Horror Fic - Tumblr Posts

Days In

Jeong Yunho x fem reader

a/n: "star, why are you starting a new series when you alr-" shhhhhhh 🤫

✫彡wordcount: 1.3k

(ಡ‸ಡ)(ﾒ﹏ﾒ)genre: angst, horror, TWD AU

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: you don't have to have seen The Walking Dead to understand this story, it will make sense even if you're going in blind. slow burn. VIOLENCE, death, gore, not edited

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

Day One

The room is packed. That much is all you gather. Pushed up against sweaty, loud, strangers with your medical bag held tight to your chest.

You watch the match closely, although for different reasons than the rest. You don't like the violence. But after being cut from your nursing position, you had to take what you could get.

And what you got was a first row place next to the opening of the fighting ring to take care of the injured boxers. Admittedly, it was a good job. They payed you well, especially on days like today when international teams came to compete.

The crowd goes wild as one of the men collapses, and the referee follows him down, holding his hand out to keep the other back. He motions to you, and you come running.

They usually wait to have you treat them until they are off the ring, out of sight for the sake of their pride.

"He isn't breathing," the ref covers his mouth to speak to you, watching the other man intently. Neither of you notice as the crowd gets more hectic, pushing and screaming and collapsing with others viciously attacking them.

You roll up your sleeves and go to start pressing on his chest when he stirs awake, staring at you with glossy white eyes. "Ah, Mister. You passed out in the fight, we'll have to m-"

He cuts you off by flying at you, snarling and swiping at you as you scoot away quickly. His opponent steps in and pulls him away, quickly pushed to the ground and screaming as his neck is bit into.

You feel bolted to the ground, watching the man who was legally dead just moments ago dig his bare hands into another mans gut. Not a single sound can escape your throat, no matter how badly you want to scream and cry. You curse your brain for choosing freeze over flight or fight.

The referee is just as stunned, calling for help on his walkie talkie as he scans the crowd. "Oh god," he mumbles, dropping the device and shattering it.

You follow his eyes and a similar gasp of disbelief leaves you. You barely hear it over the screams. "Dear Jesus."

The entire crowd is either fleeing and pushing others out of their way, or sinking their teeth into each other.

The alarm bells begin ringing, bright red lights flooding your sight. The man isn't fighting back anymore. The ref is pulling at the man to try and stop his feast.

You screech as you feel a pair of hands grab at your back. You're yanked from under the stretching rope and dropped to the ground softly. "Don't eat me, oh God!"

"No, no! I'm not... eat you?" You peek your eyes open and find a tall man in a South Korean teams uniform. He points under the ring, towards the skirt that hides the empty space. "Hide."

Before you can question him, he's on his stomach and crawling under the skirt. You glance around the stadium dumbfounded, watching the horror unfold. Without another thought, you drop to your stomach and scamper under the ring.

It's dark. You can barely make out his figure. He lifts his finger to his lips silently and you take the hint, laying flat and holding a hand over your mouth as you wait for the nightmare to be over.

You peek at him and see his head bowed in prayer, a cross dangling from his hands. You decide it can't do any damage, and close your eyes to join him.

—

Hours later, when you both hear the doors bang open and slam against the walls, you think your saviors have come. And when you hear an authoritative voice boom out for everyone to put their hands up, you breath out a sigh of relief. Before you can crawl out, the man shakes his head and grabs your wrist. "Not yet."

"Not yet? What are- that's the government! Cops! They'll help u-"

The gunshots that bounce off of the walls with the unrelenting siren make you scream, and his eyes shoot wide open. He slaps a hand over your mouth and holds the back of your head with the other, shaking his head frantically and apologizing quietly.

    The loud bangs make your ears ring, and you know he must be feeling it too as he grinds his teeth and groans. You reach and cover your ears before nodding at him.

     He moves his hands away from you, and you bite your lip as it quivers. He slams his hands against his ears and squeezes his eyes shut.

     It seems to go on forever. And when it stops, there's a single man who yells out. "Lock it up!"

    You look to him in a panic, scrambling for the edge of the ring. Just as your hand breeches the skirt, you're yanked back in.

    "Are you stupid? Nobody is alive." He speaks slow and quiet, from the fear or from his little understanding of English, you can't tell. But from the quiver in his voice, you know he's not as unbothered as he seems.

    You knead your brows together and listen to the heavy, precise footsteps head towards the exit. None of them sound like those of someone who's just survived a mass casualty. "Fuck," you whimper quietly, biting down on your finger.

     He looks at your confused for a moment before the doors slam shut. Panic settles deeper in your gut as you hear a drill from the outside.

    "We ha- we have to go! They're sealing the doors shut!"

    He shushes you yet again and slaps his hands on the concrete ground, sliding himself to the edge and peeking out of the skirt- just barely. What he sees is not pretty.

      "You have weak stomach?"

      "Huh?"

      "It is nasty out there. Very."

    "No, no. I just want to get out of here." He nods and slides out fully, crouching down and looking around, holding back a gag of disgust.

     "Come on," he whispers, holding the skirt up for you as he keeps an watchful eye.

You crawl out slowly, holding a hand over your mouth as you see the scene in-front of you. Not a single soul left. Blood staining almost every inch of the floor and splattered up the walls. Bodies which were once people pulled into rough piles of gore.

He speaks lowly in Korean, something that must be a prayer, as he holds his rosary beads tighter.

He steps slowly, avoiding the pooling blood on light feet. He glances back and grabs your hand softly as you stand. "Follow me," he says simply and leads you towards the main door.

"It's blocked," you force out weakly, "we heard them cover it."

"I can open it."

He stops at the metal doors and looks at them for a moment before motioning you forward, leaning his ear against it. You follow his lead and listen carefully.

"Nothing," you whisper, looking at him confused.

"Mhm, nothing..."

He swings the doors open and you come face to face with multiple wooden planks. He steps back, and you follow him, staying in place in shock as he barrels towards the barriers.

He groans as he collides with the wood and you cringe internally as he backs up again, knowing he's not going to stop until he breaks through. What you don't realize is that the mountain of a man can break through multiple wooden planks with just two slams of his body weight.

He seems not to know that either, and is thrown to the ground outside when the wood splinters open.

"Ah, sh-" he mumbles as he rolls to his back.

You step over the last remaining plank and crouch over him, helping him sit. "You hurt yourself!"

He ignores your worry and looks around the street, illuminated by the streetlights and the moon above you. "We have a bigger problem..."

You look up and down the street. He's right. The chaos wasn't confined to the stadium.

—

Look

I jolt awake, looking at my unfamiliar surroundings. It looks like some sort of mining tunnel carved into dark grey slate, lit with dim candles about every ten feet. I scramble to my feet and realize I’m wearing a thin white night gown (that I have never seen before) that down a few inches past my knees, and no shoes.

“It doesn’t even have sleeves” I thought, disconcerted. I’m shivering uncontrollably as I walk up to one of the candles casting it’s feeble light, the cold seeping up through my feet. I take the candle and continue along the ruff floor, looking for an exit. The hallway feels like it continues forever, and despite the candles, I can never quite see what’s ahead. After some walking, I come to an intersection with three branches. I choose the one on the left, hoping to find the edge of where ever I was to find my bearings. 

The path takes a sharp turn to the right and I figure it must lead back to the center path, so I keep going. Only the path continues past where the original center hall must be. I can’t say why exactly, but this makes me uncomfortable, so I turn around and go back down the path, suddenly needing to see the center path curve or come to a dead end. Walking back now, the path curves to my newly oriented right, the opposite direction it was curving when I first walked down. This can’t be right. I press forward, my feet starting to sting on the cold floor. I come to another branch, this one with two choices going in the opposite direction. None of this makes sense. The one going right might lead back to the start, I guess.

Turn after turn blur into each other as I wander through spatially impossible corridors, unable to find an exit. As my feet go from excruciatingly painful to uncomfortably numb, I notice the candles on the walls have started to get further and further apart. If I stop I can just barely pick up a faint scratching sound. It sends shivers up my spine. I press forward, casting aside my burned down candle for a new one from the wall. The candles stretch to fifteen feet, twenty, thirty, until the next candle is nothing but a faint speck flickering, barely able to beat back the pressing darkness. As the darkness grows, the scratching grows steadily louder and more frequent, increasing my already climbing heart rate. I hasten my pace, wanting to keep as much distance as possible between me and whatever is making that noise. It was now loud enough to be noticed, but I still can’t place the sound. The ever distant candle is looming ahead of me, and no matter how far I go it doesn’t seem to get closer. I’m nearly running now, desperately trying to get closer to the candle, but unable to go any faster as I shakily hold my hand in front of the dimming candle to keep it from going out completely. The last thing I want is to be left in the dark with whatever is making that noise, distorted and echoing across the stone. That noise which had become loud enough recognize; it was the sound of a dog’s nails on a hard surface. But that wasn’t quite right, it conveyed so much more than that. It was the sound of a rabid dog prowling down the barely lit hall, it’s pace barely above a trot, fighting against every fiber of it’s being screaming for it to run full speed down the hall and tear into my soft and supple throat. Fighting so that I could stew in my fear, feeling it’s presence looming behind me, and taste that much sweeter when it took the kill.

I can’t help but let out a whimper as I sprint down the hallway, the candle sputtering but thankfully staying lit. The scratching is nearly upon me now, yet the candle is no closer. My foot catches and stops suddenly and I sprawl forward. I land hard on my knees. Pain shoots up my legs as I can feel my kneecaps shift backward down my shin. The candle clatters from my hand as I brace for impact, ripping away the skin from the heels of my hands. As I scramble to my feet I realize the noise has stopped, though I don’t think that’s a good sign. I try to stand but the pain bites through my knees and sends me back to the floor. Desperate, I crawl for my fallen candle, casting a pitiful circle on the floor a few feet in front of me.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude not to make eye contact? Look at me!” an inhuman voice snarled. I wanted to jump at the sound, to start running again, but I found I was unable. Instead I slowly climbed to my knees, ignoring the horrific pain, and stood to face it.

It looked like a walking corpse. It stood propped on two huge paws, its overgrown nails twisting into the stone. Its black skin was covered in sparse patches of sickly grey fur, and barely hung on to its hunched frame. It split apart in places along its animalistic limbs to reveal raw red muscle. It was worse along his freakishly long fingers tipped with blackened talons, and on the thing this creature called a head. Skin crusted in scales of oil, dirt, and more dead skin practically melted away to reveal a sallow and boney snout, adorned with yellowed teeth framed in black and decaying gums. Everything about it seemed tinged with a hue of a grotesque green, as though it was a symbol of how rotted it was inside and out; everything except its eyes. His eyes were his most striking feature. They were set deep into his face, his eyelids scarcely obscuring them; an inviting shade of a pale gold, intricately laced with tones of copper and umber, his soft pupils floating in a pool of pure warmth. His eyes speak of memories where time slips away and leaves only the emotions of the moment, the unbridled joy of childhood, unburdened by the harshness of life. They speak of sunlight washing over your face on a cold autumn afternoon, bringing the warmth back into your cheeks. They pull you in, beckoning like an old friend come to catch you up on everything that’s happened while they were away. You barely feel a smile tug at the corner of your lips as you opened your arms and closed your eyes.

(I keep meaning to write new stuff, but I just polish and rewrite old stuff and then like it enough to post it :P)

The Skies of Dead

Summary: When London become devoured by walking corpses and mysterious virus, two complete strangers try to find a way to keep on surviving in the rotten city.

Warnings: zombies, graphic description of violence

Words: 3223

Authors: Cass & Grizzly

A/N: Cass here! My boyfriend has always had a little dream about writing his own story. I am so glad I could have helped him in making this dream come true! Hope you all will enjoy it as much as we did while writing! I love you, sweetie! 😍😍

As Arthur Bristow stood across from the building and debated with himself whether or not he should enter the Shard building, the humming and chanting grew louder.

Arthur held a machete up, breathing deeply as he checked once again if the blade was sharp enough.

Who is in there? What in blazes are they doing?

It had been a horrible week to the man. It was now four days later, and the reports of missing persons and murders in the streets of London had multiplied to shocking statistics. The city was seeing its fair share of violence, too, and it all seemed to orbit around the Shard skyscraper.

That morning four days ago, Arthur had gone to his office, finished his paper work, packed his pocket voice recorder, and set off walking to the London Eye where he had to meet with famous guest, who was about to share an interview to him. When he arrived on place, he realized the recorder wasn’t in his pocket. That made him angry and frustrated. Had he dropped it on the way? It could be anywhere between The Times office and London Eye. Arthur cursed when he realized his foolishness. Nevertheless, he made up his mind to return to his office and look for the recorder. It was when he saw undeads for the first time. Everything bursted out of nowhere, people were chasing others, trying to bite their flesh, and as soon as someone has been bitten, they turned into undeads as well. And most of infected went out of Shard. Was it a coincidence?

This day Arthur had taken a short side trip to London Bridge Street to take a look at the Shard, and here he was. Scared and hesitant. The sweat trickled down his neck. His heart rate had increased.

If you’re going inside, you’d better get going, he commanded himself. Be brave. It can’t possibly be that bad, can it?

He stepped into the street and crossed to the other side. It was then that he realized there wasn’t much traffic. For a Saturday morning, that was unheard of.

Where was everyone? Perhaps the Londoners were just as frightened as he was and were staying indoors. Good for them.

Arthur went up the stone steps and put his ear to the doors made of glass. The ugly chorale was a symphony of moans. It sounded as if the people inside were in pain and were collectively and wordlessly expressing their misery. A bunch of very sick civilians had gathered in...

Steeling his nerves and taking a deep breath, Bristow opened the doors. The stench that met his nostrils almost overpowered him. He gagged and put a hand over his mouth. He considered turning back, but now his curiosity got the best of him. He stepped inside.

The inner foyer was empty, but it was clear that the noise was coming from theinside, off to the left. Artur slowly approached the double doors to the great conference room, swallowed, and opened them.

The horror inside was too much to comprehend. And then the source of the terror turned its attention to him..

The coldness of old, stoned basement was growing with every minute Emily was spending there. The lightbulb was shining brightly but even light didn't change the fact about her position. She sat in the corner of the room, scared and cold with her back pressed hard to a wall.

Just a four days ago this young lady was working at a veterinary clinic. She never said her work was hard, being close to animals of all kinds was the main goal in her life. Their size never frightened her but that day all animals acted weird just like they would feel something that people did not, cats were hissing and dogs were nervous.

Due to some unexplained reasons, all patients canceled their appointments or simply didn't show up. This was highly suspicious to every worker but the truth was that there was no one to work for so everyone was sent home.

Emily lived outside London in a small village.

She got into her car and drove through the streets, this was when she saw the undead for the first time even if she wasn't completely oblivious to the fact then.

The man shuffled trough driveway, he was covered in blood and didn't look healthy, Emily did her best to pass him by thinking that it was just some kind of sick person on a lose.

Even if the house was small it still was cozy and enough for a young woman. Even if the day seemed quiet it quickly changed into chaos.

Emily looked through the window as soon as she heard screams outside, the things that she saw made her stomach turned.

People were running and attacking each other, acting like rabid animals which only goal was to bite someone. The sidewalks were already splattered with blood, turned body decorated streets and lawns.

At this point, only one thing hit Emily - thought about finding a shelter. She needed to hide from horrors of the outside world.

An only safe place that she knew was her basement, she ran there as soon as it was possible.

And this was how she ended in such a bad position but she knew she couldn't stay there forever.

Arthur Bristow opened his eyes, winced at the brightness of the new day, and immediately vomited. He forced himself to get to his knees in order to keep the vile stuff from getting on his clothes, although lying in the recesses of a burnt-out building wasn’t the cleanest place he could have hidden.

Soot, ash, and blackened pieces of the wooden roof that had caved into the space littered the floor; its filthiness hadn’t been so obvious last night when he’d slithered inside the structure of Big Ben.

You don’t care too much where you’re going when you’re running for your life. The main thing is to hide—quickly and silently—so they don’t get you.

After he’d finished heaving, Arthur crawled away from the mess and weakly collapsed. He lay on his back, looking up through the gaping hole at the clouds in the bright blue sky. This one building was the most iconic, both palace and clock tower.

Ironically, it was a beautiful day outside. The weather was perfect, although hot, ideal for a relaxing swim in the hotel pool.

Big Ben was now a relic of the past. The luxury establishment was now burned, destroyed, and overrun with Infected. And it had happened so quickly. The siege by the creatures began after ten last evening, and it was over in less than an hour. Everyone who was still alive had fled into the dark, dangerous streets of London. Arthur was surprised no one else had followed him into this little shelter, where he huddled for hours in fear until he had finally fallen asleep.

Sleep. At this point, it was something that wasted precious time. And he didn’t have a whole lot of that left.

Man rolled up the torn sleeve of the windbreaker he had donned to keep warm. The bite on his forearm was angry, red, and swollen. It burned like the dickens. He noted the time on his wristwatch; it had been roughly seven and a half hours since the Infected’s teeth had clamped down and punctured his skin. Now, the wound appeared diseased and putrid. Yellow pus oozed from the several perforations. It was gross, it hurt, and it was certainly deadly. Arthur quickly covered it with the sleeve of his leather jacket, although it, too, exhibited punctures in the fabric.

He stifled a cry, but the tears flowed regardless.

Emily growled pushing the heavy flap of the basement, the morning felt cold even if the sky was clear outside.

She wasn't sure how many days she spent in the basement. Her fear was paralyzing to the point that she refused to leave the safe place, thanks God for jars of food she had there.

Emily moved to window, a view there calmed her down but at the same time gave her weird feeling of danger.

The horror she saw before hiding, disappeared. Now streets were simply empty, some splashes of blood but that was it. Whatever happened she couldn't just stay there and wait for the rescue because that might never come.

Emily had chaos in her head but she had to do something so she grabbed her bag and packed some simple items like a flashlight and some bandages as well as something to eat, then put on her jacket and slowly left using the front door.

How angry she was when she saw her car was gone, all she saw was little bits of glass scattered over driveway.

Emily decided that she had to get to London, the capital of the whole country simply had to have some kind of a shelter or at last information of what the hell happened.

The young woman opened the garage and looked inside, the only useful thing there was a bike. There was no other way so she had to use the bike.

The way to London was terrible, it was a long time since she used the bike for the last time.

No matter what place she went by, they all were almost empty. Almost was the word, on her way she saw some moaning, whining, mangled figures but she never dared to get close.

The City of London was always beautiful and full of life, it was one of the most popular cities in the whole world but now it looked sad and empty.

Streets splattered with blood, old newspaper scattered all around the city, wrecks of cars.

Was it war or something else?

Emily jumped off the bike as soon as she got to one of the most iconic places in the whole city - Big Ben.

Looking around Emily smiled seeing someone walking the street.

"Sorry!," she yelled. "Hello! Excuse me but do you know what happened here? I look for some information and maybe... some government shelter," she said walking to the stranger. The horror grew big as soon as she got closer to the person

It wasn't really a person. It was a living corpse. Empty eyes and grey-white skin, its jaw was half ripped exposing everything inside. It was missing a whole arm. The creature let out a weird sound and started quickly moving toward Emily.

"Fuck! What is this! Help, can somebody help!?," Emily let out a high pitched scream and started running, trying her best to lose the monster or hide from it.

How long did he have? There was no question that he would turn. It happened to everyone who was bitten. Sometimes it took a few hours, but he had seen others fight it for up to two days. His former friend had wisely conjectured that it depended on how healthy a person was. If you were young, strong, and in good shape, then you lasted longer. The weak, elderly, and very young children turned quickly. And it was horrible. Arthur had seen first-hand what transpired when a person turned. He didn't want that to happen to him.

The nausea had passed, but Arthur felt as if he had the flu. He placed a palm to his forehead and realized he was burning up. How high was her fever? No way to know. Could his healthy resistance keep himself from turning before the medicine arrived?

If the medicine arrived.

Arthur dug into the backpack again and pulled out the handgun. It was a Colt. He appreciated the weight in palm, and then he lifted it to his head. He placed the end of the barrel to temple and wrapped  finger around the trigger. It would be so simple. Just squeeze. Perhaps a moment of pain and surprise, and then blackness. Arthur would never have to experience the horror of turning into one of them. It was truly the sensible thing to do. Who was he kidding? He was doomed. Nothing was going to stop him from turning, unless... The fucking medicine.

But before he could bolt, Arthur heard some noises outside of his shelter. And a voice. NORMAL VOICE OF SOME WOMAN.

"Fuck," he cursed and put gun back into his backpack, then took a bat with himself as he headed downstairs and out of Bog Ben, right onto empty street.

The woman was running out before one of Infected.

Arthur sighed and made some noise to distract undead.

The thing that used to be a guy emitted a howling snarl and leapt forward with surprising agility. Reflexively, Arthur swung the bat as if he was trying to knock one out of the ballpark. The club smashed into guys’s head, throwing him back onto ground. Arthur swung the bat again, striking the man’s arm. There was a loud snap and the man wailed. Arthur was sure he had broken a bone. Again, Bristow struck with the weapon. This time, the bat hit the man’s neck, surely snapping it. The horrid noise coming out of his mouth abruptly ceased as his throat was crushed. Arthur kept swinging wildly. Thing tried to get up. He drew closer and then,the bat walloped him in the head. He fell to his knees but kept grappling. Arthur clouted him again, and this time Infected dropped to the ground, unconscious.

All was quiet, except for Arthur’s rapid breathing. He shut his eyes, said a silent prayer, and then looked at the body, only to move his glance at the stranger.

Emily was sitting on the ground, her back pressed against the wall, arms covering and tightly holding her head. Her eyes were wide and cheeks were wet from fresh tears, she was hasping for air.

She was never attacked before, since begining she didn't know what was happening but this was madness, horror.

She loooked at stranger, shivering hard. He just killed this... Thing. What if he will kill her next.

"I do not have anything that would be valuable with me! Don't kill me!," Emily whimpered with voic full of fear.

Arthur tilted head aside and snorted shortly.

"I don't care. Come," he walked to her and offered his hand. "Unless you wanna rather stay here and wait for death."                

Emily blinked a few time, thinking about all of this. After a moment she nodded and wiped her eyes before taking stranger's hand.

There was no other hand, and she had to survive somehow, no matter what happened here. She had to trust him, looking at the situation from a minute ago she would never survive alone.

"What... What had happened here? I don't understand, one day everyone went crazy," Emily said as she followed the stranger.

He hushed her by raised hand. "Quiet or we will become their dinner."

He led her inside the clock tower and as soon as they passes threshold, Arthur made sure to lock door and push heavy drawer in front of them, just in case.

All the windows were covered with anything that was available then: rags, furniture, newspapers glued to glass.

She pressed her lips together and nodded, studying his face carefully. Emily had to admit he was a handsome man, she couldn't say his age but he wasn't old. She followed him.

Inside Big Ben, Emily looked around amazed and terrified. Emily looked at stranger waiting at the permission to speak.

"What were you doing out there, all alone, no weapon?," Arthur asked as he took a trip along the wooden stairs. "You had wanted to get your head cut off by their teeth?," he continued leading the way.

Emily watched him unsure what to say, finally, she found the right words. "What do you mean? I have no idea what was that... I guess I spend a too long time in this basement of mine," she said and quickly followed the man. "I just saw this madness and hid, I have no idea how long I spend there. When I left I simply packed some food, bandages and went to London. Is this some kind of government shelter? Or maybe you know how to get there... Oh! I am Emily, by the way," young woman smiled sweetly at the stranger.

"You have bandages? I'll need them," he said simply, he didn't pay more attention to her other words. "No. There's no government shelter. The government is dead by now I bet," Arthur growled as they approached the controlling room at the higher level of clock tower.

He opened door ans shifted aside to let Emily in. He followed her closing door behind him.

Emily looked around and nodded. "Yes, I have bandages and what do you mean, they are dead? What even happened? Is it the War Wold 3?"

She took off her jacket and bag and looked inside then back at the man.

"Come here... I will help you with whatever happened to you. I hope that my bandages will be enough."

"Don't," he growled deeply eyeing her. "I don't need your help, who you are, a fucking nurse?"

Arthur felt even worse now. The flu-like symptoms hit him more strongly than before. He sat down on the cot laying under the window, he rested back of his head against the wall and gasped. "No one knows," he said after moment of silence, "It just happened. People turned into killing machines. They attacked everyone on their way. Nothing could have stopped them, even a gun shot. Now I know only a headshot can take 'em down."

"You don't need my help so you don't need need my bandages, sir," Emily growled with a frown and went to find herself a nice place to sit. She found it in the corner of the room, she put the jacket on the floor and then sat down and looked at the man. "Sounds like zombies or something. So? We are stuck in a real-life horror movie? What now?"

"Can you shut your mouth for a bit, my head hurts," he told her coldly gazing up at her. "I just need them. And be grateful, I happened to save your life," Arthur said.

He felt rotten and didn’t know if he could find the strength to stand again and keep moving. Should he grab the revolver and shoot himself now? The sickness was worse.

Emily frowned and took the bandages out of her bag. She threw them to him with some little snack she had with herself. "Thank you," Emily whispered to not annoy him anymore.

Arthur had gotten up. For a few seconds he felt dizzy and was afraid he would be sick again, but it passed quickly. He moved to the side and waited until his thumping heart slowed.

He looked at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to be mean. I am scared and lost, just like you," man said.

Emily got up and slowly walked to him. "I am kinda used to this but fighting won't get us anyway. Come on, let me help you with whatevere happen. I am a vet but... bandaging man can't be harder than bandaging a dog," she shrugged with soft smile.

"It's gonna be rough tough," he said glaring at her. "I was bitten."

⠀ ⠀ ༝ your mother said to pick the very best girl - and i am.

こづめ + てつろう + コウタロウ + けいじ // TAG, YOU’RE IT ⠀ ༝ ༝ slasher!au ft. kuroo + kenma + akaashi + bokuto ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ final girl!reader, VIOLENCE, CHARACTER DEATH(s), implied fem!reader but no pronouns used, reader's bf and friends are oc's! ⠀ — a fun camping trip! what could go wrong.

you really wish you could pinpoint when everything went to shit. 

you could guess, sure. maybe it was when your boyfriend suggested coming to this hicktown, the promise of a campground for your friend group of four to have a wonderful, fun, and cool outing. maybe it was when his friend invited his new girlfriend - some girl from your college that talked too loud and popped her gum too much the entire car ride over. maybe it was when the lock to your cabin didn’t fully click into place. 

or maybe it was when your boyfriend slumped against the wall, his head cracked open with blood and what you could only guess was brain matter leaking freely from the hole. 

you should probably backtrack a little. think for a second. 

“does he have to bring his new girl?” you’re almost whining at this point, shoving the last of your bags in the back of the minivan your boyfriend, akio, thought would be perfect to rent for this weekend trip. 

‘so we can all ride together!’ he’d explained with a grin. you really couldn’t tell him no if you wanted. 

he hums in thought at your complaints, shrugging, “i mean he’s already invited her. he said she’s excited, too, i don’t wanna be the one to tell her she can’t come when we’re gettin’ him from her place.” 

you find it hard to believe that hana’s excited to be out in the middle of nowhere with bugs biting at her and no cell service, but you take the new addition in stride, “whatever,” you wave off, climbing into the front seat, "we’re getting chiyo and aya first though, right? they dislike her more than i do.” 

the twins, grouped nickname given to them by their brother and one bringing the parasitic gum-popping girl, have voiced their complaints about her coming more than once, but are ultimately shut down by said brother, riku. 

“mhm,” akio confirms with a thumbs up after he’s settled in the driver’s seat, offering you the aux as he starts the van. a passenger princess through and through, you start the playlist you’d carefully crafted days before - full of things everyone will enjoy, “then we’re gonna get hana and riku.” 

akio doesn’t miss the small thank god that falls from your lips, but he chooses to ignore it in favor of turning up the music.

༝ ༝

“i’m not really fellin’ this song.” hana leans over the center console to peek at what you have queued next on your phone, popping her gum loudly in your ear as she does. you grimace, but she doesn’t seem to notice while trying to decide herself what song to play instead. 

you lean away from her, head hitting the window with a small frown that barely disappears when akio’s fingers tangle with your own. 

“we’re like 30 minutes from the campsite, can you just sit down?” aya groans, happy to voice her distaste to anything hana does. to be fair, she’s been bouncing from seat to seat in the van, and you think it’s even been pissing riku off, if the way he grumbles a small yeah, please is anything to go by. 

you tune out any further argument while looking out the window, squeezing akio’s fingers with a small hum as you pass some dingey motel in the dingier town you’re passing through before you hit the woods, “if any bugs land on me or i see a snake or a spider, you’ll be able to find me there.” 

“the motel?” akio asks, grinning while glancing back in the mirror. 

“mhm,” you nod, sitting up slightly and stretching your legs as much as you’re allowed, “not dealin’ with that.” 

“we’re gonna be in the woods,” he reminds you with a laugh, “s’gonna be kinda hard to avoid all of that.” 

you shrug, “good thing that ‘no vacancy’ light was off.” 

“you’re funny.” he untangles his fingers from yours to squeeze your thigh instead, and the action leaves you smiling. 

and true to aya’s word, thirty minutes later you’re in the middle of the woods, in front of a pretty cabin akio rented on airbnb. hana complains before she’s even out of the van, swatting away invisible bugs that seemed to swarm her as soon as the door was opened. 

you do your best to ignore her, bumping hips with chiyo as you begin to remove everything from the van, “let’s have a fun weekend, yeah?” you offer with a small smile. 

chiyo returns it with a scrunched nose, “one could only hope.” and removes her two suitcases from the pile. 

༝ ༝

the first night was nice. riku might’ve made the damning decision to invite his annoying girlfriend, but he makes it up to the group easily by providing a surplus of booze, and the six of you get drunk off your asses and sleep until the middle of the next day. that saturday is filled with exploring around the cabin, walking down what trails were already there, and settling the next night off with a barbeque and sipping on what alcohol was leftover from the previous night. 

the second night does not end as nicely. 

you went to bed early. a headache, you think was your reasoning, probably from hana and whatever annoying habit she’d picked up for the day getting to you, but you woke up far earlier than intended. 

one look to your phone told you it was a little past midnight, and you chasisted yourself for not plugging in the device before laying down - the blinking red of 7% flashing at you from a day of taking lots of pictures in nature. there’s a crash somewhere in the cabin, the living room you think, followed by a scream that has you stumbling to your feet and almost tripping over the covers as they try to hold you down to the bed. 

hana’s holding what you assume to be her phone in one hand, pointing a finger at aya with a glare, “who the fuck gave you permission to go through my shit?” 

aya looks impassive as she shrugs, “shouldn’t leave your phone out. maybe then we wouldn’t know about daniel, 32, who likes long walks on the beach and, what was it chiyo, country music?”

hana’s cheeks flush, scowl deepening when she finally realizes you’re standing in the hall, “of course you’re up the second there’s something going on.” and as if god isn’t sparing her any chances, your boyfriend and riku stumble in through the front door, cheeks pink from drinking. 

hana’s eyes narrow between the three of you, before settling sweetly on her boyfriend (boytoy?), “riku, babe, i think we should head to our room. stinks in here.” she and aya share an intense glaring battle, before she clicks her tongue and saunters over to riku, who’s mostly being held up by akio. 

just as she snakes her hand around his waist, pulls him close, the door swings open again. it lets in the chilly night air, leaves you wrapping an arm around yourself with a furrowed brow. 

who the hell could that be?  

tall. objectively attractive with a sharp grin and dark hair, taking in each of you with enthusiasm. 

“um . . . do we know you?” 

chiyo asks, head tilting while the two boys turn to face the intruder. 

“me?” the stranger asks, mocking her head tilt, “no. not yet at least.” his grin is unwavering, and you decide then it’s unnerving, leaves a pit in your stomach when his eyes find your own. 

“who the hell are ya then?” akio straightens his shoulders, and despite being over the line of tipsy, stands tall. the stranger however, remains taller of the two. 

“is it a party in here or what?” someone behind you says, and you jump with a squeak when an arm wraps around your waist, a face you don’t recognize hooking their chin over your shoulder. gray and black hair finds way to your vision, and your body tenses before you’re shoving him away with a stumble. he pouts, slouching over, “thought a pretty thing like you’d be sweet.” 

“can we help you guys with something?” aya snaps, pulling you back by the upper arm so you’re a decent distance away from him, “this is private property.” 

the tall man from the door clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing, “maybe. we’re just here to have some fun.” 

two more guys walk in behind him, one shorter with a mix of overgrown bleached-blonde hair giving way to dark black roots, and the other a taller man with dark hair following in close behind. 

“is this a joke?” hana steps from riku, who’s looking just as annoyed as your boyfriend. 

“no jokes, ” the first guy who came in promised, “just wanna play a game with you guys.” 

“we’re not into games,” akio slurs out, “you guys should go ‘fore we call the cops.” 

this seems to make the stranger grin wider, holding out his hand behind him to his friends. the shorter one puts something in his awaiting grasp, and it’s like everything starts happening in slow motion. 

akio’s squaring his shoulders, getting ready to throw a punch, but the guy, without hesitation, is already swinging. except it’s not his fist that makes the contact - it’s a fucking bat. akio’s head turns with the impact, and the stranger takes another swing from overhead. it lands with a sickening crack, one that has akio stumbling backwards until his back hits the wall and he slumps over, fingers twitching once, twice, before stopping altogether. 

you don’t know who screams first - if it’s hana or chiyo - unable to process anything around you as you openly gape at your crumbled boyfriend’s form on the ground. 

“now,” the man with the bat wipes away a spot of blood that’d splashed to his cheek, “let’s talk about that fun, yeah?” 

riku takes a stumbling swing at one of them, but is ultimately knocked on his ass when his own hit doesn’t connect while they make their way further into the room. hana is the first to try and run out the door, but it’s slammed shut by the last guy to come in, steel eyes freezing her in place when her hands make contact with the doorknob. she stumbles away instantly. 

“let’s start with introductions, “ the bat man gestures to the couches at the center of the room, pulling a chair from the dining room to sit across from it. the slamming of another dining room chair on the ground has all of you scrambling to find a spot to sit while they find places in front of all of you, “‘m kuroo,” he points the bat to the one with blonde bits of hair, “that’s kenma,” to the one who touched you, “bokuto,” the final of the four, “and akaashi.” 

his head tilts as he looks at each of you squished on the sofa together, pointing the bat at the group and grinning when you recoil, “eenie,” he points it at aya, “meenie,” chiyo, “miney,” riku, “you.” stops on you, “tell me your names, pretty.” 

your eyes widen as you look between your friends. 

“u-um . . .” and you introduce everyone with hesitation laced on your tongue, looking at him for confirmation that you’re finished when you’re done. 

“and him?” he nods his head to akio’s body, smiles when your lip wobbles as you stutter out his name. 

“good job,” he praises, “now, we are gonna let you guys go.” 

hana visibly perks up at this, it’s not missed by the analytical eyes of the four studying your group. bokuto sighs from behind the couch, surprising both you and chiyo as he leans over the back of it and into your personal bubble again (when did he even move from beside akaashi?), “buuuut we gotta have some fun first.” he adds before kuroo can continue. 

“fun?” chiyo parrots with a squeak. you think you can make out a smile from akaashi. 

“fun,” kuroo confirms, “we’re gonna play a game. like hide and seek. you guys make it to the town that’s a few miles north from here, you win!” 

he almost sounds excited as he explains. 

“what happens if we don’t . . . make it?” aya asks with a frown. 

“good question, aya,” kuroo stands, pushing the chair back as he does, “we’re going to kill you, if we catch you. you’ll join your little friend over there.” 

you hear aya swallow hard. 

“what if we don’t play?” riku counters with a glare, “we can just stay here and you won’t get a hard on from chasing us.” 

“we’ll kill you here,” akaashi says easily, as if talking about something as miniscule as the weather, not about your life being held in the palm of their hands. 

“speaking of -” kuroo’s eyes flit over each of you, “seems kinda unfair to be a 5 v 4, huh?” 

you feel chiyo stiffen at your side from the implication, hand clumsily finding your own as kuroo towers over the five of you. 

“who should it be, kenma?” kuroo glances to his right, and kenma’s head tilts before he points. 

riku barely has the chance to stand before the bat is hitting him. he falls loudly to the center of the carpet, unmoving.

chiyo sobs, squeezing your hand, and aya wretches at the sight, vomiting over the side of the couch. you can only stare, wide eyed because surely this isn’t real. your boyfriend couldn’t have been murdered in front of you less than thirty minutes ago, riku’s not dead on the ground joining him right now, and these guys aren’t going to chase the four of you in the woods of some dense forest with such a minimal chance of escaping. . . right? 

chiyo’s fingers digging crescent marks into the back of your hand is what pulls you from that hope. 

“we’re gonna give ya fifteen seconds to get out of here-” kuroo starts, tapping riku’s back twice with the bat as if to ensure he’s down for good. 

you interrupt him before you can stop the words from spilling off your lips, “twenty.” 

“sorry?” kuroo’s brows furrow for only a second, before his head is tilting with a grin. 

“w-we get twenty seconds,” you ration, ignoring the way chiyo’s fingers are squeezing your hand too hard, “and we get to put on our shoes.” 

“you’re not really in a position to be making demands,” kenma comments impassively, but kuroo waves him off, closing his eyes for a second. 

“no, it would be a little unfair if we let them zip outta here like that. we’ll give you twenty-five seconds to put on your shoes and go and it starts . . .” he looks at kenma, who gives a thumbs up, “now.” 

only a second is wasted between the breath of his last words before the four of you are scrambling to stand. you have to drag chiyo up yourself, push her forward towards the door so she can slide on her shoes with shaky hands, and you’re following in suit as she’s opening the door. 

one of them hollers excitedly as you slam the door shut behind you, and your eyes meet kuroo’s just before the door shuts completely. there’s no comfort in the way he smiles, the way his eyes bore holes in your trembling form. 

༝ ༝

you’d been running for what felt like forever. 

somehow, you’d lost everyone in the dark - hana dipped into the right of the woods the second she was out the door, and aya and chiyo’s hopes of climbing into the van were crushed when they realized the tires were slashed, so the three of you made a dash following the dirt road that brought you here. one minute they were with you, the next you’re alone, and your legs were starting to ache from exhaustion. 

you freeze when a scream tears its way through the woods, echoing and desperate, but you don’t have a second to dwell on it when another body slams into yours. the impact knocks the wind out of you, and you almost scream until you fully realize who’s taken you down. 

hana winces as she looks down at you, tears trailing down her cheeks with her hand held tight to her abdomen, and it’s then you notice the blood. 

“t-the smaller one stabbed me,” she breathes out, a fresh wave of tears filling her eyes and spilling over her cheeks, “i didn’t even wanna come to this stupid trip.” she pushes herself off of you, sitting at your side. 

“we gotta keep moving, hana,” you whisper, forcing yourself onto your aching legs and offering her a hand to stand as well. 

she takes it with a frown, opening her mouth to say something before her eyes flit behind you. they widen for a second, before she’s shoving you back and stumbling away, ignoring your curse of her name as you fall flat on your ass. 

“two for one?” someone says behind you, you whip your head around as you see kuroo emerging from the dark of the trees, smiling with a tilt of the head, “s’a shame. kenma just went that way, too.” 

as if to confirm this, you hear a scream that has you cringing in on yourself. 

“now what to do with you?” he steps around you, crouching in front of you with his head still tilted, “you were quite amusing with that twenty second rule - and the shoes. no one’s ever demanded anything from us like that. i’d hate to end this chase when you’re at such a disadvantage.” 

his fingers tap the sole of your shoe, trailing up until his fingers brush against the skin above your ankle to poke there too, “you won’t make this boring for me, will you?” 

you dig into the dirt at your side with a frown, and he opens his mouth to say more, but you’re tossing the mix of twigs and dirt and leaves into his face before he can get the words out. he even laughs, when you use the leg his hands wrapped around to kick at his chest. somehow, miraculously, your other foot connects with his face while he’s distracted with controlling the first, and it loosens his grip enough for you to push yourself onto your feet and stumble away. 

you think you hear him laugh again as you disappear into the trees. you don’t stay long enough to find out what’s so funny. 

༝ ༝

kuroo was really enjoying this chase with you. 

they each took turns picking who they’d get to grab, and he was lucky enough to go first. 

but something about you was really driving him wild. and now, here you were throwing dirt in his face, kicking him right after hard enough to make his nose bleed. he wipes at the blood as it makes its way past his lips, metallic and warm against his tongue. maybe they could have even more fun with you together. 

don’t kill mine if you guys see ‘em. <

b> :( 

k> you got something in mind with them?

you could say that <

a> I just got mine. I can help you guys if you need. 

b> me pls !! mine’s slippery :( 

a> 👍

k> stabbed mine couple of times. she’s annoying  

just remember not to kill mine <

kuroo shoves his phone in his pocket as the three bubbles pop back up, uninterested in whatever else his friends might have to say.  

he’s got a chase to get back to. he grins at the thought. 

༝ ༝

you hadn’t seen anyone in what’s felt like hours and you were fucking exhausted. 

your legs were begging you to just take a break, your lungs heaving painfully with each inhale you took, but the adrenaline in your veins spurred you on further. everything ached as you stumbled up a hill, leaning against a tree for support to use the height to your advantage and fuck, you could cry at what you saw. 

just barely in the dark, you can make out the asphalt of the road - and if you squint your eyes, you can see a little further down the road is the shitty fucking motel you were gonna sleep in, the no vacancy sign shining bright against the dark of the world surrounding you. 

but then someone’s grabbing you from behind, shoving your back against the tree you’d been using to hold yourself up. a scream rips itself from your throat, clawing at whatever skin your nails can come in contact with, but bokuto, you realize, only smiles and presses you harder against the tree. 

“i’m so close,” you whimper out, shoving at his face when he drops it too close to your own, stomping on his toes and really doing whatever you can to shove him away from you. you glance to your right and you can still see the neon lights from the motel’s sign, the streetlights keeping the hicktown illuminated, “please.” 

“kuroo’s gon’a be so happy i caught ya,” he leans down, nosing at your collar and inhaling despite you still struggling against him, “exciting since ‘kaashi got mine.” 

you feel him frown against your neck, fingers tightening at your shoulders where they keep you in place. he pulls back with a pout, “that’s not even fair, is it! what’s the point of pickin’ who we wanna go for if someone else is gonna get ‘em anyways!” 

you’re frozen at the implication of what ‘got mine’ could mean. the question of who dancing on your tongue, unable to voice it. 

bokuto straightens after a second, smiling down at you, and you never really realized how much bigger he was than you until now - all muscles that flex as he readjusts his grip on you, “now, let’s go meet back up with kuroo, yeah?”

it frightens you how easily he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder - and despite your desperate flailing, the way you kick and claw and scream, his grip never wavers. you can only watch as the red LEDs blink further out of sight, until the light that remains is eaten by the darkness of the woods that surrounds you. 

by the time he’s walking up the stairs to the cabin, you’re worn out, and you don’t fight it when he places you on the living room floor. 

riku’s no longer at the center of the carpet, and if you dared to look you’d see akio is no longer slumped against the wall as well. 

bokuto crouches in front of you, toying with a piece of your hair as it falls in your face, and you half-heartedly push his hand away when he laughs, “we’re gonna have lots’a fun with you, i just know it.” 

he stands when the door is pushed open again, akaashi walkin through the foyer, dragging a groaning riku in behind him. you stiffen at the sight of him, scrambling to stand only to fall back against the floor when bokuto pushes you down by the shoulder. akaashi, not so gently, pulls him until he’s laying in front of you, and you feel your fingers flex with tears welling in your eyes when he barely moves. 

“r-riku?” you whimper out.

you’re answered in the form of a groan, his eyes fluttering open before they close again as if keeping them that way brought him pain. despite the way your hands shake, despite being pushed down before, you move to his side to examine what damage they could’ve done to him. 

bokuto laughs again from your side, but doesn’t stop you from pulling him to you protectively, “look atcha, worrying ‘bout someone else’s skin.” 

akaashi clicks his tongue, but makes no comment as the door swings open again - kuroo and kenma walking in with dirt and blood staining their hands and clothes. kuroo ruffles your hair almost affectionately as he passes and you duck away from the contact with a frown. 

he looks away from you, whispers something to someone, but your heart beats painfully loud in your ears and you can’t hear much beyond your own breaths. kenma fiddles with an already blood-stained knife, twirling it between his fingers as he stares holes into your back. 

kuroo takes the knife from kenma with a grin, kneeling beside you and tilting your chin up with the blade, “you do good, we’ll consider letting you go.” his hand finds itself at the nape of your neck, keeping you in place when you shy away from the metal. 

“w-what?” 

“you’re gonna kill him,” his eyes flit from your own to riku’s body lying beside you, then he’s turning the blade so the handle is facing you instead, pushing it into your hands, “it’ll be easy once you get past the first stab.”

your hands tremble at the weight of the knife, shaking your head with tears spilling over your cheeks, “no . . . no, i’m n-not gonna-”

kenma groans from behind you, and you flinch at the sound, closing your eyes as if that could make everything happening come to an end. 

“they’re not gonna do it,” akaashi says boredly, moving behind you to somewhere else in the room, “told ya.” 

“i think they can!,” bokuto adds, “they’re just scared of the first step.” 

kuroo’s staring at you like he wants to eat you, like you’re stepping in the maw of a wolf and his teeth could sink into you at any second from the way he grins, “you’re right. first step is the hardest.” 

his fingers wrap around your own on top of the handle, long and precise as he maneuvers you with his chest against your back, his arms surrounding you until all you can feel is him. it’s suffocating. he leans down, breath hitting the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me help you.” 

and he lifts the knife above riku’s body, and despite your protests, despite the way you fight against him, to try and squeeze your hand out from under his, the knife still lands right at the center of his chest. you’re sobbing with new vigor now, body vibrating when kuroo lets out a genuine hearty laugh.

he holds you upright as you curl in on yourself, numb. you so desperately want to fall. collapse, cold and lifeless just like riku. a nasty jolt snaps you back to reality. kuroo´s shaking you out of your stupor, his pupils dilated to the point where his eyes look black. he holds you vice-tight, cradling your head as you cry, your tears dampening his shirt. proud? maybe.

“now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”