#natural hair Machete!
Note
sometimes i think about natural hair machete
.
#OOHH#natural hair Machete!#I've drawn him with the trimmed fur for so long I had almost forgotten he's capable of being floofy as f- heck#shedding becomes instantly ten times worse#really captivated by the way you rendered the fur#it looks so soft and voluminous and the way the tufts curl just seems so three dimensional#the shading auh#the little bit of pink on the elbow#and the expression as well#he comes across a lot more casual and relaxed somehow#that's nice#such a lovely surprise! thank you!#gift art#alwaysoutofpaper#own characters#Machete#from pencil neck to mane
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
⛇₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ AND I CHOSE YOU, ‘CAUSE YOU’RE ALL I NEED ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai
some winter prompts/scenarios with the bsd men…and other romantic things they spoil you with.
info. fem!reader. fluff fluff !! domestic moments. profanities from chuuya. established relationships. kissing. mentions of a fake! machete from nikolai lmao.
DAZAI says: it’s too cold to get out of bed! can’t we just stay in and cuddle?
As soon as your eyes fluttered open, you were greeted with the realization that it was far too late to wake up at this time on a weekday. You could see the sun outside your window, overlooking the blanket of snow that had fallen the night before. Panicking, you tried to turn towards your nightstand to catch a glimpse of your clock to confirm your thoughts, but a leg wrapping around your waist stopped you.
“Osamu?”
“Morning, beautiful,” Dazai’s sleepy voice replied, continuing to trap you in an embrace with his arms.
“What time is it?” you asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, but that only made you feel even more uneasy. You forcefully shifted out of his grasp to look at your clock—woah, you were both supposed to be at work an hour ago.
You sat up on the bed, startling Dazai. “Osamu! We’re supposed to be at work! Why didn’t the alarm go off…I haven’t played with it lately…”
Another realization. You sharply eyed Dazai with a frown, who, in contrast, had his signature mischievous smirk on his face, even through tired eyes.
“Did you turn it off?!”
“Huh?” He yawned. “Now, why would you accuse me of such a thing? I don’t see why the alarm should be turned off.”
“Exactly!” you replied. “But who else could’ve done it? A ghost?”
“Hmm.” He tapped his index finger on his chin in thought. “Oh, I know!
“How about fate?” His hand moved to cup your cheek as he answered you in a flirtatious voice. You tried not to cringe at how corny he sounded. “What if fate wanted us to miss work today so we can stay in and spend time together inste-”
“Now this is where you gave yourself away!” you cut him off, moving towards the end of the bed to stand up. “Who said we’re missing work? It’s better to be late than not show up at al-”
Dazai grabbed your arm, pulling you back in.
“Osamu!”
“Yeah, unless you’re sick! Wouldn’t want to infect everyone else with a cold, right?”
“But none of us are sick?”
“Too bad,” he whispered, pulling you back under the covers. “I already called the Agency. I told them that…” he made dramatic coughing sounds, “...you were sick, and of course, you got me sick too!”
“What?!” you were in disbelief. “You liar! You could’ve at least not put the blame on me!”
“Oh, don’t be mistaken! I said it was my fault—you just looked so adorable while sick, I just had to cuddle up with you the whole night! So naturally, I got sick too. Isn’t that believable? I’d do the same if it actually happened.”
You facepalmed. “You’re not making it past Ranpo.”
“Don’t worry about him. I’ve taken care of that too,” Dazai smiled. There was no getting around Ranpo, but it would only be a problem if he exposed the lie. So, Dazai had bought him a stockpile of snacks to keep his mouth shut.
You sighed before snuggling up against him. It looks like you weren’t going anywhere today. Not that you were complaining anymore—if your lover handled everything anyway.
“So why did you want to stay in?” you asked.
“Because I knew I’d feel cold if I got out of bed.” The brunette’s fingers started stroking through your hair as you rested your head on his chest, relaxed by both his hand and the faint thump of his heartbeat.
“That’s it?” you laughed. “You didn’t want to be cold?”
“That, and because I want to spend time with my belladonna, duuh.” Dazai turned you around so he could see your face.
“You look pretty. Just like an angel, more bonny than any other snow angel.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as his eyes studied you in admiration, flustering you. You were in awe that he could call you that when you had just woken up—you probably looked like a mess. He was the one who looked lovely—amber eyes peeking through his untidy hair and pretty eyelashes, the faint pink that surged through his cheeks when you kissed his knuckles, his bandaged chest that was revealed under his slightly unbuttoned pajamas…Dazai looked as dreamy as hearing his morning voice. And man, was it attractive, too.
He gave innocent pecks from one corner of your mouth to the other, and you reciprocated. You gently peppered each other’s faces with sleepy kisses until you rested on his torso again.
“That’s right, bella,” he cooed, rubbing your back. “We can relax today.” You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth he provided. “And if you’re hungry, we can order something from wherever you want later, yeah?”
You nodded with a smile. “Sounds perfect.”
CHUUYA says: let’s go ice skating, darling!
“C’mon, doll, it’s okay. Promise I’ll catch you if you slip!”
A local lake had frozen over, and you’d always wanted to learn how to ice skate, so Chuuya saw it as the perfect opportunity to teach you. Yet now, you stood at the edge with your skates, intimidated by the sapphire water that rested below the thin layer of ice and having nowhere to hold onto for support. Thankfully, it was just the two of you there; you would’ve felt even more nerve-wracked if others were watching.
“You’re so rude, Chu! You left me!” you whined, your voice traveling across the serene scenery. Chuuya simply laughed—he had skated a few feet off into the lake, waiting for you to follow. Yet, to you, it seemed so much farther than that.
“I’m right here!” he replied. He motioned for you in a way that reminded you of how a parent encourages a baby to take their first step. “Here, baby!” He cooed, holding his arms out. “You can do it.”
“Are you mocking me?! You’re talking to me like a little girl!”
“You are my girl though, sweetheart,” the ginger responded.
You sighed, your breath visible as it fanned out into the cold. “There has to be some sort of compensation, though, if I do fall!”
“I’ll massage whatever hurts if anything does,” he promised.
“Fair.” Chuuya’s massages were priceless.
You slowly stepped onto the ice, trying to keep balance on the blades attached to your feet. You looked up at Chuuya, panicking.
“Bend your knees.” You immediately followed, which helped you stabilize yourself.
“Now push off from one knee to the other,” Chuuya continued. Slowly, you started moving towards him, skating into his arms when you reached him.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he smirked through the embrace. “Good job. Now c’mon.”
Chuuya started leading you across the ice, helping you get used to the rhythm and being in sync with each other. Once he saw you get the hang of it, he suggested something.
“We can go really fast, yknow,” Chuuya proposed. “If you want…I think it’ll be exciting.”
“Exactly how fast?” you asked.
“I’d use my ability to enhance it,” he smiled. You knew that would speed you up tons.
“Okay,” you said after contemplating for a few seconds. “I trust you.”
Chuuya moved in front of you to hold your hands in his. “Hold on tight, baby!”
You gripped onto the executive as he activated his ability. And with one push, after making sure you knew it was coming, you two zoomed across the lake, wind breezing past you. You screamed—in surprise, fear, and exhilaration, as Chuuya steered you both, even more talented doing it backwards.
“Damn, you’re flying, doll!” he exclaimed and loosened his grip on one of your arms. Chuuya spun you around on the ice as he slowed the both of you down, bringing you to a complete stop with a kiss.
“Already like a pro,” he praised. “You learned so fast. And what’d I say? I promised I wouldn’t let you fall.”
You chuckled, feeling warmth heat up your frost-nipped cheeks as Chuuya cupped your face with his fingers. “I still want a massage, though. Pleeease?”
He smirked. “Fuck, I could never refuse since you asked so nicely. And I guess you deserve something for doing so well on skates. Of course.”
“Yay!” You cheered as you skated in a circle around Chuuya before connecting his lips with yours once again.
“This was incredibly fun, Chu.”
FYODOR asks: is the fireplace not enough? you need me to warm you up, too?
“It’s cold.”
You and Fyodor were in a cabin high up in the mountains, the epicenter of planning his next mission. Fyodor often traveled, and you always accompanied him, despite his warnings of how boring those journeys would be because his attention would be mainly focused on his paperwork and mapping out the areas by the temporary headquarters.
You always reassured him you were completely fine with it. You understood his job and were used to him not having his attention on you all the time. You were content reading through his collection of novels with his cursive annotations scribbled throughout the pages to pass the time while he sat devising schemes.
Though right now, you were starting to shiver, even below the three layers of your sweater. The heat radiating from the candle on the desk you sat reading at wasn’t enough—you were still cold.
“Put your coat on,” Fyodor replied from another table. He had let you have the true desk by the bookshelf with the comfy chair to lounge in while he took the dining table.
“It’s too bulky. It’ll be uncomfortable,” you said, gliding your hand over a page.
You heard a sigh. “Must you always choose comfort over practicality?”
“Of course, when I have the privilege,” you chuckled. “Can I light the fireplace?”
Fyodor looked up from his work. “Yes, I’ll help you.”
“Are you sure? You seem busy. I can do it myself.”
“No worries, as long as you don’t distract me with anything else.”
You gave him a knowing smirk. “I’m not sure if I can guarantee that,” you replied as you headed for the wooden logs in the back. Fyodor followed you, helping you carry a few over to the fireplace.
You ensured all the air vents were open as he threw the wood in, starting the fire with a lighter. Fyodor sat in the single armchair right in front of it, checking to see if it was stable from afar.
“How’s this?” he asked, watching you on the floor, getting close to feel the flames. “Warming up?”
“Yes,” you responded, turning towards him.
“Good. You can sit here while I return to-“ he was both cut off in speech and from getting up when you lowered yourself onto his lap. “Milaya…“
“I warned you I couldn’t guarantee it,” you whispered, straddling him. You weren’t forceful—each move was as graceful as a ballerina’s glide, and it was probably because, despite his words, Fyodor differed to fight back.
“Stay for a little, please,” you softly pleaded, trapping the ravenette even more by wrapping your arms around his neck. “Can you take a short break?”
“You’re asking me as if you’re giving me a choice,” Fyodor chuckled, still seeing you give him no room to leave. “Fine. I’ll indulge in your wants this once.”
“It’s more of indulging in my needs,” you corrected him, looking into violet eyes. You then picked up the book you had been reading earlier to continue.
“Enjoying it so far?” he asked, moving the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ears.
“Yeah. But I’m not going to lie, I think I like your annotations more than the actual book.”
“How flattering.” Fyodor smiled. “I enjoyed reading it a lot, too, though. That’s why I wrote so much.” You flipped open to the page you left off on when you suddenly had an idea.
“What if you read to me?” you asked with a giggle.
His face showed rare, genuine surprise for a moment. “Hm? It’s not like this is some bedtime story…
“I’m not against it, though.”
And so, he started reading to you. You sang in victory in your head because though you would never admit it to him—Fyodor had too much ego for you to heighten it even more—you loved his voice. His accent laced the words of the plot that resumed as he spoke from page to page.
You couldn’t think of anything more perfect. Hearing the satisfying tone of his tongue accompanied by the ambiance of the fireplace and the flipping of pages…you could stay nuzzled up against him like this forever.
“I thought you said you were enjoying it,” Fyodor paused after some time, noticing your eyelids drooping and head limp against his shoulder. “Yet you’re falling asleep.”
“I am,” you said, your words slurring. “I’m just really comfy like this. It feels cozy…makes me sleepy…”
You tucked your face into his neck. Fyodor gently closed the book before wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Well, it can’t be helped…” he whispered. “Sweet dreams, dorogaya.”
NIKOLAI says: let’s build a snowman!
“Why are you putting the carrots for eyes?” You shook your head in disappointment as you watched Nikolai create his ‘snowman.’ It hardly looked like one, honestly. The only thing normal about it was the base—which you had helped him with. Three spheres of snow stacked upon each other to make the snowman’s body. The rest…was very Nikolai.
He had put the carrots as the eyes. And the snowman had three orange, pointy eyes. As for the mouth, he sculpted a smile out of clay, which was fine, but of course, he made it in a way that looked very ominous. Then, the jester had decorated it with a bunch of colorful pom-poms. The whole thing was very random, but you knew something like this was coming.
“And finally!” Nikolai pulled out a fake plastic machete.
“Kolya, what the heck?! Now, we really can’t leave this here! What if some kid stumbles upon it and takes the knife?”
“It’s fake, baby, don’t worry!” He replied, running his finger along the sharp end.
“Well, yeah, but still! I don’t think anyone’s parents would appreciate that!”
Nikolai sighed before a portal appeared, swallowing his entire snowman and the machete inside.
“You play too safe sometimes, love.”
“Where did you transport that to?!”
“The Sky Casino,” he giggled. “I’m sure Sigma will find the new decoration lovely!” You immediately felt pity towards the poor man—you imagined him having to clean up a puddle of melted snow and other objects in the casino.
You just stood for a moment before Nikolai spoke again.
“Okay, I’ll actually make something you like,” he said. “Could you help me with the base?”
You didn’t know what he was going to do next, but you helped him anyway after making him promise he wasn’t going to pull out anymore weapons, real or fake. You stacked the snow on top of each other and waited to see what he was going to do next.
Nikolai transported two buttons that reminded you of your eye color to place on the snowman’s face as its eyes. He then used two sticks to create a cute smile. Then, he pulled out a hat and scarf that looked like the exact ones you were wearing…
“Wait, huh?” You glanced down at your attire and then at the articles, you saw Nikolai dressing the snowman in. “Where did you even get that?”
“The place where you got yours, duh!” he responded. You tried to push away the thought in your head that he most likely stole it. But now, you understood what he was doing. So, while he finished replicating you, you started a snowman right next to his.
“Kolya, can you please let me borrow your top hat? And a green and a gray button?”
His face grew elated. “Sweet dove! You’re doing what I’m doing!” He summoned what you had asked for. “Here you go!”
In the end, Nikolai had created a snowman of you, and you had built a snowman of him. It made your heart warm at how sweet it was.
“Yours looks so cute!” you exclaimed, looking at the one of yourself. You then teased him. “Honestly, I’m surprised you were capable of this.”
“No snowman will ever be as cute as you,” he responded with a wink. “And what can I say? I’m full of surprises.” He then threw himself onto you.
“And you made me! My heart could burst right now…look at us together!” You felt everything happen at once after that—one moment, Nikolai was spinning you in the air, absolutely thrilled, and the next, his lips sealed yours in a passionate kiss.
“Quiz time,” Nikolai whispered on your mouth.
“What must’ve I done to deserve the best girl in the world?”
rbs are cherished; they are your christmas gift to me <3
tags : @kissesmellow21
© AUREATCHI 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + heart lights divider by benkeibear.
#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie#bungo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd x reader#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya x y/n#fyodor x reader#fyodor x you#fyodor x y/n#nikolai x reader#nikolai x you#bsd dazai#bsd chuuya#bsd fyodor#bsd nikolai#bsd fluff#bsd drabbles#bsd scenarios#bsd imagines#bsd headcanons#dazai fluff#chuuya fluff#fyodor fluff#nikolai fluff#aureatchi
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
the party leader, mike wheeler - apoc au character details + poll under the cut!
---
mike's role in the party:
a scouter - essentially plans runs, checks areas first to ensure safety, and directs the runners during supply runs
assigns basic survival chores at the beginning of each day (laundry, boiling water, patrol, hunting, etc.)
is the "face" of the party -> always the one to negotiate with people of other groups
even though the party likes to give him shit for being kind of rude and bossy about how he talks to them in "leader" mode - they always hang onto his every word! they love and respect him deeply
kind of like a tired dad whenever he's not fighting with someone else -> basically watches over everyone to make sure they're okay
would never hesitate to do something deplorable to protect the party: family first
skills + hobbies:
considered the designated driver (along with max): nancy taught him when he was younger. he was scared about being useless due to his inability to shoot and aim guns so nancy helped him find something useful. max teaches him how to drive manual so that he can drive her muscle car (its how they get over their distaste for each other)
writes an entry in a journal that he stole every day! he lets will doodle in the margins of the paper :)
loves to read whatever's around - particularly interested in history, sci-fi, and old journals from people before the apocalypse (reads them with dustin and el -> they are nosy as hell and live for the drama)
great at using machetes and hatchets -> do NOT let this boy shoot a gun. he will accidentally hurt you and himself
good at fixing up guns and navigating - lucas (guns) and dustin (navigating) taught him :D
quirks / fun facts:
he likes to switch around the pins on his jacket a lot! the party find pins around to give to him (range from terrible to wearable)
since he's the only boy that likes to tie up his hair, max and el like to doll up and play around with his hair during their downtime
is very annoying and particular when it comes to doing survival chores (out of love) -> makes sure that the chores are divided equally among all of them and that no one gets the same chores twice in a row
---
other notes: mike was the first character i had in mind when thinking about this au (no surprise there) and the drawing of him sitting cross legged with a machete in his hand was the first ever "official" drawing i made for this :D i tried to make apoc mike similar to canon mike in terms of his temperament, his hero complex, his self-sacrificial tendencies, his inability to appropriately process his romantic feelings, his natural leadership and his personality.
about mike's inability to use guns -> looking at mike's character dnd sheet, his dexterity is low and s1 mike wheeler cannot aim for shit either (see his rock throw). the reason he's most comfortable with machetes (and hatchets) is because of their versatility as both weapons and tools! just wanted to share because i think mike needed a nerf and him not being able to shoot guns is both in character and funny as hell to me
i've had mike and will's char sheets done for a while and i really love the way they look :) i'm excited to post will's next! i'm working on the character sheets in batches of two, so which duo are yall most interested to see next? i'll work on them based on the poll results and post them next week at the earliest :) i'll prob also try out some concept designs for the demogorgon-like zombies sometime soon as well!
#shoutout to the acswy writers for sticking the idea of mike driving manual cars in my head!#mike wheeler#stranger things#stranger things fanart#st apoc au#byler#sammi's art
793 notes
·
View notes
Text
Call of Duty OC
Name: Trudy Saidler
Nikename: Jay
Date of birth: June 01, 1992
Age: 24 (at the time of the events in 2016)
Place of birth: Liberec, Czech Republic🇨🇿
Citizenship: Czech🇨🇿
Nationality: English 🇬🇧
Rank: Sergeant
Specialty: Infantryman
Unit: TF - 141
Family/Relationships
Mother: Adele Saidler (Hofmann) 🇬🇧
Father: Philip Saidler 🇬🇧
Brother: Evan Saidler🇬🇧 ✝️
Love Interest: Gary "Roach" Sanderson🇬🇧💕
Reference/appearance
Trudy on the day she arrived at Credenhill
Parameters
Hair: brown with light strands
Eyes: grey
Pigmentation on the body: freckles
Tattoo: on the left arm
Scars: scratches on the right and left arm, a bullet wound in the left shoulder, suture marks on the right side at the rib level, bullet wounds in the abdomen, cartilage injury of the right ear
Height: 170 cm
Weight: 60 kg
Body type: normal
Equipment
Armored vest: warrior "plates" assault systems
M4A1 assault rifle with a grenade launcher
M14 EBR sniper rifle with silencer for long-range elimination and, if necessary, to cover the group
Pistols: M9 and USP.45
Cold steel: Alpha S D2 knife Tactical Knife and Custom Steel Machete D2 Machete Etsy Knife
Personality
Trudy is a young girl with sociability and good nature. Her attitude towards people depends on how they treat her: if they show a positive attitude towards her, she is a little stubborn. Even so, Trudy is not so trusting, so she does not immediately open up to the interlocutor. Trudy sometimes experiences moments that can cause irritation. And in such cases, she can flare up, allowing her emotions to come out. However, she tries to control her emotions so as not to show them to other people. But Trudy's weakest side is her worries. Everything that she experiences inside herself, she tries to hide from others.
Fears
🔥Pyrophobia🔥is a phobia consisting in a constant, irrational, obsessive, panic fear of fire, fires; an obsessive fear of burning alive, getting burned, or losing property as a result of a fire. (in one of the missions, she almost burned herself in the room in which she was locked, losing consciousness)
Biography
Trudy's parents live in the Czech Republic for most of their lives, they have successfully established their lives in another country, and we can say they have lived in it for most of their lives, and did not want to return to England. Adele Saidler (Hofmann) has opened her own atelier in Liberec, where they now live. The woman is engaged in custom tailoring, previously she was specialized in sewing military uniforms. Philip Saidler is a former infantryman, retired for health reasons, retired, but he helps his wife in the atelier, delivering sewing materials. He also earns a living on the outskirts of the city, but there is no information about his place of work. Before Trudy, they had a son, Evan Saidler [date of birth unknown, died as a teenager, cause of death unknown]. The couple suffered a hard loss, and were very worried about their daughter, who knows about her late brother.
Trudy's childhood, like that of ordinary children, was no different from them. She also had her own hobbies, which her parents reacted positively to, and supported their daughter in every possible way, most importantly. The girl was actively engaged in dancing from the age of 12, from which she developed flexibility, there were even performances on behalf of the school. She also loved to help her mother in the atelier, more often looked after the counter, and thus engaged in needlework, she could also sew some clothes with jewelry. In addition to dancing, Trudy also had hobbies, which she does not mention.
During her student years, Trudy met a girl who was 1 year younger than her, Linda Kovac (Czech). She was always an inconspicuous gray mouse, but Trudy became friends with her on the first day they met, and spent more and more time together. Thanks to her, Linda began to gain self-confidence and even changed her style in order not to fall into the gray mass and stand out somehow. Saidler never sought to attract attention, preferring to wear comfortable and not too bright clothes, and studied like all ordinary students. She needed Czech to learn, so even at preschool age she learned this language, English is considered the main one.
There have been mistakes in Trudy's life, one of them has undermined people's trust. As a student, a guy was in love with her, and he sought her attention in every possible way. The student's infatuation, yes, did not last long. This guy dated her for a joke, enjoyed her trust. After receiving her education, Trudy left Liberec and went to England. After living there for some time, she went to Credenhill, where the selection for group 141 was held. During the trip, Trudy heard other recruits talking about this group, and who is in it, quite big names sounded from the mouths of the guys, which made her interested. Arriving at their base, Trudy did not expect to see the members of the 141 group live. At the time, Captain McTavish was in charge of the selection, and he took up her training in order to make Saidler an experienced fighter. As a rookie, she was sent for additional training to improve her skills and adapt to work in group 141. During her stay at the base, Trudy met Roach, a young sergeant whom she saw on the day of her arrival. At first, things didn't go very well due to distrust, so we gradually communicated. Jay showed a special interest in Roach as a person and wanted to get to know him better, and thus she awakened trust in him. Roach also showed interest in the girl and communicated with her even from a distance. Trudy was very afraid of attachment to people, and hid her sympathy until the last moment, Roach had the same feelings for her. They gradually showed warm feelings for each other.
Participation
Jay began his service under the command of Captain McTavish, took his first part in the Hunting mission, where the goal was to catch Alejandro Rojas, worked in a group with Roach. In the future, she participated in assaults at certain points, provided cover, engaged in inconspicuous liquidation
The history of the creation of the OC
In 2011, I played with COD Modern warfare 2 for the first time. This game has left vivid moments in my memory, from joyful to sad, my favorite mission is "Rock Climber". At that moment, the first character appeared in my head. Since I couldn't draw at the age of 9, I was building a plot in my head. There is an important point, this is the date when I started playing and when I came up with Trudy. This is June 1, 2011, and this date is also Trudy's date of birth.
In her first version, there was no first or last name, I just called her "Emersan", this call sign is taken from another game that I also actively played. As for her appearance, Trudy looked different, not like she does now. In 2018, I visually sketched her portrait, hoping for my memory. Based on this, I decided to change her appearance, and also attached my old works. As time went on, I always wanted to add something, it seemed to me that Trudy was too simple. Although yes, she really was like that. Then, during the redrawing, I already gave her a name. Her name was Trudy "Emersan" Sombra. She later became Jay, the new surname is Saidler. Trudy's redesigns didn't last long, so I changed it again by drawing new references. You can see that she has hardly changed since 2019, there are small changes on her face – freckles and hair color have become darker. Next comes the tattoo. It was a difficult choice, I came up with the first tattoo myself, then I made another, more complex one. The final version was drawn in 2023, and received a reference
Trudy in 2011 to 2022
#call of duty oc#modern warfare 2#cod mw2#cod mw2 2009#mw2 2009#mw 2009#oc#oc art#my oc#original character#cod oc#trudy jay saidler#trudy saidler#oc x canon#roach x oc#roach x jay#biography oc
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
Our Lady of the Passion artwork credit to @thatneoncrisis
Propaganda
Our Lady of the Passion/Pash:
-Nepo baby soldier girl. Unimaginably hot. Total loser asshole.
-She’s part of a paramilitary organisation and the planet Earth has a crush on her.
-First of all, that is her actual name, it usually gets shortened to Pash. Considering how much internet humor the Locked Tomb books tend to have in them, she may ver well quite literally be 'Blue hair and pronouns'. Pash is the nephew of the super badass, somewhat murderous rebel leader which might have gotten her promoted a lot faster. As is seemingy family tradition she absolutly hates necromancers (Very understandable). She is very badass and, despite her disdain for swords, has two machetes strapped to her tighs.
-Our Lady of the Passion, usually referred to as Pash, is a member of Blood of Eden and serves as a bodyguard. Pash is compact and average-sized, her cheeks littered with shrapnel scars and her nose crooked. She keeps her hair buzzed on one side and long on the other, dyed a bright blue. Nona describes her face as "super-cool and fierce and handsome".
-She has blue hair, she has pronouns, and she’s willing to throw down over getting other people’s pronouns right. And she’s got two machetes. What more could you want????
-The soul of the Earth has a crush on her
Jinx:
-She's so traumatized and insane and awful. I love her.
-natural blue hair and probably doesn't care about gender or pronouns because who has time for that when your hallucinations are screaming at you?
240 notes
·
View notes
Text
only lovers left alive — simon”ghost”rileyxfem!reader
Death, gore, MDNI, smut, established past relationship, vague comfort?, 3.3k words.
: you’ve been sleeping for long enough, and he always noticed. maybe you’ll not only love the winter days anymore.
...
A fish, and a man. Both on the surface of the dirty water, both reek of ammonia and disturbed flesh. Both rotting, and stomach inflated, but the man’s are clearer in sight, vivid. More violent, primal, disgusting. As if all the colour is dulled around for him to put on a show of his defeated stage. Skin unnaturally yellow, arms sprawled out, the body still intact with his skeleton in blisters. Deranged, a man who stains the water he’s in. And a fish. Both dead, but the fish saddens her more. Both are dead, and both by her, but the fish saddens her more.
For she didn’t even notice it as she killed it, for love is violent and much kills, but she was young enough, or maybe such emotion is foreign, novel to her. She killed it anyhow. The fish obliges, tastes the attention, in a symbiotic affection with her. But it swims more around the edges on the tank as days go by, swims higher on the surface, until one fin lays smooth on its side, not moving, until it can’t swim straight, and until it dies.
The man is still in the water, his face down. She can see what he would look like in a few weeks, that he would decompose slower in cold, no vultures around to dig on his skin. She can imagine the soapy glaze his flesh would have, and the green, and the violet. Hypothermia. Petrification. Bisection. And a hound, it’s mouth wet and sticky, dribbling in red and saliva. She can see the skeleton sneaking out the flesh as the hyenas around shake their furs, off the blood and the water. Loyal and starving, a rabid dog in need of someone to find its way back to —
Her machete, on the other hand, is very much so alive, painting red rivulets on the snow-white ground. Sharp colour stripes off the chrome, turns into a deep velvet on earth, her hair is soiled, and her body is covered in red splotches, on her knees as she eyes the handiwork, trying to stay conscious, alert. She kicks her feet to clean the bits of the man off herself too. A roar in her ears and her temples feel like it’s her brain that’s splintered with a machete inside, eyes twitch as she stares at the man’s gouged one. And she tries to cough it off, coughs and coughs until she starts to gag, looking away from the scenery which she is the master to. She rubs her palms, rips the dead man off his gloves for hers are soaked in blood.
She’s better a gun than she is a person. Horror in her bane, she’s a better swordslayer than she is human. A little girl with fish food, or another with a rusty machete, she’s both. Can’t say she takes pride in neither, but the man doesn’t upset her in anyhow.
;;
It takes one more night to look up without a ceiling, before you get your way back, before the static of your comm buzzes again, the familiar voice, and the authority he embodies mercilessly. The Lieutenant. A pleasant sizzle follows his voice through, your eyes shot close as you feel through the gear with both hands to reach the radio, pressing the cold plastic to your ear. He disperses the smoke in your mind that dwells about the throes of your own demise, the thought of if this is how death will feel for you. He guides you, the way through the fuming howl of the tundra, becomes your sun chariot, your servant of peace and light, meeting you halfway, and when you encounter he doesn’t ask you to cradle you, does it naturally as he sees you. Sleight of hand, you don’t bother. You need a trace to make you believe in him, a keepsake of the times where he had done it so willingly. Something to hold you back to routine, to life. You’ve been sleeping long enough, he notices. He wakes you gently, rocks you kindly with hands you’re sure that has seen much more than yours did. But he wakes you kindly, a soothing hand lands on your nape, steadies you into this realm. You don’t pull back, and you don’t notice the build-up, the tension on you. But only the release.
You don’t know why you cry. He doesn’t say it to you between countless mantras over and over of how he thought he lost you, again, but you know it eases him to see an emotion on your face, and you feel it too, however ugly you think you wail. You need to breathe to cry. You breathe to cry. You said you don’t want him anymore, but no one would breathe in your scent like he survives on it with his head heavy on your shoulder, no one would kiss the dried blood on your brow and your matted hair. You know no one would blow warmth on your cold-stiff palms, not like he does. No one would waste himself, on you. No one would lend their blood to heat yours. You never said someone would anyway.
Adrenaline imperceptibly loses its grip on you, subsides and alters into pain. It creeps under your skin, trembles on your chin and prickles your eyes, making its presence known. Your step loses momentum as you lend your weight on him, and he grabs you with very capable hands.
After wails turn into mulled cries, and they turn into woeful moans, he lifts your head off his chest, leans his forehead against yours, gives you a few breaths, gives your forehead a kiss, stays a few moments until your heart thumps steadily to his, then pulls back. He nods slowly as you loosen your grip on him. Pulls his mask down again, he walks you through the icy terrain in hasty affection, shelters you in the safehouse.
;
First thing he does after he settles you on the fur seat, is to take off the foreign gloves off your frostbite fingers, throws them in the rusty barrel’s fire, burns it clean. Blood sticks onto his fingers and he wastes no time taking his gloves out his pocket to wear it on your hands. Its lengthy fingers swallow yours, and you look down at the thick fabric that adorns your hands as he wipes the blood off your face. You notice he wears no gloves, and you wear his now. A silent compliance in the way you sit, you only hiss when the dried clots pull the strands of your hair as he drags the cloth slowly along your skin. He reaches, taking each hand of yours in his, examining carefully, running his fingers over the lines of your palms. A futile tremor goes through him as he kneels before you, letting out a slow, shaky sigh as he disrobes you off your soaked wet gear, clads you with his spare. He doesn’t ask for a thing in return, and you only watch the tail of his tattoo through the exposed skin of his wrist as his hands hover over your elbows. He lowers his gaze, frees his messed hair out his balaclava, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He bites his cheek in thought, and you slither your palm to his cheek. He goes still before he looks up at you, big brown eyes and fanned lashes melt golden under the fire burning at the middle of the room. He blinks, then his bare fingers skate between yours, interweaves his fingers through the gaps between your own, he nudges at the fabric that coats your wrist, pushing the cloth up with his nose so his lips meet the inside of your wrist. You let out a faint breath, and it flutters his hair as he lays his head gently on your thighs, sitting on the concrete.
You play around with the little beads of the metal of his dog tags, and he moves his unoccupied hand around the side of your leg, pressing his cheek further onto the warmth that slowly comes back to your body. Under your imperious gaze, he rests his eyes, and you sink back onto the mattress, finally breathing the way you should.
;;
The plume of the dusty covering tightens your nose, and you wake with the scent of the bitter miasma of the bloodied gloves in the fire, scorching the sticky liquid, churning in your nostrils. The air is heavy, and the interior is plain. The cold outside whispers through the uncaulked edges of the wooden window, and you rest your eyes a moment longer before searching for the abandon of Simon’s warmth,
Only to find him sitting on a log next to a woodpile outside, elbows nested against his knees, minding the floor as he smokes. Silent as you walk towards, you cut him off his smoke as you reach your hand over his shoulder, behind him. He twists around to watch you circle behind him, eyes on you as you slide your fingertips along his neck, not letting you out his sight as you sit on the smaller log next him.
His cigarette toys you between his lips, and you lean to brush your lips right above his jaw. He turns a bit more to your side, slides the log you sit on closer to his. And when you take his glove off your hand to give it to him, he only takes one to wear to the hand that’s not close to yours, and holds your bare hand with his unclothed one, then drapes his arm along your shoulders, that holds the cigarette. Moving it to your lips, eyes fixated on you, he has two vices again. You and the smoke. But you’re only here to get your only one back. Hand clasps the collar of his coat, this one is longer, a proper kiss, an impossibly slow caress on his cheek, closer to his lips this time. One that says thank you. You see his throat move when he hitches, leaves a long breath as he can’t contain it. He dulls the ember of the smoke in a second, then his hand finds your face, holding you to him by the pull of his arm threaded behind your shoulder. He steeples his fingers under your chin, moves his head, leans in, and stills when there’s only a breath’s width between your longing lips. And before he closes that, he looks at your expression. This close, you’re realer, truer, and ever so far still. Closed-eyed, waiting, wanting. He draws in your whine, holds it a second longer for his mind to never forget this moment too, along many others with you.
How easily you got him wound up.
When he brings your lips together, his breath shudders. He surges forward, the cold tip of his nose digs on your cheek, and you taste your name as he groans it on your parting lips, hand on your chin winces, and reaches to your cheek, angling your head deeper onto him, his lips slip on yours without friction. Your hand on his collar falls down to his knee, and he turns fully towards you as you slither it up to his thigh, kissing as you hook your bare thumb around the clasp of his belt, feeling the band beneath the trousers. The rough surface sends frictions between your thighs when he pulls you towards him on the log you sit on, and you cling onto him tighter.
He parts with a sound of your wet lips separating, for a moment, brushes his thumbs on your gentle eyelids, warm cheeks. Searching for any sign on your face that disapproves, that doesn’t want this as much as he does. You only slip your cold palm under his t-shirt.
“God…”
A firm grip encircles your waist, and he scoops you bodily, rushes back in the one-room safehouse in tenacity.
You’ve been sleeping for long enough, and he always noticed. And a grasp, he pulls you forward, insistently rocks you off your sleep.
“Come here.”
Teeth on teeth, they clash and clatter and a candy floss tongue coats the cold, his arms finally find you. Both hugging you to him and soothing the windblow, but your skin is warm now, and you ache for a different fire. He devours your whiny hums, leads your hands slowly on where he wants it, where he knows you want to touch. The fire in the distance heats the side of your face and a shudder runs down your body as a soft noise escapes your lips, he keeps his eager lips on your neck, his shaky breath ruffles your hair as the hand on your back spreads his fingers, reaching to the bottom of his cloth on you, his thumb flicks the clasp of your bra, his little finger traces the waistband of your jeans, fumbling through skin and fabric. You help him, out his clothes, and stagger yourself forward to his broad chest. His eyes twinkle in the low light, and you feel your knuckles on where his belt meets his abdomen, running slowly towards, up his chest, then it’s not only knuckles, kissing as you move your hand up to his throat. He tilts his head as he takes you in, your hand with amused ardour, looking down at you, lips brushing your temple as he whispers your name onto your hair, a soft, breathy chuckle of surprise.
Until he misses your lips again, and when he does, he rises his hand to your jaw, turning your head up to him. Moving his hand back to your hair, and a little tug, he leans down.
He presses you forward without resistance from you, and you feel the worn mattress on your back, his kisses trail down your face as he follows down, feeling you with you, in a way that your past affairs feel like mockery to you. The arms around you move, are his fingers shaking?.. He’s tense, his cheek glides down your breast, plating a firm kiss on your chest, you hold onto his back and his hand dives down, under your jeans, feeling the cotton of your underwear. His forehead brushes against your jaw as he lets out a withering whimper, feeling your heat through your clothed core, pressing an open-mouthed kiss on the slick flush of your parted lips, rolling your bottom lip between his as he presses his open palm on your sopping cunt, pressing the heel of his palm on your swollen clit, tugging you in him, tugging your jeans down roughly, the button of it pops out and he almost rips the zipper, and he swallows your gasp, kisses you until your jaw can’t keep up.
Forever, just one more try than never. Maybe there is a way for you, not one of pleasantries, one without him if you try hard enough. For now, though, you stay engrained in the facets of his life, between whorls of his fingertips and everything else that caresses you of him. There is no way for you to leave, no way that you are not embedded in his devoid heart. His heartbeat mirrors yours and he has your breath to breathe in, and you feel it. You feel him everywhere, under the yellow hue of the barrel’s fire, under his body, over the lilting shadow on the wall, fingers deep inside you. Where his silhouette ends, yours begin, and he means it. Promises it, prays it, beneath honeyed words, in rhythmic intonation as he gives you every inch of his love. And you give such sweet noises that trickles down his earlobe, gently grazing with your teeth, drawing out antsy whimpers. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”
You were going to kill him one day. All with this exaltation he willingly offers at your feet, with the idolatry that evokes within him in your cashmere walls, if not with the way you suck him in, hold and pull his digits deep inside you. You overwhelm him, exhilarate him. “Aren’t you?”
He keeps on, keeps on until you don’t feel like you are the ruler of your body, until you feel nothing but the transcendental bliss as you let out your high on his fingers, feel the coil in you arch, tighten and snap like harp strings. No one in the world has ever missed anyone like this. Lucky you.
He hums, and cradles his large palm on the side of your face, an unconscious spell moves and rests your head to it, he just smiles. He moves his drenched fingers along your lips, smears your essence on your parting lips, and invites his fingers in your warm mouth, threatening an oral fixation. Then he drags them out, pressing on your bottom lip, his wet fingers draw an invisible line that raises goosebumps on its way over your naked body, resting on the plush of your hip as he tastes you on your lips.
You nodded yes as he first asked you, and he acknowledges again. “You are… mmm… yes, you are.”
He keeps humming with his mouth slack on yours, entwining his hand along your thigh, switches your body on his. He’s not one to tell you with his words, to use and waste him, violate him softly, ruin him for anybody else as a kind coalescence of yours, but he tells you to “Keep going…. just— fuck! Fuck, baby… keep going…”, an assuring gaze that is ice down your spine.
And once, you heard as he thought you were sleeping, that he really, really, likes you. Very much, he added then. You grin at the memory, and how it picked this time for retrieval, thinking you never heard him. You clench yourself around his cock, steadying your palms on his shoulders, fuck him the way he tells you through the way his cut nails dig deeper onto your hips, reaching his palm along your spine as he pulls you toward him, kissing your lips, can’t keep sync as you ride him mercilessly. And you do, and you are.
—
He tells you things no one would dare say with their eyes open, and touches you, shows you yourself in a way you have never seen, all your beauty when the witnesses of your psyche are gone. Now, you feel the ghost of his touch along your back, fingertips massaging your nape, carding your hair, contemplating deeper. He lays beside you, pressing his nose on your shoulder blade as he steals a little kiss of your sumptuous skin.
“You asleep?”
-you take long enough before you decide to answer, so he just slips out an I love you.-
;;
Seeing snow lessening as the SUV drives away soothes her nerves. Watching an old man as he watches an old couple, hand in hand as they walk away. The strident, speedy bow of a violin, both pierces through her. Horses on a flatland, a singing smile and being someone’s Phaedra. Two coffee cups in one sink. Running around until the throat breathes sour, matching shapes on your childhood house’s ceiling, reading an old journal of yours. Two healthy fish in a full tank — mind alters the memories in coping. Balmy winter trees. Seconds and seasons. — like the day, just like the night. Like death, chasing them all. Like the never-ending games, all will end. You can’t hold the dying sun as it moves further away off your seat, but you can slant back in the backseat of the vehicle, looking at the driver’s seat, to him. Even better deal, you slide to the middle of the seat, resting your palm on the back of his seat, inch your face to his neck, and he drives. Breathe the vestiges of your scent off him in, press a placid smile on the tattoo of your initial under the fabric of his mask. Maybe you’ll not only love the winter days anymore.
#call of duty#cod mwii#cod#cod x reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#simon riley#cod ghost#cod simon riley#ghost smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley smut#ghost mw2#cod modern warfare#simon riley cod
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
SET ONE - ROUND ONE - MATCH SEVEN
"Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo (Orangutan strangling a Borneo savage)" (1895 - Emmanuel Frémiet) / "Can’t Help Myself" (2016 - Sun Yuan & Peng Yu)
ORANGOUTANG: This marble statue of an Orangutan throttling some dude that appears to have had a machete (left side, foreground) makes me feel joy and hope for the perseverance of nature in the face of colonial exploitation and violence (unbelievable-screaming-moth)
CAN'T HELP MYSELF: easily one of the installment pieces of all fucking time. the way that the robot originally began as a smooth, precise sort of machine, efficient and quick, but slowly decomposed into jerkier and messier movements because of its own inability to "help itself" since it needs to clean all of its spill or it can't stop is so so visceral and kind of makes me want to tear my hair out. the way the artists capture human movement and desperation in the robot is incredible. to me it kind of appeals to a sick human desire to watch something outside of ourselves suffer, but also the human ability to connect with anything, even a machine. it's so easy to see ourselves in something mechanical!! we are looking for ourselves in everything!!! that's so fucked up and cool!!! (fromjannah)
("Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo" is a marble sculpture done by the French artist Emmanuel Frémiet. It is currently held in Galerie d’Anatomie Comparée, Paris.
"Can't Help Myself" is a Kuka industrial robot made of stainless steel and rubber mopping up cellulose ether in coloured water made by two Chinese artists (male and female). This installation was displayed in Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York but was removed from display.)
#art that fucks you up tournament#polls#atfyu polls#id in alt text#something something one of them is an act of violence and the other is cleaning up the aftermath#neither can finish their job. one because it is frozen in stone and the other because its job is never done.#anyways. TIME TO VOTE!#cw violence#cw blood
245 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm Not Sick
Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader (she/her)
Requested by: @nancymcl
Prompts: “Get back in bed, you’re sick.” - “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”
Warnings: mentions of sickness, the beginnings of a panic attack (or at least what I experienced as one in a mild form)
Word Count: 820
Summary: someone's got the flu and is not happy about it (hint: it's Dean). Naturally, Y/N has to convince him to take care of himself.
A/N: I don't know if this is entirely comprehensive or even living up to the prompts but oh well. I like it
It had started out innocently enough. A few coughs here, a hidden sneeze there. Just a scratchy throat, no biggie.
Only that 'no biggie' turned into a silly little monster called 'flu'. That thing where you were supposed to stay in bed and let people coddle you.
Not swinging a machete. And yes, Y/N had learned that the hard way.
Yeah well, tell that Dean Winchester.
"I'm fine!" He insisted nasally, eyes barely able to track her movements as she reached over to feel his forehead. He was burning up.
Y/N studied his pale face pointedly. Followed a beat of sweat from his hair line to his neck. Dean was definitely running a fever.
"You don't look fine."
"But I am," he insisted and swung his legs over the bed, making to stand up.
Even from behind, Y/N could tell that the fast movement wasn't doing him any favours. Dean was swaying on his feet by the time he was standing straight. Of course, he was too stubborn to admit to it openly.
"You're not fooling anyone with the way you're supporting yourself on the night stand," Y/N pointed out softly and got up as well, "get back in bed, Dean. You're sick."
"'s jus' a little cold," he said and promptly started coughing.
It wasn't stopping this time. Long enough for Y/N to round the bed and pat his back, hoping to get him back to breathing.
When he eventually got enough air into his lungs, Y/N gave him the best bitchface Sam had taught her. "Just a little cold?"
"I'm-"
"Get your ass back into this bed Winchester or I'm sicking Sam on you," she threatened.
That worked. With indignant grumbling, Dean got under the covers.
Y/N couldn't resist on tugging them a little higher and leaning over to place a kiss on his heated cheek. "I'll get you something to eat, okay?"
"I can do that myself, you don't need to-" uncontrollable coughing interrupted him once more. This time it sounded like something was caught in Dean's throat. That something snowballed as his eyes fixated on a point behind her head.
Y/N didn't know what was happening but she knew that she had to do something to help him. So she got him to sit up, hoping that his lungs were just too tightly squeezed together. But that wasn't working either.
Dean was just gasping shallowly, a panicked expression crossing his face as the oxygen didn't seem to stick. And that scared Y/N more than anything else.
"It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. Just breathe."
Y/N was leaning over him, hands hovering where he could see them as she took deliberate slow breaths. She just hoped that it would guide him enough to get back into the rhythm.
While fending off her own panic attack. What was happening? Why was Dean reacting that way? It surely couldn't be just the fact that he had caught something, could it?
Eventually it worked. Dean's muscles relaxed and he fell back into the pillows, face paler than ever but his breathing pattern back on track.
"Baby?" She asked tentatively, hands just shy of touching his face.
"'m sorry," he mumbled, and then, "shouldn't have been stupid like that."
"You're not stupid," Y/N said quickly and cupped his cheek, "what happened?"
"Stupid fever happened," Dean grumbled - or maybe his voice was just that wrecked. The fact alone that he admitted to being sick proved just how shaken he was.
And that in return shook her. God, her mind was a goddamn domino tower.
Y/N waited for him to elaborate this time.
"It's just-" Dean waved his arms around; a strangely helpless gesture on the hunter, "I thought I saw somethin' movin' behind you. Nd I can't do shit right now."
Oh.
"It's okay baby." It took all of Y/N's will power to not climb into his lap and cradle his head to her chest. Because that would likely jumpstart another coughing fit. But oh, she wanted to so badly. "Nothing can get us here. We're safe."
"I know that!"
Dean threw his hands up, agitation in every unwilling bone. And winced when it shot straight through his chest. "Told ya it was stupid."
"But it isn't," Y/N insisted. "It's sweet and a little overprotective and you, Dean."
"So-"
"If you say stupid one more time, I will spoon feed you for the next seventy two hours," Y/N threatened.
Because that was how they worked. If it wasn't her doing the threatening, it was Dean. To get her to eat, to get her out of the bathroom, whatever.
But right now, Dean was on the receiving end. And it worked.
"Fine, you torturess."
Y/N smiled sweetly. "And now you'll let me put a few pillows in your back and make you chicken soup."
Dean snorted. "Knock yourself out sweetheart."
Oh she was planning on exactly that.
General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee , @fandomfoodiedancer , @lovesfandoms , @nyotamalfoy , @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007 , @amythedoctor , @alexxavicry
Dean Taglist: @tiggytaylor , @akshi8278 , @mrsjenniferwinchester , @mrspeacem1nusone , @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes , @alohastitch0626 , @jayheartswritting , @cinderellacauseshebroke , @xoxokiaraaxoxo
Join a Taglist
#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean x you#dean x reader#supernatural fanfiction#spn reader insert
619 notes
·
View notes
Text
Never Let Me Go - Chapter 4
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader
Genre: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Strangers-to-Lovers, Slow Burn, Slight Horror & Action
Series Summary: A lethal virus has killed 90% of the world’s population and turns 9.8% into zombie-like, cannibalistic mutants who are extremely vulnerable to the ultraviolet rays in sunlight. You and Eren Jaeger are both survivors crossing paths in the cruel world, but together, you’re able to find some beauty in it.
Chapter Summary: As the sun sets below the horizon, the dead roam the earth once again. With only a few knives and guns in your hands, both you and Eren have no choice but to fight back the Darkseekers. You promised each other that you’d survive this, but Eren has already bid you his final goodbye.
Content Warnings: zombies, graphic descriptions of death and murder, explicit sex (cunnilingus, blow job, fingering, hand job, car sex, abs riding, dry humping, unprotected sex, corruption kink, praise kink, etc), use of weapons (guns, knives), substance abuse (use of drugs and alcohol), traumatic past, anxiety attacks, depression, crude words, dark humor, sexual assault.
Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart on Twitter
The moon is pale and the woods are bone-chillingly quiet.
The trees cast unnerving shadows on the road, swaying from side to side, dancing eerily from the night breeze. There are no screeching owls, no buzzing insects, no yelping frogs. Everything is silent, as if someone has muted the sounds of nature, or turned your ears deaf. The absolute stillness raises the tiny hairs on your nape, causing your inner voice to turn clamorous in your head, louder than a lion’s roar. It reminds you of the death reaper waiting on your doorstep, maybe with flesh between its teeth and dark blood dripping down its chin.
Ghosts whisper through the wind and Eren’s rapid heartbeat is the only gravity that keeps your thoughts together. You both cuddle close in the rear middle seats, lying down with your bodies facing each other, your temple almost brushing against his collarbones. You thought it would be better to hide in the backseat but Eren reminded you that the last thing you wanted to have was trapped inside a car with a zombie as it would leave you with barely any space to fight. At least this way, you can kick the door open and run if you need to.
Your machete sticks close to your spine while your fingers curl around one of the handguns Eren has lent you. He has placed the shotgun underneath the seat, where you can both easily retrieve it in case of emergency. It holds eight shells in the magazine tube, which is not much but it serves as a reassurance. Hopefully, you won’t need to use it.
None of you dares to speak, not even in sign language. The car windows are too wide but you’ve covered them with clothes and any fabric you can find so they won’t detect your movement from the other side. But the moonlight still seeps through the little holes, painting your skin white and making you feel even more vulnerable with every intake of breath. You don’t have the bravery to take a peek through the glass. All you can do right now is just stare at the same spot of Eren’s shirt, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.
In a desperate need to soothe yourself down, you close your eyes and rewind the moment you shared with him before you both climbed into the car.
“You sure you don’t want to take my magazine?” Eren asked as he offered his spare handgun to you. “I still have three left.”
“No, I’m better with knives anyway. You can make better use of them than me.” But when you held his gun in your hand, it added more comfort than you’d expected. “I really wish we don’t have to use this.”
“We’re not going to,” he consoled you with a smile. But no matter how sweet it was, it wasn’t enough to wash your anxiety away. The sunset was stunning, possibly the most beautiful one you’d ever seen. The sky was ablaze with its fire, streaks of orange painted across cerulean blue. Under different circumstances, watching the evening sun with your lover would’ve become one of your most cherished memories but you felt like you couldn’t breathe. A certain ominous feeling shrouded you like a thick fog, erasing whatever hope you had left. Your heart was thrumming in your ears, your stomach tied in knots.
What if… this is it? You gloomily mused. What if this is the part where we die?
“Hey,” Eren’s gentle call snapped you back. “Can you re-do my hair?”
You were stunned to hear such a mundane question during a moment like this. Searching his eyes, you wondered if he felt just as terrified as you were. But even if he was, on the outside, Eren was fearless—relaxed, even, unlike how he was when he first discovered the truck blocking your path. His boyish grin refreshed your memory of the time when you were about to enter the supermarket in search of food. You remembered how you had accidentally placed your lives on the line back then too, even almost losing him in the process. But you survived, didn’t you? Maybe you could survive this one too.
‘Maybe’ is such a terrifying word. No guarantee, no certainty, only false hope.
“Sure thing, Rapunzel.” You forced yourself to be at ease, even when the load in your chest only got ten times heavier. “Squat down.”
“Why don’t we do it like this?” Instead of lowering himself, Eren scooped you up in his arms, lifting your feet off the ground. A startled gasp escaped you before you tangled your legs around his waist in reflex, your hands circling his neck to maintain your balance. His grin broke wider on his face.
“You serious?” You asked, staring flatly at him. “Did Tom Cruise do this? Are you trying to re-enact his scene again?”
“Oh my God, shut up.” He covered his embarrassment with a roll of his eyes. “I was trying to be romantic.”
“Hmm, yes, I can tell from the way you have your hands plastered against my ass.”
“I’m just supporting your body so you won’t fall.”
“And you can’t do that without grabbing my ass?”
“It’s just easier this way, Princess.” Shamelessly, he gave you a little squeeze, making you yelp in surprise. “That was cute,” he giggled. “I didn’t know you could squeal like that. So very girly of you.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying.” But the smile you once feigned morphed into something real. For a moment, you could forget the situation you were in. No, not forget, pretend that everything was okay. Because what if this was your last time doing this with him? Touching his hair, feeling his warmth, exchanging laughter while being in his arms like you were meant to be together for eternity. What if everything was going to end in a matter of hours—minutes, even—and this was the only chance for you to be happy?
Taking a deep breath, you tried to savor every second left.
“Okay, hold still.” Unfastening his hair tie, you carded your fingers through his strands before you tied it up in his usual bun. You patted his shoulders once you were satisfied with your work. “There, all done.”
“Yaaay.” Eren brought you back to the ground, his hands resting a few seconds longer than necessary on your waist before he released you. “Thank you, milady.”
“You’re welcome.”
He had his hand stretched out, fingers stroking the side of your face before he, as predicted, tucked your hair behind your ear. Seeing you bite your lip to prevent your grin from breaking, he asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” you answered. “It’s just… You do that a lot.”
“Do what?”
It was adorable the way he was so oblivious about it. “This.” You gestured to his hand that still lingered on your strands.
You weren’t sure if it was the sunset that painted amber on his skin or if he was simply flustered at the realization. “I’m—I’m sorry.” He retracted his hand immediately, alternating to rubbing his nape to stop him from touching you again. “It’s just…” Landing his eyes anywhere else but yours, he watched his shadow on the ground stretching out underneath his feet. “I can see your face better that way and…” He paused, a few seconds longer than necessary.
“And?”
“You just look…” His gaze slowly drifted back to you. “So beautiful to me.”
The way he vocalized the words, the sincerity and the softness of it, made your stomach flip in delight but you kept your grin impish. “Do I look beautiful enough to make you want to kiss me?”
He noticeably gulped. “You want me to kiss you?”
You shrugged. “If you want to.”
“God, I want to.”
In the blink of an eye, his fingers held you firmly by the side of your jaw, lifting your face as he brought his head down. His mouth crashed against yours with enough force to make you stagger on your feet, stealing a gasp from between your lips. He was pushing you against the side of the van, your spine glued to the door, your chest to his. Circling your hands around his body, you raked your fingers down his back, nails scraping against the fabric of his red leather jacket as you separated your mouth to welcome him inside. Eren was an excellent kisser, not simply because of the way he moved his lips but the way he conveyed his feelings through it, pouring his passion, affection, and devotion all at once. You could feel his emotions every time he kissed you. When he was happy, when he felt lonely, when he was needy—you could always tell. But right now, you could feel none of those three.
There was only fear. Fear of the dark, fear of dying, and ultimately, his fear of losing you.
He ended the kiss just as sudden as he started it but he kept his face close enough for his breath to caress your cheek.
“Eren—”
He kissed you again, effectively swallowing your words even if it was as light as a feather. The sudden change of vigor in the way he touched you made your chest constrict. It was the kind of kiss that you imagined Romeo had planted on Juliet’s lips when he kissed her for the last time before he took his own life in the name of their love. You felt your heart shrivel, sadness bubbling in your chest.
This wasn’t a kiss. This was him bidding his final goodbye.
Eren gathered you in his arms when it was over, his lips brushing against your temple once before he placed his chin on top of your head. He turned pensive, letting the silence take the lead of the conversation for a moment before he rediscovered his voice. “We should go inside,” he murmured. “It’s time.”
“Just a few seconds more.” You tightened your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. With your eyes closed like this, it felt like you were at home—protected and safe, drowning in the bliss that only he could offer. “Hold me just a few seconds more, Ren…”
Eren shut his lids too, relishing in the strawberry scent of your hair. “I would hold you forever if I could…”
Your forever didn’t even last ten seconds. You broke away and he rewarded you with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
“So nervous I’m about to pass out, honestly,” you said, which he reciprocated with a small chuckle. “You?”
“Well, let’s say I’m glad I’m wearing my brown pants if you know what I mean.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
Humor vanished at once the second you both stepped inside the car. Eren locked the door, exhaling a deep breath before he faced you with his jaw set. “And now we wait.”
“And now we wait.”
Eren laid himself down on the seat, his legs bent on the knees before you joined him and cuddled close. Swatting the bangs out of your eyes, he whispered, “We’ll survive this.”
“I know.” And you both knew that you were lying to each other. Nothing was certain. It was strange how you felt much braver when you were on your own, as you only had to think about yourself. Only had to fear your own death. If everything fell apart, you just had to plant your own bullet in your head and case closed. But right now…
“Please don’t die,” you pleaded, landing your forehead on his chest. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.
As much as he wanted to promise you so, he couldn’t. “I promise you I will never let you go,” Eren said instead. “I’ll protect you with my life.”
“No.” You shook your head. “No, don’t say that. I want you to focus on saving yourself tonight.”
“But—”
“If I see you losing focus because of me and something happens to you—I will never be able to forgive myself.” You tilted your chin upward, meeting his gaze with your consuming one. “Do whatever it is necessary to survive. I know how to fight. I can protect myself. So if you want to promise me something, Eren, promise me that you’ll stay alive. Promise me that and I’ll promise you the same thing.”
You knew Eren could see the fear and uncertainty that were written in your eyes, but you didn’t care. You wouldn’t let him say otherwise.
“Okay,” he said, embracing you close but you stopped him before he could.
You raised your little finger in the air. “Promise me.”
His smile was frail but he hooked his finger around yours. “I promise.”
You’re not sure how many hours have passed since you both laid down in that position but it feels like years. Eren suggested you to sleep as he took the first watch, but you couldn’t catch a wink. You’re in the middle of running through your thoughts, going through multiple different scenarios to prepare yourself for the worst when your ears perk up at the slightest noise. The sound of leaves dancing in the wind. The creaking sounds of branches being stepped on. The footsteps on the ground.
Then the snarlings.
You lift your face at the same time Eren tucks his chin, locking his gaze with yours. They’re here. Stay alert. You nod in silence, all your muscles tautening at once as you feel the suspense choking you. The noises grow louder with each second passing by, driving you even more to the edge. You can feel your heart rising to your throat, the weight in your chest suffocating you. Eren shifts his hand from your waist to your ear, pressing his palm against it so he can muffle their eerie growls along with the sound of their feet being dragged across the concrete. You both keep your eyes on each other, communicating in silence and bated breath.
Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. We’ll be okay.
He speaks with his eyes and you chant the words like prayers in your head, hoping your inner voice would sound louder than their wails. Your fingers tighten around your weapon, and Eren does the same with the handgun resting in his right palm. He’s taken the bandage off his hand, wearing both of his leather fingerless gloves just like you, as he can’t afford to have his gun slipping off his grip. None of you lift a muscle. None of you should, because by the sound of it, there are more than three of them outside.
Their footsteps grow fainter, but you don’t let your heart rest easy. Not yet. Not until sunray can pierce through their decayed skin. How many minutes or hours are left till the break of dawn? You wonder anxiously. If they find out we’re here, we’ll—
A hand smashes against your window, hard enough that the sound rumbles through the night like a thunderclap. No matter how much you’ve prepared yourself for it, your body still jolts in reflex. Eren slaps one hand against your mouth, his eyes shaking in horror.
Be still.
You let out a shuddering breath through your nose, eyes closing shut when the same hand slams again, repeating the motion. One of the shirts that you used as a curtain slips off the handgrip, leaving one window exposed. The moonlight drenches your bodies, your presence exposed.
They can see us. The terror in your eyes says it all. Eren, they can see us! What are we going to do?
You see him swallow, his bottom lip quivering. You both try to breathe as little as possible. Maybe if we play dead, they won’t notice we’re here. Three seconds pass by in silence with invisible hands strangling your necks. You wish you could hear their footsteps marching away but what you hear is another thunderous bang.
And the window starts to crack.
The Darkseeker is now hammering its head against the glass, again and again, and again until your biggest fear transforms into reality. Lured by the noises, another Darkseeker appears on the other side of the car, slamming its entire body against the door, growling like a starving beast. The car is being rocked back and forth. They know.
You both sit upright at the same time, adrenaline pumping through your veins. With the ruckus they’re making, they’re only going to attract more of them to your spot. “We need to kill them fast!” Eren shouts, snatching the clothes away from the windows. “Aim for their heads. We can’t afford to waste bullets or we’ll—”
You both freeze in an instant, petrified to your bones.
There are five of them. Then six. Then seven. Then you stop counting.
They’re slamming heads and blood-stained hands against the windows. Without needing words to communicate, you aim the gun to your right while Eren aims to his left. Drawing a sharp breath, you both pull the trigger at the same time.
Two bullets pierce through the windows, tempered glasses shattering into tiny, blunt pieces at once. Eren’s lead makes a nest on its head but he already shoots another one before its body hits the ground, targeting another Darkseeker that tries to break inside through the opening. He’s always better with his aim than you are, and it’s easier to land a clean shot when these corpses are plastered against the window. Three bullets are shot and three corpses lay cold on the ground, cloudy white eyes staring vacantly at the moon.
Though not as successful, you manage to shoot two right in the heads, wasting a couple more bullets than Eren did. But without the glass separating you, they can easily break through. A Darkseeker lunges toward you, its body leaning halfway inside the window before another one follows. The cracking sound of their bones can be heard as they try to fit through the frames, four hands stretching out, clawing against your chest. You shoot another bullet, the metal pierces through its brain, sending the first body to slide down the window. As if triggered, the other Darkseeker drives itself in with more force, its fingers clamp tightly around your wrist, making it impossible for you to point your gun. Opening the car handle with your free hand, you kick the door open with as much strength as you can muster, sending the corpse to fall on its back. You jump out of the car, aiming the gun at its head, and ending its life for good. You’re about to breathe in relief when a zombie jumps from the roof, tackling you down to the concrete.
Eren hears your surprised screech and his blood runs cold but he can’t afford to lose focus, not when a Darkseeker is close enough to spray saliva on his face. He takes a shot only to find that he’s run out of bullets. Cursing under his breath, Eren unlocks the door, pushing it open with brute force until the two of them topple to the ground. With hasty hands, he snatches a loaded magazine from his thigh harness, jamming it into the gun. But a Darkseeker grabs a hold of his leg, yanking him out of the car before he can take his aim.
You are separated, fighting your own battles, protecting your own lives. Eren is facing two Darkseekers at once, while you’re trapped underneath a zombie who’s twice your size. The corpse tries to bite your neck but you push your gun inside its mouth. You pull the trigger but there’s only a click that can be heard. The Darkseeker slaps the pistol out of your hand and you’re panicking. In this position, with your back pressed flat against the pavement, your machete is out of reach. You have a knife glued against the side of your thigh, but you need both of your hands to keep the zombie away.
You can hear gunshots from the other side of the car, and for a split second, you feel relieved, knowing that Eren is still alive and fighting. You try to roll your opponent over to its back, using the same method you used to knock Eren off of you during your first encounter. But the zombie is much stronger, much bigger, and you’re losing your strength. The hands you land on its chest to keep its teeth away from your skin are growing weaker by the second.
Eren, help!
You grind your jaw, teeth-gritting as you try to restrain yourself from saying it out loud. You don’t want him to lose focus, not when his life's on the line. But the Darkseeker’s weight is crushing your body, making it almost impossible for you to breathe. How much longer can you keep this up?
Eren feels like his heart is about to break through his rib cages. He’s taking too long, and you haven’t made a sound. Please, he begs in his head. Please be okay.
Another Darkseeker attacks from his blind spot, wrapping its arm around his neck from behind, getting ready to latch his teeth on his shoulder. Moving purely on instinct, Eren snatches another gun from his belt and shoves its barrel against the underside of its jaw. He pulls the trigger, the shot deafens him as his bullet makes a hole through its mouth before it punctures its brain.
Two more, he breathes out heavily, his ears ringing. Two more and I’ll be there to save you.
With two pistols in each hand, he aims them both toward the Darkseekers’ chests. Usually, he would remind himself not to spend more bullets than necessary but his desperation to save you dulls his ability to think straight. He can’t waste a second. He needs to know if you’re okay. Their movements are too fast and he knows better to aim at their chests instead of their heads as it would reduce the chances of him missing his shots. He pulls the triggers repeatedly, shooting two bullets at the same time, watching the way they drill holes in their bodies. He can’t kill them on his first try but he tries again and again until eventually, the bullets find home in their hearts and they collapse to the ground. Both handguns in his hands are now empty but he doesn’t stop to reload. He doesn’t have time. Eren doesn’t even let himself breathe.
Pivoting on his heels, he dashes toward your spot, his eyes largening in dread when he sees a Darkseeker’s face hovering just a couple of inches from your neck. With that much adrenaline rushing to his head, his brain stops functioning. All he knows is that in a matter of seconds, that zombie will have your flesh between its teeth and it will be over for you both. Instead of jamming another magazine, Eren tosses his guns away and charges forward. He tackles the Darkseeker by its waist, their bodies rolling on the ground, his skull slammed against the hard concrete.
You spin to your stomach, coughing and gasping loudly for air. Blood as dark as the night painted your faces and soaked your clothes but you don’t taste copper on your tongue. You’re safe.
But Eren is not. He’s pinned to the ground, his hands gripping tightly around the zombie’s wrists, trying to fend it off. His hold slips and the Darkseeker sinks its teeth into his shoulder. “Fuck!”
There’s no time for you to look for his gun. Dashing to his spot, you reach for your machete and you plunge it against its back, driving it straight to its heart. Within two seconds, the Darkseeker’s body falls limp above him and the night suddenly turns quiet again. That zombie was the last one of them.
“Eren!” You sink to your knees, using both hands to push its body away from him. With frantic hands and shaky eyes, you hurriedly check on him, forcing him to sit on the ground with your hands fisting his shirt. He hisses, groaning lowly as he places a hand to cover his shoulder.
Your fear coils in your stomach, so much, that you can feel the world shaking before it narrows down to one thing: Eren’s face turning as pasty as the moon. You weren’t even trembling this hard when you nearly had your life taken away.
“Let me—” You swallow thickly. “Let me take a look.”
Eren releases his grip from his shoulder, letting you push back his leather jacket to examine the injury. You hold your breath, screaming prayers inside your head. Please. God, please, don’t let there be bite marks on him. I beg you.
With his jacket falling loose on his shoulders, you drag the collar of his white shirt to the side. Its teeth were sharp enough to tear his jacket apart, but they didn’t impale his skin, only leaving angry red marks on his shoulder. It takes you a couple of seconds to let it sink in before you can finally breathe again.
“Oh, thank God,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and cradling his head close. He’s not bitten. He’s not bitten. He’s okay. We’re okay. You can’t form a word no matter how ear-splitting your thoughts are. You just embrace him tightly with all the strength you can muster, teeth grinding as you prevent yourself from crying. Knowing that he’s safe—that he’s still here, warm and breathing in your arms—feels a million times more relieving than the fact that you’re still alive.
A bit baffled by how you act, Eren returns your hug and cards his fingers through your hair. “Princess..?”
“You’re okay,” you say, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re not bitten.” We can still be together.
He smiles timidly to himself. “Still hurts like hell, though.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” you try to laugh through your tears. Quickly erasing them away with the pad of your thumb, you pull away, grabbing him firmly by his upper arms. “Why didn’t you use your gun?”
“I was—I didn’t think there would be enough time for me to reload—”
“So you just threw yourself at it?!” You almost bark, startling him with the sudden change in your attitude. “Eren, that was such a reckless thing to do! You’re lucky you’re not bitten!”
“I panicked.” He reaches out a hand to stroke your cheek. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
You can relate, of course. If the roles were reversed, you would’ve done the same thing but it doesn’t change the fact that he almost sacrificed his own life for your sake. “Thank you for saving my life,” you say. “But don’t you ever try to save me like that again, okay? If a situation like this happens again, I want you to run.”
“And live the rest of my life without you? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“At least you could live. You promised me that.”
“It only feels like living when I’m with you,” he says, fingers framing your face. “Princess—”
You stop him by gripping tightly around his wrist. “You’re saying you’d rather die?”
“What will you do then?” He challenges, peering deep into your eyes. “Will you abandon me if that’s the case?”
You tighten your jaw, releasing a harsh breath. Running away from the topic, you swat his hair away from his eyes, observing his features with your gaze turning tender. “How are you feeling?”
“Could’ve been better,” he replies, still a little bit out of breath, just like you. “My palm is bleeding again.” You notice a few trails of fresh blood running down his wrist, staining his jacket’s sleeve.
“Okay. I’ve got some bandages we can use. Right now, we just need…to…” Your words die on your tongue as you look past Eren’s shoulder. There, in the distance, perhaps a few hundred meters away from you, are Darkseekers. There are more than you’ve ever seen gathered in one place. Twenty, no—maybe thirty. And they’re running.
They’re running toward you.
Your adrenaline rush kicks back in, dilating your pupils, and heightening your senses. With your heart rate increasing rapidly, you yank Eren back to his feet. He’s paralyzed by the sight of the Darkseekers sprinting at such high speed he’s never seen humans do.
“Focus!” You snap at him. “Grab your guns and get into the car!”
“How are we going to—”
“Now!”
Eren complies with cold sweat breaking on his temples. But the second he takes a step forward, pain shoots through his entire body like a knife tearing his skin apart. His heart drops as he looks down, eyes glued to his right ankle. Is it broken? Or is it just a sprain? He can’t tell. The only thing he knows is that he won’t be able to run fast. And when you can’t run…
You’re just as good as dead.
Fuck. He tries to fight through the stinging ache, focusing on gathering his guns from the ground and returning to the car. You don’t notice the way he limps as you hasten to the other side of the vehicle. Throwing himself at the passenger's seat, Eren jams the magazines into his handguns, preparing for the worst. You sit behind the steering wheels, shoving your car key inside the hole and the engine blares through the night. You’re going to attract even more of them, but you don’t care. This is the only way you can think of to survive.
“What are you going to do?” Eren asks, fighting the chaos of his fear.
“I’m gonna run them over.” Your voice, unlike his, is surprisingly calm. “Put on your seatbelt.”
“What?!” But despite his protest, he does as he’s told. “There’s like thirty of them—we can’t just—”
“I’m not gonna sit here and die!”
You step on the gas, driving your foot all the way down. The sudden rise of velocity sends you both backward, bodies plastered against the seats, your heart racing just as fast. You’re getting closer to them, your headlights shining across their rotten flesh. With the distance provided, your speed manages to reach seventy miles per hour before— “Hold on!”
A moment of impact. In three. Two.
One.
It’s shockingly jarring and loud when you crash against them, your fingers tightening around your steering wheel so you wouldn’t lose control. Most of the Darkseekers are thrown back, tossed to the side of the road while some of them are hurled forward to the hood of your car. “Shoot them!” you shout, but Eren already has his guns ready in both hands.
One bullet pierces through the glass and the windshield shatters. Shots after shots are taken repetitively, each one goes straight to their heads. Bodies are being smashed under the tires and you don’t slow down. Eren pulls his trigger again but it ends with a click. “Fuck, I’m out of bullets!”
“The shotgun!” You remind him and he unlocks his seatbelt, reaching over to the middle seat to retrieve it.
A Darkseeker crawls over to your seat from the bonnet and you drive your spear point knife through its face. It’s enough to blind its vision but not deep enough to tear through its brain. Its hand latches around your wrist, almost causing you to swerve the vehicle abruptly. “Eren!”
It’s your luck that he’s returned to his seat just in time. Raising the gun in firing position, he takes a shot and its brain scatters apart. Now lifeless, the body rolls off the hood before it falls and meets the earth.
“Thank you,” you vocalize, your body still trembling in fright. “That was a close one.”
“Don’t mention it.”
You are now ahead of them. Those Darkseekers you ran over, they’re not dead, not until they have their heads smashed to pieces. Some of their limbs are crushed, bones fractured, necks bent in the wrong direction, but it does nothing to them as they no longer have the ability to feel pain. They rise back to their feet, chasing after you.
“We’re just gonna have to drive until the sun comes out,” you utter. “How many bullets do you have left?”
Pumping his shotgun, Eren heavily answers with, “Seven.”
“Fuck.” There are no Darkseekers ahead of you but there are more than fifty behind, chasing after your trail, sprinting out of the woods. “How much longer till sunrise?”
He checks on his phone. “Fifty-two minutes.”
Your eyes automatically drift down to check on the lines on the gas gauge. Eren, watching you from the side, notices the way you’re swallowing your breath. “How much fuel do we have left?”
“We have enough,” you say, though the shiver in your voice betrays you.
Eren returns his gaze to the road, his jaws clenched tight. He tries to think of ways, not to save his life but yours. “Okay, listen. If the car stops before then, I’ll go out and distract them—”
“We have enough fuel.”
“—in the meantime, you can run toward the woods and hide—”
“Eren—”
“—I won’t be able to fend them off for too long, but I can at least give you a few minutes to—”
“Eren!” Your scream is blood-curdling, silencing him at once. “We’re not going to die, you hear me?” You keep your eyes on the path before you, forced to reduce your speed to forty miles per hour as it would be risky to go faster than that on a serpentine road. “We’ve got enough fuel until sunrise. And even if we don’t, I won’t leave you.”
“Princess—”
“Damn it, you said you wouldn’t let me go!”
“What I meant was I wouldn’t abandon you!” He shouts back, sounding as desperate and as frustrated as you are. “And that’s what I’m doing now! I’m trying to save your life—”
“Well, I’m not leaving you!” It’s almost a sob that comes out of your mouth, startling you both. You don’t expect yourself to break down to tears, but you’ve only ever felt this scared one time in your life before, and that was on the day you decided to drive your knife through your sister’s heart. “I’m not going to leave anyone again!” Hot tears line down your cheeks, running over the dry blood that coats your skin. “I’m not leaving. I’m not letting you go. I’d rather die than—” You choke, your throat constricting. “I will never…” Losing strength, your voice wavers like something seen through water. “I’ll never let you go, Eren… Please don't do this to me, I beg you…”
Eren’s heart thrums painfully in his chest. Only now does he realize that you see him in the same way he sees you. You both value each other’s life more than your own. It’s better to die together than to live by yourself, shrouded in guilt, drowning in regrets. It’s just not an option you can choose.
“Okay…” he says, wetting his lips. “Okay, we’ll stick together.”
You harshly wipe the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand. “We’ll survive this.”
He nods, chanting the same prayer in his head. “We’ll survive this.”
***
The car’s engine starts to sputter, yet the sun remains still in its slumber.
A wave of panic crashes through you but you don’t let it be seen on your face. You’re not fooling anyone else, however, as Eren takes a deep breath and says, “We need to pull over.”
“No.” To your luck, the narrow, winding road has ended, leaving you with only a straight path to take where you can accelerate your car to the maximum speed.
“Don’t,” he reminds you as you step further on the gas. “If the engine dies—”
Hydraulic power to the brakes and steering die with it. “I know, but it’s not like I’m planning to stop anyway.”
Funny how you criticize him for being reckless when you’re doing exactly the same thing, probably ten times more dangerous. How laughable would it be if you survived the zombie apocalypse just to die in a car crash?
You take a glance through the rear-view mirror, trying to see if the corpses are still chasing after you. They’re far behind now, their presence invisible to your eyes. But it will only take less than twenty minutes for them to catch up, you assume. And what if other Darkseekers are lurking ahead of you? What are you going to do when the car stops?
You’ve only begun to think of a solution when you notice a loss in power. No, you beg internally. No. No. No. Please, the sun isn’t out yet.
Eren inspects your expression closely from the side, not saying a word as he can feel his own dread rising to his throat, but he has expected the worst outcome. Unlike you who’s been drenching yourself with hope, he’s given up a long time ago. Right now, he just wishes he could find a way to save you.
The engine dies and it takes a few minutes more before the car finally puts into a complete stop. With tremors in your hands, you unfasten your seatbelt. “We need to run,” you say through chattering teeth, leaning over to the middle seat to snatch your backpack. “If we’re lucky, we can find another car that works. If not, we can hide in the woods. We can climb a tree or something.” You’re not sure if it would work, but zombies are unable to use common sense as humans do as their brains no longer function. They have fast reflexes, strong instincts but you just need to outsmart them to survive. If you can get to a higher ground where they can’t reach, perhaps you can wait until the sun comes out. And you’ll be okay.
We will be okay.
You jump off your seat, placing back your machete to the back of your shirt before you hurriedly march to his side of the van. Eren steps down with his left foot, supporting himself with one hand on the door before he swings his other leg. As expected, he cannot bear his weight on his ankle. He tries to keep a straight face but you notice the pain that crosses his eyes.
“What?” you ask him, your eyes boring into his. “What happened?”
“I think I broke my ankle,” he utters, stiffening you with his answer.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough for me to be a burden to you.”
You clench your fists. “It’s okay. I won’t abandon you.”
He feebly smiles. “I know.” Which is why this feels ten times worse for me, he adds with regret.
Eren has given up on arguing about it with you. If this is your last moment together, he wouldn’t want to spend it by painting tears in your eyes. He wouldn’t want his name to be spoken through gritted teeth. So he lets you wrap an arm around his waist while he lands his right one across your shoulders. He leaves his bag but he carries his shotgun with him, slinging it securely on his left shoulder. With your lead, he takes a step forward and he stumbles, almost falling to one knee if you weren’t there to catch him. “Sorry,” he says, ashamed for being so powerless. He wanted to protect you and here he is, being nothing more than a liability.
Except you don’t think of him that way, and you never will. He’s your life savior, in more ways than one. He’s the glue that keeps your sanity intact, the gravity that keeps you standing on the ground. Here, being shrouded in his arms, is exactly where you want to be. “It’s alright. Just match your stride with mine,” you advise gently. “One step at a time, okay? No need to rush.”
No need to rush. If only he could find the strength to laugh. Eren nods and he does as he’s told, trying to sync his movements with yours. It’s awkward at first, but once you’ve managed to pass it, you start picking up your pace and maintain it when you both have found your rhythm.
The first sight of lightness comes into view. A small portion of the sun's rays illuminate the sky and the fainter stars begin to disappear. “Twilight,” you sigh in relief. “It won’t take long until sunrise. We can survive this.”
“Yeah.”
Eren’s palm still bleeds, dripping fresh blood all over the pavement. You wish you could stop for a moment and treat it with care, but you have to keep yourself moving. If you can survive for another twenty minutes, you will be safe. Anything else can come after that.
You’re counting the minutes that pass by in your head. Six, seven—twelve minutes have passed. “Just a little bit more,” you keep saying the words to keep yourself sane. Not sure why, but the panic that once has receded comes crashing back in like waves under a heavy storm, submerging you with it. “Just a little bit more, Ren.”
He keeps himself mute, cold sweat sliding down to his chin. Anything can happen in a matter of seconds, let alone minutes. He wishes he could feel safe, but he can’t. He’s terrified.
And when you stop dead on your tracks, your body frozen as if you were icebound to the ground, the fear in his chest doubled by tenfolds.
You can hear their rapid footsteps. They’re closing in.
And they’re closing in fast.
As your breathing turns labored, you take a look at your side. There are pine trees you can climb, but how can you get him up there? You’re not strong enough to pull him up, and he can barely stand on his own feet.
Fuck, what am I going to do?
Eren’s heart breaks at the sight of you biting hard on your lip to the point it almost bleeds as you switch from one scenario to another. “Princess—”
“Shut up,” you snap back, already figuring out what he’s going to say. “I’m not abandoning you.” You spin your head around, facing him. “But we have to run. Can you endure the pain for a moment?”
He gives you two firm nods and you both race as fast as you can. Eren feels like his ankle is about to snap like a twig, crushed underneath the pressure. It’s fucking painful, every step he takes feels like he’s walking on daggers. He groans in agony, and you hold him closer to your body. “I’m sorry, just a bit more.” Their growlings reach your ears, just as strident as your increasing heartbeat but you keep yourself focused.
“Princess!” Eren shouts, terror in his voice. “We can’t outrun them!”
He’s right. There is no other way. Stopping abruptly, you spin on your heels, snatching your machete from your belt. “Then, we’ll fight back,” you say, jaw clenching at the sight of Darkseekers sprinting towards you. They are not as many as they were before, probably ten or twelve, chasing after you at different speeds. But you only have seven bullets and a few knives. Eren can no longer fight and your legs are shaking underneath your weight due to exhaustion. There’s no way you can win this. This is it. This is the end.
You think your body will start trembling in fear, but it doesn’t.
You think that when the grim reaper stands before you, his scythe ready to swing right through your neck, you’ll start pleading for him to spare your life. But you don’t. You’re not afraid of him. You welcome him like an old friend.
Because you’re not alone anymore, are you? Eren is here. And maybe just like him, it’s not death that you’re terrified of. It’s loneliness. It’s the feeling of surviving just to exist, without any purpose, without any emotions. When you met him, everything changed. With him, you’ve found everything you wanted to make your life worth living.
It was a good life, these last five months you’ve shared with him. You were happy, weren’t you?
I was, you smile to yourself. I truly am happy.
So, there you are, standing with your hands steady. You take a step forward, bracing yourself as you shield him with your body. He’s shouting something at you, perhaps telling you to escape or stay behind him like always. His voice rings clamorously through the air, but to you, he sounds like he’s underwater, trying to mouth the words that you can’t hear. Your thoughts are louder, and they don’t speak a word of fear. They only speak of regret.
You wish you could say a word or two, maybe bid him goodbye, or tell him how grateful you are for his presence. For giving you so much joy, more than you deserve. For taking care of you. For loving you. But you’re running out of time.
Ah, you realize, as a Darkseeker, one that runs the fastest among others, lunges himself toward you. I haven’t told him I loved him yet.
Eren’s gunshot blares through the sky as you fall onto your back. The corpse hovers above you, its teeth dripping saliva but you slice its throat with your knife and kick its body away with your knee. Eren takes a few more shots, shooting each one right on the head as you prepare yourself for another. Two more zombies hurl themselves toward you, sending you both to the ground almost at the same time, his shotgun trapped between its teeth, your machete plunged deep into its chest but not quite hitting its heart.
They said during a near-death event, your life would flash before your eyes but now you see that it’s not true. You don’t see your entire past spooling out before you. You don’t see a replay of all the most significant moments in your life. You only see him.
Eren.
You see his smile and his adorable crooked teeth that peek behind his impish grin whenever he leaves you baffled with his witty retort. You see his eyes, emerald with flecks of strength—the kind of green that comes only as summer advances. You see his kindness, his adoration, and the love he holds for you, the fire of his passion that almost burned him whole—the same passion that consumed you just as much only a night ago.
And you wish you could turn back time and respond to his confession with honesty. Because the truth is, all those words he said to you—about how he missed you every second of the day, how he thought about you both in his wake and his dreams—you feel that too. When the words “There’s no life without you,” slipped out of his mouth, you heard them well and you felt it so much within your heart that you wondered if it was you who spoke the words.
Eren gives your life meaning. He gives you more happiness than you could take.
I should’ve told him, is the only thing you can think of when you feel your stamina decreasing fast. I should’ve told him that I’d been in love with him too.
God, I wish I could tell him now.
The zombie is clawing its nails against the front of your throat, your machete stuck between rotten flesh. Maybe it’s time to give up. You’ve fought long enough. Maybe you can use yourself as a distraction. You’re not sure how, but if you can at least give Eren a chance to escape, then it would be worth it. You just need to—
Time stands still. Suddenly, all you can hear is your ragged breathing.
The Darkseekers stop moving. They raise their heads, their white eyes staring straight at the horizon, their jaws hanging low on their faces, black saliva dribbling down their chins. They begin to wail then they run away abruptly, scattering into the woods, desperate to find shades to protect themselves from sunlight. It happens so fast that it leaves you both stunned.
What just happened?
You and Eren are left panting on the ground. The rising sun casts a rosy hue across the morning sky, its first rays lighting up your skin.
Sunrise.
You tilt your head to the side, catching Eren doing the same thing at the same time. Locking gazes, he mumbles out, “We’re alive…” He sounds like he’s in disbelief, his body is still in shock like he’s been trapped in a nightmare for so long and he’s woken up by a slap.
You’re not any better. Perhaps it’s because your heartbeat is slowing down significantly that you start to feel delirious. Or maybe it’s because your adrenaline rush is dissipating so fast from your veins, that it leaves you incapable of thinking straight. Because out of all the words you can say, you find your lips forming the three words you didn’t think you were allowed to state.
“I love you.”
Eren’s eyes widen at once, his breath leaving him as his lips part in a silent gasp. For the first three seconds, that’s all he can do. His eyes shake as they peer deep into yours, trying to unravel your every secret but he realizes he doesn’t have to. You’ve laid everything out in the open. For once, you let yourself be as transparent as the dew that kisses the leaves in the morning. You let him peer into your soul, let him understand that you're saying the words not simply because you almost died with regret for not saying them out loud. You say it because you feel it in your bones. You say it because you love him.
And once he understands that, his expression changes. “I love you.”
You both meet each other halfway, bodies lying on your sides, faces trapped between eager hands as you capture each other’s lips. “I love you.” Tears dampen your eyelashes as you whimper the words, your lips moving against his smile. “I love you.” You sound like a broken record to your ears, but it’s a lullaby that he’ll remember until his last dying breath.
I really love you, Eren.
He responds to each one with the same words followed by a whisper of your name, and you can feel it. This joy, this sense of completion as if you have finally achieved what you’ve been searching for your whole life. For the first time, you allow yourself to feel the happiness that he paints on your lips. You receive the affection that he carves into your heart, and you accept the love he gives you.
You accept the love that you deserve.
***
Eren has survived more near-death experiences than a person could have in a lifetime. Every time he did, he always questioned himself: Why do I have to try so hard to live? Why can’t I just let myself die? What’s the point of surviving when the whole world burns to ashes?
Will it have any meaning if I live through another day?
Today, he finally can answer his questions with yes, I’m glad that I’m alive. I’m glad that I can still bask under the sun, to have air in my lungs, to feel like I still have a soul inside me. To feel like I’m human.
And if he closes his eyes, all he can see is you. You make me feel human again.
You’ve brought him hope, his sense of purpose. Eren no longer lives to survive. He lives to spend every second of every hour he has left with you, creating memories, exchanging love and passion, and neverending bliss. He wants to embrace these feelings for the rest of his life—engulfed with joy, a sense of relief, and endless gratitude. He doesn’t feel like he just escaped death. He feels like he’s being reborn.
And God, it has never felt this good to be alive.
Eren looks to his side, blatantly staring at you with a goofy smile on his face. He’s dumbstruck—no, lovestruck at the sight of you. You’re the woman who stayed with him till the end, the woman who fought till her last breath, protecting him with no fear written in your eyes. You’re the woman that he loves, and the woman that loves him back. The woman that nurtures the flickering spark of hope inside his chest into a blazing flame. The woman that allows him to do the same to you.
“What?” You ask him with your cheeks burning bright, knowing that he’s watching you closely. You keep your eyes on the road with both hands on the steering wheels of your newly discovered SUV. It’s an old Chevrolet with dents all over the car but you consider yourself lucky enough to even be able to find one. It has enough fuel for you both to reach Aspen Pine before noon. You can find another car in the city if you need to.
“Nothing,” Eren replies, still smiling sheepishly to himself. “I’m just, uh… Hoping you’ll say it again.”
“Say what again?”
“You know…” He scratches his nose, the blush that blooms on his face matches the pinkish glow of sunrise bursting through the clouds. “The three words you said to me earlier.”
Your ears are buzzing from how much blood is pooling on your face. An hour has passed since you both confessed your feelings to each other and yet, it feels like a decade has gone by where it becomes awkward for you to restate the words. Funny how you have all the bravery to face flesh-eating monsters, but when it comes to showing affection, you’re curling yourself into a ball of shame.
“What three words?” You switch gears. “Any three words? Like, ‘Shut up, stupid?’ Or ‘You’re so annoying?’ Or maybe ‘Keep saying that and I’m gonna kick you out of my car?’”
He pouts—actually pouts like a child. “The last line isn’t even three words.”
“It is if you split them into four parts.”
“Ugh,” he groans, rolling his eyes. “Princess, you said it, like, ten times in a row an hour ago.”
Your cheeks are replaced by fire at this point. “Well, then you’ve heard enough to keep yourself satisfied for a lifetime.”
“I want to hear it!” You thought it would be impossible for a 193-cm tall brawny man to whine like a three-year-old, but there he is. “Can’t you just say it one more time?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause, it’s embarrassing.”
“Then I’ll say it first. You can just reply to me right after.” He said that but you can see him releasing a shaky breath from the corner of your eye, trying to mentally prepare himself. Although he has thought about them for months, the words still feel foreign in his head, let alone on his tongue. But Eren turns his body to face you, his gaze intense enough to burn holes. “I love you,” he says, sounding too formal and rigid to be romantic. It even feels a bit ridiculous, but you’re too nervous to laugh.
You tighten your jaw, your lips are pressed tight into a white line. You can’t. No matter how much you try, you can’t just say the line like that. It’s just so uncharacteristic of you to do so.
Eren waits with a palpitating heart. He feels like he just confessed to you all over again, not knowing whether you’d reject or accept his feelings. When three seconds pass by in silence, his blush smears right to his ears. “W-why are you not saying anything?!”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
“But now I look like an idiot!”
“You are an idiot,” you retort, holding back the laughter that bubbles inside your chest.
His face matches the color of his red leather jacket. “Stop laughing!”
“I’m—” You clasp your lips tightly when you feel a giggle threatening to break free. “I’m not laughing.”
“Fine, you know what? I’m not gonna say it again until you say it first,” Eren says with a loud huff, throwing his face to the side and grousing like a child with his arms folded on his chest.
“Fine by me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. Glaring at the scenery outside his window, he grumbles under his breath. “Whatever. You’re an idiot.”
“I’m an idiot?” You blurt out, your tone full of mirth. “For what, for not saying I love you?”
You fall into his trap. Without knowing, you say the words he wants to hear, even if the rest of your sentence contradicts its meaning. “I love you too,” Eren says within a split second, beaming at you with a boyish grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I wasn’t—oh, shut up.” You spit back, tossing him a bar of Snickers to refill the calories he’d burned. You couldn’t carry much stuff in your backpack during your move, only a bottle of antibiotic ointment, some bandages to treat your wounds, a few bottles of water, some carbohydrate bars, and Eren’s favorite snack: Snickers. “Go get some sleep. Aspen Pine is still an hour away.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll stop by at a gas station to get us something better to eat, then we’ll find a house to stay in.”
“Okay.”
“And maybe by then,” you sigh, noticing that he’s still looking at you with the same dopey look on his face. “You can stop staring at me.”
Eren isn’t listening to you. He hasn’t been for a while. “Okay.”
“Ren.”
“Hmm?”
“Stop staring at me!”
“I’m not staring at you,” he tries to argue. “I’m trying to sleep by staring at you.”
“That’s it.” You snatch back his snickers bar with one hand—which he only took a bite from—and wolf everything down in one try. “There. Now, you can eat air for the rest of the day.”
“Wha—Princessssss!”
***
“I thought we were going to the lake?” Eren asks one and a half hours later as you drive past the final exit sign, indicating that you’re now at the border of Aspen Pine. But instead of taking the right turn as you’re supposed to, you’re taking left, changing lanes, and heading toward a new direction.
“There’s a small town nearby,” you answer, taking a gulp of water. Both you and Eren have finished your first bottles, leaving you only with one more each. You need to make a stop soon. “It’s only half an hour away from here. We need to find some weapons. Going through people’s houses will take too much time. I’m sure they have some guns and spare magazines we can steal at the police station.”
“Ah, yeah, that’s a good idea.”
Rather than being a good idea, it’s more likely to be the only option you can choose. Knowing that he can barely walk, it would be suicide for both of you to enter uncharted territories without a gun in his hands. You’re not sure you can protect him with your stomach growling and your muscles begging for some rest either.
No houses are in sight as you steer through an empty road, only woods surrounding you, with the sharp, sweet, refreshing scent of pine trees and conifers tickling your nostrils. Combined with Eren’s soft breathing as he falls asleep with his arms crossed and his skull resting against the headrest, you can finally have a moment of serenity to yourself.
That is until you can sense the smell of rotting flesh in the air.
“Eren,” you wake him up with a gentle call. “We’re here.”
The brunette male rubs his eyes away from sleep, squinting them to adjust to the morning light. His body tenses the second his nose picks up the smell. “Darkseekers?” He questions with a frown. “Can’t be. The sun is out.”
You don’t answer him. Slowing down the vehicle, you keep yourself alert to your surroundings, eyes scanning every part your vision can reach.
Welcome to Ash Ville, a road sign says. We hope you’ll enjoy your stay.
You prepare yourself, inhaling and exhaling. You’re about to march into a town you’ve never stepped a foot in, and as much as it is nice to travel to someplace new, you’re shrouded in nothing but dread. If there’s one thing you’re certain of, not every town stays the same as it was before the outbreak. And within a few minutes, you’re about to find out you're right.
Blockades surround the town, made from barbed wires with thorns and spikes, stained with blood and pieces of rotting, human flesh. “They must have taken their own measures to contain the outbreak the second they heard about what happened in other countries,” Eren says, with which you silently agree. “It was smart of them to think that fast.”
The people in this town had built security perimeters, blocking every entrance to get to the city hall except the main gate. One that you assume used to have local officers identifying each person entering the town. The stone walls are certainly strong enough to keep the Darkseekers away, but the black wrought iron fences, which you thought would’ve been impenetrable, are destroyed, pushed with hard enough forces that they tore open the doors.
You decrease your velocity to twenty miles per hour, trying to find a police station or a supermarket nearby as you drive past the gate. A few meters in, you notice something.
The people in this town didn’t die from the outbreak. The virus had never gotten to them.
They were massacred.
Shivers run down your body as you see corpses after corpses lying down on the street. It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this. The virus used to be airborne. Once it was inhaled into your lungs, it would attack your body from the inside, and if you were weak, you’d explode, almost quite literally, within minutes after infection. Blood would seep through your pores and your body would decompose so fast, that it would only take less than 24 hours for your skeleton to show. The blood would turn black and it would stain the pavements as if the night had melted and drenched the earth.
But that is not what happened here. The ground that stands before your eyes right now is painted crimson.
“The Darkseekers must have managed to break through the gate.” Eren’s voice turns deep with regret, his striking viridescent eyes turn dark as they’re painted over by anguish. “To think that they managed to slaughter the whole town in one night…”
A string of questions pops up inside his mind and it shows vividly on his face. What if the Darkseekers never left? What if they’re still here, watching our movements, waiting until the sun goes down before they rip our throats apart?
“Stay within the light,” you assure him, even though your fingers are gripping tightly enough around your steering wheels, enough to turn your nails white. “As long as we stay within the light, we’ll be okay.”
You try to swerve the vehicle to avoid the corpses. You’re not sure how much time has passed ever since the incident, but by the stench of their decaying skin, bodies start liquifying, teeth and nails falling out, maybe it’s been a few weeks. You don’t linger too long to find out.
“Just focus on finding the police station.” You wonder if you sound cold, or seem apathetic to his eyes but Eren doesn’t say a word. The world is cruel but you both have known it since the day you and Eren drove your knives through your loved ones’ hearts. This is nothing new.
It’s a small town that’s brimming with brick storefront housings, chock full of quirky gift shops specializing in crystals and moonstone pendants. The colors are vibrant and warm, and if the world wasn’t ending, this would’ve been a lovely town for you to travel to. But not anymore.
You spot a police station down the road and Eren tightens his grip around his shotgun.
“How many bullets do you have left?”
“One,” he answers. One bullet may seem like it offers nothing but a small reassurance, but knowing how good he is with his shots, one bullet can save a life, whether it's yours or his. Little do you know that Eren only intends to use it to save yours.
“Then wait here,” you order him to stay put as you pull on the handbrake, parking your car recklessly without a care in the middle of the road. There are no bodies around, no corpses lying nearby, and no signs of life. “I’m gonna go inside and check.”
“I’m going with you,” Eren insists almost immediately, his hand ready to lurch forward and seize your wrist if he needs to. It’s to be expected of him, knowing how chivalrous he’s been from day one.
You don’t want to sound harsh by reminding him that with a broken ankle, he will only become a liability to you but he can be just as stubborn as you are, if not more, when he wants to. “Eren, you can’t walk.”
“I’m not letting you go inside alone.”
You turn your face to the side, watching him with weary eyes. You can see the determination on his face, how he’s not going to change his mind as long as you have your life on the line. Of course, it makes you happy to have someone who cares this much about you but still, it would be a terrible decision to bring him along. “Well, I’m not letting you step down from this car with a broken ankle.”
“Do you think I can just sit here and watch you risk your life for us?”
“Do you think I can just allow you to come with me when you can’t even run?”
He clenches his jaw, hating that he doesn’t have any better argument to fight you on it. “I know I’m no use to you right now, but…” It’s heartbroken to see him this way, to see how much he hates himself for being so powerless, for being such a burden, when all he wants to do is to protect you. “Princess, if something happens to you…” he speaks softly, his eyes losing the bravery and determination that filled them a moment ago. “And I’m not there to protect you as best as I can, I will never be able to forgive myself. I’d rather die trying to protect you than to live on my own.”
Although deep in your heart you feel the same way, you answer with a scoff, “That’s stupid.”
“That’s what I want,” he corrects, staggering you for a second from how solemn he looks. “I don’t want to live with regret. Not anymore.”
There’s a pregnant silence with thick tension stretching between you. Eventually, you release a defeated sigh, folding your arms above the steering wheel before you use them as a pillow to rest your forehead on. “Why do you never listen to me?” You ask, sounding much more exhausted than intended. “I’m trying to do what’s best to keep us alive.”
“We’re stronger in numbers,” Eren says, a sudden juvenile grin breaks on his lips, and you’re reminded of the words he said to you when you first met. “Besides, Princess, if we can survive last night, I’m sure we can survive this one too.”
“You’re weirdly optimistic.”
“You’re just too pessimistic.”
The little laughter that you try to suppress sounds more like a snort than anything else, but Eren can see a hint of amusement on your face. “Fine,” you say. “You’re coming with me. But if a Darkseeker shows up and you miss your shot, Jaeger, I swear to God, I’m gonna shave your head. Let’s see if you can still do your cursed Tom Cruise impressions with a bald head.”
Eren shrugs. “He was bald in Tropic Thunder.”
“Oh, shut up.” You land a small punch on his shoulder before you both trade demure smiles. “Well then, should we come up with a plan?”
The plan isn’t much of a plan to begin with, but it’s the best you got. Sticking your machete in the back of your shirt, you jump out of your car and move to his door.
Eren blushes when he sees you stretching out both hands to help him step down from the car. With one hand supporting himself against the railing, he swings out one leg. “I can do it myself,” he says, but right after he finished his sentence, he slips his footing, his body stumbling forward, crashing against yours. You both topple over to the ground, your back hitting the earth with a thud and a painful groan is snatched away from your mouth. Eren has his face buried in your chest before he props himself up with both palms on the concrete. “I’m—I’m sorry!”
“For falling on me like an idiot or for almost motorboating my tits like a pervert?”
His jaw is seconds away from dislocating from his face. “I– I’m not–”
“You’re both,” you answer it for him. There’s a painful throb at the back of your skull that makes your vision slightly unfocused.
“I’m sorry,” he winces. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I’m this close at kicking you in the balls right now, but I’m okay.”
Eren laughs as he’s reminded of the earlier days when you spent ninety percent of your time together throwing playful banter like this. His smile is so contagious that you find your own lips curving up. It falters once he lays a hand on your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone. His palm, just like his ankle, has been treated with antiseptic and bandage. His blood has stopped gushing out from his wound.
“What?” You ask him, time seems to slow down as you focus your gaze solely on him. You watch his eyes drift down to your lips, his gaze lingering as if they are entranced by the sight. You know that look. “Don’t do it.”
Eren wets his lower lip, whether it’s a sign of nervousness or him just aching to have a taste, you’re not sure. “Why not?”
“Because it’s the most cliche thing ever.”
“To kiss you when we’re in this position? I think it’s understandable.”
It’s harder to stay unfazed under his coy, little coquettish smile, and his seductive whisper than to take a clear shot of your target, but fortunately for you, you manage. “There’s a correct time and place to do this, Er—”
He dives and brushes his lips tenderly against yours—a questioning kiss, brief and timid. Yet, you find yourself holding your breath when he releases you.
“It always feels right to me,” he says, smiling more with his eyes than his lips, a pair of beautiful crescents. “Anywhere with you feels like Paris in the rain.”
“Seriously?” You stare flatly at him. “Trying to woo me over by quoting a line from a mainstream song? Really?”
He knits his eyebrows together, puzzled. “What song?”
“Oh my God,” you groan. “So you’re naturally this corny? I mean I know you are but I didn’t think you were this bad.”
“Is it really a bad thing, though?” He murmurs, lowering his head for another kiss, slightly longer, slightly deeper that you could feel how despite they still feel soft against yours, his lips are a bit chapped from the cold. The saccharine smile turns into a devilish smirk. “Seems like you like it just fine, Princess.”
You knee him right on his crotch, not hard enough to make him cry in agony, but enough to serve as a warning. He grunts with his elbows supporting him on the ground, while you return to your feet and fix your leather jacket. “Stop wasting time and let’s go.”
“You’re not cute at all,” he pouts. He allows you to circle one arm around his waist as he lands his around your shoulder. You both make your way to the station, stopping right before the door where the sun can douse you with its light.
“Ready?” You ask him, grabbing your machete with one hand.
Eren releases you, standing with his shotgun in firing position. He gives you a nod.
Taking a deep breath, you kick the front door open. The wood creaks underneath the pressure, and by your third attempt, it swings open and slams against the wall. You’ve made enough noise to attract whatever is lurking in the dark. All you have to do is wait.
It’s only three seconds in, and a Darkseeker, dressed in a police uniform with black strings of saliva coating its bared teeth, advances toward you. You can hear Eren releasing his breath slowly as he prepares to take his shot. He pulls the trigger, the sound rings like thunder in your ears. The bottom half of its face is blown away, its body pushed back a few steps. But then it stares back at you, its snarl turning into a raging cry before it runs toward you with both hands stretched out. Eren didn’t miss his shot, but he missed its brain.
“Fuck,” he curses, stepping in front of you in reflex. He knows the sun will burn its flesh the second it walks past the door but he still tries to shield you just in case.
“Move,” you tell him, pushing him away to the side with one hand while you snatch a spear point knife from the harness that tightly hugs your thigh with the other. You cast your blade forward, letting it pierce through the air before it lands right on the Darkseeker’s forehead, penetrating deeply enough to rupture its brain. The corpse tumbles back at once, body crashing against the wooden floor.
Eren stares in awe before he gulps. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
You don’t answer him, focusing on finishing your job first. Stepping into the room, you approach the spot where the Darkseeker is now oozing black blood to the ground. You go down to one knee, plunging your knife harder inside its brain before you drive it upward, splitting its head in the middle. You pull it away, wipe the blood on its tattered uniform, and place back the blade in its sheath.
Eren watches you from behind, completely enthralled. “Is it weird if I find you so hot right now?”
“Stop messing around and help me find some guns.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
***
Last night might be the worst night of your life but today? Today feels like God is trying to make it up to you.
You’ve managed to obtain yourself three shotguns, two handguns, and five extra magazines from the station. As the cartridges you found didn’t match the ones he owned, Eren tossed his old pistols away and decided to use the new ones instead. “These are lighter, I like them,” he commented with a satisfied grin, tucking his new handguns around his belt.
Your forage for food went well too. There was a minimart nearby that offered bottles of water and a selection of canned foods—which were still gross, in your opinion, but Eren was having a feast. You got your hands on a few bags of chips, a few cans of beer, and coffee–Eren was immensely pleased when he found Corona Extra on the counter that you swore you saw him rubbing his tears away with his hand. With your heart feeling ten times more at ease, you continued with your journey.
You’ve decided not to switch cars, only stopped at a gas station to refill the tank. You drive twelve miles west, heading toward the lake. It’s only one in the afternoon, so there will be plenty of time for you to find a new house and get familiar with your surroundings before the sun sets.
“I’m so excited,” Eren giddily says, munching on a Twinkie. It’s two weeks past its expiration date but he doesn’t care. “Feels like we’re going camping.”
You snort. “Want me to set up a bonfire for you? I’m sure they would love to have a little Jaeger barbecue party.”
“Your sense of humor is disturbing, Princess.”
An hour later, you’re driving down a familiar lane, going through the small neighborhood framed by steep hills and majestic lake views. Tucked into its cozy tree-lined streets are some of the prettiest homes you’ve ever seen—a conglomeration of architectural styles that, while unique, are unified in charm. As much as you are itching to visit the varnish-clear lake to revive your dearest memories, you focus more on finding a place to stay for the night. But then—
“Hey, why don’t we stop by the lake first?” Eren suggests as he rolls his window down, his head peeking out like an excited dog. His hair, tied up with a few baby hairs sprouting out of his bun, is caressed by the wind. “You want to see it, right?”
It’s as if he reads your mind. “I guess we can if it’s just for a few minutes.”
“Yeah, just for a few minutes.”
So you follow his request and fulfill your wish, keeping your engine running until you can witness the glorious luster of the water before you. It’s the same skyline-silver lake where you used to spend every summer making cherished memories and endless laughter with your family. It feels nostalgic, the way the atmosphere is convent quiet, soothing, and yogi still. It’s lined with pine trees and the sky’s magnificence seemed to be emblazoned on the lake, making it look like nothing but a painting. The whiff of mint and the cedar-sweet smell wafts up to you the second you stop and open your door to breathe the fresh air. Feels so good to be home, your lips almost form the words. The idyllic scene still takes your breath away just the same, and when you spin your head around to see him, Eren has his lips parted in awe, looking just as enraptured by the scenery, if not more.
“You want to go out?” you offer him. “Just for a few minutes.”
He mirrors your smile. “Just for a few minutes.”
Climbing out of the car, you help him support his balance by holding him around his waist like before. Eren has his arm resting on your shoulders, the visage of the lake is reflected in his eyes. Sunray adds a golden tint to the face of the lake, and Eren thinks this is what paradise looks like. Untouched by the cruelty of the world. It’s a place with the kind of beauty that is unmatched, except maybe…
His eyes shift to your face again, only to be answered instantly by a gentle smile on your face. “Do you like it?” You ask him.
Eren casts his gaze down when he feels you removing your hand from his waist, only to interlace your fingers together. You squeeze his hand lightly before your warmth seeps through his pores, and he wonders if you’re thinking the same thing. That this is a new beginning, for you and him. That this is finally the place that you both can call home.
“I love it,” he says, almost in a content sigh. He shifts his arm away from your shoulder, his hand doing the same habit of tucking your hair behind your ear. But maybe it’s not a habit. It’s just his favorite thing to do in the world.
And he wants to say something. Wants to describe that even all of this scenery—everything that took his breath away—they’re nothing compared to you. But you’ve called him corny so many times and Eren’s knowledge of romantic phrases is close to none. All he can offer you is his honesty.
“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out while your breathing stops. “I find endless joy when I’m with you, Princess. Loving you feels right as if it’s the reason why I’m here. I feel like I’ve loved you in my previous life, I love you in this one, and I’ll love you again in the next one.”
How can he say something like this? You wonder, turning bashful. So beautifully, so genuinely, so passionately. You could feel the attraction that pulses between you, a magnetic pull drawing you to him. For a moment, he renders you speechless.
“This is the right moment,” you tell him.
He blinks. “Huh?”
Ah, damn it. With your face aflame, you speak through gritted teeth. “For you to kiss me, you idiot.”
“Oh!” The realization only overtakes his features for a second before it quickly turns to regret. “Oh, no, I just ruined it, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I should’ve—”
You pull him down by the collar of his jacket, standing on your toes as you plant your lips against his. It’s a bit more forceful than intended, but it delivers the message well. You break away only to whisper, “Stop talking and just… kiss me harder.”
And he does, kissing you with all the passion he feels. The need. The hunger. But Eren keeps his control. He just wants your taste on his lips. At least, for now.
The kiss is different than what you shared with him a moment ago. There’s no elfin grin on his mouth, only parted lips and eager tongue—shy enough to penetrate deep into your cavern but bold enough to glide against your lower lip. There’s no giggle erupting from the back of his throat, only a deep moan and breathy sigh when he feels your fingers dancing across his nape. His right hand slithers around your waist, his other one cups you by your jaw, the leather of his fingerless glove rubs against your skin.
“Be with me.” He maps his way down to your jaw and the side of your neck to murmur the words before he returns home to your lips. “Stay with me.” It’s followed by your name, spoken like praise from a love poem. “Hold me like this and never let me go.”
I need you to promise me this, Princess. I don’t want this to be the last time I can kiss you. I don’t want tomorrow to be the last time I can see your smile. I’m scared. Deep down, I’m always terrified because…
What if death comes to take you but not me?
Eren had hopes before. He hoped for a better life, and he thought if he wished for it hard enough, he could have it. After all, things were really turning for the better, for both of you. But after what happened last night, he realized that his hopes were nothing more but a fantasy he could never achieve. Yes, you won the battle of your life, but how much longer until your luck runs out? It feels harder than ever now to keep on hoping.
Your legs feel weak, and you try to blame it on all the running you did trying to survive. You want to say it. You want to say it back. I love you. I’m so in love with you too. I’ve never felt like this before and it scares me because what am I going to do when you’re gone?
You land a hand on his chest, gently pushing him away just to get a few seconds to collect your courage. “I…” You lick your bottom lip as a way for your body to suppress your jitters. You taste like him. “Eren, I…”
Say it, you idiot! What is so hard about it?! Just tell him you love him!
Your heart is in your ears, and blood rushes to your face so fast that you know it’s going to change the color of your cheeks. “I, umm…”
Eren watches in silence, patiently waiting for the words to come out and it only makes it ten times harder for you to say it. Then his mouth twitches into a smile a second before a tiny peal of laughter escapes him. Flustered, you give him a little punch on his chest. “Why are you laughing?!”
“Because you’re so cute.” He gathers you in his arms, granting you a small kiss on your temple before he rests his chin on your head. “And you’re so transparent. I can literally see whatever thought crosses your mind.”
“Shut up.”
“You want to tell me you love me too, right?”
“Shut up.”
He chortles again and it's the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Eren kisses you one last time before you break away. He feels it. Even if you don’t say the words, he feels your devotion for him in every fiber of your soul. Elation leaps through him and for a moment, all you can think of is the feel of his body against yours, the passion and the ferocity of his kiss.
When it’s over, he leaves you a bit disoriented. “Let’s go find our home, shall we?” He suggests, intertwining your fingers together.
With you, I’m already home. A thought crosses your mind and your chest is suffused with warmth. It’s until you can feel the way Eren’s hold around your hand turns rigid, that you realize you just said the words out loud, your mouth forming the sentence before your brain could tell you to stop. It came out in a whisper like you were mumbling in your sleep, but Eren felt it to his bones.
“I—” You panic, ashamed. “I meant—I don’t—”
Eren pivots on his heels, staggering quite a bit as he takes you by the hand and leads you back to the car. He rubs his nose, visibly abashed, where the color of his tip matches the crimson in his cheeks. “I didn’t hear anything.”
But he’s always been a terrible liar, hasn’t he?
***
Perched on the edge of the lake, there’s a Craftsman-style shingle lake house that peeks out from the towering pine trees that surround it. Even from the outside, the home is striking, designed to merge with the natural world with wood exterior, as well as the landscaping with native plants, blending into the six acres of surrounding forest. It has unfettered lakefront access, with multiple decks made of wood just feet from the shoreline, one of which has a hot tub.
“I think we just hit a jackpot,” Eren mumbles in awe. “This is literally the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.”
You can’t argue with that. It looks like it’s taken straight from an architectural magazine. “Well then, let’s go check it out.”
Knowing how he’s going to be stubborn about not letting you go inside alone, you don’t bother to bicker with him this time. It is your luck that one side of the house is enclosed by a 30-foot-tall wall of windows rising above the lake. It aims to give you a gorgeous view of the waterfront, but you’re thankful for the sunlight that bathes almost every corner of the house.
You enter the residence side-by-side, slowing down your pace to match his steps. Both of you have your handguns ready, scouring your surroundings with alert eyes and taut muscles. Albeit looking a bit abandoned with thick piles of dust coating every piece of furniture and untended plants growing in disorder, the house seems cozy and warm. There’s even a wood fireplace in the living room, and while it’s easy to imagine spending summers here, Eren can’t wait to enjoy a cozy winter night snuggled up with you as you watch the snow fall on the frozen lake. It reminds him of the dream house he often fantasized of sharing with his future wife and two, maybe even three children, where he would—
“What?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow, interrupting his thoughts. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“N-nothing,” he blushes.
“Are you thinking dirty thoughts again? Really? Zombies can literally be hiding in one of the rooms right now, and you’re thinking about what, getting handsy with me in the hot tub?”
He nearly faints. “No, I was just—” He clears his throat, averting his gaze away. “I was just thinking about growing old here with my wife and kids. The house—it’s—it’s really, umm, nice.”
He’s an idiot. And you are the bigger idiot here because he didn’t even specifically state that he was thinking about you as his wife, and here you are, feeling like your head is about to explode from the thoughts of dancing with him in the kitchen as you make breakfasts together, or snuggling close on the couch with books in your hands and a guitar on his lap, and maybe when the kids are asleep, he’ll even trap your body against the window glass, his lips forming filthy words to describe how much he wants to make love to—I need to stop.
“Go check the kitchen,” you tell him in a desperate attempt to distract yourself. “Find if we have food for the rest of the week.”
“What about you? Where are you going?”
Away from you. “I’m just going down the hall.”
“Stay within the light.”
“Stay within the light,” you mock him back, your cheeks still sizzle hot as you make your way to another hallway. You feel safe as you can still feel sunlight kissing your skin everywhere you go but your fingers remain tight around your handgun.
Eren enters the kitchen as ordered, amazed by the sight of maple woodwork, a granite island, and a wine refrigerator that is stacked with top-class brands, ones that he could only dream of having. But that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it? This is a dream and he’s living in it with his eyes wide open.
He’s in the middle of rummaging through the top drawers, mumbling a little, “Lucky,” when he locates a numerous amounts of expensive canned foods, and jars filled with cookies and candies.
The joy that sparkles inside him turns instantly into chaos when he hears your scream.
Eren spins on his heels so fast, he might have broken his other ankle but he doesn’t care. Mustering every strength in his body to run to your spot, he ignores the pain that burns his every nerve. “Princess!” He shouts out, his balance unsteady. “Princess, are you—”
“REINER!”
Your scream is loud enough to deafen his ears. “Uhh… It’s Eren, actually.”
“No, I mean, it’s Reiner Braun!” Never has your voice sounded so high-pitched before. Your eyes are so wide open, that he wonders how they are not falling out of their sockets yet.
Eren, still limping, walks closer to your spot with a frown. He looks over your shoulder, following the finger you’re pointing at one of the photo frames that decorate the wall. “Who’s Reiner Braun?” His gaze lands on a muscular man, probably in his early fifty, staring into the camera with a grin warm and kind enough to look unnatural on his bearded face. The man called Reiner is sitting on the couch with two teenagers hugging his sides—Eren assumes they’re his children as they bear striking resemblance to him. His wife, standing behind the couch, has her cheek pressed against the side of his head, smiling beautifully with her arms embracing her husband’s shoulders from behind. The amount of love and happiness they showcase through the picture is enough to warm your hearts, and Eren wonders if someday, he can take a picture with you like this too.
“The guy from Empire!” Your shout slaps him back to reality—a reality where you are now fangirling over another man. “Eren, this is his house! We’re staying in Reiner’s house right now, oh my God—I can’t believe this—”
“All right, chill.” But he can’t help but laugh at the way you’re practically jumping on your feet, drowning in your excitement. “What’s Empire? A boy band? That dude looks too buff to be wearing skimpy clothes on stage.”
You restrain the urge to slap the photo frame against his face, only because you care too much about the picture. “A rock band. He’s the drummer. They were pretty cool, my dad was obsessed with them. Instead of letting me listen to Justin Bieber, he kept shoving their albums down my throat. Thank God, though. Justin Bieber’s music is shit.”
“Hey!” Eren raises a finger in the air, stopping you. “Do not insult my man.”
“You were a Belieber?”
“I am a Belieber,” he corrects with a proud look on his face.
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Why would I? He’s my pride and joy. I used to spend hours, just… You know, biebing.”
“Oh my God, don’t talk to me.”
Taking the picture off the wall, your gaze softens as you recall your old days, reminiscing the time. “We used to jam to their songs every morning as Dad drove me to school. I think they’re in their seventies now, so they’ve retired for a while. Too old to be playing on the stage, I guess.” You place back the frame, shoulders sagging forward. “I wonder where they are now.” Are they still alive somewhere? Are they dead? Or worse, have they turned into one of them?
Eren, noticing the sadness that radiates off of you, lands a hand on your head. “Was Reiner your favorite member?”
“I like all of them. Their frontman was, like, the younger version of Kurt Cobain. Too bad he died in a car crash. Poor guy, he was so young too. So talented. And hot.”
The hand that’s been lightly stroking your hair stops. “Hotter than me? I doubt it.”
“Well, obviously—” You stop when realization dawns over you, whirling your head toward him so fast, it leaves you a bit dizzy.
Eren blinks uncomfortably at the sight of you scrutinizing his features. “W-what?”
“Now that I think about it, you kinda look like him.” The second the words break free from your mouth, you feel like you need to wash the filth off your tongue. “But ugh, that is so gross. I can’t believe I just said that.”
Eren just casually takes in what he wants to hear and ignores what he doesn’t want to hear. “Wait, so you’re saying I’m hot? Like rockstar level hot?”
You kick him in the shin and walk away.
The more you tour around the house, the more surprised you are by its grandeur. There are five bedrooms and six bathrooms inside–one of them even has a Japanese bathtub where you can spend your time relaxing while indulging yourself in the scenery of the lake. There’s also a spa and sauna, a fully-equipped gym, and a game room with an endless collection of comic books and action figures, a massive billiard table, and an old Pac-man arcade machine. With all that, you might never want to actually go out on the lake, opting instead to take advantage of all these luxe features.
Checking the room one by one, you notice one thing. The linens on the bed used to be crisp white but they’re painted with yellow stains as they haven’t been used for months. But judging from the way the room is very organized–no pencils on the table, no creases on the sheets, no sweaters hanging in the standing coat rack–maybe the room hasn’t been occupied in years. In one of the photo frames you find on the table, you see the happy family attending their younger child’s college graduation, celebrating it with hugs and kisses. Maybe she’s moved out of the house?
The next room has a more masculine vibe to it. Instead of salmon pink, the walls are painted gray. His son seems to be taking after his father’s hobby, with drumsticks signed by popular musicians decorating his shelf. There’s an entire wall dedicated to the Gods of Metal, with posters of Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath plastered against it. But just like the previous room, this one seems like it’s been abandoned for a while.
“Seems like it was only Reiner and his wife who stayed here,” Eren comments as you head toward the last room–the master suite. “Or maybe this is just their vacation house or something.”
“Why would the front door be unlocked if they weren’t here?”
Eren is still musing to find the answer when you curl your hand around the doorknob and push it open. You’ve prepared yourself for the worst, maybe one or two Darkseekers turning their heads toward you, but what you see is even worse.
Eren, who’s following close after you, lowers his gun. “Well, I guess we found our answer.”
Reiner and his wife—what’s left of them anyway—are lying down on the bed, their bodies are now dry, but still decaying very slowly. Bile rises to your throat as your nose picks up quickly on their stench, and if it was your first time encountering dead bodies, you must have vomited your insides.
Seeing you turn pasty, Eren clamps his fingers around your wrist and leads you outside, closing the door behind him. “You okay there?”
“I’m fine,” you say, inhaling as much fresh air as you can into your lungs. You loosen up your collar and hurriedly make your conclusion. “I think we can stay here. We’ll have to do something with the corpses later but… For now, we can rest.”
Eren nods. “I think I saw a door leading to the basement. Should we check it now or…” He stretches out a hand, caressing the side of your face with delicate fingers as his eyes droop in concern. “Do you want to take a break? I can do it on my own if you want to.”
He sees right through me, doesn’t he? You're trying your best to appear nonchalant but Eren always picks up every hint of distraught that bubbles inside your chest. “No, it’s—” You clear your throat. “Let's go.”
What Eren doesn't know is that you’re not saddened by the fact that the man who inspired you, who you so deeply admired as a kid, has passed away.
You’re crushed by the fact that it wasn't the virus that took him. It was the pills, taken from the packer bottle that sat on his nightstand, its lid still open as they didn’t find any reason to close it. They didn’t find any reason to do anything at all instead of swallowing down the pills and plastering a smile on their faces as they drifted away to sleep only to never wake up again. It’s acetaminophen, you know for certain, even without reading the label, as it was the same one that took your aunt’s life to free her from depression. It was also the one you considered taking, as a way to escape your fear of reality. Ten pills of those and death would take you on a journey.
Reiner and his wife didn’t die with black blood staining the sheets.
They died holding hands.
***
The basement, it turns out, is not a fucking basement.
It’s a soundproof media room with a Bang and Olufsen sound system, a wine cellar, a shelf full of Blu-ray DVDs, a karaoke player, and a music studio where you can locate the same set of drums Reiner used to play a few times in his concert decades ago. They have placed carpeted floors over wooden flooring, the walls are covered by textiles and porous materials to absorb the sound. The cabin-style basement is even completed with another fireplace plugged directly into the wall. It’s the electric kind that doesn’t need a ventilation system but still mimics a traditional wood-burning fireplace. The dancing flames might not be real but they can exude just as much warmth as the usual ones do. The rustic wood furniture is aesthetically pleasing to look at, providing a much more comfortable, warm atmosphere compared to the living room you saw upstairs.
“Look at this couch.” Eren, completely forgetting that he has a broken ankle, throws himself carelessly on the L-shaped sofa. As expected, he winces from the pain but it’s soon replaced by a long, drawled-out moan the second he feels how soft it is. He shifts around, trying down several positions until he lies down on his stomach. “Oh my God,” he sighs in bliss with one cheek pressed against the leather, his hand sliding up and down in a way that is almost similar to the way he caressed your legs two nights before—not that you should think about it. You’re sure by the size of it, the couch can fit more than eight people. Hell, you can even have three Erens lounging with their legs stretched out and you will still have room to sit.
“I don’t ever want to move out again,” he mumbles deliriously.
“From this house?” You can’t help but smile, folding your arms in front of your chest as you lean your back against the wall.
“From this couch. I’ll eat over here, cry over here. I’ll pee all over it if I have to, I don’t care. You’re my baby now.” He’s actually talking to the couch, nuzzling his face against it. “I’m never gonna walk away from you, Sofi.”
“Sofi?”
“Sofi the sofa.”
“Hmm, figured.”
“I was going to name it Coochie the Couch but then I remembered that it’s like slang for something completely different.”
You snort. “You’re probably gonna name our child the most basic name like Jack, or Bobby, or something.”
Wait.
Did you say your or our?
Your eyes quickly dart back to his face, and it doesn’t take long for you to know that yes, you clearly said our, you giant idiot.
“Your,” you correct hastily even though you know it’s no use now. Eren heard it well and now he looks like he’s about to burst with joy. The only choice you have right now is to disappear from the face of the earth. “I’m—” You scurry away. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”
You take hasty steps toward the stairs, shouting stupid, stupid, you’re so stupid, inside your head as you do. A moment before you close the door behind you, Eren’s voice rings in your ear.
“Irene if it’s a girl.” You stop at once, feet shackled to the ground. You don’t allow yourself to throw a look over your shoulder no matter how much you want to. “And Jace if it’s a boy.”
Your fingers are curling tight against the side of your jeans, your face catching on fire. Irene and Jace… Fuck, those names are actually cute. And now you can’t help but put faces to their names, a little girl with the same brown hair and green eyes, and a tiny, tiny boy who looks like a spitting image of him. They might have your smile, but that’s it. The thought of it is so fucking cute, you can feel your heart clawing its way to jump out of your chest.
“Go take a shower, you stink,” is the only thing you can say with a dysfunctioning brain. Exiting the basement, you press your backside against the closed door. Your palm drifts up to conceal the bottom half of your face. You can almost quite literally feel your skin burning.
Fuck, this is so bad.
It’s bad that I want it too.
***
Your house is the only one that’s located near the lake. You’re separated by a few miles from the other houses, where you can only hear the sounds of rippling water and swaying branches that are kissed by the autumn breeze, and the anthems that the frogs sing. Once the sky is ablaze with the fire of the setting sun, you close all the curtains, turn off all the lights, lock all the doors and windows. You can barely do anything with the 30-foot-tall wall of windows, but as long as you remain within your room, they won’t detect any movements from the other side. The windows are made from tempered glass, highly durable and resilient to impact, which adds to your reassurance even though you knew, they wouldn’t hold them back for long if they used all their strength to tear them down. But as long as they don’t notice you’re there, you should be safe.
“I think we should both stay in the basement,” you suggest, “It’s a perfect place to hide, soundproof and all.”
Eren’s heart jolted at the offer but he affirms with a steady nod. He’s not sure what he is so nervous about—it’s not like this is going to be the first time you share the room with him. Is it because you’ve told him you loved him too? Is it because he can tell you’ve been secretly visualizing yourself growing old with him in this house, just as much as he has? Or is it really something as simple as the way he can smell that addicting strawberry scent from your hair, your body fresh and warm from the shower you just took; or the way you look so cuddly wearing an oversized sweater with sleeves too long for your arms?
“Can you please, umm…” You scratch your cheek, avoiding his gaze. “Stop staring at me like that?”
A flush creeps up his cheek. “S-sorry.”
Eren walks past you, still hobbling on his feet as he takes a seat on the couch. Just like you, he just finished taking his shower, rubbing off all the dirt and blood that coated his skin. He wears his hair loose, seemingly a bit longer now with the end of his strands stopping an inch below his collarbones.
Trying to shake off whatever this awkward tension that surrounds you, you decide to treat his injury, just like you did a moment after the fight ended. Grabbing the emergency kit, you go down to your knees before him, carefully checking on his ankle. “Does it still hurt?” You ask as you unfasten his bandage, wanting to change it to a new one as it is damp after the shower.
He winces at the touch, even when you’ve tried your best to be gentle. “A little.”
Swelling and bruising around the joint, there are splotches of black and blue sketched upon his sun-kissed skin, tracking down toward the sole of his foot. You apply cold packs to the injured area, hoping it will decrease swelling and pain. Eren watches you with unblinking eyes, entranced with the way you seem almost motherly as you treat his wound. The flames from the electric fireplace cast amber on your skin, and you seem so pretty, glowing underneath the dim light. And when you raise a hand to push a lock of stray hair behind your ear, Eren almost groans, feeling utterly disappointed that he’s not fast enough to do it himself.
“I’m sorry.” Your voice, even if it’s softer than usual, still startles him as he’s been daydreaming again. “It must have been painful to move around the whole day. When did this happen exactly?”
“Umm… I’m not sure. Probably when I tackled that Darkseeker away from you.”
“Probably? Did you not feel pain when it broke?”
“I only noticed I broke it after I was sure you were safe,” he mumbles out sheepishly. “I was… too busy thinking about you, I guess.”
Ah, damn it. You rise to stand on your knees only to flick him right on his forehead.
“Aaw!” he hisses. “What was that for?”
“For being embarrassing like always.” You return to your kit, rummaging through the box to find a new roll of bandage. “You should take some ibuprofen,” you suggest, wrapping it around his ankle to restrict him from moving it too much. “It’s a painkiller, but it will also keep inflammation down. Lie down on the couch.”
Eren, noticing that you turned bashful by his words, follows your command with a little smile breaking on his lips. It turns out that the couch has a metal frame and a memory foam mattress underneath its seating cushions, and it feels even comfier than the actual couch itself. You’ve brought more blankets and pillows with you, transforming the couch into your prime sleep spot, hopefully for the next few weeks. Months, if you’re lucky.
You place a pillow underneath his leg, elevating his ankle, and two more on each side to keep it trapped. “Try not to move too much,” you say, draping a blanket over his body and pulling it up until he has his shoulders covered. He already looks funny this way, a 6.3-feet tall muscly man, shrouded by a quilt like a child, but you decide to tuck the blanket underneath his body, transforming him into a cocoon. You beam at him with a cheeky grin which he reciprocates with a pout.
“Happy now?” He asks, jutting out his lower lip as if he didn’t look childish enough before.
“Immensely.”
“How can I cuddle with you if I’m like this?”
“Who said we were going to cuddle?”
His jaw drops, nothing but disappointment gleams in his eyes. “We weren’t?”
You slam your pillow once against his face, muttering, “Go to sleep. The sun’s down in ten minutes,” before you move to your other side of the bed, sighing in bliss once you feel just how comfortable the mattress is. You let your muscles unwind, closing your eyes and taking a moment to thank whatever supernatural forces it is that have kept you breathing to this point.
You can’t hear anything from inside the basement. Not the wind that caresses your windows, not the pit patter of raindrops, not the snarling or the sound of branches cracking under their feet. The tranquility of it all seems eerie at first, but once you focus on the steady sound of Eren’s breathing, you finally can believe that you are safe.
“Princess,” Eren whispers, breaking the silence.
“Hmm?”
“It’s hot,” he says, struggling to break free. “Can you help me get out of this? My balls are literally sweating right now.”
You restrain the urge to laugh only because you have to stay quiet. Rolling to your side, you help him loosen the fabric around him. “There. Now, you can—“ Eren pulls you into his arms without warning, using more strength than necessary that you end up with a little “Oof!” breaking past your lips once you land your face on his chest. He lays on his side, his strong, long arms wrapping themselves around your shoulders.
“I thought you said you were sweating,” your voice is muffled by the thin layer of his black sleeveless shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the muscles of his chest and abdomen.
“Yeah, but now I’m cold and you’re so warm.” He buries his nose in your strands, not so secretly inhaling your scent as he embraces you tighter.
Back when you were a kid, you used to have a huge teddy bear plush sitting on your bed. You called it Mr. Cuddlesworth, and you talked to it every night, tangled your limbs around it, and stayed like that until morning. Your mother used to wash it often as you tended to drool all over it, and every time she took it away, you would find yourself staring vacantly at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You only managed to stop being attached to it when your dad accidentally gave it away to your cousin one summer, thinking that you didn’t need it any longer. You were devastated. It almost felt like you lost a family member. You even bought a new one to replace it, the same kind, the same brand, the same color, and size, but it didn’t feel the same.
Until now. “Mr. Cuddlesworth,” you accidentally mumble out loud, sighing against the fabric of his shirt.
“Mr. Cuddlesworth?”
In a desperate attempt to conceal your shame, you bury your face deeper in his chest. Eren’s chuckle reverberates deep where you can feel its vibration directly on your skin. “Who’s Mr. Cuddlesworth? Your ex-boyfriend?”
“My teddy bear. But yeah, my ex-boyfriend too, I guess.”
“What, I’m your teddy bear now?”
“Well, you’re big and you’re warm and you’re so cuddly and–” You catch yourself, ending your line abruptly with a pout. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“Holy shit, you need to stop, Princess.” He hugs you in a way a child would hug his favorite doll. “You’re literally the cutest person I’ve ever met. But you’re also so strong and badass at the same time. How is that possible?”
“S-shut up.”
“See? You just got ten times cuter now–ouch, stop punching me! Show Mr. Cuddlesworth some love!”
“Ugh, I actually hate you.”
“And I love you too.” He catches your hand, filling the spaces between your fingers with his. That gentle brush of his lips against your forehead, the way his voice turns delicate, calms you down until you’re back to your previous position. “Wish we could stay like this forever,” he murmurs with his eyes closed, sounding more like a confession than a mere wish. “Just you and me.”
In different circumstances, you might pinch his nose and reprimand him for spouting out corny lines like usual, but right now, especially after what happened the night before, you feel like he’s saying the words you’ve been chanting in your head. So, instead of pushing him away, you rest your forehead on his chest, fingers curling against the front of his shirt as you breathe out, “Me too.”
And that makes him think. “Princess… Did you see the way Reiner…” His voice falters, unsure if it’s okay to continue but he feels you giving him a timid nod.
“They were holding hands,” you echo his thoughts. “They killed themselves.”
“Why do you think that’s the case?”
“Maybe they were too afraid. Maybe they felt it was better to die in their sleep than to have the virus rupture their organs from the inside. Or worse, be turned into one of them.”
Eren grows exceptionally quiet. It takes him almost a minute before he can form a response. “Do you think it’s right for them to do it?”
“No,” you say, and you feel guilt residing within you from telling such lies, as it was the same option you had considered taking months ago. “I think it’s wrong that they gave up before they tried to fight back.”
“Maybe the reason why they didn’t fight back is that they couldn’t afford to lose one another.”
“You think it’s better to die with your loved one instead of trying to survive for yourself?”
“I think it’s an understandable choice,” he answers. “It’s a nice way to die.”
A nice way to die? You feel your heart plummet to your stomach. Exhaling heavily, you rest your palm on his cheek. “Why don’t we just focus on living for now?”
“You’re right.” Eren naturally leans into your touch, lips curving up into a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Shit got depressing real quick, huh?”
For a moment, you consider stopping the conversation there, but there’s this fear that builds up quickly inside your chest, that you need to let out before it starts smothering you. “Eren… You remember what I told you, right?” You question him with your voice and your heart close to breaking. “Do whatever it takes for you to survive. With or without me. You promised me that once, and I want you to promise me that again.”
You can still see it, see the way his whole body is on the verge of screaming, “I would stay with you until the end, no matter what happens,” but his lips are pressed in a tight line, mustering all his willpower to contain the words from breaking free.
Because you are crying on his chest. Softly, weakly, like a little child trembling in fear. It all comes so suddenly too, startling you both. “Why are you crying?” He strokes your hair a moment before he brushes his thumb against your cheekbone, wiping away the stain.
The more you feel alive, the more you fear death. The more happiness he gives you, the bigger the pain he’ll inflict when fate cuts your bond for good. And with him sounding like he’d rather die with you than survive on his own, you fear death more than ever. But instead of telling him these words, you fist his shirt and lock your lips together.
Eren, stunned by the action, still has his eyes opened until you part away from him two seconds later. “Princess?”
“Hold me,” you whisper, hand sliding past his shoulder before it rests on his nape. Make me forget about everything. Remind me that at this moment, we’re still alive. That you’re breathing my breath and I’m breathing yours. Drown me with whatever you have until I can escape my fear, just for tonight. “Just… hold me close, Ren…”
Eren lowers his head until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. His hand slips through your strands, fingers tangled and pressed against the back of your skull. You have your eyes closed and so does he, and for a few seconds, you stay in that position with your foreheads glued to each other. Then he kisses you softly on the lips, pouring all his love into that one kiss until he burns you with it. And just like that, he fulfills your wish.
He’s alive. You both are. And you stop thinking about the number of days you have left. Even before the outbreak, everybody has their days numbered, so why should this be any different? All that matters now is that you’re living this exact moment with him where your heart feels so full and your body invincible from the amount of joy that surges through you.
This. This moment right here. This is what matters the most.
***
AN: Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reading! Sorry it took me a while to update this, but I hope it's worth the wait 😭 There will be a bonus chapter where Eren's gonna take you out on a date hehe please look forward to it!
Thank you so much Aleks, Coi and Ben for beta-reading this ❤️
Tagging:
@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @princess-jaeger @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashygremlin04 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @jaegeriess @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza thanks so much for reading, lovelies ❤️❤️❤️
#eren smut#eren fluff#eren x reader#eren jaeger smut#eren yeager smut#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#aot x reader#snk x reader#eren jaeger fluff#eren yeager fluff#eren x you#eren#eren jaeger#eren yeager#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#never let me go canon
672 notes
·
View notes
Text
20$ make a fella holla
I don’t know if it’s obvious, but I can never describe Senku’s fucking hair. It’s just...how do you describe that shit??
Regardless, I hope this is a fun read, I just kinda had fun with it, tried to make it amusing to read, just a lil fake dating romp <3 Hope the romantic tone is there though at the end! I thought it was a pretty cute lil moment, at least.
Some people loved weddings, with the belief that they were the perfect time to bask in the love of your partner and joy of your family. Some, believed the events to be garish, stressful, exhausting nightmares for everyone involved. Which, was more or less the group you fell into.
Though, of course, you had no real issue with weddings, and someday may also wish to be married to your own future partner. But, that didn’t keep the sudden invitation to a family friend’s surprise nuptuals from coming out of left field.
So, befitting someone in your panicked position, you scrambled to find a date to accompany you to the event. Someone, anyone who could make sure you couldn’t be paired off with a complete and total stranger for pictures, and that no well-intentioned aunties, or eager, nosey grannies could offer potential dates and suitors.
Alas, your boyfriend had dumped you a month before, and none of your friends were free to attend with you.
“When does this crap end? I’ve got a project to get to.”
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
“Senku, will you please quit complaining already? Do you have zerofucking social skills?” You hissed back in a similarly quiet tone your date at the reception table. Aka your roommate, Senku Ishigami. A slightly eccentric, odd-haired 19 year old science prodigy on his third year of college, and your last fucking nerve at the moment.
But, your annoyance seemed to simply bounce off of your ‘boyfriend’ as his crimson eyes glared back at you as he muttered quietly,
“I do, but this is damned boring. Plus, this tuxedo is itchy as hell. I did my bit, why don’t we just leave already? The ceremony’s over.”
“Because that’s passive aggressive and rude, Senku. Have you never been to a wedding?” You asked back, but before your ‘boyfriend’ could shoot back with some explanation about the useless nature of such events, one of your tablemates asked,
“So, how long have you two been together?” in an attempt to start some less hissed and angry conversation.
“Oh! Uh, about…” While you scrambled for a good answer, Senku jumped in to save you,
“Going on two years soon. A little under a month before that marker, actually.” He answered, his boredom well hidden under his usual cool, unbothered demeanor as he spoke, but it still irked you.
Almost as much as his claim did, honestly. God, why am I not surprised that he doesn’t give a singular fuck about the plot holes I’ve gotta patch up if someone asks for details?You mentally fumed as your expression remained politely chipper and joyful as the woman across from you continued to ask questions.
“How ever did you two meet then? I hope I’m not rude, but you two don’t seem like eachothers ‘types’.” She hummed, but before you could toss out some bland, cutesy meet-cute plot, Senku spoke once again,
“Oh, kinda creepily, actually. She needed a room mate, I was just the person to take her offer.” Why not just admit I’m paying you to be here too?!“We didn’t like eachother at first, I usually don’t like super extroverted girls surrounded by dramatic friends and shit. Which, at first, that’s what she seemed like. I mean, jeez, let loose a machete-wielding maniac on campus and she’d have been prime ‘hot bimbo victim’ material.” Oh my fucking god, Ishigami, what next? Calling me ‘the old ball and chain’? How is this supposed to be believably romantic?!But, of course, the man continued regardless of your attempts to psychicly blow him up. “But, a month or so in, I realized my assumptions were wrong. She’s actually quite a funny, charming girl, with a good head on her shoulders, and some intellegence to her. And...well, y’know, I asked her out from there. Though, I have no clue why she agreed to date my ass, but she did! And I’ve held onto my title since then.”
As he spoke so easily, you were stuck with a nerves-laced smile the entire time. Only able to muster the occassional giggle to try and sell the romance in his take on your actual situation. Because, what else were you to do? Correct your boyfriend on your meeting story? That’d just out how fake the two of you were in an instant, so you mostly focused on your bland wedding reception food and tried not to give your room mate dirty looks as he spoke.
Thankfully, though, the woman across from you two seemed at least a bit charmed, or at least amused by the romantic twist on how your initial meeting with the odd-haired scientist. So, you could let out an internal sigh and redirect the conversation away from your ‘love story’ before Senku could cook up any other questionable tales. But, as you sat there in polite conversation as you ate your fillet mignon and mashed potatoes, Senku’s story was able to settle into your mind. Allowed to stew and marinate as the reception continued.
Why the hell would he got down such a weirdly honest route? He seems more the type to claim we met on tinder, not that weirdly sweet tale of growing to like me from an awkward set up. You asked yourself. Because, in the two years you’d had the man as a room mate, he had always favored blunt honesty over sugar-coating anything, so, it was odd that he had such a long-winded lie at the ready. And it you couldn’t explain it away as him having ‘prepped for the role’, you had to fight him just to put on a tux and pull his gravity-defying hair into a ponytail so he didn’t look weird in any wedding photos. He wouldn’t bother with that type of preparation. So...what? Was he being...honest?
It wasn’t an entirely comfortable realization to come across. Even if Senku had his moments of being attractive, and he was a pretty good room mate, he had the tact of a brick, and a blatant love for science over any living person, least of all you, right?
God, get a hold of yourself, girl.You chided yourself with a small sigh, only a glance thrown to your date to briefly study how he sat and ate his food, that glint of boredom back in his cherry-colored eyes. This isn’t some rom-com fanfiction. Your roomie hasn’t been harboring some deep love for you for two years unless your a beaker of nitroglycerin. You reminded yourself firmly, the flustered butterflies in your belly squashed coldly as you returned to the food in front of you.
Though, after a moment, you did dare another glance to your pretend boyfriend beside you, and this time, those crimson orbs looked back at you. And, as if the scientist had suddenly learned to read your mind, he leaned over until you could feel his warm breath tickle your ear when he whispered,
“What’s with the weird looks? Surprised the unfeeling scientist has a heart?” in a playful,flirtatioustone that was almost alien to hear mixed into his voice. A tone you had heard plenty of time in your life, but still managed to cause you to gasp, and choke on your own spit. Like a true charmer.
“Oh! Oh shit, are you choking on something, hon?” Senku asked, instantly on his feet as you coughed on your surprise, “Jesus, maybe this is a good time to go. With your luck, dear, you’ve got a cold brewing.” He said, at least decent enough to fabricate some form of a lie before he took his opportunity and almost drug you from the reception hall just as you got your breath back. I’m going to kill this bastard.
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hi, I'm Curlish and this is my blog
Video Clips about Bart Curlish
by @docdust
Bart Curlish and Holistic Philosophy
Better come with me than die
Bart Curlish - Leaf in the Stream of Creation
The Strange Mating Behaviour of Demons and Assassins
Wanna come with me and be best friends?
By others:
Unstoppable - A Tribute to Bart by Rebel Sun (Youtube)
Fiona Dourif on Bart Curlish
"Bart was originally described as a force of nature [...] It was a unique voice and one of the other descriptions was a “homicidal dirt muppet.”
I think that Bart is the most vulnerable character that I’ve ever played. I really love her. I find her lonely and kind of sincere.
Whole interview
Dubbed the “delete key of the universe,” Bart is often predatory and always purposeful. But underneath all that is what many would describe as a vulnerable and almost childlike character who longs for all the same things us non-assassins do.
Dourif: "I played with the character with my own voice for a few days and it didn’t work. And so, I guess like [laughs] a voice I have in my repertoire which I never even knew is like this weird Jersey thing [laughs]. I don’t even know what or where that’s from, but I started doing that a little bit, and then it got a little gravelly, and then it became this like dirty, kind of masculine thing which I felt like worked and so I stuck with it. [...]
I was thinking about what it is to be a woman and my life and all that, and then I was thinking about how much, you know, being like a pretty girl in a feminine setting—how much I have to think about that being an actress because you really do. I mean, when you audition, it’s like, ‘Cool, I need 50 minutes to make my hair look perfect so that some producer thinks I’m fuckable enough to be in this role’ because that truly does really matter. I mean, it’s not the majority of it at all, but it really is a huge part of it.
And Bart, it is the opposite. When I got cast as Bart, I was like, ‘Well, cool. At least I can let myself go.’ [laughs] You know? It’s like, I couldn’t shave any of my body hair or anything; I let my eyebrows grow in and they put dreadlocks and dirt and orange teeth, and I just like became this—not like a strong woman; it wasn’t even that bullshit stereotype. It was a person; even though people would argue that Bart is the delete key of the universe and not a person, I don’t think of her like that. She’s like a vulnerable person who also happens to be the delete key of the universe. But yeah, man, it was like really nice. Sexuality never came into it. And i think men get to do that all the time, and I’ve never ever been cast—I’ve never even read anything that had that, you know? [...]
’ll walk into a biker gang and there’ll be machetes and knives and bullets flying at me, and I’ve never been scared of that. But, you know, rejection is something that I think hurts and this was me being paired with somebody by the universe. He was supposed to be there and, you know, maybe he won’t like me and that hurts. If anybody’s ever been ostracized in middle school, which I have, it was like, you know, it’s really painful. Really is. [...]
I really love that Bart is unsexualized, but if we took an unsexualized woman and then made her [laughs] like experiment with sexuality, I’d be interested in that. It would be so funny. [...] I had to answer the question for myself if I’ve ever had sex and I’m not going to tell you the answer. [laughs] But I was really curious. I was like, ‘Has Bart ever gotten laid?’ And I know what it is. I know the answer. [laughs]
Whole interview
#bart curlish#fiona dourif#holistic assassin#dirk gentlys holistic detective agency#dirk gently's holistic detective agency#dghda#gender stuff#genderfluid
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hold on- would... would Machete and Vasco be that dynamic of where- one would have so many hair products. so so many. a whole shelf full. and the other just has that fucking 9 in 1 shampoo bottle..... help-
(other than this stupid little blurb of words, I seriously enjoy your works, every single little aspect and line and everything defines it so much. it's so pleasing to the eye and so recognizable, and even just your little sketches and it always is such a treat to see your art <3 all my friends love Canis Albus art)
The most obvious answer would be Machete has the army of hair products and Vasco has the single multipurpose bottle, but in reality I think 1. Vasco also likes to look and smell his best, and 2. Machete's fur does The Thing naturally so he wouldn't need that many.
(Thank you! ;_; That's so nice to hear)
#I think this setup would apply to their medicine cabinet however#Vasco has a bottle of over the counter ibuprofen and something like cholesterol meds#and Machete hoards everything just in case#he'd be the type to take so many food supplements#just stupid amounts of money spent on various pills every month#answered#seraphs-sacred-shithole#that sure is a name#modern au
217 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! How about tackling the idea of Kenshin, Hideyoshi, Mitsuhide, Ieyasu, Motonari + the warlord of your choosing, reacting to MC saving herself from the kidnapping attempt. Like she got kidnapped and she managed to save herself and met the warlords on the way back to the castle/manor.
Ooh, I'm sorry, I stopped playing ikesen around the time Motonari came out so I don't know much about him. I do know the rest though!
Kenshin:
Absolutely LIVID when he sees you, branches sticking out wildly in your hair and a smudge of dirt on your nose wandering about in the cold, dark forest.
Lots of nagging about how you should've stayed put, that he would've found you no matter what, that you could've gotten seriously hurt if your escape attempt had failed. But the nagging stops when you collapse in his arms and give him a big, tired smile, "it's Kenshin!!"
A flood of anger and disappointment fills him, he should've made sure you were better protected. His possessive nature seeps back just a little - Maybe he should've kept you locked up...
Kenshin is by your side until you recover. He doesn't leave for a second, feeds you, and holds you tight at night so no one can take you away again.
Hideyoshi:
He turned the whole castle up and down looking for you. Barking orders and snapping at people for breathing.
Probably went through 3 tobacco sticks. When he's heading home to his manor, he thinks he's dreaming that you're in front of him. When he realises the girl slumping her way home is real, he bolts forward, tackling you in a back hug.
"Ehehe, sorry for scaring you Hideyoshi..." you hug him back with tears in your eyes. it was kinda scary and you're so lucky you got away before your kidnappers could take you anywhere.
Hideyoshi's face is in a deep frown. He scoops you up and carries you home, runs a nice warm bath, brews a warm cup of tea and holds you warmly as you drift off to sleep. He makes sure you know you're safe now and that he's got you, so that not even a nightmare will touch you.
Mitsuhide:
Somehow knew before hand that someone was going to try to kidnap you. Fine, they want to play? Let's play.
Sets an elaborate ambush to round up your to-be kidnappers. He himself is laying low, ready to teach them a lesson for their foolishness.
Cue his surprise when you knee one man in the balls and elbow another one in the chin. The third one raises his rusty machete but Mitsuhide is quicker. Though the elusive warlord would be lying if he said he wasn't proud of his delicate mouse.
Mitsuhide quickly takes you home to distract you from what could've become a terrifying experience for you. The 3 men lying on the ground are taken home too... to the cold, dark dungeons of Azuchi castle where they won't be seeing sunlight ever again....
Ieyasu:
"Where were you?!" "Do you realise how worried I was?" "I was looking every where for you!" "You promised to have lunch with me!!" The truth just spills out of Ieyasu's mouth as all the tension in his body flows out with his words.
"...What are those rope burns around your wrists?" The nagging pauses as he realises the red marks. When you tell him the cause there's a rush of anger within him.
He drags you away, to his room and silently pulls out his disinfectants, oitments and bandages. Without another word he tends to your wounds gently.
He acts unaffected by the attempted kidnap, but you can tell he doesn't leave your side for very long for the next few months.
Masamune:
Masamune's away for a day at another province when the kidnapping attempt happens.
He can't believe it when he comes home to hear the commotion that's gone on in his castle - blood on the floor, vases broken, his servants are panicking and his aide is missing and in pursuit of some idiot who tried to threaten your life.
When he hears about how you and Shogetsu tag teamed the kidnapper, he's laughing and wheezing on the ground. Not you biting the kidnapper's arm whilst Shogetsu chomps on the guy's leg!
No wonder there's so much blood in the room. Masamune is proud of his two fierce tigresses - go girls, go! (lol soz I can't remember if Shogetsu was a male or female XD, sorry if Shogetsu's a male)
#ikesen#ikemen sengoku#head canon#headcanon#toyotomi hideyoshi#masamune date#mitsuhide akechi#ieyasu tokugawa#uesugi kenshin#otome#headcannons#anime#ask#jgjmk4-2
153 notes
·
View notes
Text
What Does Your OC Carry?
CAPPIE DE LA COSTA
Cigarettes, an old machete, bullets, a dozen mini bottles of alcohol, a journal, a hit list, two maps of Hope County, flint and steel, gummy vitamins melted into a glob she takes bites from sometimes, prescription drugs, spare thongs, Eli's jacket, at least one raccoon at all times, three spare socks, her red ball cap, an AR rifle, porn, marijuana, a hairbrush, 11 hair ties, a crisp unopened survival guide, garbage, an iPod, earbuds, a broken water purifier, and pure unfiltered hate for Eden's Gate
RIVER PALMER
A weathered journal that's falling apart, plastic vials for nature samples, dog treats for Lady, an inhaler, sunscreen, condoms, bullets, a serrated hunting knife, leather gloves, spare socks, a picture of his family, 6 pencils, pencil sharpener, a compass he never needs, an augmented rifle, chemical compounds to test said nature samples, flare gun, a half-eaten chocolate bar, a cool rock, glowing salamanders kept in a water bottle, and his mother's love
+++
Tagged by @inafieldofdaisies 💕
Tagging @noodlecupcakes , @direwombat , @socially-awkward-skeleton , @adelaidedrubman , @ladyoriza , @onehornedbeast , @ivymarquis , @voidika , @josephseedismyfather , @strafethesesinners , @cassietrn , & @strangefable
23 notes
·
View notes
Note
Strade in the ballroom with a machete. Could be very interesting.
Kinktober 2022, day 4 - interesting indeed. Possibly too interesting, judging by my word count :) btw your art is baller 👌
c.w: gn reader, dubcon, soulmate AU (marked w/ first touch), restraint, biting, rough sex, Strade is his own warning. 1.4k
When you were little, you couldn't figure out why adults always seemed to recoil from you upon first meeting. They usually recovered fairly quickly, but the strange, sad look they directed at you never quite went away.
Once you were old enough to understand soulmates, you also understood their apprehension, and your parents' crippling fear.
For a long time, you weren't allowed to go anywhere without a chaperone. There was even talk of hiring a bodyguard, but that never happened. What did happen was practically a modern-day retelling of Rapunzel: your parents locked you away in your room after your 18th birthday.
Naturally, you tried to escape. They had no legal right to keep you there, but unfortunately the law didn't hold a candle to large steel padlocks and barred windows. They took care of you, of course; you were well fed, given plenty of things to do, and you were allowed out to spend time with them when they were home. You weren't really living, though, and you couldn't go on like that.
Finally, a few years later, you got an opening. Your mother tripped on her way through the front door, and you shoved past her quickly, bolting out into the night. You kept going until you were sure you'd lost them, and then, with some of the money you'd been slowly saving, hopped on a bus to the next town over.
You didn't have enough for a hotel, and you weren't sure yet what to do, so you started looking for someplace you could sit for a while, maybe get some food, and figure some things out. The first place you found was a fairly quiet-looking bar, and you dipped inside. It was scary, suddenly being on your own, but at least you were free.
Unfortunately, that freedom didn't even last 12 hours, because he was waiting inside the bar.
He seems nice. You chat a little, he buys you an appetizer, and a while later you decide to head out in search of a safe place to sleep.
He corners you a street over from the bar - charges you, shoves you into an alley, wraps a hand around your throat, and pins you to the wall.
You're terrified, of course, and it's not any better when you realize that his hand is placed exactly, perfectly, over the soulmate mark on your neck.
He pauses his assault, and you can guess why. Your hand had flown up to his chest in an attempt to push him away; it's still sitting there, and his eyes are locked on it, transfixed. You know what you'd find beneath your palm if he unbuttoned his shirt.
You're panting harshly around the pressure on your throat (which hasn't eased at all, despite his distraction), afraid to move, afraid of him, afraid of all the implications of this moment - and meanwhile he's seemingly gone comatose on his feet.
"Oh..." he breathes quietly, slowly lifting his other hand to touch yours. Startled into action, you try to yank it away, but his grip closes around it like iron, keeping it pressed so firmly against his chest that you wouldn't be shocked if it bruised.
The hand around your neck releases you, only to seal itself around your jaw instead, tilting it upward so he can see the glaring, hand-shaped mark there.
"Oh! Oh, darling," he croons, face splitting into a grin that fails to comfort you - in fact, you feel the fine hair on the back of your neck stand on end. "Look - you're mine!"
Your hand is still trapped in his, and he drags your conglomeration of digits from his collar and down his chest, snagging the buttons of his shirt as he goes, until they're all either undone or popped off - at which point he pulls the fabric open wide enough to show you what you'd expected: a shadow of a handprint, exactly your size.
You don't know how to respond. He's practically vibrating with excitement, face flushed, tone overjoyed; does this mean he'll let you go? Change his mind about whatever he'd been about to do to you? Somehow, you doubt it.
"Uh - um, it's - it's nice to meet you...?" you squeak out.
"Ah, such a sweetheart! Aren't I lucky?" He says, seemingly genial despite his bruising grip on your jaw - completely at odds with the bone-chilling, hungry way his eyes now travel over your form. He licks his lips, the sight both terrifying and oddly arousing. It makes something start to churn your belly.
He leans forward, slowly. You want to lean away, but you're trapped between him and the wall. You startle when his lips meet your throat, trailing along your mark, and then you whimper when you feel the graze of his teeth. He bites, a sharp nip, and you release a strangled yelp.
"Ahh... hmm. I think it's your turn, soulmate," he breathes. He's still excited, but for the first time there's a dangerous edge to his voice that makes you tremble. "We should be even, don't you think?"
Before you can ask what he's talking about, his hands move, surging beneath your shirt, roughly pulling it off, baring your torso despite your weak attempts to stop him. He finishes removing his own shirt as well, throwing all the clothing to the ground in a heap.
"There now, much better," he grins.
"Please, I..." you start, unsure what you're trying to say, and knowing it isn't going to matter anyway. Your hands push at his chest, deliberately avoiding his mark, but he grabs both of them in one of his and pins them above your head.
"Oh? So polite," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck, dragging his lips, teeth, and tongue haphazardly over your skin, nipping and sucking and lapping his way from one side to the other, then over your collarbones, down your sternum - you whimper and whine reflexively, trembling in his grip, increasingly disturbed by the growing warmth between your legs. "Keep begging, okay, darling? You can even cry if you want! It gets me so excited..."
Your eyes widen at his words, squirming in his grasp - half trying to break his hold, half looking for friction. He's horrifying, definitely, but he's also... thrilling. You'd managed to have some experiences in your teens, despite your s-tier helicopter parents - who, you know, must have been terrified of you ending up in exactly this situation - but never anything like this. You're not even sure you want him to stop anymore.
Suddenly, he yanks you away from the wall, and you yelp again as he tackles you to the ground, pinning you against the articles of clothing he'd thrown there earlier.
"We're going to have so much fun, liebling," he purrs, roughly freeing you of your pants - and now you start to panic again, do you really want this?
"You're going to love the house," he continues. His breathing grows ragged as he undoes his belt, rushing to do away with anything separating your skin from his - and you couldn't do anything even if you wanted to, he's got your hands in his iron grip again - "you're going to love your collar," he all but growls as he shoves himself, newly freed and alarmingly hard, inside of you with one thrust.
You scream; he moans.
"S-Slow down," you warble. He didn't prepare you - didn't even ask if you wanted -- the sudden stretch is uncomfortable, burning, too much friction, and the most you can do is writhe beneath him, stuck fast in his grasp. Begging is your only recourse. "Please - "
He's not listening to you.
"I'll try not to hurt you too much - " he thrusts again, deep and hard; you cry out - "I'll take care of you - we'll be so close - " his teeth sink into your shoulder, his pace ramps up; his free hand slides down your body, between your legs, and starts stroking you vigorously. For the first time, the sound that leaves your throat is more pleasure than pain.
"Who you belong to?" he asks, panting hard.
You don't want to say it - but his fingers slow to a crawl, and you're a hair's-breadth from orgasm.
"You," you crumble, "I'm yours - ah!"
He comes, flooding you with warmth, and you follow at his heels - already regretting your affirmation, but it's far too late now.
And after all, it is the truth - thanks to whatever cruel god created soulmates.
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
Teratophilia (Strade/Ren)
day 10: teratophilia
third person, ren's pov. inspired by twitter user @Junjomonstah's zombie strade au
The machete slid through the amputated limb with ease, flesh, muscle, and bone unable to withstand the sharpened blade. Dark, aged blood spilled out on either side of the greying flesh of the arm, covering the bench on which he worked with a viscous spray.
Ren instantly jumped back from the bench, looking down at his (now blood-covered) sweatpants with a wounded look.
"Jeez, that better not stain," He grumbled softly with a frown, reaching down to rub at the new splash of blood adorning the fabric, knowing that he shouldn't. "I just got these..."
He continued to pout about his stained sweatpants, letting out a deep huff from his nose as he hacked the limb into several neat pieces, tossing each one into a metal bucket at his side with a bloody splat, like it was second nature to him.
Ren's ears twitched at the sound of a growl behind him, the shift of chains against the cement floor, responding to each bloody splat of flesh.
"I know, I know, it's not the best we can get," Ren said softly, the pout fading just a touch as he smiled to himself, hacking through the wrist of the limb with a heavy *thwack* of the machete. "I'll get something fresher for you soon, but we need to make do with what we have for now."
He glanced over his shoulder with another bright smile, his tail wagging.
"Come on, don't be grumpy with me," He said with another playful pout, leaning down to take the bucket in hand and pacing across the basement, his bare feet cool and claws clicking against the floor. "You always love feeding time! It might not be gourmet or anything, but it's still food, right?"
He reached in to take a slice of the cut meat and squatted down, holding it out like a peace offering.
"You know you want it. Come on~" He cooed softly, with a little tilt of his head, a teasing smile, his fangs pressed into his bottom lip. "Take it."
His ears twitched again at the sound of another low growl as the chain dragged across the floor a little louder, his smile growing wider and wider as a hulking monster inched itself out of the darkness and towards Ren.
Strade sniffed cautiously as he brought his grey body closer, as sluggish and as slow as an animal. When he caught a good whiff of the meat, he licked his yellow teeth with a pleased-sounding grunt and brought his drooling mouth, his spit thick and viscous due in part to his still rotting skull, down to eat from Ren's hand.
"There we go," Ren praised with a smile, reaching up with his other hand to pet through Strade's matted hair, barely even grimacing when he caught a snag between his claws and had to pull at it. "I knew you couldn't be grumpy for long. It tastes good, huh?"
Strade let out a soft murr as he took another hungry bite of the meat, either not noticing Ren's petting or not caring about it as he shifted closer, the heavy chain hanging from his shock collar and bolted to the wall of the basement, still dragging against the cement.
"You know, I dreamed about this before. Me doing this to you." Ren mused softly to himself. "I started to pray for it." He smiled serenely as Strade finished the last bite of meat and tongued Ren's palm messily, lapping up blood and viscera from his fingers. He was instantly reminded of feeding time at a petting zoo when he was a kid. "I fantasised about it for years, having you like this. It's kind of silly that I managed it so easily." He let out a little yip of a laugh, his tail wagging behind him as he reached for another chunk of meat to feed the lumbering beast.
"Now you're all mine, forever and ever. My own pet monster~"
Strade raised his head from Ren's palm with another cautious sniff, temporarily distracted as the younger man reached for another chunk of the bloody flesh, before his dead eyes darted down again to the blood covering Ren's sweatpants, recognizing it as the thing he had tasted before with just a whiff.
Ren couldn't even try to stop him before he was thrown to the floor of the basement, Strade's hulking body straining against the taut chain still bolted to the wall as he caged Ren down with his heavier body, his eyes suddenly alive and stomach-churningly familiar.
Ren let out a shrill scream as Strade brought his head down to tongue at the soaking blood on his sweatpants, his hands gripping the young man's calves with a crushing amount of pressure, pinning him down to the ground (as he had so many other time before) and stopping him from struggling. Although he had no voice to gloat about how easy Ren was to overpower, Ren still felt the same surge of shame and humiliation twist in his gut and make him sick.
He frantically reached for his jacket pocket where he kept the remote to Strade's collar and pressed his thumb down on the button, emitting a sharp electric shock that burned into his skin, though that did very little to stop the lumbering monster as he forcefully yanked the sweatpants down to expose Ren's living flesh.
"No, no, no, no, nononononono," Ren shrieked, his eyes wide and frightened as he kept pressing the button of the collar, taking in desperate breathes through his teeth as his sweatpants were thrown aside and Strade started to tongue and nip his scarred thighs, hoping to pierce the skin with his flat teeth and taste the gush of fresh, hot blood. "Stop it, stop it now!"
If Strade couldn't be reasoned with when he was alive, trying to reason with him when he was dead would have been impossible.
Though he made a face of discomfort at the consistently shocking collar, that didn't stop Strade as he sat up on his knees with another rough grunt, taking one of Ren's kicking legs in hand, and forcing his body to bend in two, exposing his ass and pressing his soft cock up against his belly.
Ren whimpered again, biting his lip hard and trying not to cry out as the monster stared down at him, tilting his head as his free hand reached down and palmed the plush flesh of his ass roughly, trying to feel the difference between living and dead flesh, and see which he preferred.
Which one he liked the taste of more.
The shock collar was doing absolutely nothing to stop Strade, but he kept pressing the button, just to do something, to make sure that he wasn't taking this helplessly and passively as he used to, when Strade was still alive.
"Nghhh..." Ren gritted his teeth as he then felt the monster's thumb linger over the blooming, pink bud of his asshole, seemingly gauging his flustered reaction with a curious look.
Even in death, Strade's curious nature persisted, it seemed.
To his surprise, though, Strade didn't sink his teeth into his flesh, nor did he tear him open, from groin to sternum, in a knash of bone and a rip of torn flesh.
Instead, he felt the slimy wetness of the monster's tongue streak over his pale perineum, luxuriously and indulgently slow, before it focused intently on the hot, tight ring of muscle that twitched and convulsed so deliciously before his dead eyes, underneath his drooling, slack tongue, practically begging to be penetrated and devoured.
Ren had never felt this sensation before, in all of his years of being with Strade, and it made his entire body go tight and his kicking legs relent as he focused in on the wet drag of Strade's tongue over his asshole.
"AH!" Ren moaned loudly, tipping his head back, his little body arching underneath Strade's as his legs trembled and tightened around the bigger body, a surge of pleasure shooting through him, making his very core throb and burn with desperate wanting. "Hah...nghhh..."
Strade growled lowly with pleasure against Ren's hole, before his rasping tongue pressed deeper and deeper into his core and he started to thoroughly devour the younger man with fast and furious pleasure, relishing in his taste, relishing in the thrashing, living body underneath him.
It was so much better than dead meat. At least, that was what Ren assumed.
"Ahhhnn..." Ren let out a pornographic moan as he squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his free leg around Strade's broad shoulders, pulling him into his body and feeling the contradictory warmth of his mouth and the cold of his body. His tone had become restlessly needy, and the volume behind each of his moans and whimpers had picked up steadily as he got more and more wound up, his cock twitching excitedly and leaking against his belly from the maddeningly slow stimulation. "S-Strade...nghh, please..."
He pressed his thumb down on the button of the remote again, feeling the rumbling from the collar against his ankle as Strade continued on through the shock, letting out another deep growl at the sensations that were gradually growing more pleasurable than not.
As Strade kept going, his teeth grazed against the rim of Ren's sensitive ass in a way that should have been painful, might have been painful at some point, but it just made the younger man desperately excited for even more stimulation from his monstrous lover.
"So good~" Ren drawled with a giddy smile, biting his lip hard as his vision started to blur and haze, his head lost in his own delirious pleasure. "God, I should have been doing this from the start..."
Strade let out his own grunt of agreement as a viscous string of drool ran down Ren's perineum and sloped up his arched back, cold in the cool air of the basement and enough to make him shiver all the more. He took in another sharp gasp, his eyes shooting open again as the monster somehow pushed his tongue even deeper, tasting the young man like a meal about to be devoured, an autopsy specimen about to be examined.
Each comparison, each erotic and gory depersonalization that rendered his body as nothing more than an object for the monster's desire and hunger, made Ren's cock throb painfully, exquisitely, thrumming with pleasure as his slit oozed streams of precum against his trembling belly
He was unable to stop himself from shaking, trembling, and spasming even more as electric jolts of tortuous bliss shot through his body and melted his brain into a mush of pleasure and desperate wanting.
"God, I'm gonna cuuuum," He whined desperately, his voice high-pitched and drawling, squeezing his eyes shut and letting himself fall. "Please, please, please, please, please-!"
Perhaps knowing that Ren was seconds from orgasm, Strade managed to shove his tongue inside what little space was available, gripping the young man's ankle tightly, almost painfully, and wrenching his little body upwards even more, forcing him practically vertical and pressed tightly against his devouring mouth.
Ren let out another shriek as he was pulled upwards, though that didn't stop him from spilling over, a splatter of cum coating his belly, his chest, and reaching as far as his chin.
After a few short moments of hungry slurping from Strade, keeping the young body totally boneless and pliable in his grip, he eventually relented and let Ren's body drop back down to the ground, lowering his head as he did so to lap up the mess of cum from the young man's belly hungrily.
Ren let out an unsteady sigh, barely cognisant as he reached down to pet Strade's hair again, simply enjoying the soft warmth of his tongue on his body and relishing in the attention and aftercare that he would have never received from the man in life.
A slight smile came to his trembling lips as he let his eyes flit shut.
7 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
yosikawa1962
写真たち
fycodegeass
fycodegeass
nothoughtsjustdestiel
moved to @billiewena
sparkypantaloons
sparkypants
ppueriri
ppueriri// ko⁷