#vfdrabbles

#4 “I can’t see anything”

#147 “Zombies aren’t real, I promise.”

“Liar.”

The word echoes into the night as you stand on the roof of the supermarket. Below you is what used to be a car park; now it’s teeming with so many undead, you long stopped counting how many there were. Their moans and groans mix into each other as they scrabble at the smooth concrete walls.

Even after all these years, the shopping center has still held strong. According to your mother, it was the best one in the district, and she used to enjoy coming here when she could.

You weren’t so keen on believing her words, though, not after the lies she’d told you as a child about them.

“Mom, one of my classmates said her dad saw a zombie near the northern border. Are they gonna come to the city and eat us?”

“Silly child, they’re just stories to keep you kids in line. Zombies aren’t real, I promise.”

She hasn’t lied in recent years, though. Kind of hard to do after being devoured by a zombie.

You look down at the undead horde and say it again. 

“Liar.” 

You doubt your mother’s among them, but it’s not like she’d understand anyway.

Unlike your other friends, who’d been trained in at least basic self-defence, you had nothing. Your mother’s outright denial made you the runt of the litter, and the group you’d been travelling with abandoned you rather than spent extra effort to keep you safe. The price of being the child of a liar.

Turning back, you trudge towards the tent where Reita is starting a fire. His mask is around his neck, and he’s removed his leather jacket. “Good haul today,” he says, looking up to see you sit next to him. “Thank God they ignore animals.”

“Yeah.” You remove your own jacket and draw your knees to your chest. Reita found you hiding in the high school a year or so after the city fell. Like you, he’d somehow survived on his own for a few years, but he knew his way around better. It was easier to scrounge for supplies and defend yourselves as a team. Eventually, you’d managed to gather enough food and ammunition to make it across the district to the city, and the two-story shopping center has been your home for the last few months - a nice change from the garage you were holed up in the first year there. It’s been four years since you met Reita, and honestly, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

While Reita gets the fire ready, you clean out the unfortunate goose that made it into town in the afternoon. It had been part of a flock that you and another survivor’s group had discovered, and you’d agreed to share the spoils, but they already had ten people to feed, so they didn’t want to team up with anyone else.

“They had kids with them, apparently,” you conclude, having told Reita the story over dinner.

“Kids, huh?” He spits out a bone and drinks some water from the canteen, before pulling out an orange from his bag and sharing it with you. “Haven’t seen one since we came to the city.”

“Me neither.” You take a few pieces, then drag out the blanket from the tent and drape it over the two of you. “How do people even have kids these days? It’s too dangerous.”

Reita shrugs, putting his camouflage mask back on once he’s done with his share of the orange. He doesn’t like showing the scar to anyone, even you, and prefers to remove it only when eating. “We shouldn’t be talking, to be honest.” His voice is slightly muffled from the mask, but you can hear that little chuckle in it, which makes you laugh as well.

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to him, deliberately making sure his hand is touching your stomach. “We have enough food to last us two weeks,” he says. “Let’s try and move closer to the borders. Get out of the country in time.”

“You think it’s possible?” Snuggling closer to him, you place your head against his chest, smiling slightly on feeling his heartbeat.

“Yeah. I had a friend in the south whose dad was a border agent. If they’re still around, I can ask them for help.”

His hand moves upward from your stomach, gently touching your body, until he reaches your eyes and covers them.

“Reita?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t see anything.”

“That’s the point. You need to sleep.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, mister.” You playfully swat him and remove his hand from your eyes before giving him a kiss on the cheek. You know if he removes his mask and lets you kiss him on the lips, he’ll taste like sweat and oranges. “I can handle myself just fine.”

It hasn’t escaped your eye that he’s been eating less and volunteering to take the night watch more. You also know he’s been training every free moment he gets, and reading through that book he found last month on childbirth and how to handle a delivery. Thankfully, the baby will be born in the spring, when the weather is warm; there’s also enough time to get out of the country if you’re lucky. The international forces are too busy in the north to look for any survivors in the central regions, which means the south is your best bet.

You two locked the shopping center entrance and terrace doors ages ago; the banging on the latter has become a regular part of your night. Even so, the worry makes it hard to sleep nowadays.

Tonight, you lie down with your head in Reita’s lap as he takes first watch yet again. One of his hands runs through your hair, soothing you to sleep. He’s the one who assures you it’ll be okay: you and the baby will survive, and things will get better soon.

Your only wish now is that you don’t think of him the next time you say that word again.

Requested by @konekofhan. I finished this in one sitting, my first binge-writing episode in ages, and I’m so happy!! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it :)

He’s a nocturnal person, so staying in bed all night isn’t a normal part of his life. He’s admitted it himself in interviews: he either works or chills out, but sleeping in bed for six to eight hours? Not very often.

But this time he’s not at home; he’s at your place for the weekend. This is a first in your relationship together, not least because this is the first time in ages that he has the entire week off.

You spend the night in each other’s arms, exchanging heated kisses and soft touches. You lose count of how many times his lips touched your body and whispered sweet nothings in your ear. He loses count of how many times you called out his name and ran your hands through his soft hair. You always thought that he would have absolutely disastrous hair; he’s dyed it so many times. But it’s nice to touch, and he did say that he takes care of it a lot. Probably more than anyone you know.

On reflex, his eyes open at three in the morning, and he’s almost sitting up when he remembers where he is. As automatically as he woke, he slides back into bed and into sleep, lacing his fingers through yours and brushing his lips against your jaw.

The next time anyone wakes up, it’s you. Your legs are tangled with his, and the hand which held yours has moved to your waist, where he gently holds you close to him. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back as your eyes get adjusted to the morning light.

His arm shines a little as sunlight falls on the two of you. I could get used to this, you think, a smile forming on your lips.

A soft groan makes you turn around. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking a little before he’s properly conscious.

“Good morning,” you say, kissing his cheek.

“G’morn,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it..?”

You look at the digital clock on the wall; it reads 7:30 AM. “Half past seven,” you tell him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Kinda.” He yawns and stretches for a bit, before turning to lie on his back. “I woke up in the middle of the night and forgot where I was.”

You laugh and sit up, wrapping the blanket around your body to cover yourself.

“Hey! Give that back!” Ruki protests. “I’m naked here!”

“So am I,” you tease. “And it’s getting colder, too.”

“I know, that’s why I want the blanket!”

“My blanket, my rules.” You stick your tongue out at him, determinedly avoiding looking below his torso. Not that it amounts to much; he pulls you back down so that you’re on top of him...along with the blanket.

“There we go.” He hums in satisfaction, and the two of you stay like that for a bit, enjoying the silence broken occasionally by random conversations.

Finally, you lift your head to look at his sleepy, smiling face once again. “Ru?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Me too.” He pauses. “I love me too.”

“You ass!” You bounce off and throw a pillow at his face, wiping the shit-eating grin off. The two of you are laughing now, but there’s a doubt in your mind…

“I love you too, babe.” He sits up and pulls you to his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head as he squeezes your shoulder gently. “I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the weekend together. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echo, all doubt in your mind fading away. Moving your arms so that they go round his shoulders, you lean your forehead against his and sigh.

Sometimes, it all feels like a dream, being with someone who is not only your boyfriend, but your new best friend. You hunt down organic beauty products for him, and he always buys you something he knows you’ll like when he’s on tour. You watch corny movies together and sob your hearts out before moving to horror and laughing at bad plots put there just to work around the actual scary stuff.

Sequel to Deserted.

Feat. Deadly Craw

The fact that your new boyfriend doesn’t talk is perfectly fine with you. He’s pretty chatty when he texts, which is okay with. You’ve been on a couple of dates with him, but only in the dead of the night. He’s an urban legend, of course, which meant that it obviously isn’t a good idea for the two of you to stroll into a coffee shop on Sunday afternoons. It has to be secret.

Of course, he didn’t want you to constantly call him by his “street name”, as it were, so he gave you his actual name when the two of you started dating.

Aoi.

Tonight, you’re chilling at your apartment when you get a text from him.

Hey, are you free tonight for a date?

Since you are, you reply back in the affirmative. His next message is quick.

Great! Can you come to the park at 11.30? I’ll meet you there.

It’s 9 PM now, so you have plenty of time to eat dinner before getting ready. But you make sure to leave the house early because both you and Aoi like the dates to start on time: it comes with having very little time to spend together in general.

You reach the park fifteen minutes early to see him already waiting at the gate. He’s wearing his usual strange oxygen mask, but his silver claw has receded back into his hand for now. He always does that on your dates, and it makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside.

Above his mask, Aoi’s eyes brighten when he sees you. One of his eyes used to be gold, but after you met him, both have slowly faded to silver.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, having almost run the last five minutes. “Where are we going tonight?”

After typing something, he holds his phone up. It’s a surprise. I think you’ll like it.

Aoi holds out his hand - the good one, not the shriveled-up one. You take it, and he leads you into the woods behind the park. The journey is silent, but you enjoy these moments with him: the two of you learnt quickly that words aren’t always necessary to form a strong relationship.

When you reach a certain point in the woods, Aoi stops and gestures to you to close your eyes. Once you do so, he resumes the journey, but you go only a few steps before the two of you stop again. He lets go of your hand and you can hear some rustling. What is he up to? You wonder. At this moment, your heart is beating rapidly. You can sense his scent mixed with that of the woods: the combination calms you down, although your heart is still competing with the bullet train.

In a few moments, you feel him gently touch your eyelids, and you take that as a sign to open them. You gasp at what you see: a clearing with golden fairy lights strung up all over the place, with the night sky above you so clear that you can see all the stars.

“It’s beautiful!” You laugh; you feel so happy that he’s done this for you. Aoi has always wanted you to feel comfortable no matter what, and would always do the littlest of things he thought would make you happy. “Thank you!” You throw your arms around him and hug him tight.

You can’t see his expression because your face is buried in his shoulder - even if you looked up, only his eyes would give anything away. But he hugs you back, both hands gripping the back of your jacket as though he wants to hold you forever and ever.

When he finally lets go, you guide him to the middle of the clearing and make him sit beside you. But all this while, you never let go of his hand - the shriveled one. You can see the tender expression in his eyes, but there is still a hint of wonder at the way you gently hold him, and the way you’re guessing you look at him. Considering that his usually loud breathing has gone silent, you assume he’s really taken aback.

With some difficulty, he extracts his phone from his coat pocket and types something on it. Can you close your eyes again? Just for a minute or so.

“Okay.” You nod and shut your eyes. Something nearby shuffles; it’s probably Aoi, getting out his next surprise. You’re expecting a gift, or maybe a way you can communicate more in person.

What you don’t expect is a pair of lips on yours.

They’re chapped, and something about them is odd, like they’re not proper human lips. But they’re his: You can feel it in the way he cups your cheek and deepens the kiss ever so slightly.

You want to open your eyes and see what he looks like when he kisses you. Even though you stick to your word and keep them closed, nothing stops you from placing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer (insert lyrics pun here). The kiss makes you feel like the world doesn’t matter: nothing matters, you don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone else besides Aoi and the kiss that you never expected (although now that it’s here, you’re not complaining).

Neither of you wants to be the first to let go, but it has to happen eventually. With one soft sigh, he forces himself to let go, but his lips linger, barely touching yours before you pull him in for another, brief kiss.

Another set of shuffling, and you open your eyes to see Aoi in his oxygen mask again, although the way his hands are moving away from his face makes it clear that he just shoved it on his face. Still, you can see him blushing, and the sight makes you laugh.

“That was…” You can’t think of how to describe what just happened, but you know he gets it. He indicates as much by pushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face and cupping your cheek again for a few moments.

Fic under the cut. Warning: implied mental health concerns (not sure of the exact term/condition to use here, it’s just based on my own experiences).

Requested by @jigoku-nozomi

Feat. Deadly Craw

Your breathing is ragged and your limbs have started aching. You can’t see much, except for the occasional streetlight, and the cold wind makes you shiver, despite having a coat on.

You know he’s still following you. The man whose name puts fear into the bravest of hearts. And this time, his target is you.

Nobody knows what happens to his victims. Nobody knows where they go, what he wants, whether they live or die…although that arm of his probably provides some of the answers.

He wants you now. And if he finds you, you’re pretty sure there’s no way you’ll survive. All you can do now is hurry and find a public space, or make it home. Just leaving this deserted area - one you thought was a great shortcut home from work - will save you.

You aren’t sure if those are his footsteps you hear, or an echo of your own. But they’re there. And they’re getting louder, along with your heartbeat.

Your breathing becomes more rapid as you frantically turn one way or another, searching desperately for a way out. Your sense of direction seems to have deserted you; you can’t remember which turns you need to take to get the hell out of here.

Clutching your bag to your chest, you try to call someone on your phone only to find that the battery is dead after a long day of work. Why didn’t I charge it? You scold yourself. Why did I take this shortcut, why did the lights go out, why me why me why me why me–

The footsteps are getting louder, but you don’t dare turn to get a glimpse of what - or who - is behind you, after the first glance you took several minutes ago.

You saw his mask first, but didn’t think you’d noticed it properly until you saw the arm. Long, jet-black claws shining with the light of the street lamp he stood under. And that’s all he did. Just stood there.

You don’t want to know what he’s doing now. You’ve heard the stories. He will sense you stop before you even think of stopping, so when you turn around he is standing as though he was always there. And slowly he gets closer…and closer…and closer…and closer…and the last thing you will see before oblivion takes you is his claw raised high in the air.

It is frightening, yet beautiful, that claw. The way it shines in the air (according to rumor) is something you always wanted to see…but not like this!! You wail internally.

Before you know it, you’ve come to a dead end, with a single street light showing you that you’re all alone…except for him.

Whirling around, you see his eyes - one gold one black - and everything seems to freeze. Your legs feel numb and you find yourself falling to your knees as you continue to stare into his eyes. Your mind has stopped working, as has half your body, and all you can do is shut your eyes and hope it ends quickly.

He doesn’t raise his claw as the legends say he will; instead, he uses it to lift your chin up, making your eyes open in shock. He makes you look him in the eyes as he takes in your pale face and trembling lip.

The metal feels cold on your skin, making you shiver even more. Now that you’re just a few inches away from him, you can hear his ragged breathing through what looks like an oxygen mask. Two tubes emerge from it, leading heaven knows where. Above that are his heterochromatic eyes, shining.

The expression on his face is not something you’d expect to see in a man known through urban legends as Deadly Craw. It’s one of tenderness, making you blink once, twice, thrice to check if you’re not just imagining things.

The two of you stay like that for a while, and soon you don’t feel as scared anymore, since it’s clear he’s not interested in killing you. You don’t understand why he followed you like this, but maybe you can tell him..?

“D-don’t scare m-me like that,” you manage to get out. “P-please.”

He just stares, his expression now neutral, before nodding and slowly taking a step back. He hands you your bag and offers his other hand to help you up. “Thank you,” you say shakily getting to your feet.

He gestures for you to follow him, and he takes you into a side lane near the path you were walking on.

He shows you the body lying in the lane, covered in blood, and points to the knife, then at you, making it clear what was going on. The he points at himself, then the body.

“That was your target?” You ask, stunned. He nods. “And your target was after me?” He nods again.

You wonder when he noticed the knife on the target, or if he did at all, before killing the person. But indirectly, he did save your life, and you really are grateful you’re not dead right now.

“Thank you.” That’s all you can think of saying at the moment. “Thank you for saving me.”

He nods again, and steps forward so that he is right in front of you again. Heart beating loudly, you tense up…only to see him gently run a thumb across your lip, the soft expression returning to his eyes. His touch now makes you feel relaxed, and just that understanding shocks you.

To distract yourself, you try to focus on something else. Your attention is drawn to his non-scary hand, whose fingernails are as black as the rest of his clothing.

He moves the hand to your cheek and waits.

“Can you talk?” You ask, an idea springing in your mind.

He shrugs.

“Okay, can you text?”

He nods at that.

You don’t see the harm in having him on your good side, especially after what happened just now. And to add to it, you want to know him better…and feel his thumb on your lips again, though you would never admit that out loud.

Pulling out a paper from your bag, you write down your number and give it to him. Then, unsure of what to tell him, you gesture for him to lean his head, and you rest your forehead against his. You don’t know what you felt when you saw that gentle expression again, but you know if makes you feel safe.

Inspired by the recent Spooky Box PV

“Ugh…” You open your eyes to see a pure white ceiling. Your entire body aches, and your mouth feels dry.

Where am I? You ask yourself. What happened?

You try to move, but you’re instantly stopped by a hand gripping your upper arm. “Wait,” a familiar voice says. “I’ll help you up.”

The hand slides under your back, while another rests on your shoulder. By the time you’re made to sit up, you feel slightly less disoriented and you can tell it’s your boyfriend helping you get upright.

“Uru...ha..?”

“Here.” He holds a glass to your lips, and the water soothes your throat, making it easier to speak.

Once your eyes adjust to the light and you’ve settled against the pillows, you see his pale, drawn face staring at you. The dark circles under his eyes are more noticeable than ever, and there’s a look of relief in his eyes now that you’re awake again.

“What happened to me?” You ask.

“You were in a car accident,” he explains. “It was almost fatal...I thought I’d lost you.” His eyes drop to your hands, which are now held by his own. “It was pure luck that we got an organ donor right then whose organs matched up with your body type. I don’t know what would’ve happened if…”

In the back of your mind, you register that you’re in the hospital Uruha works in. It’s known for organ transplants and blood donation, and the speed at which they can get the job done. Thank God for that, what would have happened to me otherwise?

“How long was I out?” You search for a question to break the silence.

“About three days.”

Just then Reita, Uruha’s best friend and another doctor at the hospital, enters the room, looking delighted to see you awake. He checks your vitals and explains how long you’ll have to stay in the hospital, before stepping out to speak to Uruha for some time.

“Was I really that lucky?” You ask your boyfriend once he returns to your side. “It just seems like too much of a coincidence that…”

“Yes, it was some great timing.” He kisses you on the forehead. “I’m off duty for another half an hour, shall I get you something to eat or drink? Reita says you can have soups and soft solids for now.”

Nodding, you relax against his touch as he caresses you on the cheek before running his hands through your hair. When he finally lets go, he heads off to the hospital canteen to get you soup. It’s not that great (hospital food never is), but it’s enough to make some of your energy return for now.

“I wonder how I ended up in a car accident?” You muse, lying back down. “I don’t even own a car.”

“The pedestrians have it worst,” Uruha responds. “Even when they’re careful, sometimes the drivers are the reckless ones.”

“Good point.” Yawning, you shut your eyes. “Uru?”

“Yes, love?”

“Thank you.”

“Reita handled your surgery, he’s the one you should thank. I was a useless mess.” His laugh soothes you, although it takes you a moment to realize it’s filled with bitterness, and you’re tense again. But the next time he speaks, it’s a gentle voice you hear.

“Sleep, my love. I’m going back on duty now, and I have a patient to take care of, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He presses his lips to yours, and the last thing you hear before you fall asleep is his footsteps walking away and a nurse saying, “He’s ready, Dr Uruha.”

Uruha examines the reports, his expression becoming grimmer with each line he reads. He stands up and removes his glasses, observing the ‘patient’ in front of him.

How they managed to keep him alive with some organs missing is beyond anyone who doesn’t work at the hospital. Of course, they don’t know that there are special patients ‘admitted’ on a regular basis.

They have the patient strapped down to what looks like an operating table. His tongue was cut off a while ago, and it was only advice from Reita that stopped Uruha from removing the patient’s heart...until now.

“You’re awake again, Patient 491. That’s good to see.” Uruha stares down at the patient, whose eyes widen in terror. Blood is spattered all over the patient’s bare, stitched-up body, and the mouth isn’t covered: a lack of tongue doesn’t let the man make anything beyond strange sounds and cries.

“As it turns out,” Uruha continues, ignoring the wails, “you have another operation to go before you can be discharged. I’m afraid there is something wrong with two parts of your body, and at least one will have to be removed.”

Tears well up in Patient 491’s eyes, and he begins to shake his head madly, struggling to free himself out of the leather straps that hold him down to the table.

“The donation of your other organs helped out most recent patient quite a bit, which is more than I can say of your original intentions.” In the back of his mind, Uruha is actually quite grateful for the car accident. How else would he have known where you had been?

“But these parts are severely infected, and can’t be donated to anyone...so we have to amputate the first, and permanently remove the second.”

Pulling on some new gloves, Uruha grabs the tray of tools nearby. He crouches at the end of the table, and at the last moment, looks up into Patient 491’s eyes. The wails get louder and louder, and end in sobbing as Uruha carefully cuts it off.

This is the true hospital. Where prisoners and criminals have their blood and organs harvested for other, innocent patients. The five senior doctors mostly take care of this...including Reita and Uruha.

Uruha had been terrified out of his mind when he heard you were missing. He didn’t know where to look or who to ask. It was only the car accident two days later that had aired on the news which told him.

Patient 491 was your kidnapper. And the things he had done to you...if the reports were to be believed, it became even more important for Uruha to get this special surgery done.

No anesthesia. That was the rule. The hospital had figured out ways to keep their special patients alive and conscious during the surgery, and Uruha is using his personal developments quite liberally at the moment.

Nobody saw how much Uruha had cried on seeing your broken body. Nobody heard the promises he made under his breath, sitting by your side while you remained unconscious. Nobody would ever know how far he was prepared to go for vengeance.

Calmly, he cuts open his patient’s chest, and the wails become softer and softer. Satisfied, the doctor watches the light fade out of the patient’s eyes as he extracts the heart. It was clearly a horrible death, to watch blood flow out of your body as the doctor removes your organs one by one, and feel every single pain the doctor wants to inflict on you.

He’ll clean this up later, he decides. For now, he just wants to be with you.

Opening the door to your hospital room, he smiles on seeing you fast asleep, a peaceful expression on your face. He pulls up a chair to your side, panicking when you stir.

“Mm..? Uru?” You smile sleepily at him, and he’s thankful he washed all the blood off before coming to see you.

“Hey.” Uruha kisses you on the forehead and sits down.

“Did you finish that surgery of yours?”

“Yeah. It’s all over now.”

Too sleepy to figure out what he means by that, you rub your eyes and sit up. “How long do I have to stay here again?”

“A week, at the very least. Don’t worry, I’ll take some time off when you’re discharged.”

“No, there’s no need, babe.” You kiss his cheek. “I’ll be fine. But I can’t seem to remember the days before the accident very well…”

You don’t notice Uruha stiffen. His voice, when it comes out, is controlled. “What can you remember?”

“Um...I remember walking past some shady area because of work. Why the client’s office was there is beyond anyone…”

That must have been where the asshole kidnapped you...Uruha had run a background check on Patient 491 as soon as that bastard had been pulled out of the wreckage (with only a few bruises, unfortunately) and transferred to Ward X of the hospital.

“Well, you’re okay now,” he chooses to say. “And I’m here for you.” He gently pulls you into his arms.

When his lips touch yours, you feel like you’ve regained something, even though you can’t remember what you lost. His right arm is wrapped around your waist and left hand is running through your hair. You feel your body heat up, and whimper when Uruha pulls away. “Not now,” he chuckles. “Once you’re discharged, I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

I will make sure that you never remember his filthy touch on you. You will only remember mine. You will never remember how much he hurt you, how he tried to sell you to us, not knowing who you are to me. The accident was a blessing, even though nothing would have happened to you after he brought you here anyway.

Thank you so much! I’m glad you like them!

Here you go :)

Here you go!! I’ll add it to the masterlist later, I have a flight to catch soon XP