him as he makes himself comfortable on the ground.

        "Comfortable, love?" He teases me gently, his fingers tracing slow circles on my back. Despite the situation, he found a strange sense of comfort in having me close to him, my head resting on his shoulder.

        "Yeah, I'm pretty comfortable, but I'm not hurting you or anything are you?" I ask suggesting to his sewed-up side.

        He shakes his head, the smile on his face growing slightly as he gazes down at me resting against his shoulder. "No, love, you're just fine."

        "As long as you say so," I mumbled as my eyes grew heavy. It didn't take long for me to practically pass out from exhaustion. 

        He watched as my breathing began to slow, my body relaxing against his. He could feel the tiredness emanating from me, and it wasn't long before I drifted off to a deep sleep, my head still resting on his shoulder. He couldn't help but crack a small, genuine smile. Seeing me asleep and curled up against him sent a strange yet pleasant feeling fluttering through his chest. Even in a dangerous situation like this, he found a sense of comfort in having me near him.

        ---

        Like he did I could only sleep for a few hours before my body automatically woke me up. I'd probably never have a good night's rest for the rest of my days, though I did feel better than before.

        Edward's eyes were open the moment he heard me stir next to him, his hand having rested automatically on my shoulder as you woke. He glanced down at me in the dark as I slowly sat up, his voice low and gentle as he spoke. "You alright, liebe? You didn't sleep long."

        "Couldn't sleep, you know how it can be."

        He nods, understanding all too well the struggle to find rest during stressful situations like these. He knew all too well how it felt to toss and turn for hours with endless thoughts racing through your mind in the dark.

        "Yeah, I know the feeling. It's hard to find sleep when your mind won't let you relax." He says, rubbing his hand up and down my back soothingly, the action automatic and comforting.

        Just then I heard voices making me jump up. I looked back at Richtofen before moving closer to the door to listen and prayed it was our little team. We'd be far safer to leave if it was them.

        Edward was immediately alert the moment he noticed my reaction. He listened intently, straining his ears trying to make out the voices I was hearing. He gently grabbed my hand, silently signaling me to be cautious and quiet as he too moved closer to the door to listen.

        One stupid joke told me exactly who it was making me smile before starting to move my shitty excuse of a barricade. Our team was right outside the door.

        Edward let out a soft sigh of relief as he recognized the voices as well. He could hear Nikolai's deep, rumbling laugh and Dempsey's loud, cocky comments, and it put him at ease.

        "Guess we got lucky this time." He mutters quietly, a small smile on his face as he watches me start to move the barricade.

        "Guess we did," I said moving the last thing from our barricade. And before I opened the door I quickly gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

        "Hay guys, good to see you're all alive," I said after opening the doors.

        Edward was about to say something but was quickly cut off by Nikolai's booming voice. "It is good to see you both alive as well." He says with a chuckle, his eyes flickering to Edward for a moment before looking back to me.

        I gently nudged our doctor. "He's been roughed up a bit, got anything to help the pain?" I asked the others since we only had so much.

        Nikolai nodded, pulling a bottle of vodka out of his jacket pocket. "Vodka always helps the pain, ja? 

[deathbyathousandspiders]

HELL–BOUND. ₅

mcu!peter parker | zombie apocalypse au. CHAPTER FIVE.

IN WHICH a run in with cannibals sets you and peter back much further than anticipated.

!! WARNING !! — there’s talk and mention of cannibalism and heavy gore themes in this chapter. discretion is critically advised.

read chapter one | two | three | four.

✨masterlist✨.

4.8k.

A groggy, unforgiving headache greeted your wake as you blinked away what felt like days of sleep. You couldn’t remember half of what happened, what day it was, where you were–but the array of knives along the walls, the sleek cleanliness of the kitchen you were in, the pile of human bones in the corner of the white room–the memories came flooding back. 

You tried to sit up, quick to realize you were bound to the kitchen island by harsh leather restraints. They were tightly bound to your waist, wrists and ankles, keeping you from thrashing too much against the white kitchen counter. Your head rolled around, taking in your surroundings. When it rolled back, your eyes caught Peter, hanging by his own set of leather restraints off the wall. 

The two of you locked eyes in an instant. 

“I’m so sorry–”

“Zip it, Peter!” You fought against the restraints. “Don’t apologize to me until we find a way out of this!” You couldn’t do much when strapped down, and you knew wasting strength by fighting against a countertop would do you no good. You huffed, “What’s your visual from over there?”

Peter took a second to switch gears from his pity party, and you watched it happen. He’d been awake much longer than you, most likely blaming himself for the situation. For how long, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t have time to. 

Just as he went to tell you his first mapped escape–route, the doors opened and shut with a loud thud. 

The same man and woman from earlier walked into the room and into your vision, stepping down the stairs and pacing towards you. The psychotic look in their eyes was so clear to you, so obvious. You felt idiotic for not noticing it in the clearing, and even more stupid to not see the hunger seeping through the midst of their staring. 

“I wonder.. Which piece of you should we harvest first?” The woman’s voice hummed in a sickly song, one that made your stomach turn. Her fingers ghosted down your leg, like she was trying to think through which pieces of you would spoil quickest. Which piece of you would taste the best. 

You let out a shudder. 

Peter tugged at his restraints. “Don’t touch her!!” He growled, shouted. He couldn’t just stand there and watch this happen. He didn’t even want to think of what would happen. 

The man pulled out a butcher’s knife and pointed it at Peter. It was the same blade that sliced your thigh before you’d blacked out, standing less than a foot away from his face “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” It was a roar almost as intimidating as Bucky’s. Peter knew if he spoke another word, he’d not only risk his life, but put yours more at risk, too. 

The woman laughed, somehow finding humor in this. “Oh, how I do love dinner and a show.” She never took her eyes off you, off your thickly cladded body. How you were still dressed was a blessing and a surprise. You were not complaining. 

You were not remembering to breathe, either. 

“Darling?” The woman continued, glancing briefly at her husband, “What’re you craving tonight?” The cruel, sickening smirk growing on her lips was enough to make you whimper. Your arms tugged against the restraints. 

The man caught your right arm roughly, causing you to flinch, stiffen. You stared at him with anticipation, a pleading look in your eyes. You were begging him to stop, to spare you, but no words left your lips. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, and you froze at the way he mirrored the woman’s twisted smirking expression. 

“I could really go for some charred bicep.” The words dripped from his tongue like venom, acid and magma that would have burned your flesh off. And perhaps, that might’ve been better. 

Better than seeing the way he raised that blade so high above his head. Better than hearing Peter’s final beseech to stop, his cry out for you. It would’ve been better than watching the blade chop full speed for your right arm. 

And it felt like the blade went clean through–It had to. It was hot and cold and heat and frost and fire and ice. Hot and cold and cold and hot and aches and burns and you couldn’t stop screaming. The pain was unbearable, stinging and cooling all at once, to the point where you couldn’t comprehend it; the pain overwhelmed you to a place of nonexistence. Pain to a degree of no comprehension, despite the fact that you could feel every waking second of it. You couldn’t breathe. 

Your limbs shook and stilled and flashed with chills and sweats and tears and sobs and bile and cold. You were cold, overheating, everything all at once. You were hurting, uncontrollably screaming. Each pained cry echoed through the room, ricocheting off the walls and immediately etching into Peter’s nightmares. Into yours, too. Into a place so dark in the depths of you, it would birthmark itself somewhere permanent. 

Screaming, bellowing, but were you even making a sound? Was the air around you truly as cold as it was hitting you? The room was spinning. The room was wet. It was hot and cold and burns and aches and far beyond anything you could ever describe, unlike anything you’d ever be able to comprehend. Anything you’d ever experienced, and something you never ever wanted to experience again. 

But he pulled the blade clean out, perhaps an inch above your elbow. And you gasped. You gasped like you’d drowned, like the air would taste cleaner. But it was warm hitting your throat, it was like you were drowning. There was no air in the room, it was water, thickly and warm and dissatisfying. It was death. You had to be dying. 

You didn’t have the mental strength to realize that the man was yelling about how dull the blade was; how the woman hadn’t sharpened the knife. You didn’t realize that your arm wasn’t even disconnected from your body, because to you, it felt like it was. 

The groggy, dizzy, unwakeable daze that lined the corners of the room began catching up to you, and you began to lose taste and touch of what was happening. You felt like you were being engulfed into a terrible dream, an out of body experience. And you couldn’t tell whether the world beyond your consciousness would be better than the phenomena you were experiencing right now. 

But Peter watched the whole thing happen. He watched your blood stain the blemished counters, the crimson he didn’t dare associate with you. He couldn’t even get it through his head that this was happening. Peter didn’t give himself time to gag at the sight, to process that you were about to get cooked and eaten. He was outraged that he’d been stupid enough to let this happen. 

Your cries and screams and thrashes and agony carved into Peter’s memory. He’d never forget this, it would haunt him. Forever. He’d never forgive himself for losing this badly. And the worst of it was that Peter wanted it to be over, so that he could get his turn. He wanted his punishment, to endure the same. He felt that he deserved it. 

He was trembling against the restraints, forgetting his own tears in the chaos of your pain. Peter wished he could take it; he wished more than anything, so desperately, that this was his ailment to live with. That he’d be the one with a disembodied arm. 

Peter fought back his sobs as the two kitchen–aids bickered about the knife. And just as they went back to what they were doing. Just as Peter tried to give himself more will to fight, more reason to bloody his wrists in attempt to escape, the lights flickered. The lights flickered and the two bone–heads looked at each other before the lights cut out. Blacked out, and when they came back up, they lit the grave room with hope. Hope in the form of Natasha Romanoff. 

Bloodied and bruised from what one could guess was remnants of a fight with everyone she’d faced to get here, Natasha took her two pistols and shot both of the cannibals clean through the head and painted the walls. The thuds of their bodies cued Natasha to process what the fuck was happening. Her shoulders slumped, she caught her breath, and immediately rushed to your aid. 

Your deafening cries had died down, weakening. It was scarier than when you’d nearly blasted out their eardrums. They were losing you, fast. Nastasha unbuckled the restraints around your right arm first, ripping the hem of her shirt off before wrapping it firmly around the slice on your lower bicep. The way you whimpered and flinched and your half–lidded eyes widened for a second made even Peter feel queasy, but it had to be done. 

Nastasha uttered a quiet apology as she finished freeing you, quick to take out a syringe from her pocket to push into your already–bruised collarbone. 

“What’re you doing?” Peter rasped out, hating to be skeptical of Natasha’s motives. A flash of worry that HYDRA had gotten to her, that she had worse plans for you rushed through him; the shortest glance at the tears and the panic as he watched the way she rushed over to him made him shake it off. Her fingers fumbled to undo his restraints, trembling, obviously as unnerved and terrified for you as he was. 

Natasha’s face was some form of grim, bare. Some shortcoming attempt at her usual stone–cold demeanor. She was a master at masking her emotions, but Peter could see the break in the dam she’d been holding up. “I gave her a sedative.” She freed his wrists, her voice wavering almost unnoticeably. “It’ll slow her heart rate, keep her from feeling the brunt of this.. It’ll hopefully help her chance at survival.” Peter glanced a few times between you and Natasha, swallowing the last of his tears before putting his head on straight. 

“We need to act fast.” Nastasha cut straight to the chase. “We can’t lose her.” Her words were short with urgency. Her breath was quick as they walked over to the counter, and Peter swore she had a glistening of tears brimming her eyes, but she’d never admit that. And Peter would never ask. 

He simply nodded and agreed. He was willing and ready to help however he could. And he started by picking you up off the island counter and hauling you out of the basement. 

Fresh corpses of the other cannibals Natasha had run into lined the halls, but the path was clear as she led Peter out of the fucked up vacinity. Both your backpack and Peter’s had been placed by the exit, and Nat carried both of them without question. Peter kept his grip on you firm, unshaken. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to you, or ever let you out of his sight again. 

No words were spoken between Natasha or Peter as they emerged from the building in the thick of night. She kept a white–knuckled hold on her pistols, nodding when the coast was clear for Peter and her to rush into the shadows. 

Peter knew she was headed straight for the airport. Once they were on that plane, headed for safety, they could talk about everything that had happened. Why Natasha was missing for a week. Where she was, how she found them. 

The jog to the airport was short, perhaps thirty minutes. With Peter’s heartbeat blaring above his neck, in his throat and all around, he hadn’t been keeping track of time. Whatsoever. His thoughts raced, he couldn’t keep a steady breath, but nothing would distract him from getting you to safety. 

That menacing, monstrous roar shook between the trees close by, but Peter and Natasha couldn’t look back to Bucky as you all approached the terminal. 

Both of them could feel the shaking of the ground beneath his trailing steps, feel the weight of his mutated presence as he loomed closely behind them. Peter kept running toward the airport garage, but Natasha slowed down. 

She yelled something in Russian, making Bucky stop in his tracks entirely. And despite the heartbreak in her eyes as she looked at him, the voice in her head that fought against her, Natasha kept yelling the words; Bucky Barnes’ trigger words. 

He fell to his knees at the phrases, palms pressing to his ears as he screamed and thrashed at no one in particular. The words drove him wild, and gave Nat the window she needed to throw the same shock–net Peter used just hours earlier, and shock him in place. 

Quick on her feet, Natasha sprinted across the terminal, cutting the distance between her and Peter before they both made it to the garage. 

She opened the large metal doors, catching as much breath as she could with the time before running to unlock the aircraft. 

Once the door opened, Peter ran inside, immediately looking for someplace to lay you  down. You remained unconscious in his grip, blood oozing from the fabric banded to your lower arm. It was a gnarly sight for Peter, and he had to fight his nausea for your sake. 

Nat rushed in after him, shut the door and set down the bags, locking them inside before heading to the cockpit. It didn’t take her long before the plane was on and she wheeled the vehicle out into the open. 

“Are you two secure?” Natasha kept that same urgency with her words, hypocritical as she kept her seatbelt off. She prepared the plane for take–off. 

Peter found a stretcher attached to the plane wall, safely strapping you onto it before he buckled a seatbelt of his own. “Secure enough!” He hollered back. 

And before Natasha even gave a response, the plane was out into high gear and they dashed down the runway. The jet was in the air within a matter of minutes, and if you weren’t bleeding out beside him, Peter would’ve found some sense of peace. Every ounce of him was focused on you. 

Before they knew it, the plane was smooth sailing in the sky, through the dusking horizon and a slight gust of overcast. 

Natasha called Peter to the cockpit soon after, nothing wavering from the sense of importance and seriousness she’d been speaking in. But when Peter came to her aid, he could spot the glistening of tears painting her cheeks. 

“I need you to drive.” Nat’s voice showed no sign of crying, nor vulnerability. “Just while I give her stitches.”

Taking a sharp inhale, Peter tried to act like he wasn’t completely panicked by the words. Either set of them. “I, uh– I’ll do what I can.” And before Natasha could even stand up, Peter kept speaking. “How do I do that.. Exactly?”

A smile consumed Natasha’s lips before she could protest, realizing just how much she’d missed Peter. They didn’t have time to catch up yet, though. Not til you were in better stability. She took a deep breath, eying the control panel. She gave a very brief explanation and tutorial on what Peter needed to monitor while she stepped out; although, the jet was on autopilot for the most part. 

Before he knew it, Peter was alone with his thoughts. His bouncing knee, his shaky fingers on the steering unit, and his undeniable urge to turn his head back and check on you every second. He did try to look back a few times, but he was either met with a lightheaded rush of sickness or a thickened throat and tears in his eyes. 

Natasha gave him a task, and he tried to focus on that. If there was anywhere in the world where you could be nursed back to health, it would be Wakanda. So he tried to keep his thoughts set there, and what Wakanda would be like. Peter just couldn’t believe he’d led you to such an injury. 

It took thirty minutes before Peter saw the break between land and the North Atlantic. It was his second time leaving the country, his first time since Germany. Spacing out at the open ocean, the dark space surrounding the dashboard, he reminisced on the reason why he’d been in Europe: the epic fight between Cap and Tony. It led him to miss them, all of them. It only reminded him of how much they’d lost. 

Peter watched the way the skyline divided. The two sets of dark that separated stars and sea, the clouds that freckled the sky, and the waves that waded miles below them. He had to remember to breathe, because they had hours ahead of them before they’d arrive at Wakanda. At least the sight of the rippling waters reminded him of something like stillness. 

Forty minutes in the sky, and Natasha walked back into the cockpit, slumping on the seat next to Peter. Her bloodied hands cradled her head, and she took in the deepest breaths he’d ever seen her take. 

And now, in the dark, in the quiet, Peter finally took a chance to take in Natasha. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d left in a week ago, tattered and scorched, but mainly muddied; now, with a thick layer of blood splotches from this evening alone. 

For the first time in his life, Peter saw Natasha in vulnerability, in fear. It was sobering, and made him motivated to help however he could. If one of them had to be strong, Peter didn’t mind taking that responsibility for a bit. It just wasn’t a scale he thought measured when it came to Natasha Romanoff. 

Her fingers raked through her short red hair, now giving Peter a view of the sorrow in her eyes. “I should’ve never left you kids alone..”

The words filled Peter with cold, heavy, dread. “Is she dead–?”

“No!” Her eyes fell wide, panicked at the thought. “No. I just..” Natasha’s lips pressed to a thin line. “I went to look for Barnes, after I freed Y/N.” She blinked away the tears as quickly as they welled. “And had I just.. Walked her to the house, I could’ve…” Her words got lost on the way out. 

Peter didn’t wait for her to find them. “You can’t think like that.” Part of him spoke to himself as he reassured her. “It’s awful, what happened.. But we can’t blame ourselves for it.” He took a second to let his own words process. “At least, not until she blames us first.”

That got Nat to laugh at least. “I’ve missed you, kid.” The laughter was short to last, both of them catching a glance back at where you soundly resided. Silence fell heavy in the space between the two of them before she sighed, releasing some of the guilt she’d let reign over her shoulders. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

“We’re together now. Let’s focus on that.” Peter cracked a small smile, forcing some of that strength he assumed Natasha needed. “I brought that change of clothes you wanted, by the way.” He found the strength to change the subject, digging through his backpack before handing Nat the clothes she’d instructed. 

With a mix of denial and complete appreciation, Natasha took the clothes with that same small smile. She thanked him. “You really thought I’d look like shit, huh?” She mused a joke, running a ghost of a finger over the fabric of the top like it was too good to be true.  

A more sullen expression transfigured into Peter’s curled lips. “No, I just figured you’d get put through the wringer.” The sentence was slow, more agonized towards the end. But it was honest. 

And it still earned a little reassuring squeeze of the shoulder as Natasha ushered herself to the back to change. 

The next two hours became Peter and Natasha catching up, eying the console but never needing to change any settings. They took the chance to check on your vitals every so often, hydrate, and freshen up. 

It was an overwhelming amount to process. The fact that they’d gotten out of the American ruins, were on their way to the last functioning societal places left on the planet, and had the source to cure the world was a lot. And Peter still had one burning question in mind. 

“So,” He picked at the food in his opened can, spinning the metal container to fidget. “Will she really need to die for them to make the cure?”

Natasha nearly spit her food out from the laugh suddenly caught in her throat. She disguised it with a faint hum. “She told you that she’d have to, didn’t she?” All she needed to see was Peter’s nod to actually let out a chuckle. “Of course she did.”

Something in Peter’s eyes sparked a bit. “Does that mean she won’t have to?”

Her head shook, “She shouldn’t have to. I never finished my notes in that folder, so she probably assumed the worst.” And that assumption was right. “She might be strapped to a bed for a few days while they do some bloodwork, but she certainly won’t have to die.”

Peter’s entire body seemed to melt back into the pilot’s seat, relief overtaking him before he could even release a solid breath. “Thank God.” He’d been holding those words, that breath, since the second the two of you reconnected. Part of him was always scared that he’d lose you once he’d found you again; now, being on that plane, headed to Wakanda, knowing you weren’t getting sent to your sacrificial death, he started to see the world in color again. 

And you did too. 

A thick gasp ripped you from your forced slumber, immediately choked back on winces as your body came to. You took in a few more rapid breaths, trying to latch onto anything familiar about your surroundings, trying to calm yourself from the adrenaline of a nightmare. The pain in your arm throbbed and your upper thigh burned, reminding you of the last time you’d been conscious. Reminding you instantly of what took you captive. “Peter!” It came out like a groan, rasped and lodged back behind your grimace of pain, but it was loud enough. 

You didn’t have to think twice before a haste tread of footsteps could be heard. In the dark of the room, wherever you were, his silhouette could be made out beside you. Warm fingers gripped your right hand, the familiar callouses of Peter’s hold brought you some mental footing. Comfort. 

He kneeled beside the stretcher you laid upon before kissing your knuckles, his lips tracing each. A bit of light caught his features, reflecting off the hot tears lining his eyes. “We got out, you’re safe.” He whispered the words so weakly, they were breaking at the seams beneath the weight of his guilt. You could barely hear them over the high–pitched whirring surrounding the room you were in. 

Tears welled in your own eyes–from the waking of your nightmare, from the overwhelming pain lining your left arm, from the silent realization that you were in a plane right now. You were safe–it was almost too much. Peter wiped the first tear that fell from your eyes, using the same free hand to move strands of your hair from your face. His grip on your right hand adjusted, only growing more secure. 

“We made it out.” He repeated, taking a shaky breath with his pause. “Can you let me say sorry now?” The cries he tried to swallow back put gaps in his hushed question, and you couldn’t bring your trembling lip to give a response. You were overcome with relief, and tried to process the trauma and realization that the two of you made it out of a situation you didn’t think possible to. 

You could only squeeze his hand in reply, and it seemed like more than enough for him. Peter pressed the back of it to his lips again before leaning closer and kissing your cheek. Unlacing your fingers, you held his face gently, wiping his stray tears with your thumb. Peter took in the moment, savoring your touch on his cheek, leaning into it. He soon dipped down, pressing a fragile kiss to your lips. It only lasted a long second or two, but he kept his forehead rested against yours for what felt like much longer. 

“It’s good to know some things didn’t change.” Nat’s voice stood out against the quiet, making you startle from the intimate moment with Peter. She stepped into view, confirming that she was, in fact, alive. Natasha made it out, too. And you assumed she’d been your saving grace against the cannibals. 

A fresh set of tears coated your eyes, much happier than the first. Even in the dark of the aircraft, you could tell she got watery the same moment you did. 

Peter kept hold of your hand, though he moved back a bit to share you with Natasha. She littled the distance between you, pressing a short kiss to your head with apology. With compassion and condolences. “Rest up, kiddo.” She sighed, “Both of you should sleep.” Natasha stood upright, looking you both in the eye. “We’ve got hours to go.”

And you didn’t argue with her. 

The stretcher was spacious enough for Peter to rest on it beside you, getting his first wink of proper sleep in possibly weeks. You slept plenty, but after an hour or so of rest, you got restless. And hungry. 

With Peter sound asleep, you took your time easing out of his hold around you and stretched your leg. The gash on your thigh was worse than you’d realized, but Nat stitched you up quite well. 

Now it was your turn to eat and catch up with Natasha. The two of you sat in the cockpit, talking through everything that had happened on both ends throughout the past week, and Nat even went on to tell you all about what the world was like during your captivity. You’d also sought advice in her about how to go about your relationship with Peter. 

She reassured you that there was nothing selfish about it. 

After a few hours, Peter woke up as well, joining the two of you in the head of the aircraft. It was a monumental moment when he did, because the three of you got to watch the plane fly over land. You made it. You were flying over the African continent. 

And static sparked over the radio system. 

Natasha sat upright, grabbing the walkie microphone and pressing a button on the dashboard. “This is Summersault, does anyone copy?” She used a nickname that you could only piece together based on assumption. The three of you held your breath as the static continued, only cutting out when Nat would press the button on her mic again. “This is Summersault. Does anybody copy? Over.”

Something thick hung in the air as you all simultaneously leaned forwards in your seats. You didn’t know who you were waiting for, but an unanswered call would not be ideal. Having static be the only answer to Natasha could mean a number of things. It did, however, fuel the worry that there wasn’t anything left. That maybe, the Wakanda you thought you were headed for, was nothing but empty buildings and bones and ash. 

You were still miles out from any possible remnants of operating civilization, so the feedback couldn’t be a fluke. Right?

What felt like a minute passed. Perhaps an hour, but you knew it wasn’t, really. Silence made the wait feel dragged. None of you could take your eyes off the console, hoping maybe that your prayers would be answered. 

A crinkle in the static, and the three of you held your breaths, flinching at the change of noise. “I think the codename I gave you was Peppermint Patty.” You never would’ve expected the recipient to have been someone so familiar, but it was Tony Stark who answered your call. He answered your prayer.

[alkaline-wtr]

WE WILL SURVIVE (oneshot)

- - CHAPTER 3.5 - -

Graves x reader Description: Graves and reader camp out on a rooftop, and Graves teaches reader how to properly eat an MRE. Genre/Warnings: zombie apocalypse AU, Ghost x fem!reader, survivor!reader, oneshot WC: 860

My Masterlist

**Nothing fancy this time. This is just a quick little oneshot as promised, to make up for last chapter being so short. I have no excuse for why it took me so long to get this done. Honestly, I just lost interest and motivation for a while. I started a new job too, so I guess I lost a bit of free time there too but, I'm working on doing better about that. Anyways, this oneshot idea just seemed silly and cute, but not vital enough to make a whole chapter out of it. On another note, Ghost is coming BACK! Very soon. As well as a few other characters being introduced next chapter. Buckle up because Ch 5 is going to wild, and LONG. I've already got it mapped out and in the works. Stay tuned and Enjoy.

<< PART 1 / << PART 3

The sun had long set over the vacant city, leaving the sky saturated with stars. Without the haze of light pollution, they seemed to shine brighter and more plentiful than you remembered.

You looked on in awe, enjoying the view. This was the first time since the outbreak that you’d had the chance to breathe and admire the sky.

“This is nice.”

You say. You Keep your voice low as if it would disturb the peaceful night.

Phillip smiles. His face is illuminated by an orange glow as he stokes the crackling fire between you. You watch him for a moment.

“Who would’ve guessed the Military could prepare you for the end of the world?”

You add, shifting to face him, your legs crossed under you.

“No one's really prepared for the end of the world.”

He responds.

“Well... No, but you certainly learned more survival skills than I ever have.”

Phillip shrugs. To him, survival was second nature. A skill burned into his mind and muscles alike. It had been his livelihood for so long that this was no different than any other day except maybe fewer bullets.

"It's crazy to think just months ago we were all just living our lives, worried about bills, and jobs..."

Your words trail off and a sadness washed over you. Philip notices this, thinking of what he can do to take your mind off things.

His gaze follows yours to the sky. The Milky Way is much more visible to the naked eye now that the world is void of electricity.

"Just months ago, there wasn't this breathtaking view."

He reminds you. You look back at him. Watching the lines crinkle around his eyes as he smiles.

You smile back.

"You're right."

A beat of silence hangs between you before Graves drags his bag into his lap and rummages through it.

"How about food?"

You raise an eyebrow curiously.

"Okay."

Phillip pulls out two brown packages tossing his bag aside.

"What's that?"

You ask. Phillip chuckles.

"Come sit. I'll show you."

He pats the space beside him. A tarp lays folded neatly beneath him.

You stand up dusting off your backside and move to sit beside him.

"This,"

He starts, using his knife to slice open the top of the package.

"Is an M-R-E.”

"A What?"

You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“An M-R-E.”

Phillip repeats with a chuckle.

"It stands for Meals-Ready-to-Eat."

He explains.

"They are meals given to soldiers on the field, not the best tasting but, more substantial than anything you’ll find out here.”

He inspects the writing on the front in the dim light of the fire.

“Would you like Spaghetti? Or Chili Mac?”

Phillip asks.

“Uh, Spaghetti I guess?”

You reply still a bit confused.

"A shame... The Chili Mac is a classic."

You chuckle, moving to sit closer to him. Phillip finishes opening the package. He dumps the contents on the ground in front of you.

It was hard to imagine anything appetizing behind the muddy brown plastic.

You followed along with Phillip's instructions as he explained the process of cooking the meal. You nestled the 'entree' packet into a larger green bag, watching as he used his canteen to pour water up to the thick black line at the bottom and seal it up with a cardboard sleeve.

“Now, we wait for this to heat up. Here, is the snacks, dessert, and of course, a spoon. And this you can ignore.”

He says taking away the last package.

“Why, What is it?”

You ask curiously.

“It’s not important.”

You give him a quizzical look and look at the small plastic in his hand.

"Gum?"

You asked, eyes scanning over the two white rectangles. Philip nods.

"Not the kind you want."

You knew better than to defy Philip's warning but, you couldn't help but wonder the reasoning.

"How come?"

Philip smirks.

"Do you really wanna know?"

"Yes,"

You answered persistently.

"They are laxatives."

Phillip finally says. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Oh..."

Philip nudges your shoulder with his.

"Don't worry about it. At least I didn't wait to tell you while you were chewing them."

He teased. That was a fact you were grateful for.

As the two of you waited for the entree to heat up, Phillip showed you which bag to make the powdered drink mix and you both shared the crackers and cheese spreads that came with the MREs. It was all so mundane, yet comforting. Something about the routine of it made you feel almost normal again.

Once the entree had finished You and Philip sat side by side enjoying your meals.

"Not bad, right?"

Phillip asked, watching as you picked at your half of the cookie.

The snacks weren't too bad, and just as Philip had said it was more substantial than anything you'd found out here. The entrees themselves weren't the most delicious thing you'd eaten but it was nice to have a hot meal regardless.

"No, it wasn't."

Philip tilted his head back to finish off the lime-green drink he had shaken up earlier. His eyes caught yours studying your expression. He dropped the drink to his lap and raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?"

You shake your head.

"I... just wanted to thank you for all your help. You've saved my life. I owe you."

Philip chuckles.

"You don't owe anyone anything."

He sighs,

"If you spend too much time thinking about who owes what, this world will swallow you whole."

You thought back on the past months of survival and how desolate the world had been. But up here, with Phillip beside you, it didn’t feel so lonely.

PART 4 >>

Tag list

@yourfavbabigirl @keiraslayz @dcnocap207 @nicolebarnes @jupiternighties