#Someone come join me in screaming into the woods pls | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

woahjo · 10 months ago

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The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else.

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment.

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear.

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent.

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight.

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula."

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity.

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands.

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?"

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit."

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane.

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid."

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess."

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now.

"Got a name?" he asks.

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?”

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling.

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?"

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am."

He nods his understanding.

"Come with me."

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both.

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed."

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost.

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising.

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to."

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?"

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it.

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step.

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees.

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you.

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation?

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!"

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room.

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him.

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned."

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost.

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while."

"Well, I'm back," he says.

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word.

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?"

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check."

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.”

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?"

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?"

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone."

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell?

"Sounds like a good deal," you say.

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock.

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki.

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..."

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him.

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you.

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.”

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting.

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't."

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation.

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?"

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day."

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen.

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this."

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it.

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can."

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months.

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up.

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit.

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words.

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.”

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together.

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.”

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away.

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”

You nod.

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.”

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric.

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet.

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks.

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them.

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant.

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing.

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge.

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring.

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark.

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back.

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit.

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway.

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment.

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now.

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner.

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner.

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?”

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.”

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.”

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group.

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows.

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder.

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.”

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina.

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.”

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning.

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues.

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.”

“Mhm,” Mina says.

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.”

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy.

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.”

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri.

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever.

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.”

You swallow thick and nod a little.

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.”

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree.

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from.

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink.

“Nothing really,” Mina says.

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly.

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?”

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask.

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?”

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides.

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.”

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude.

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?”

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond.

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.”

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting.

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.”

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds.

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.”

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in.

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us.

—

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation.

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop.

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it.

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough.

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago.

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize.

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.”

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.”

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?”

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.”

You recognize Katsuki’s voice.

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.”

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman.

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.”

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays.

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?”

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto.

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?”

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding.

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.”

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg.

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit.

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.”

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find.

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts.

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod.

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look.

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.”

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen.

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop.

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.”

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you.

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.”

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes.

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary.

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant.

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.”

You listen as you eat your crackers.

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.”

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.”

Mina laughs a little.

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.”

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile.

“You’re really forthcoming with information.”

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers.

“Can you blame me?”

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked.

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.”

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you.

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop.

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder.

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down.

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl.

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it.

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula.

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper.

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.”

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely.

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering.

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners.

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at.

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now.

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly.

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask.

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from.

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back.

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it.

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it.

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from.

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it.

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him.

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up.

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones.

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward.

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind.

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks.

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.”

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion.

“Got everything?”

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it.

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers.

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread.

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well.

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out.

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe.

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way.

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk.

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation.

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says.

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?”

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?”

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again.

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something.

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?”

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm.

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world.

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.”

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way.

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.”

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb.

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days.

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any.

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be.

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source.

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet.

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.”

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice.

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.”

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.”

The group grows quiet for a moment.

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.”

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says.

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?”

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?”

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.”

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?”

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.”

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds.

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control.

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it.

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect?

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open.

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house.

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place.

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal.

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling.

—

“Need some help?” You say.

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck.

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?”

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him.

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably.

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?”

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.”

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work.

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly.

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch.

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively.

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.”

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?”

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others.

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.”

You tilt your head.

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?”

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is.

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.”

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little.

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-”

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.”

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side.

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun.

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable.

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that.

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character.

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow.

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task.

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket.

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.”

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out.

“You’re doing laundry.”

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?”

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.”

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit.

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.”

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive.

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick.

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering.

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence.

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace.

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.”

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid.

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little.

“Were you?”

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.”

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway.

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh.

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?”

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?”

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.”

“She’s pretty,” you say.

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.”

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you.

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little.

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant.

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?”

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused.

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little.

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food.

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him.

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into.

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you.

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both.

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position.

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet.

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.”

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope.

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.”

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes.

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier.

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house.

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel.

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better.

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator.

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?”

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in.

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader smut #mha smut #bakugou fanfiction #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #apocalypse au #tw.violence #tw.blood #tw.loss of identity #tw.derealization #tw.depersonalization #tw.exhaustion #cal.writing #char.bakugou

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rafesangel · 2 years ago

Text

MAYBE ITS A CRUEL JOKE ON ME

Pairings : Asshole!Xavier x Kind!Reader

summary : ^^

Warnings : Bullying, Crying, Angst with a fluffy ending, making fun of someone, stuttering.

“Fuck off!” Enid yelled at the boys walking past, who were making fun off me, why? I don’t even know, i bet they don’t know either. I was always so kind to everyone, but it seemed like no one appreciated it. Except my Best friends, Enid, Wednesday and Yoko.

“Are you okay angel?” Yoko asked, pulling me into a tight hug, while Enid gave me a concerned face, and Wednesday was probably thinking about a way she could kill the guys.

“Cant we just- wait no thats to noticeable..” Wednesday looked down again, thinking of another idea, “Well anyway, Again, are you okay?” Yoko asked again, while tears ran down my face.

“I don’t even know why they’re doing this to me, i-i haven’t said anything mean did i?..” i widened my eyes by the thought of doing anything or saying anything mean, that wasn’t like me and i knew it.

“What? No of course not!, Xavier and his ‘friends’ are just a bunch of little assholes. They don’t deserve your attention.” Enid almost screamed telling me that, while Yoko wiped my tears away with her thumbs

“I know it!” Wednesday yelled behind us “what?” We all said in Unison “we can maybe lead them in the woods and then the monster will do its job!!” Wednesday said with a slight smirk. “Yeah lets bring you inside..” Enid widened her eyes and pulled Wednesday inside.

TIMESKIP NEXT DAY

I was in the quad, sitting at a table with Enid, Yoko and Wednesday. Just the usual, when Xavier came up to us again, i sighed and turned my head to him “what, Thorpe.” I gave him a annoyed look and he looked ‘shocked’ as i gave him that look. “calm down L/N, i just wanted to ask if you wanted to meet me in the woods? Tonight..” He asked looking down at me “uhm yea sure i guess, text me okay?..” he nodded and walked away.

“Why’d you say yes?” All the girls asked me, giving me confused faces “i-i dont know i just wanted to know what he has planned.”

TIME SKIP TO THAT NIGHT

you stood in the woods with your phone in your hand, sending Xavier your Location.

from , Xavier Thorpe

Okay im omw

To , Xavier Thorpe

Okay, hurry up pls, its freezing and scary here.

Half an hour later you were still waiting, you’re called him 5 times, but no reaction. You’ve texted him a lot, no reaction.

to , Xavier Thorpe

Voice message 1 : Xavier hurry up. Im freezing

Voice message 2 : where are you Xavier.

Voice message 3 : you know what, fuck you im leaving.

You slid down the tree and buried your head onto your knees, tears from your face, dripping to your legs. You pulled out your phone again and FaceTimed the girls

*Cute Vamp Joined the Call*

*Bimbo Joined the call*

*Hot Goth Girl Joined the call*

Y : Love where are you, wait no. Where is Xavier?

E : He definitely didn’t show, asshole.

W : I’ll slit his throat.

YOU : c-can you guys p-please come pick me up, I’m so f-fucking scared and tired.

All : where on our way.

They all waved goodbye quickly hung up.

Not even 5 minutes later they stood in front off you, Wednesday pulled my up and opened her arms “w-what are you doing?” I asked her “you don’t want a hug?” she asked , my mouth formed into a ‘o’ shape and pulled her into a hug.

TIME SKIP NEXT DAY IN CLASS

“Hey how was your date with Xavier last night? Oh thats right he didn’t show!” Rowan teased me while Xavier walked up behind him “oh sorry love I totally forgot about our little date.. maybe next time!” He chuckled.

“Xavier leave the poor girl alone..” he heard behind him, it was his Ex, Bianca Barclay. She was sitting next to Enid’s boyfriend, Ajax, who gave Xavier a disgusted face. “And why should i do that?” He asked looking down at me “because its fucking sad what you are doing! You left her alone in the woods last night!” Ajax yelled at him.

Xavier suddenly yanked me out of class, but he went with me “let me go!” I yelled at him “no i want you to listen to me!” He raised his voice at me so i turned completely silent.

“I like you, okay?!, thats why I’ve been such an asshole to you.” He raised his voice again but it also went softer. “w-what?.. i don’t get it why should that be a reason for you to be such an asshole?..”

“Because i wanted to forget about you, but this totally didn’t help..” he walked closer to me, as he suddenly pulled me in a gentle, soft kiss. My face showed off 5 different colors of blush. “Your cute.”

“We should ditch class!” I shouted quietly, as he widened his eyes “didn’t expect that from you, but sure”

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tinyyoungblood · 4 years ago

Note

don’t be shy,

post sum of those drafts

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

a/n: you asked and you shall receive. here are very random scraps that i pieced together and somehow it worked lol enjoy x

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the avengers on long bus rides

long bus rides are the only times where the world is balanced and at peace (forced smile from steve)

it’s also the only times when everyone will chime in on those sea shanties that steve loves so much, so that’s a plus

the team knows that their captain is a sea shanty WHORE so they always go all out for him and do harmonies and quite impressive choreos

once they’ve run out of sea shanties, they switch to musicals and it’s kind of like football jocks meet theatre kids

everyone has their troy bolten moment at some point, but it’s loki who really shines

he gets really passionate and ends up singing all parts and no one can blame him because mans got the voice of an angel and he knows it

nat is super supportive and cheers him on while recording everything. no one questions why she has a folder on her phone that is called “blackmail material”

tony likes to show his support by throwing money at loki

the others reenact that scene from harry potter where harry tries to catch hogwarts letters falling from the ceiling although there are loads of them perfectly lying on the floor

they fight tooth and nail to catch the money with a ferocity that puts the gods in shame

peter shoots his webs to pin the dollar bills to the wall like he suddenly got a lifelong supply of them and clint acts like his arrows are made of harmless rubber

rhodey joins in, puts on his suit, and almost blasts happy ✨to death✨while trying to catch a one-dollar bill

happy swerve the bus off a cliff and someone screams

(it was loki)

wanda has to save them and proceeds to bench them all for an hour

bucky, friend to no vehicles, is grumpy the entire time but y/n has made it her temporary calling to cheer him up

“i don’t like vehicles and this is why” *y/n whips out a duffel bag and slaps it* “yea, well, but what are your thoughts on sudokus”

bucky curls up in the back like the senior citizen that he is, sandwiched between y/n and bruce with a lifelong supply of sudokus scattered around him

they quietly help each other out and it’s very wholesome

tony and peter can fall asleep anywhere on the bus with their necks and limbs turned at all kinds of unnatural angles and sam winces before tearing his eyes from them

he makes a mental note to buy them neck pillows

nat suggests playing ‘i spy’ because it seems less lethal than the yellow car game but clint, sam, and thor get way too enthusiastic about it

they have their faces pressed against the window, eyes wide and unblinking, unaware that they’re frightening half of the people sitting in the passing cars

at some point, they lose all sense and just randomly name everything

“i spy with my little eye something that is red” “that car” “no” “that car” “no” “clint’s sweater” “it’s not—” “bucky’s pen, the flowERS, MY SHOES, THE SKY”

rhodey and nat are surprisingly good at that game and their calm demeanour drives the others insane

“fine. i spy with my stupid little eye something that is amber—” “bottom left button on the inside of loki’s overcoat, try again”

wanda and vision are in charge of lunch and handing out lunch boxes to everyone is a delight to them and a very. scary experience for the rest of the team

“here you go, buck. a turkey sandwich with cut off crust and extra tomatoes” “oh you didn’t have to cut off—” “😠but you like it. don’t you😠” “...yes”

peter and y/n are sharing a seat and y/n shows him her online purchases on her phone. peter is really sweet the entire time and comments on everything with genuine interest until rhodey pipes up from behind them

“you ordered new shoes? y/n, you don’t even go outside enough to justify wearing shoes”

they shush him and proceed to share headphones to listen to peter’s current favourite songs

at some point, tony announces, “alright ladies and gentlegerms, cap is making us stop the bus so we can get out and go for a two-mile jog through the woods *unenthusiastic jazz hands* if anyone wants to fling us off a cliff again, now is the time, i repeat—”

they still end up running and it’s insufferable. it’s hot and musty and just ~unpleasant~

somehow the avengers have evolved into a chaotic Debate Team and now they’re discussing who gets to be carried by thor and bucky

at an intersection, the two of them stop to catch their breath and they’re both just staring at each other, sweaty and covered in avengers hanging off their limbs

thor, prying loki off his back: “i’m sorry but we’re gonna have to do something different here”

y/n is hopping off bucky’s back when there’s suddenly a loud, ugly sound reverberating through the forest, followed by many footsteps that seem to come closer by the second

they run

branches keep tearing at their skin as they bolt through the woods but they’re not stopping because it’s clear what is happening right now

they’re being chased by wild boars

at this point they’re just embracing death and if they survive it’s a bonus

a boar comes running towards bucky and wanda but bucky “i have been falling for 90 years and i’m sick of it” barnes stares it straight in the eye, daring it to knock them over and the boar just squirms and make a u-turn

another wild boar seems to have decided that clint is not part of the herd because it sends clint FLYING in a quite impressive and beautiful arc

steve tries to ditch clint and train the boar

clint wasn’t hurt by the fall, but he stares at steve as if he might as well have broken a rib

they’re back on the bus and happy cocks a brow when he sees that everyone is exhausted and covered in dirt. he chooses to say nothing when nat climbs in with loki half-leaning on her for support and glaring broodily at the floor

everyone just wants to sleep and forget that the avengers were almost defeated by boars but bruce and sam keep bickering in the front row

“it’s too bright in here” “it’s the sun” “the lights get too noisy” “…what” “make it stop” “what do you want me to do?? turn off the sun???”

peter and y/n are huddled in a seat again, sharing headphones to drone out the noise and the moment he hits play, y/n looks at him blankly

peter, shrugging: “what? my 7 songs still go hard”

* * *

what are your seven songs that still go hard? pls tell me bc i desperately need new music <3 stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

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naokow · 3 years ago

Text

Get Free

summary: I want to get off, but I keep riding the ride, I never really noticed that I had to decide, to play someone's game, or live my own life.

warnings: angst, manipulating behaviour from eren, female reader (i’m sorry i didn’t make the reader genderless), cursing, smoking, drinking. let me know if i should add something else.

word count: 2.8k

A/N: so let me know if it sucked, pls, thank you. also, English is not my first language, so there can be mistakes pls tell me where my dumb ass was wrong

The hand on the waist was the final nail in the coffin for you.

How dare he dance with another girl. How dare he smile at her, how dare he ignore you and act like you weren't there, too.

"This is just pitiful," Marleen snorted, finishing half of her drink in a sip as she watched the same scene unfolding in the living room, those two uncaring of everyone else, like they were throwing it in your face.

You hummed, not really in the mood for taunts and half assed advices. "Which part?"

Marleen finished her drink and threw the cup over her shoulder, over the improvised bar the frat boys did last year with wood panels and boxes. It landed in the kitchen, someone yelling at the brunette as it nearly missed him.

"You. Honestly, for the last time, you need to—"

Frowning, you tensed and turned to glare at her, only to stop staring at the dance floor. "Honestly, Marleen, for the last time, I'm not fucking Jean to get over Eren."

She raised her hands in mock surrender, taking the half empty bottle of beer from your loosened grasp. "Doesn't have to be Jean, pal."

Groaning, throwing your head back dramatically, you couldn't find it in yourself to debate this subject, again.

Not that it mattered. Not like it was supposed to be a fun night at a frat house. Not like you made a fuss about it, dressed in your best leather pants and top, tattoos on display.

Not like you actually tried a bolder look with the cat like eyeliner and actually put on lip gloss, because you knew Eren liked those, said once your lips were pretty like that, coated with too much cherry glitter—

No, it didn't matter, not even as you sat there, feeling stupid as you pulled at your snake bites, wondering if you should get drunk or just go back to your dorm and complain to Annie.

But the blonde was at the party, too, somewhere among the crowd and probably sulking just as you, if you were to guess after seeing Armin with some junior chick an hour ago.

Marleen pushed herself away from the counter, losing her balance as she fell from the chair, but you saw it coming. Rolling your eyes, you caught her arm and steadied her.

Marleen grinned as you let her go, and seized your bicep, squeezing it three times, like a grandmother would with her grandchildren's cheeks.

"God, I love your muscles."

You loved them, too, but often found yourself wondering if Eren would pick you if you looked different, like the pretty, thin brunette wrapped around him on the dance floor.

God, how much can someone dance?

"Anyway," Marleen sighed, fake annoyance and all that, "Someone has to fuck Jean."

You snorted, "Poor you, volunteering like that for society."

She waved you off, pushing your now empty beer bottle into your chest as she left your side with her arms in the air, waving franatically to catch Jean's attention from his seat on the couch, where Connie was trying to explain something with his fingers.

Putting the bottle behind you on the counter, you tried to stop yourself from looking at him. What good did it do to—

He was gripping her waist, his large hands, clad in rings you got for his last birthday, covering her exposed skin. Her arms were in his hair as he bent to say something in her ear—

No, you noticed, he was kissing her neck and she was grinning sideways at Eren.

Scoffing, you tugged at one of the pierces in your nose. You should know better by now, Marleen once chided after cleaning your face off, ruined make up almost dried on your cheeks.

He knows, Annie scolded from beside you two in the small public bathroom after Eren ruined karaoke night and brought his new girlfriend.

He knows you love him and doesn't care. So do yourself a favour and move on.

Yeah, you watch Eren laugh at something the girl said, move on from the crush you had on him since you were sixteen and his hair was still short and he was crying over his parents' divorce.

Sure, move on and forget all the times you helped him, picked the pieces and put him first. Like he did, all those years going down the drain ever since the school year started and he barely acknowledged you.

"You look like shit," someone took the seat next to you, and you sighed before accepting the offered red solo cup.

"Feel like it, too," you looked at Levi snorting as he sipped on his beer. He looked like he just got out of bed.

Right, you scowled at yourself. You've been so busy preparing to let Eren walk all over you, that you forgot that Levi lived in the frat house that hosted the party.

Hange was talking Erwin's ears off, but he smiled and waved at you from where he stood close to the oven, once you looked over your shoulder to inspect who was there. Hange imitated his gesture without turning to see who, exactly, they were saluting.

Levi ignored them altogether, hair disheveled from his twitching fingers. He probably had a nap, you guessed, from the simple black shirt and jeans. Most likely got dragged down from his room by Zeke, or someone.

You knew him well enough, since he bumped into you almost one year ago, in the parking lot where you were smoking, asking for a lighter. Sure, he ignored your bad mood since you walked over to class when Eren forgot to pick you up.

It was just one time.

It wasn't until many months later that he picked a habit of ditching you and your plans together.

Levi was older by two years, and so were his friends, but they took you under their wing almost immediately.

They were protective of you, especially Hange, but no one came close to Levi anytime Eren made you cry or upset you with anything.

Like now, as he glared at the place where you already knew Eren was having fun with the girl. But you chose to look at Levi, chin in the palm of your hand.

Finally, he turned to take you in, his eyes catching onto the fact that you wore the rings and choker he got for you over the last year, then the many earrings Hange and Erwin got you anytime you wanted another pierce.

"Well, you sure look worse than me," you smirked, but Levi frowned at your attempt.

"He did it again?"

You couldn't find it in yourself to get mad at his words, "He just forgot, is all."

Levi snorted, "He should get checked for that Alzheimer he's been sporting for the last months."

You hit his arm, barely touching him, and huffed. "Play nice."

To his credit, he left it at that and let the noise of the party fall over you, both nursing your drinks.

You pondered going to Hange to ask if you could crash over the night with them, knowing Marleen was busy and Annie probably left by now.

"Want to dance?"

Well, then.

Your eyebrows almost reached your hairline as your eyes found Levi's, "Huh?"

He didn't shrug, or rolled his eyes, simply putting down his bottle and staring at you. You didn't want to look over at the dance floor, or be near that sexual tension, but—

But Levi was trying, and you knew how much he despised the parties, or having to interact, or, God Almighty forbid, dance.

And he was asking if you wanted to, because he knew you liked the song that was playing before you even realized what song it was or that you've been moving your head along with the beat for the last minute.

But Eren was th—

You jumped from the bar stool, "Sure."

You were taller than Levi by some good inches, but that didn't bother him. It never did, not even when you made fun of it at game nights or that one time at the carnival when he was the only one to join you in the big rides.

It didn't bother him, not even now, as you let him put his hands on your bare waist and slightly gaze up at you.

Hands around his neck, you let your chin rest near his ear, "You dance like someone's grandpa."

You could only assume he scoffed as he moved his arms around and pushed you closer to his chest.

"That's how you're grandpa danced?"

You shrugged and let him move your hips to the beat, fingers lost in his hair. "Wouldn't know. He died before I was out, kicking and screaming for the last time in my life at my mom."

Levi shook his head at your words, used to your humour and thankful you couldn't see his smile as he put his forehead on your bare shoulder.

You found yourself forgetting about Eren for a while as Levi danced with you and touched your skin, fingers grazing sometimes over your back or spine.

Then he was lost to your mind altogether when Levi caught your eye and you tried to make sense of the look he was giving you.

Marleen said something about his stares, when you couldn't see him watching.

You wet your lips, and he watched your tongue swipe over the pierces. "What, Ackerman?"

He shrugged, "You hate lip glosses."

It was barely there after all the drinks, but the thin, shiny coat with that stupid glitter was noticable enough for Levi to glare at.

And you did, you did hate lip glosses when Levi's arms were around you like that and his hands didn't shy away at the feeling of your muscles like Eren once did, because, damn, what chick wants those abs?

"'m stupid, I know," you mumbled, head titled close to his ear, but he turned to look at you, not even dancing anymore as his mouth was so damn close to yours.

"Want me to buy you another lipstick? What was it, again? R—"

You laughed, and Levi smelt the juice and whiskey on your breath. "Red, yeah. Still don't know how you found that shade, it was so nice, and I finished it too fast."

Levi smirked a little, "Told you, it's a secret. How else am I gonna surprise you?"

You felt him around you, too real, too much, it consumed you, steadily, as his eyes wondered around on your features.

"You surprise me anyway, Ackerman."

He wet his lips, then frowned, having to remind himself you weren't there for him, that you were in that position only because you were hurting again and because he was stupid and reckless and—

"Take it off, please?"

Levi searched your eyes, "What?"

"The gloss crap. Take it off, please."

Levi's breath hitched. "Are you sure?"

You looked down at his lips, "Help me a little, Levi."

Damn you. Damn you and your beautiful face, that irresistible body and that personality and the fact that it made him fall hard. So hard he couldn't deny you, even if it hurt him.

Because you were still hang on Eren, waiting and suffering, uselessly prolonging the inevitable everyone knew its end, but you.

But now you were in his arms and looking at him like he put the stars that formed those constellations you adored so much, on the sky.

Damn you, da—

He would never admit it hurt to press your lips to yours, to feel that cherry lip gloss first, then the punch as he probed at your mouth to get rid of that crap as you so nicely asked him to.

He hardly noticed how the pierces felt against his tongue, all lost to his mind as he gripped your hips tighter.

He would never admit it bothered him how your fingers played with his hair as you moved your face down and kissed him too roughly for his taste.

But it brought some satisfaction to glance over your shoulder at the shocked, angered Eren, his dance partner forgotten as he stared at his hands on your skin.

Good, it felt good. Even when Levi knew you would regret it the next day and go back to sulking over Eren.

But you brought his mouth back to yours and kept his face in your hands and made him ignore how much it hurt while he bruised your lips with too many kisses.

Levi tried to convince himself that things would finally be better, that it was the right move and he wasn't just a rebound. Maybe, if he kept telling himself that, he would believe it, too.

Even as you pecked his lips once, twice, stopped to gulp down breaths of air, like you just surfaced from water, like you've been drowning and finally, finally, you were free now.

But you stayed close, foreheads pressed against each other's while some stupid disco song started playing and Connie's excited yells surpassed even the stereo system.

You opened your mouth, and Levi wondered if he should be the first to say sorry.

"This is nice."

Flinching, you furrowed your brow and turned to look at Hange. They grinned, inches away from your face. Levi scoffed, and took one, two, fuck it—

He almost jumped away from you, putting space, almost making a statement. He glared at Hange.

"Is this our new secret handshake? I have to tell Erwin," they didn't wait, and you sighed as Hange bounced away to annoy Erwin for the millionth time that night.

You clicked your tongue, Hange forgot to tell you why they interrupted... Whatever that was with Levi, who was now rubbing his face in what you knew was annoyance.

Wetting your lips, and feeling no trace of cherry, made you feel worse than before.

"Right, I'm—"

Levi scoffed, hands back into his pockets as he already moved to walk past you. "Don't. I'm sure Jean would like to continue this."

You wondered why his words stung that much, because you were supposed to feel better after kissing someone. Because it was supposed to make you feel something else than sadness and constant self hatred.

Because—

Eren was making his way towards you, and Levi was already lost in the crowd before you could try to mend things. And say what, exactly? Nothing made sense anymore, your thoughts scattered all over the place because—

"What was that about?"

He was asking you, talking to you, and it didn't feel as good as you thought it would. Neither could bother to step aside, talk somewhere private, people still drinking and dancing around.

But why would Eren go somewhere private with you? It wasn't right. Nothing was feeling right as he glared down at you, at your swollen lips and flushed cheeks, that even the low light of the Christmas lights hanged around the walls couldn't hide.

"What?"

Sure, you were broken. Mind blank and fingers twitching to hold onto something.

Eren frowned, "What was that about, with Ackerman?"

You blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

It wasn't the apology you almost shot at Levi earlier. You sounded too confused and shocked, even for you.

But nothing made sense and Eren was now fuming.

"Listen—"

And you were all years for him, straining yourself to hear him over the music and the crowd that pushed your bodies closer. All because you were used to this, dropping all doubts and latching onto Eren. Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time he was that close to you, couldn’t comprehend the harsh reality.

He was there because it bothered him to lose his play toy, and you were too blind to see it, or anything else beside his eyes as he talked. Blinking, you allowed Eren to take you to the kitchen, something about another drink.

Levi was lost to you as Eren put his arm around your shoulders, barely keeping it there as he started talking about his classes and something his colleagues. You granted him your attention, all of it, never half hearted like he was with you most of the time.

Try all the time.

Because you were better, always so caring and welcoming for Eren to just pick and take whenever he pleased. But he was your friend, you cared too much about him to just let him go or ignore his needs. And he even left that pretty girl to talk with you. Surely, that must count as something.

“Where’s your lip gloss, hm?” Eren inquired, watching you over the rim of his cup as you blinked, head titled to actually think about what he asked. Then,

“Oh, sorry. must’ve worn off,” you struggled to articulate the words, barely thinking them through, feeling small, almost lost under his stare for a moment. Eren smiled down at you, almost cynically, as he put his cup down and took your hand in his.

“Want to dance?”

You nodded, faster than before, with—

It didn’t matter, not in that moment.

Assuring him it was alright, because every little thing was alright to you as long as it was Eren and his hand was taking yours, even if the hold was loose, barely there, like he was seconds away from letting it go.

#eren yaegar #levi ackerman #fanfic #reader #eren x you #eren x reader #levi x reader #hange zoë #erwin smith #reader insert #female reader #aot fanfiction #eren angst #levi angst

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starlight-writes-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

camping hc’s w/ the feral boys <3

AYO LOOK AT THESE : implied smut if u look hard enough , but really just some cute , fluffy feral boys content lol . these ended up being really fun to write so let me know if u have any other ideas for more hc’s !! ily , starlight ☁

reblogs are always appreciated !!! <3

all as a group -

god help us all this would be a MESS

you guys would get one of those massive tents that have separate rooms for everyone

s’mores are a guarantee

alex and clay would light their marshmallows on fire

and chase each other around with them

karl is FOCUSED on getting the perfect golden roast

sapnap keeps nudging him to mess the marshmallow up

george literally has his marshmallow in the fire for .2 seconds

clay would give him so much shit for it and the two of them would “argue”

but george would end up breaking his smore in half for clay

and feeding it to him most likely

alex would bring his guitar and play it while everyone sat around the fire

sapnap would definitely start singing ‘campfire song’ from spongebob

everyone would pick up

and dissolve into laughter

clay would be the first to bring up telling scary stories

you’d be scared as shit from the words he was crafting

youd sandwich yourself between karl and alex

alex would poke your waist , jumpscaring you

and you’d pout saying you’re going to bed

youd walk into the tent

they would all C O M P L A I N but eventually join you

at least one of them pees on the fire “to make sure its completely out”

george would ‘knock’ on the tent to see if you were dressed

because they’re respectful , your honor

everyone would meet in the main part of the tent with sleeping bags and pillows and blankets

completley abandoning all the separate rooms

you’d all take turns talking about nothing at all really

making stupid jokes

if you fell asleep first , clay and george would make everyone whisper

you need your beauty sleep

they’d all fade pretty fast after that

but karl would wake everyone to watch the sunrise together

dream -

would have the top of the line camping equipment

even if it was for like

a two day trip

he’d go to an outdoor store and come home with an entire car full of camping shit

a portable grill

a blowup mattress

the nicest two person tent money could buy

the full nine yards

would put you in charge of planning meals

which is probably a good idea

has had the campsite booked for months

somewhere by a lake

“clay , we literally live by the ocean”

“it’s not the same , baby”

he’s right , its not

would take a mini road trip to get there

he’d make sure to stop at all the tourist traps along the way

you two would end up with a bunch of fruit from a roadside stand

once you finally got there

the tent would essentially pitch itself

he’d do the car salesman slap on the nylon

“best tent money can buy”

you’d probably take a nap , tired from the drive

by the time clay shook you awake the sun was setting

so he'd fire up his little camping grill

pls he’d geek out so hard over it

you’d be awake from the nap

so clay would light a lantern and the two of you would just

wander around the campsite holding hands

you two would absolutely go swimming at midnight

clay would pick you up in the water

and have you wrap your legs around him like a koala

he’d pepper your face with kisses

then dunk you under the water

once you two got out you’d get in pajamas

and clay wouldn’t be able to inflate the air mattress

he forgot the pump

but you brought sleeping bags just incase

you two would fall asleep as close as two people in sleeping bags possibly could

sapnap -

would insist on being the manliest man

like would collect firewood and everything

he’d show off the axe he brought

then would chop the wood

he's gloating smh

and would get 125670 % more overprotective when you wanted to try

would stand behind you and show you how to swing

would guide your arms and everything

but would stand like

10 feet away

when you went to actually swing

spooked by how hard you chopped

but also proud ???

would build a fire as it got dark

and tell you how pretty you looked in the light from the flames

he’d be pretty old school w camping food

would stab a poker through hotdogs

he’d help you roast yours , rotating it so it cooked even

would forget the buns and condiments

“i thought we had everything!”

the two of you would die of laughter

just eating ur hotdogs

off of the pokers

however

would remember a stash of candy and snacks

so you end up eating those too

nick would have the tent up in less than five minutes

“fastest tent pitcher on this side of the mississip” 😎

would bring it up 13790 times

he would find a way to zip your sleeping bags up together so it's one big franken-bag

he’s so warm

keeps you toasty

George -

camping was most likely your idea

but gogs is all for it

gets really excited and buys a two person sleeping bag

“so we can still cuddle”

you’d bring all your camping equipment so you had a pad to sleep on

“sleeping on the ground hurts , baby”

“isn't that the whole point ?”

would have his hand on your thigh as he drove to the campsite

and would play loud music the whole way there

with all the windows down

you two would set up camp while it was still light

both struggling™

to get the tent up

it would take y’all like an hour

and both of you would be all sweaty after wrestling with it

so george would change into swimming trunks and wait on you to put on a bathing suit

then he would piggyback you to the lake

running straight into the cold water while you scREAMED

you’d smack him so he’d let you down

then you’d splash him

a splash war would ensue

george would grab your hands , threading them through his

“be nice to me >:,(“

you’d get all soft and wrap your arms around him

the two of you would swim for h o u r s

until someone got hungry

you’d show gogs how to make a campfire

he’d knock over your demonstration

“i want to try”

would nail it on the first shot

you'd be baffled but entirely impressed

after dinner he would show off the oversized sleeping bag

you two would get in together , legs tangled

would probably download movies on his phone beforehand for you guys to watch

he’d fall asleep first , lulled to bed by the sounds of outside

Karl -

loves camping so much

just loves outside in general

would already have a bunch of gear

but would insist on finding a way for you two to be able to sleep together

we all know this boys love language is touch

even in his sleep he needs some sort of skin to skin contact

would buy a camping bed

i feel like karl would want to make “real camping food”

so he’d do hotdogs

and those foil packet thingies with potatoes and corn

he’d show you how to seal they foil and bury it in the coals properly

would scrunch his nose at you while you messed the wrapping up on purpose

“let me do it for you , baby”

would proceed to do it for you

he’d take 100000000000 pictures of you

in the sunset lighting

the campfire lighting

the moon lighting

because he cant help how beautiful you look

would feed you bites of vegetable in between your hot dog

“are you staying hydrated?”

brought juice boxes , too

he’d set up a place for you guys to stargaze

and would point out all the constellations

yall would make up your own too , giving them full backstories

he’d slow dance with you under the moon until it got too cold to be outside

the two of you would … take advantage of the camping bed

crossing ‘outside’ off the bucket list 😌

by day 3 he was tired of his traditional camping food

would beg you for some of your snacks

you’d feed him oreos and fruit snacks while you guys hiked

Quackity -

was not down™

at first

but once he saw how excited you were

he would be all in

would go to a camping store with you and pick out equipment

alex would insist on getting the stereotypical camping cookware

“we have to !!!”

“no we dont???”

“yes we do 😤”

would refuse to sleep on the ground

buys one of those camping pad things

would buy a two person sleeping bag as well

“if im doing this im at LEAST sleeping next to you”

you’d beg him to bring his guitar and play it at the campfire

he’d sing you soft songs while you toasted marshmallows

and you’d feed him s’mores

but you two would end up just eating the chocolate bars instead

he’d bring some sort of card game

and you two would get way too competitive

probaby uno

you’d be screaming at each other at like 1 am

“yOU DIDN’T SAY UNO”

would get a noise complaint

but alex does not care

not one bit

would make a joke about you screaming his name instead

ends up loving falling asleep to the sounds of nature

somehow finds his way into being little spoon

you two fall asleep holding each other

and wake up a tangled mess

begs you to stay another night

because he actually likes being away from it all

and getting uninterrupted one-on-one time with his girl

next time you guys get a free weekend , he’s the one who suggests camping

because he loved it so much

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bbq-hawks-wings · 4 years ago

Note

I had a Hawks whump dream ;-; I think him and the Todoroki's excluding Endeavor, and maybe Shouto(?) fell from some high place, maybe a waterfall? It was frozen, I get the feeling there was some kind of scuffle and everyone got separated. Just a guess. I mostly remember that Hawks was knocked out, and there was a sense of worry there, and that neck brace he wore in the recent chapters was gone and replaced with ice, so I think it may have been damaged and Rei made another using her quirk.

(+) I am in tears, and so concerned for Hawks here and don't even know how the dream ends! It was all to make sure he didn't die or get hurt further, akskldska BBQ help- 😭 what happened to him, oh my gosh. At some point it looked like all this happened in the form of 'chapter leaks' and we were posting the panels on tumblr. I think maybe Natuso and Fuyumi tried to warm him up? I think I was trying to force my dream to give them temperature related quirks haha, pls save Hawks T-T im concerned.

I don't know how much of this is accurate to real life, if at all but BBQ to the rescue!✌️✨

~~~~~

It was a double-edged sword. Before he'd become too cold to respond he had complained about a pain in his neck, but the freezing water covering him from head to toe made the only hard, workable material they had available to make a brace just as fatal; and they were terrified to move him.

For the Todorokis with a natural cold resistance, the frigid temperature wasn't nearly so scary and they had thought nothing of asking Hawks to join them on this cold retreat in the middle of winter after his feathers had been used up at work; but now they deeply regretted it. Going ahead without Shouto onto the trail and that rickety old bridge over the falls was a mistake, even if it was a freak accident. None of the others had the reflexes or power output to safely make a wall of ice to bring them to the bottom in one piece, and with the few feathers Hawks had managed to grow back in only a day he had slowed their descents long enough for them to be merely bruised, but the price had come at none left for himself.

So now, they sat here up on a secluded mountain trail in the dead of winter while any other soul would have sanely stayed miles away safely inside while they held their broken loved one in their arms - physically trying to hold his soul down to earth with them. None of them possessed the ability to warm him quickly, and without the means to start a fire, the only thing they could hope for was that holding him close to share body heat and keeping his head still would work until Shouto eventually caught up with them so he could get him safely to help.

Fuyumi cried, telling him how sorry she was for pushing him to spend time with them. She thought it would be good for him. She never wanted this to happen.

Natsuo's heart broke knowing he had the knowledge to keep him safe, but not the physical means. No matter how much he hated his demon of a father, he'd be willing to sell a piece of his soul if he could be miraculously granted enough of his fire right now to keep him from dying.

Rei held his head to her chest, her arm around him cradling him to her body like she had cradled each of her children when they were babies. She'd never done so for him, but the love she felt for him could have fooled her into believing she did. The pain wracking her breaking heart was so familiar she couldn't believe anything less than the man she held in her arms was as much her son and the others.

"No. No, not you, too."

Hawks never learned about any of it. The ice at the bottom had been paper thin, but he didn't fall feet-first as would have been ideal. He was out of his element, and the shock had made him delirious. He only remembered being held and broken images of the clouds flying by overhead with the occasional tree branch whisking by before he woke up in a bed in a room with a warm fireplace blazing.

He could tell by the stinging of his neck that he hadn't been dreaming, but a gentle touch by his side led his eyes to find Shouto by his bed.

"It's ok, Hawks, you're safe."

Details came flooding back and he couldn't help but snap into hero mode.

"Where are Rei and the others?"

"All safe here." He pointed to a sofa on the other side of the room from where he'd been looking previously, and all three leaned on each other asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. "I found you all huddled by the river bank. If Natsuo hadn't climbed up the cliff and back up the trail I might not have found you in time."

Hawks gave a sigh of relief. "How'd you pull me up out of there? You didn't haul my dead weight through the woods, did you?"

Shouto offered miniature ice sculptures in his hands to illustrate, "Ice sleigh, slush beneath, and strategic use of ice columns."

Hawks couldn't help but laugh. "Good man! Make sure you hang onto that for later. It's clearly effective."

Shouto wasn't in the mood to accept the compliment at the moment. "They were really worried about you."

Hawks glanced over again to the family sleeping on the couch. They all had new clothes and were so much more relaxed than he had last seen them screaming in a free fall. He didn't remember the last time someone sat next to his bedside waiting for him to wake up and see he was ok.

He settled back down against his pillow with a sigh though he flashed a lazy, wry grin in Shouto's direction. "How about you just tell them they can make it up to me by going somewhere tropical next time."

#she speaks #let's talk hawks #she writes

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slytherinbarnes · 5 years ago

Text

Sub Rosa [8]

viii. day trip

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, character death, violence, fighting, blood, injuries. Allusion to past assault.

Summary: You and Bellamy go on a little day trip, even though you’d rather be with anyone other than him.

a/n: oh hey, I like this chapter! also, pls no one worry bc I WILL NEVER KILL BELLAMY BLAKE FOR THIS SERIES! happy endsings only (but don’t let that fool you, bc we got angst angst ansgt on the way!) also join the taglist here!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You stand back and admire your handiwork of the repairs to the wall, satisfied with its hold. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you move over to the water containers and grab something to drink. Clarke finds you leaned up against a tree, drinking water, and she walks over with a small smile. “I’m heading to the tent to talk to the council, if you want to join.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sure I can look at Jaha’s face without screaming. I’ll probably just check on Octavia, if that's okay.”

She nods, “Of course. I think she’s still in the dropship, waiting to visit the Grounder.”

You stand and nod towards the tent, “Let me know how it all goes.”

“I will.” She offers you one last smile before ducking into the tent to face the council.

You glance around the busy camp, watching the teenagers as they move around, repairing the wall and preparing for winter. Sure that they can handle it, you turn and head to the dropship, unsurprised to find Octavia plopped down near the ladder, waiting to see the Grounder. You smile as you approach, “Visiting hours over?”

She lets out a huff of frustration as you settle down beside her. “Yes. Bellamy won’t let anyone up except for Miller.”

“I wonder if I could-”

Bellamy’s voice cuts you off, “You’re still here?”

He descends the ladder, feet hitting the floor, and you notice his eyes shift over to you before landing on Octavia again. Her eyes slide away from him and land on the wall, annoyed. “I’m not moving until you let me up there to see him.”

“Get comfortable,” he quips back.

Noting the tension, you stand and silently move away from the siblings and over to the dropship door, eyes scanning the camp. You spot your twin immediately, headed your way, looking troubled. She comes to a stop at the door, and you tune out the bickering siblings behind you as you ask, “How was the meeting with the council?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Jaha tried to lecture me about forgiveness.”

“Good thing I missed it then.”

“No kidding. But,” she holds up a map and a set of coordinates. “There is potential good news.”

She hands you the paper and you look over it as she continues, “It’s supposed to be an old emergency aid depot, built to withstand nuclear war. It could shelter us from the cold.”

You start to hand her back the map, “You going to check it out?”

“No,” she pushes the map back your way. “You’re going to check it out.”

Your brows lift in surprise, “Me?”

“You’ve been out there more, and you know the terrain better. Plus, I have to keep an eye on Finn, he’s not out of danger yet.”

“Okay, I’ll pack a bag then.”

You start to walk away, but she grabs your arm, stopping you. “Wait. There is one more thing.”

She looks over your shoulder, eyes locking with someone, before she nods them over. As you hear footsteps approach, she sighs, “I want you to take Bellamy with you.”

You pull a face and step back, as he stops beside you. You glance up at him and back at your twin. “No way. No.”

“What’s going on?”

You ignore him and glare at Clarke as she insists, “You’re the only two I trust with this, and I know that you’ll keep each other safe.” She squeezes your arm lightly and adds, “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

You glare at her for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Fine.” You redirect your glare to Bellamy, “Be ready in ten, I’ll meet you by the gate.”

“Ready for what?”

“Clarke will explain.” And with that, you walk off, grabbing a pack and your knife on the way. You stop at the food station and grab a few rations before making a beeline for the gate. As soon as you arrive, you spot Bellamy already waiting, stuffing a bunch of rations deeper into his pack. You give him a sidelong glance and brush past, “Let’s go.”

Unlike your previous outings with Bellamy, this one is largely spent in angry silence as you navigate through the woods and pointedly ignore Bellamy. As you climb down a grassy hill, you pull out a pack of nuts and eat them quickly, noticing that Bellamy is trailing behind you, doing the same. As you reach the bottom of the hill, it starts to slope upwards again and you check the map before continuing. When you reach the top, you pause, and Bellamy stops beside you.

In the distance, there’s a large house, destroyed by the nuclear apocalypse. You start to feel uneasy as you take in the burned out house, situated behind a dark lake. You glance at Bellamy, “The depot is supposed to be around here somewhere.”

You watch him scan the area again, “Let's just split up, cover more ground. Stay within shouting distance.”

You walk off down the hill, towards the lake, while Bellamy moves parallel to the house, both of you in search of a door. Only a few minutes pass before your foot lands on something with a metallic thunk. Confused, you step back and brush the leaves and debris away, revealing a door. You smile to yourself and call out, “Bellamy! Over here, I found a door!”

A second later he approaches you, stopping beside you at the door. You lean down and pull on the handles with all of your strength, but it doesn’t budge. You look up at him, “I think it's rusted shut.”

“Here. Watch your foot.” He pulls out his axe and uses it to break the lock, before muttering, “Give me a hand.”

You both pull on the door, and this time it swings open with a creak. You peer into the ominous darkness and pull out two lights, turning to hand one to Bellamy. With a deep breath of courage, you descend the stairs, Bellamy close behind. You follow the stairs deeper into the depot, deeper into the darkness, pausing when you see a skeleton sitting on the stairs. Bellamy stops behind you, so close that you can feel his breath shift the hairs on your neck. You shiver and squeeze past the body as he mutters, “Hell of a place to die.”

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, and shine the light around, disappointment flows through your body. Cobwebs hang over everything, accompanied by a thick layer of dust. A damp chill hangs in the air, and you both have to step around fallen and scavenged supplies. “This place is disgusting.”

Bellamy hums in agreement. “Anything left down here is ruined.”

Water rains down from the ceiling in front of you, and you cringe and skirt around it, looking at the picked over shelves. You lift the lid of a box in front of you and smile at the contents inside, “Hey, I found blankets.”

“Excited about a couple of blankets?”

You toss a glare at him over your shoulder, “It’s something.”

He storms past you, dropping glow sticks that he found as his voice rises in anger, “How about a canteen or a med kit or a decent fricking tent?”

He lets out a yell of frustration and kicks an oil drum over, the black liquid spilling towards you. You turn in surprise, your shock only growing as you hear something clatter to the ground. Your eyes lock on the pile of guns now spilled out over the floor, and you and Bellamy lock eyes, mouths spreading into a grin.

He grabs a couple and pushes past you, back to the blankets, pulling one from the container. He shifts everything over to one arm and grabs you as he walks by, dragging you with him. You yank your arm free and freeze in place, watching as he uses some dirt to spread a target on the blanket before hanging it up. “This changes everything. No more running from spears.”

You lift a gun from beside you, eyeing it carefully. He grins as he stops beside you, watching as you load the gun. “Ready to be a badass?” You roll your eyes and he steps towards you, “We're lucky the rifles were packed in grease. The fact that they survived means we're not sitting ducks anymore. You need to learn how to do this.”

You let out a sigh, “Fine.” He moves out of the way, allowing you to step up to the target, lifting the gun with hesitation. You glance down at the gun, and then over your shoulder to look at him. “So I just hold it on my shoulder?”

“Yeah.” He steps closer to you, folding his left hand over yours where it sits on the grip, and placing his right hand on your right shoulder. He guides the gun up, “Just a little higher now.”

You lean down and peer through the scope, trying to ignore the way his breath shifts your hair and his hand slowly slides from your shoulder and down your back. Another chill runs down your spine and Bellamy doesn’t miss it. And then he’s stepping back and shaking his head as if he’s clearing his thoughts, “Yeah. Uh, that's good. Watch and learn.”

He steps away and grabs a gun of his own, before moving up beside you and pulling the trigger. You hear a click echo in the small space, but stand there confused as nothing else happens. Bellamy reloads the gun and pulls the trigger a second time, but the gun offers nothing more than another click. You let out a snort and he turns to glare at you as you openly smile at his expense. “Still watching.”

He glares at you harder, “My bullets are duds. Try yours.”

You lift the gun and settle it to the place on your shoulder, where Bellamy instructed, before looking through the scope and pulling the trigger. The sound of the gunshot rings through the room, and you stand tall and admire the new hole in the blanket. You let out a laugh in amazement and turn to him, finding that his face is already split in a smile.

You let the smile drop when you remember your anger, but you don’t turn away from him. “I guess we’re going to have to talk to Clarke and decide where we’re going to keep these and who has access.”

He ignores you and raises his gun, pulling the trigger, and stepping back as the sound echoes in the room. You spot the hole he leaves in the target, near the middle. As you’re about to comment on it, he turns to you suddenly. “You should keep Miller close. The others listen to him.”

Your brows draw together in confusion. “I should keep him close? Bellamy, what's going on?”

You stare him down and he shifts beneath your gaze, uncomfortable. A lightbulb goes off in your head when you remember the rations from earlier, “All the rations you took. You're gonna run! You were gonna load up on supplies and just disappear.”

“I don't have a choice. The Ark will be here soon.”

You step closer to him, “So you're just gonna leave Octavia?”

Bellamy shakes his head, “Octavia hates me.” He pauses and his voice drops to a whisper, “You hate me.”

He shakes his head again and takes in a breath, “She’s gonna be fine.”

“You don't know-”

He cuts you off, “I shot the chancellor. They're gonna kill me. Best-case scenario, they lock me up with the Grounder for the rest of my life, and there's no way in hell I'm giving Jaha the satisfaction.” He slams the gun down and throws his hands up in frustration, “Keep practicing. I need some air.”

He brushes past you, leaving you alone in the depot. You stand there for a minute, looking around, before lifting the gun back up and aiming at the target. As you do, you watch as the target melts away, taking the bullet holes with it, leaving the blanket untouched. You lower the gun in confusion and back away, jumping in surprise as you feel the gun bend in your touch. You throw it to the ground and step back from it, turning to look around in confusion as the space around you transforms into your cell in the Skybox.

You feel panic rise in your chest as the prison stares back at you, mocking you. You back away in horror, jumping in surprise when your back collides with someone. You spin around, and come face to face with your father.

You feel your lip quiver with emotion as you whisper, “Dad?”

He smiles and you jump towards him, sighing in relief as his arms wrap around you tightly. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent of Ark soap and grease. As you pull him tighter, the memory of his death flashes across your mind, and you feel your stomach drop. You pull back slowly and watch him closely, “You're not real, are you?”

“Sorry, kiddo. I wish I were.”

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts, before looking around at your cell. “Wait. How is this possible?”

“I'm thinking why is more important than how. Why me?”

Tears well up in your eyes, “Because I miss you. And I never got to say goodbye.”

He shakes his head and reaches up to brush your necklace, “Think there's more to it than that.”

You hear his voice in your head, disconnected from a memory. My girls. My sun, my moon, my stars.

You feel your face harden at the thought of her. The thought of what she did. “You want me to forgive her.”

“Your mom loves you both. Everything she does, she does for you two.”

You turn away from him, and plop down onto your bed. “She betrayed you. How can I forgive her for that?” He pulls a face, and it’s one you recognize well. “The disappointed look isn't fair. I'm trying.”

He reaches out and pulls you to him, into a hug. “Come here. I know, honey. It's been tough, hasn't it?”

You feel emotion tighten your throat, “I watched as someone got tortured. Said awful things to Clarke. Caused the Culling on the Ark…”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you recount your sins, and your father leans down to kiss your head. “You're doing the best you can.”

“You want me to say mom did the best she could.”

His face softens, “This is about what you want.”

“You're dead because of her. She doesn't deserve my forgiveness. Our forgiveness.”

He shakes his head softly, and comes to stand in front of you, “Listen to me. Forgiveness isn't about what people deserve.”

Before you can respond, his eyes lift sharply, and you swear you hear muffled yelling nearby. He looks back at you, and lifts a hand to your face. “My little la lune. He needs you.”

Seconds later, something collides with the back of your head, sending you tumbling down a tunnel of black.

You pull your eyes open, groaning against the sharp pain radiating from the base of your skull. You rub your eyes and struggle to recall what happened, letting out a quiet gasp when you remember your dad’s final words. He needs you.

Bellamy.

You stand, fighting against the pain in your body, and stumble towards the gun you tossed down earlier, grabbing it quickly. You run towards the stairs and out into the night, following the sounds of yelling nearby. As you get closer, you see Bellamy on the ground, looking up at Dax, who is pointing a gun down at him. You stumble up behind them and aim the gun at the middle of his back, before yelling, “Put it down, Dax.”

He spins, “Should've stayed down there. I tried not to kill you, but here you are, and Shumway said no witnesses.”

Your blood freezes at the name, and you lock eyes with Bellamy. You take a deep breath, willing the fear to leave your body as you look back at Dax. “I won’t tell you again, put it down.”

“Walk away now, and I won't kill you.” When you stay locked in place, he shrugs. “Your choice.”

You pull the trigger, but the gun clicks, and your blood goes cold at the sound. You dive to the left, behind a tree, seconds before you hear Dax’s gun go off. He misses, but you hear Bellamy yell in anger before colliding with Dax, the sound of them fighting reaching you behind the tree. You tug on the gun, trying to reload, before giving up and jumping up from behind the tree, and running at Dax with the gun raised to use as a bat. “Get the hell off him!”

Just as you reach him, Dax spins and hits you with the butt end of the rifle, right in the stomach, sending a flood of pain through you as it collides with your wound. You groan and hit the ground, but the distraction gives Bellamy enough time to find a discarded bullet and plunge it into Dax’s neck. You both watch as he bleeds out, struggling and gasping for air, before he hits the ground, dead.

Bellamy stumbles towards you as you drag yourself to the tree, clutching your stomach. You plop down at its base as he lowers himself beside you, his hand on your thigh as you both pant from exertion. You grit your teeth against the pain and lean towards him, putting your hand on his arm. “You're okay.”

“No, I'm not.” He shakes his head, and you watch tears well up in his eyes. “My mother...If she knew what I've done, who I am...She raised me to be better, to be good.”

You try to cut him off, “Bellamy-”

“And all I do is hurt people.” He lets out a sniffle as the tears spill over his cheeks. “I'm a monster.”

“Hey.” You squeeze his arm and he turns to look at you, “You saved my life today. And ten other times. You may be a total ass half the time, but I need you.” His eyes widen slightly and you continue, “We all need you. You want forgiveness, fine, I'll give it to you. You're forgiven, okay? But you have to come back with me.”

“Jaha will kill me when he comes down.”

You shake your head, “We'll figure something out.”

He lets out a deep breath, “Can we figure it out later?”

You nod and let your head drop to his shoulder, whispering, “Whenever you're ready.”

You both sit in silence for a few minutes before you whisper, “I saw my dad.” He shifts beneath you and you lift your head to look at him. “I mean, I know it wasn’t him, but this time I got to say goodbye.”

Unsure what to say, he chooses instead to say nothing, and you lean back against the tree, looking at the stars. Your eyes find Orion quickly, and you whisper, “See those three stars in a row up there?”

You see Bellamy nod out of the corner of your eye. “That’s Orion’s Belt.” You lift your hand and trace the rest of the constellation. “And that’s Orion the Hunter.”

You turn towards him slightly, a small smile on your face. “They say Artemis, the goddess of the moon and the hunt, fell in love with Orion. And Apollo, her twin, was worried she was going to give up her vow of chastity for him. So one day, when Orion was swimming far out into the ocean, Apollo called to his twin. He pointed to a rock near the horizon, and dared her that she couldn’t hit it. Of course, Artemis hit it easily. But imagine her horror when Orion’s body washes up on the beach, and she realized what she had done. She put him up in the stars after that.” You turn and look at him. “I wonder if she takes comfort in knowing that he’s always up there.”

You look away and back up at the stars, both of you sitting in silence. After checking your bandage and watching the moon rise higher, you mutter, “We should probably get back.”

“Yeah, we probably should.”

He stands and helps to pull you to your feet, before leading you back down into the depot, and gathering the guns and blankets. You both tie up a sack a piece of weapons, and head back to camp, walking through the woods in a comfortable silence, interrupted only to discuss what’s next.

As you near the camp, you hear the sounds of fighting from within. You and Bellamy walk faster, pushing through the gates just as someone asks, “What if he brings other Grounders back?”

Just then, Bellamy pushes through the crowd, before stopping in the middle. “Let the Grounders come. We've been afraid of them for far too long, and why? Because of their knives and spears. I don't know about you. I'm tired of being afraid.”

You both drop the sacks, revealing the guns to a camp of excited teenagers. You catch Clarke’s eye across camp, and sense her hesitation, but she offers you a smile anyways. Bellamy continues, “There are plenty more where these came from. Tomorrow we start training, and if the Grounders come, we're gonna be ready to fight.”

Excitement ripples through the camp, and you give Bellamy a nod before walking over to your twin. “I need you to set up a meeting with Jaha for me and Bellamy.”

Her brows lift in surprise, “Uh, yeah. Of course. Just give me a few minutes.”

You nod and look around in search of Bellamy, spotting him near the edge of camp, draping a blanket around Octavia. You watch with a smile, and when they seem finished, you call out to him. “Bellamy.”

He turns and looks at you, and you give a nod in confirmation. He heads over to you, following you to the tent. Clarke steps out and gives you a smile, squeezing your hand quickly as she passes.

You both step inside and settle down side by side, pulling on the headsets to chat with the waiting Jaha. When you’re both ready, his eyes go straight to Bellamy. “Mr. Blake, I've wanted to talk to you for some time now.”

You cut in, “Before you do, I'd like to say something. When you sent us down here, you sent us to die, but miraculously, most of us are still alive. In large part, that is because of him, because of Bellamy.” You both lock eyes, before you turn back to Jaha. “He's one of us, and he deserves to be pardoned of his crimes just like the rest of us.”

“I appreciate your point of view, but it's not that simple.”

“It is.” Bellamy offers, matter of fact. “If you want to know who on The Ark wants you dead.”

Jaha considers this for a moment, and each passing second feels like a minute. He leans forward, looking at you. “You're pardoned for your crimes.” He turns to Bellamy. “Bellamy Blake, you’re pardoned for your crimes.”

You both smile in relief, before Jaha continues. “Now, tell me who gave you the gun.”

When the video feed ends, and Jaha disappears from the screen, you and Bellamy exit the tent in silence, before pausing at the door, unsure what to do. Just as you are about to step away, he turns towards you. “Your cut.” You glance up at him. “We need to change the bandage.”

You nod and follow him to his tent, sitting in the same spot as before as he gathers supplies. When he makes his way back to you, you lift your shirt, exposing the bandage. You watch him quietly as he works, removing the bandage, cleaning off the fresh blood. Only breaking the silence to ask, “What if they don’t float him?”

He looks up at you, confused, and you add, “Shumway, I mean.”

“They will.” He goes back to your wound, nearly done cleaning it up.

You press, “Yeah, but what if they don’t?”

He looks up, sensing something in your tone, and meets your eyes. You take in a sharp breath, and look away. “There’s something about Shumway that I haven’t told you before. Something I haven’t told anyone.”

He picks up the bandage, wrapping it around your middle, afraid to interrupt you. You pick at your nail as you whisper, “I was arrested a few days before my dad was. But I didn’t know that until Shumway came in my cell one day to gloat. He told me that my dad had been arrested for treason and was going to get floated for it. He said he was getting floated in half an hour.”

You hear Bellamy’s sharp intake of breath and he leans away from you to meet your eyes. “Shumway wanted to know what I would do in order to see my dad one last time. What would I give him in order to say goodbye to my father. I didn’t hesitate, I told him ‘anything’. As soon as I said it, I knew I had made a deal with the devil.”

You pause, lip quivering. “I knew that I just gave him what he wanted all along. He cuffed me and led me through the Ark, taking me to see my dad.” Your voice breaks on the last word, and tears spill down your cheeks. “I didn’t make it in time. Right as I came around the corner, we locked eyes, and they pushed-”

You cut yourself off, crying harder, and Bellamy puts his hand over yours, offering comfort. You gather yourself and push on, “I was pissed. I knew that Shumway got me there late on purpose, because that’s the kind of man that he is. I raised hell, got shocked and dragged all the way back to my cell, before they decided to throw me in solitary, permanently, because I was just too much to manage.”

You shake your head, “Solitary made it that much easier for Shumway to get what he wanted. No one listens to the cries of a problem child. No one listened when I said he came into my cell, and abused me.” You look up and lock eyes with Bellamy, finding a fire of anger burning there. “That day you found us, I thought he was gonna-” You shake your head, “Right then and there in the hallway.”

Bellamy is quiet for a second, and you see a muscle in his jaw clench and his eyes grow hard. “If he’s alive when they make it to the ground...I’ll kill him myself.”

next chapter

#bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x you #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake fanfictio #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction

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nike-shawn · 4 years ago

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What if Nathaniel chased y/n again & shawn wasn't there for the rescue ! Do u think Shawn will go after him or they'll just runaway somewhere else?! (Pls make this a blurb if you can)

Oooooo angst 😏😏 love to see it. Thanks for requesting!! Hope you like it.

You start to walk to class, flustered that you’re already running late due to your cute vampire boyfriend being much too charming for his own good. You feel so much colder now that his arms aren’t wrapped around you, one thumb running circles over your tummy in an effort to get you to fall asleep, to not go to school. This night class is the hardest one to get to, and almost every day you want to skip and cocoon back into Shawn’s warmth.

You lock your car and absentmindedly scroll through your groupchat’s texts, realizing you missed a big fight between your roommates. You smirk at the stupidity of their argument— it’s crazy how menial life seems when you live forever.

In your reading, you almost didn’t notice the crunch of leaves coming from behind you. Your blood goes cold. Of course, Shawn warned you about Nathaniel, but he had assumed that even he wouldn’t be dumb enough to continue to pursue you after the threats Shawn made to him. You had let the whole situation fade from your mind— it had been months since you felt fear like this.

You look behind you. Nothing.

You pull up Shawn’s contact and have your thumb poised on the call button.

You never get to press it. The phone clatters to the pavement and you’re gone.

🖤🖤🖤🖤

You wake up and you’re wrapped in the only set of arms that can make you melt like this: Shawn’s.

Your body is extremely sore and you have a huge migraine behind your eyes, and every small sound forms a piercing pain. You cuddle deeper into your boyfriend’s chest and his arms tighten around you protectively. He kisses the top of your head.

“How are you feeling?” He asks you quietly.

“I feel like I got ran over by a truck,” you say. “Wait, did I?” You start to piece your memories together. The crunch of leaves and then... nothing. You remember feeling your feet leave the ground, like you were thrown off your balance, but the rest of the situation pulls up a blank. Fear starts to creep back into your brain. Yes, you’re comfortable now that you’re with Shawn. But what happened? Where was he?

“No, no, you didn’t get ran over by a truck,” he says with a strained laugh.

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it, baby; nothing happened.”

“Don’t lie to me, Shawn.”

“You just have a migraine.”

“You’re lying.”

You push up a bit out of his lap, trying to ignore the almost unbearable pain in your head. You realize that you’re on his couch, in his apartment. This is unusual— the two of you are almost always holed up in your crappy campus apartment since you have class and it’s much more convenient for you. You can count on one hand the number of times you’ve been at Shawn’s place, and each time it was only for a few hours while your roommates were annoying you or while Shawn picked some things up. The lights are dimmed and Shawn’s fresh, flowery scent is on everything. But right now you’re in so much pain and you’re so confused that you just want to get away from him, burrow into some sheets and fall asleep knowing it all will be okay.

But you’re not sure if everything will be okay. Right now, it seems like everything is very, very wrong.

Shawn feels you try and pull away. He gently keeps you in place— your strength is like a strong gust of wind compared to his hurricane. You don’t stand a chance. He’d never used it against you, but now you’re feeling trapped, helpless. “Shawn, let me go. I’m serious.”

“Y/N, you’re overreacting.”

“You’re lying!” You scream. His arms release you like a spring, like you burned him. You stand and feel all the blood rush from your face. You grip the back of the armchair to keep your balance. Shawn’s eyes are anxious, like a deer watching a speeding car. “You’re lying, Shawn. I was walking to class and someone, or... or something grabbed me. Threw me.” You feel tears in your waterline. “Tell me the truth.”

He extends his hands in front of him like you would when introducing yourself to a mean-looking dog. “Baby—”

“Don’t baby me,” you yell. “If you don’t tell me right now what actually happened, I’m walking out that door. I swear I will. I’ll walk right out there and walk straight into the woods to let whatever it is take me for good.”

Deep down both of you know that Shawn would never let that happen. But the sentiment is enough to make him worry. “I...” he starts, wiping his palms over his sweatpants. “I didn’t think you remembered anything.”

“What does that mean?”

He won’t meet your eyes. “I asked Greta to wipe your memory.”

Your mind goes to the nice older woman whose long, grey hair is braided down her back and whose eyes are so kind. She’s a witch, apparently. You met her a while back when Shawn accidentally drank too much of your blood and you had been feeling lightheaded for a few days. (“Silly young vampire”, she had said, “got carried away, I see.”) But now she’s being called upon to... wipe your memory? You feel a bit of betrayal. What happened that was so bad she had to wipe your memory?

“Okay,” you say, trying to compose yourself. “What actually happened to me?”

Shawn folds his hands behind his head and looks down at his knees. “One of the other vampires, he...” Shawn trails off, clearing his throat. You can feel him start to get upset and you imagine that he has tears falling down his face, why he put his head down. “He took you somewhere. He was— was taunting you, telling you horrible things. Tied you up. Your wrists...” he gestures to your wrists. You look down and see bruises wrapping around the bone. You touch it and feel pain lighting up the area. “I’m just... I feel so horrible. I should’ve known that someone else would go after you, but I was stupid and so reckless.” You can hear the tears in his voice now. “I’m so incredibly sorry. So, so sorry. When we found you, you were so traumatized with everything he said. I couldn’t let you just live with that. I’m... I’m so, so, so sorry.”

You can feel his energy pulling you in. Sometimes you and him seem connected by some invisible string of emotion. You can feel his sadness wrapping around you like a heavy blanket, and your body is tugged into his almost automatically, your legs wrapping around his torso and your arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his tears wet your shoulder. His hands are flat against your back, fingers gripping into your shirt like he can’t quite get any closer but desperately wants to. Your fingers comb through his hair to try and calm him down. “It’s okay,” you whisper, “I forgive you. It’s not your fault; it’s okay.”

“And I’m sorry I had her wipe your memory but I never want you to have to live your life in fear because of me—”

“No, no, thank you. I think that was the best way to do it.”

He nods against your shirt. He sniffs. “He’s dead,” he says quietly. “Don’t need to worry about him.”

“What? Who?”

“His name is.. nevermind, that doesn’t matter. But he used to be Nathaniel’s right hand man. I don’t think he was sent by him, though. I think... I think the other vampires are trying to get me back into the collective.” You remember Shawn talking about the collective, a group of powerful vampires that control the rest of the less powerful, younger vampires. Shawn is young, very young, but he is stronger than most. He has been pursued after leaving the collective a few years ago. “They know that you make me weaker. You give me something that would kill me if it was taken away, and that’s dangerous. I guess they are trying to spook me, show me how easy it is to take you away, make me want their protection.”

“Why don’t you join them?”

“They’re terrible, Y/N. They’re power-hungry.” He lifts his head and you see his red-rimmed eyes and wet eyelashes. Your heart hurts. “But they’re never going to stop going after me, after you. They know I’m strong. They know I’m a threat unless I’m in their group.”

You feel chills send down your spine. “So what do we do? How do we get them to stop?”

Shawn pauses and skates his thumb over your cheekbone distractedly. “Greta was telling me about this island that she goes to sometimes, when times get rough in the supernatural world. It’s enchanted, I guess. Enchanted with good magic that would keep us safe.”

The thought of momentarily leaving school and your friends and family makes you feel anxious, but if you needed to get away for a bit to be safe, you’d sacrifice it. “Can we go there?”

“You can go there; you should go there,” he says.

“You too.”

“No, Y/N, I can’t. It’s enchanted by good magic. I’m full of bad magic; it would weaken me too much to live there. I’d have to come and go.”

Your heart lurches. “No, Shawn. I’m not staying there if you aren’t.”

“Just until things calm down—”

“No.”

“Yes, Y/N, you have to. It’s the only option. I will visit you often.”

You feel a waterfall of tears start to cascade down your cheeks. You push the heels of your hands into your eyes until you see black dots across your vision. Shawn shifts underneath you. You feel his chin hook over your shoulder, looking at something behind your back. Then you hear his voice say, “Greta? Yes, we’ll be there soon.”

And you let this man continue to unravel all of your life plans, one string at a time.

Let me know what you thought, and send in more vampire shawn and normal requests!

#shawn Mendes imagine #vampire shawn #blurb #angst #asks

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calmlftv · 5 years ago

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Happening to sit next to each other on a park bench, reading the same book with ash ma’am pls and thank u

Apparently, it was the perfect day for everybody to go to your favorite park. IT seemed like everybody in your city was hanging out on the expansive green, benches all filled with couples and families, children running around the play-set and screaming as you chuckled. Dogs chased around frisbees and tennis balls while people jogged along the paths, some of them bringing their dogs with them.

You couldn’t blame them; it was the perfect day, the shining but a constant, light breeze blowing through to cool down the summer day. Your eyes were scanning the benches, looking for an open spot until you landed on a man with brown hair, a book in his hand and his arm draped across the back of the wood.

You quickly made you way over to him, politely tapping on his shoulder. When he looked up at you he smiled, his book momentarily forgotten as he acknowledge the stranger beside him.

“Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt,” you said, a bit sheepish now that you had his attention. “But I was just wondering...Could I take that spot next to you to read?”

The man grinned, his smile lighting up the world around you as he shifted to sitting up, arm moving to his lap. “Absolutely, but only if you tell me about the book you’re reading.”

You grinned just as brightly, happy to have someone to talk books with as you moved to the empty side of the bench, setting your cloth bag down at your feet. You pulled out the book just as your eyes caught the cover of the one in his lap, your smile returning as you chuckled.

“Looks like we share the same taste,” you said, holding up your copy of Perks of Being a Wallflower, the very same one he held in his own hands.

The man laughed, you quickly joining him before you both settled into giggles.

“Well, small world then,” he said, shifting so his body was facing yours. His arm found the back of the bench again, his smile radiant as ever. “What made you pick that one?”

You smiled, shifting yourself to face him as you turned the book over in your hands. “It’s my favorite book,” you confessed, using your thumb to flip through the pages. The years of use showed, pen and colorful highlighter marks filling the pages. “It’s just written so beautifully, and the way it’s presented as letters captivates me. What about you?”

The man thumbed through the pages as well, looking at the words on them as he skimmed quickly. “I’ve never read it before,” he confessed, meeting your eyes again. “But I’ve heard such good things, and I’m the kind of man who reads the book before seeing the movie, so here we are.”

You beamed at that. “I’m the same way,” you said, relieved to have someone to gush about books to.

The two of you chatted for hours, your copies of Wallflower forgotten in your laps as you laughed and discussed, weighing in your favorite titles, authors, and everything else as the day went on.

Eventually you looked at the time, knowing you had to get home to make yourself some dinner.

“Listen,” you said, feeling bold. “Would you want to come to mine for dinner? I was going to make something, but we could just as easily order in.”

The man smiled and nodded, both of you packing up your things before exiting the park together.

“I’m Ashton, by the way,” both of you laughing as you realized you had been so caught up in your conversation you hadn’t even done introductions.

“Nice to meet you, Ashton,” you said kindly, the two of you walking to your home together as you gushed about novels.

#this is a dream 🥺#blurbs.ai #requests #ashton irwin #5sos #irwinkitten

17 notes · View notes

heartjwi · 5 years ago

Text

in the end ☞ nct dream

GENRE | angst

THEME | zombie apocalypse!au

SUMMARY | a war zone between the living and the dead, will you make it out alive?

WORD COUNT | 6.6K

A/N | halloween special! mark stans pls dont kill me also lmk if you enjoyed cs i certainly did!

it was just a regular day for everybody. adults off to work and students going to school. strangely enough, you didn’t find the courage to go to school today. “you going to school sis?” mark opens your door to see you all sprawled out in your bed in pajamas. “i’m not” you waved him off. “okay then. see you later” with that, he closes the door. you opened your phone to check the daily news but your timeline was awfully quiet today. no headlines or whatever. shrugging, you open youtube and watch random videos to pass the time.

after what it feels like an hour, you heard the front door slam shut making the house shake a bit. “mark?” you called out from your bed. you hear more ruckus downstairs and footsteps getting louder and louder. you slowly stood up from your bed and walked towards your door. “mark this isn’t funny!” you yell out. the door suddenly bursts open to reveal your mother with blood all over her body. you screamed as she started to strangle you.

“MOM WHAT THE FUCK” you pry her hands off your neck. your mother groans, drool dripping down her mouth. her skin was pale, her veins were popping out and she smelled like a rotting corpse.

suddenly, you hear a thud and the next thing you knew her body went flying on the other side of your room. you whipped your head towards where the sound came from and there you see mark with a baseball bat with blood all over it. “stay away!” mark yells as he makes his way towards your mom. “wait mark, what are you doing” you screamed in terror as you watch him grip the bat so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“don’t kill mom!” you cried, covering your ears. mark turns around and faces you with tears welling up in his eyes, “this isn’t mom” he swings the bat and hits your mother’s face repeatedly.

the room turned quiet, the sound of your breathing could be heard. you stared at your mother’s now dead body and the bat mark used to kill her with. mark paces around your room and grabs your backpack nearby. he shoves a handful of your clothes in the bag and tosses it to you. “pack more stuff, we’re getting out of here” was all he said before he walks out of your room. you wiped the tears falling down on your cheeks harshly and followed mark’s order, packing more necessary things to head out with

you walked out of your room to see mark waiting for you downstairs. “we have to get going, y/n” he holds his hand out, waiting for you to accept it. you pushed past him and looked outside. “can you atleast tell me what the fuck is going on?!” you barked as you see people outside running for their lives. there was chaos and destruction everywhere. cars were on fire and so were houses. everything was a mess.

“there’s no time to explain, we have to get going or we’re gonna be like them-” as on cue, a zombie breaks inside your home. you screamed and ran behind mark. “go go go!” mark yells at you, grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the house.

the moment you stepped outside, it became a warzone between the living and the dead.

the smell of rotting flesh lingered in your nose. “you can run right?” mark asks as you two were standing out open in the middle of an open street. “why?” you reply cautiously.

“well, get ready to run”

—

after what seems like hours of running and running and running, you two finally take a break in the middle of the forest. “you think we lost them?” mark pants, hands on his knees. “definitely” you reply, out of breath.

you sat by a tree stump, staring at mark. “i’m scared” your lips quivered. mark’s eyes widened and immediately sat next to you. “don’t be. big brother is here okay? remember that” mark hugs you tightly. “i’m gonna check if there’s any rivers nearby. stay here” mark pats your head and stands up. “oh yeah, before i go, i’m leaving this with you” he hands you a small swiss army knife. “stay safe mark” you mumbled as you watch mark disappear into the woods.

you looked around at your surroundings, every noise making you jump. you fiddled with your fingers as you waited for mark to come back. a little later you hear rustling from the bushes. you stood up and whipped out your knife, pointing towards the bush. “mark?” you called. the rustling gets louder and louder as you approached it. suddenly, you felt someone put you in a choke hold.

“MARK HELP ME” you screamed loud as you can and trashed around the person’s hold. “shut the fuck up or i’ll cut your neck” a soft, shaky voice whispers in your ear. your breath hitched as you felt the cold blade on your neck. “chenle, jisung, check the bags” the stranger holding you instructs the two people behind him. you watched as the pale looking boy unzips your bag and carefully taking out the contents inside. “there’s nothing in here renjun hyung!” he quips, running back behind renjun who was holding you. “there’s 3 kitchen knives in this one” the other boy adds. “fuck, we don’t have food” renjun hissed, loosening his hold.

with all your strength, you kicked his shin making him fall. “fuck!” renjun curses, holding his leg. just in time mark comes running in. “what happened- who the fuck are you” mark grips his bat tighter again. “they’re stealing our stuff!” you pointed a finger at the 3 boys in front of you. chenle and jisung moves forward, shielding renjun from mark.

“we’re not! we’re just scouting for food!” chenle blurts out, holding his hands out. renjun facepalms behind them. “chenle’s right! we’re the scavengers in our base” jisung squeaks, “we didn’t mean to cause you any harm” chenle pouts. “we’re not sure about renjun hyung but we were just following orders” jisung continued, looking at chenle with fright.

“orders from who?” mark barks at the two boys in front of him, pulling you to his side. chenle and jisung looked at each other uneasy. chenle gulps and opens his mouth to say something but renjun cuts him off. “why should we tell you anyway” he stands up and goes in front to face mark.

mark scoffs, eyeing renjun, chenle and jisung. “we could help you. i know my way around town since you and your boys are looking a bit hungry” mark points out. as if on cue, jisung’s stomach grumbles making the boy blush into a bright red. “s-sorry..” he hides behind chenle.

you stared at renjun who looks busy thinking about mark’s offer. “yeah no” renjun turns around, “c’mon, it’s useless let’s just tell jeno we didn’t find anything” he tells the two boys, walking away from you and mark.

“wait, jeno? as in lee jeno?” mark intervenes. renjun faces mark and raises an eyebrow, “you know him?” mark nods, “we were in the same basketball team” he explains. renjun stares at him unsure whether or not to trust him.

“come with us then! jeno hyung wouldn’t mind having more company” chenle chirps. renjun steps closer to chenle and flicks his forehead. “ouch!” chenle holds his forehead in pain. “what did we tell you about inviting random strangers to the group?!” renjun scolds the poor boy. “well he’s not a stranger to jeno hyung now is he?” chenle winces. you looked over at jisung who’s struggling to keep his laughter at the two bickering boys.

just in time, jeno comes out of the woods carrying a machete. “what’s taking you guys so long it’s almost curfew” he nags, not noticing mark and your presence. “oh shit what happened?!” jeno immediately spots chenle who was on the ground holding his forehead. “wait- huh? what are you guys looking at- oh” jeno stands up, finally noticing you and mark. “mark hyung!” jeno walks up to mark and gives him a bro hug.

“hey jeno” mark returns the hug. jeno turns to you and smiles, “and you are?” you didn’t dare to say anything. you just stared at him with an expressionless face. mark chuckles, “she’s y/n. my sister” mark walks up in between you and jeno and pats your head.

jeno nods and clasps his hands together. “okay then so we shall welcome mark hyung and his sister to our group” chenle and jisung both cheer quietly while renjun on the other hand rolled his eyes and walked towards the bush jeno came from.

“are we gonna get going now or let some brain eating fucks eat our brains?” renjun calls out sarcastically. jeno sighs, “sorry about him. he’s normally like that to newcomers who join our group” mark smiles apologetically. “it’s fine”

you two start walking and following jeno through the bushes. you haven’t uttered a word since then. “you okay?” mark wraps an arm around your shoulder. you nod and stayed silent the entire trip back to jeno’s base.

–

“what’s taking them so long?” jaemin looks out of the window, watching the sun set. haechan sat on one of the chairs and plopped his feet on the table. “i don’t know, but they should be heading back by now” he pops candy onto his mouth. jaemin continues to anxiously wait for his friends to come back any moment now.

the sound of the front door entrance made jaemin sigh in relief. he jogs over to greet jeno but sees a pleasant surprise when he sees you and mark with them. haechan suddenly stands up and holds out his pistol, aiming at mark. “who the fuck are you?” he barks making you flinch and hide behind mark.

jeno runs over to hyuck and smacks his gun away. “hey what was that for” hyuck pouts and picks up his pistol on the ground. “they’re our new members. so welcome them” jeno scolds him. hyuck rolls his eyes and bows politely, “hey i’m donghyuck. you can call me either hyuck or haechan and i’m in charge of the weapons and other shit in our base” haechan introduces himself.

you stared at haechan for a brief moment before your eyes land on jaemin who was already staring back at you. you felt your face burn in embarrassment by just making eye contact with a random stranger.

“okay so this is jaemin, he’s our cook and keeps everyone sane” jeno jokes, pointing over to jaemin at the corner. ‘so his name is jaemin’ you think to yourself. “and now you know everybody, jaemin will give you a brief tour around the base and he’ll show you where you two can stay” jeno informs you and mark. mark thanks him and walks over to jaemin.

“hi just like what jeno said, i’m jaemin” he introduces himself first, “follow me i’ll show you around” he shows a bright smile before walking further in their base.

–

“so this is the kitchen, if you need me just head over down here” he points over at a dimly lit room filled with pans and stoves. “now over on this hallway is the dining area. we all gather here at 7am, 12pm and 6pm to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner and when jeno has an announcement and every friday we all share our reports about everything” he now points over to another room.

“how will we know if it’s time to eat? we don’t have watches” mark raises his hand. you smacked his arm, embarrassed yet again by his actions. jaemin turns around and laughs, “good question. chenle usually calls everyone down to eat” mark nods and giggles.

“also you see this random door?” jaemin shows the two of you a room in the middle of the kitchen and dining room. “this is where we keep weapons and other shit like medical kits, medicine, you name it, it’s in here. so it’s no entry unless jeno or hyuck tells you to come in” jaemin explains. you nod your head, not really minding the room cause why the hell are you gonna come in anyway if it’s filled with weapons.

“also if you go straight here, the bathrooms are on the other side” jaemin adds on, carrying on with his little tour.

“now over here are the bedrooms” jaemin leads the two of you into a big corridor with doors on each side. “this is my room” he points at the first door just as you enter the corridor. “now these are jeno’s, hyuck’s and renjun’s rooms” he individually points at the neighboring doors just beside his room. “and this is chenle and jisung’s room. they share a room because it seems like they can never be separated.. cute kids” he smiles fondly, staring at their door with a caution tape all over it.

and lastly, jaemin finally shows the two of you two spare rooms.

“so these 2 are not occupied so i guess you two can take it” jaemin turns around faces you and mark. “so that's it for the tour. if you ever get lost, just go to the kitchen, i’m there always, i’ll be going now” jaemin waves goodbye at the two of you, leaving you two alone.

“god, this place is huge” you finally speak. dropping your backpack to the ground. mark snaps his head towards your direction, “and she finally speaks!” he claps his hands together. “i thought something happened to you” he laughs. “yeah, that renjun dude almost slit my throat” you rolled your eyes at the memory. “not till i slit his throat first” mark huffs.

“so which room are you gonna take?” mark looks at the two doors in front of him. “can i take this one?” you point at the left door. “sure, it’s better for you anyway. i don’t want any zombies crawling inside the window and eats you in your sleep” mark tried to make a joke but it only made you scared shitless.

–

after settling your things in your new room, you head over to mark’s room where he was folding his clothes in. you knocked and invited yourself in. mark turns his head towards you, “need anything?” you shook your head no but mark spots the teddy bear you were holding. something he never saw again from you for how many years. yet he knows you only hold it when you’re scared.

“are you scared?” mark asks softly. you slowly nod your head and sat next to him. “can i sleep here with you for now?” you ask in a small voice. mark doesn’t say anything and moves his things so he can make space for the two of you.

you crawled onto his bed, taking the space near the wall where no one can grab you or anything. mark chuckles at the sight of you wrapped in blankets with your teddy poking out of the blanket. a sight he wished to see more when you started to grow up in front of him. “good night mark” you squeaked, making mark smile. “goodnight sis” mark kisses the top of your head as you head off to dreamland.

–

you woke up to the sun peaking through the window. you see mark sleeping peacefully on the floor with his trust bat just beside him. ‘oh mark’ you smile at the thought of him letting you borrow his bed. you quietly tiptoed out of his room and out to the garden for some fresh air in your pajamas.

you walked out to see nothing but trees and the smell of rotting flesh still evident in the air. you wandered around the open area and passed by a watch tower where renjun would sleep on the job. you walked closer to one of the fences and spot a zombie walking around. the zombie caught on your scent and staggered towards the fence. you let out a small scream catching the attention of jaemin who was nearby picking out some herbs.

“hey!” he yells, running towards you who stood frozen watching the zombie attempt its way on getting closer. jaemin pushes you behind him and stabs the zombie on the head. “this place?” he motions the fence area, “is off limits!” he scolds you as he grabs your hand and drags you inside.

–

“has anyone seen my sister?” mark walks inside the dining area where everyone was waiting for jaemin to come out with the food. jeno was reading an old book, haechan and renjun were conversing and chenle and jisung were playing with each other.

“i haven’t” jeno states, sipping on his water.

just in time, jaemin walks in the room with you trailing behind him like a lost puppy. “where’s the food?” chenle asks. “what are you doing with y/n?” jeno and mark both ask at the same time. jaemin tsks, looking at you with a disapproving look. “she was at the off limits area just now” jaemin reports to jeno.

everyone's eyes snap towards you, including mark’s. “she did what?!” you hear renjun’s voice boom. “girly are you trying to get us killed” hyuck’s voice followed with choruses of chenle and jisung’s “you shouldn’t go there next time”

you kept your head low and avoided everyone’s stares. jeno stands up and tells everyone to shut up. “guys!” he bangs his hand against the metal table, making everyone in the room stop talking. “she didn’t know and she’s still a newbie so give her a damn break” jeno starts, “also thank you to jaemin for looking out for her and why isn’t anyone on watchtower duty?!” jeno looks at everyone in the room. “what day is it today?” he grumbles, looking at his beat up watch checking the date. “it’s a tuesday.. renjun why aren’t you on the tower?” renjun stands up and runs to the tower before jeno could look at him making hyuck burst out laughing.

mark sat next to you and strokes your hair, “are you okay?” he looks at you. “no” you reply. mark sighs, “i hate it here” you whisper to him. mark stares at you, “it’s all we have as a shelter y/n so be grateful” he scolds you quietly. “whatever” you stood up abruptly from the table and stomped your way to your room.

“sorry about that, she was kinda shaken up with the situation, we should let her cool down for a bit” mark apologizes to everyone in the room for your behavior. jeno smiles, “it’s okay hyung. it happens to the best of us. you might wanna give her breakfast though” jeno reminds him.

“i’ll give it to her” jaemin butts in the conversation. jeno raises a brow which jaemin blatantly ignored. “i should apologize for the tone i used on her.” jaemin carries a tray filled with breakfast and makes his way towards your room leaving mark, jeno, hyuck, chenle and jisung dumbfounded in the dining room.

–

there you lay on your bed holding a family photo and looking over at your mom and dad’s faces. “i miss you guys” you whisper, your fingers hovering their faces. “i hate it here, what even happened” you continued, memories rushing in your head. “i hope you guys can see what i’m doing right now and i hope you will guide me and mark through this hell hole” you wiped a stray tear that escaped your eye. “oh god now i’m crying” you wiped more tears away from your face.

you stopped your actions when you hear someone knocking on the door. “come in” you yell out. the door opened slowly to reveal jaemin. you scoffed and turned your face away from him. “here’s your breakfast-” you cut him off by saying you weren’t hungry. jaemin sighs and looks down, “i’m sorry for what i did, i didn’t mean it like that but the place was really off limits” he apologizes. “i’ll leave your breakfast here and i hope you eat” and with that, he quietly closes the door. leaving you and your thoughts.

“here comes better days” you sigh, standing up to eat the breakfast jaemin made.

— 6 months later —

the apocalypse only got worse as time is running. the zombies were evolving on a rapid pace. there was no sign of possible cures as of now. in the vast 6 months, you have grown close to your new family which now included renjun, jeno, haechan, jaemin, chenle and jisung. it took a while for them to grow fond of you and your dramatic ass but in the end, everyone was good with each other.

thanks to your persistence and bravery, jeno promoted you as a scavenger instead of a cook which jaemin to be the only cook yet again. mark became jeno’s right hand, guiding jeno and everyone else in the group in safe hands.

“guys we’re low on stocks” jaemin comes running in the dining room from the kitchen. “already? didn’t we have supplies that could last us for a month or so?” hyuck questions. “we celebrated during that time we were able to fend off a wave of zombies” renjun reminds everyone. you stifled in your laughter as you remember the time hyuck was the one who suggested everyone should celebrate.

“what’s so funny there y/n?” hyuck eyes you. “what’s funny is you were the one who suggested we celebrate” you laughed, making everyone double over laughing at the memory. hyuck’s face turned into a bright shade of red and whines that it wasn’t his fault.

“okay so y/n, haechan, mark, and jisung gather your weapons” jeno reminds the group. jeno then opens the window to call chenle from the watchtower. “chenle what’s the news up there” jeno shouts from the dining room. jeno smiles as he sees chenle rushing down the tower carefully and sprints towards the window.

“kinda cloudy today hyung but sun is still evident so it’s all clear” chenle reports, still looking bright as ever as the first time jeno saw him. he wonders how some kid stayed positive over a situation like this.

“you hear that folks? it’s time to scavenge!” you cheered. everyone grabs an empty backpack and grabs their own weapon. refilling their bullets and packing some medical kits. you skipped over to jaemin and gave him a hug.

“keep safe for me, angel” he kisses the top of your head making you blush. haechan and the others watching made fake gagging sounds making jaemin give them a death glare. “okay love birds, we’re gonna take our y/n now” mark grabs your shoulders and drags you away from jaemin. “see you later jaems!” you give him a flying kiss before getting dragged out of the door.

—

mark was surprisingly okay with your relationship with jaemin as long as you don’t do anything out of the ordinary. he even gave you the long talk about the birds and the bees that one time he walked in on you and jaemin kissing.

you walked beside jisung and linked your arms together. jisung looks down and awkwardly pats your head. “gosh noona why are you so short” he complains, resting his elbow on your head. something he does to piss you off.

“gosh jisung why are you so tall, i can’t even see you anymore” you mocked him. “hey!” he then chases you. “mark save me” you ran around mark in circles. suddenly jeno motions everyone to be quiet as he hears rustling in the woods. you and jisung stopped in your tracks and grabbed your weapons out of instinct.

it turned eerie quiet real quick while everyone was looking around. the rustling became louder and louder in your direction. you stepped closer to the bushes and see a squirrel run out, making you release the air you’ve been keeping in. “false alarm” you tell the group. they all sigh in relief and continued their way to the city, avoiding anything suspicious and creepy in their way.

–

your group finally reached an empty street. “guys there’s a convenience store over here” haechan points to his right. “there’s a pharmacy at the end of the street too” mark tells everyone. jeno nods and formulates a plan in his head.

“okay so the plan is, first we raid the convenience store and fill 2 backpacks worth of food, drinks and anything necessary. after that we go straight to the pharmacy and head back home” jeno carefully explains the plan. everyone nods in agreement and you 5 head towards the convenience store.

jeno was the first one to head inside, checking each aisle incase there were any zombies lying around. jeno comes back outside and tells everyone that the area is cleared. you directly go to the canned food aisle and stuffed your bag with the first thing you see.

“i got the canned goods!” you yell out to no one in particular. “i got the drinks!” jisung yells back. haechan was on door duty at the time and notices that is has started to rain. “guys, i think we have to find some shelter after the pharmacy run..” haechan announces. jeno stops in his tracks, “why?” he walks over to the door where haechan was staying at. “fuck it’s raining”

mark walks over to you and hands you a bunch of tampons and pads. “mark!” you smacked his chest making him laugh. “this is so embarrassing” you cried out, hiding the pads and tampons in your bag. “you told me you ran out!!” mark laughs out loud, “also here” he gives you his favorite, worn out hoodie. “wha-” he cuts you off, “you’re gonna get cold, it’s raining” he tells you.

“you know what, let’s just wait till the rain will stop, then we’ll go to the pharmacy” jeno tells the group as they grab chips from the shelves and sat out front.

you grabbed your favorite chips and sat beside mark and cuddled to his side. “you were right, i’m cold now” you giggled. mark giggles again, wrapping an arm around you. “big brother’s got you forever and always sis”

–

the rain didn’t stop for a while so almost everyone is now passed out from waiting. you were napping on mark’s lap with his other jacket draped around you as a blanket. jeno and mark were conversing about the plan and other things to kill time.

“so were you always this close with y/n?” jeno asks as he stares at you who’s passed out. mark chuckles, moving your hair away from your face. “not really, this apocalypse made us like this since we have no one but each other you know?” he smiles at jeno. jeno nods, “fair enough. you guys just have the sweetest brother and sister relationship i’ve ever seen”

little by little, everyone started to wake up and the rain started to clear up. “i think it’s okay to head out now” jeno checks the atmosphere outside. “wake everyone up” he tells mark and haechan. haechan goes over to jisung and shakes him, “dude wake up” jisung sits up and grumbles while rubbing his tired eyes.

“y/n wake up” mark softly shakes your shoulder. you flutter your eyes open and sat up too fast, hitting mark’s face in the process, “ouch!” mark yelps, holding his nose. “shit mark i’m sorry!” you held his face and took a look on his now bleeding nose. “yeah it’s fine, can you find me some ice please?” he holds his nose.

you went to the freezer and got a bag of ice and pressed it against his nose. he winces a bit before adjusting to the coolness. “i’m sorry” you pout at mark. he waves you off saying it’s fine.

after awhile mark’s nose finally stopped bleeding and everyone was ready to head out to the street again. little did you know, the new evolved zombies can smell blood despite being 3 miles away.

–

you all entered the pharmacy with ease. there were no zombies to begin with anyway. you grabbed many first aid kits as you can fit inside your backpacks while the rest grabbed anything that could be useful for the team.

there was a sudden bang near the front entrance. “did anyone hear that?” haechan asks, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating or anything. “hear what?” you answer and another bang was heard.

“shit! the zombies found us” mark cursed as he took a peek outside the window and it was a dozen zombies ready to push the door down. “move! move! move!” jeno orders, running towards the back door. the front door falls down and now the zombies were swarming in.

jeno opened the back door which was a storage room while mark was the last one to come in.. “shit we’re trapped” you cursed. looking everywhere for a possible escape route. “how did they even find us?!” hyuck paces around. mark looks down at his shirt that has stains of blood earlier from the nosebleed.

“guys i think they found me” mark speaks up, pointing at his stained shit. “oh shit” jeno comments. you stared at mark with wide eyes, “this was my fault..” you muttered. “no it isn’t y/n” mark tries to make you feel better but you stopped him. “no, it’s my fault that we’re being chased and now we’re stuck in the storage room” you sigh, feeling sorry for being a burden to everyone.

the door starts banging again, making you yelp. “mark take your shirt off!” hyuck orders him. “are you crazy?! do you want him to die out of hypothermia?!” you retaliate. “give him the jacket he gave you then!” hyuck snaps back at you. “guys it’s okay” mark starts to speak quietly. you snap your head towards him, “no it’s not fucking okay?! we’re going out of here together and that’s that” you react.

mark suddenly shows a scratch mark on his back. you felt tears well up your eyes. “no..” you whisper, slowly falling down to the ground. jeno and everyone else stood in shock at the sight of mark’s wound.

the loud bang of the door brought everyone back to reality. mark looks like he’s contemplating on whether sacrificing himself to the hoard or wait till he turns and have you kill him instead. but he chose to sacrifice himself so you and everyone else can escape.

“y/n, i want you to listen to me very carefully” mark panicks as the bangs got stronger and his wound started to hurt. you stared at him with tears welling up your eyes. “always remember that i will always be with you, no matter what i’ll be guiding you wherever you go” he starts, wincing at his wound. you hold his face, tears were now streaming down your face. “mark you can’t do this to me” you cried.

mark’s heart was crushed at the sight but he can’t stand the feeling of knowing either today or tomorrow, you would have to suffer even worse cause you will be the one to trigger the gun pointed at his head. “you promised me.. you promised you will be here beside me. you promised you would protect me from everything. you promised” you broke down on the floor. everyone in the room tearing up at the sight of this heartbreaking scene.

“big brother will always protect you” mark smiles, his hand on the doorknob. you pushed yourself off the ground and latched onto mark one last time. “i love you” you sobbed to his shirt, mark hugs you back tighter and kissed your forhead for the very last time. “i love you too, now promise me you will keep safe no matter what?” he holds you for a bit. you nod furiously, your tears running down your face. “you big crybaby, always crying” mark laughs. a laugh you will no longer hear. you let mark hug you for a moment, just to cease the last moment with each other. jeno, haechan and jisung were full on crying with you at this point.

mark turns to them for the last time, “you three. keep my sister safe at all times or i will haunt you in your sleep” he fake threatens them. jeno nods and gives him a bro hug. haechan cried a bit and throws his arms over mark. “i’ll miss you hyung” jisung quietly steps in and hugs mark briefly.

you notice a tear left mark’s eye as he turns to you again. “i’ll see you later” he smiles one last time before turning the handle and sacrificing himself to the zombies. he closes the door as soon as steps out of the storage room. “MARK!” you sobbed as you tried to open the door again but jeno held you back.

you trashed around his hold, wanting to open the door to see mark standing there in triupmh for defeating the zombies and believe everything was just a sick joke. “mark” you wailed, growing tired of thrashing around. jeno was now hugging you and trying to distract you from the disgusting sounds outside the room but it was no use.

jisung was looking around and found a window that they could use to escape. he tugs on haechan’s shirt and points at the window above them. ”hyung look” haechan’s face lit up. “yo jen we found a way to escape” haechan calls over to jeno. who was on the floor holding your crying body.

“great! just let us out of here before the door breaks” jeno motions to the breaking hinges. hyuck pushed this shelf thing that’s sturdy enough to be stepped on and climbed to the top. he broke the window by using the end of his rifle to hit it. the glass breaks and he opens it from the outside. he climbs out and notices it’s dark out.

“jisung give me your hand!” haechan calls over to jisung who held the shelf. he climbed to the top with ease and hyuck pulls him out of the storage room. “okay jeno give me y/n now” hyuck tells jeno below.

“we’re leaving now” jeno whispers to you. “mark” you sobbed but complies anyway. you climbed to the top and hyuck pulls you out. he hands you over to jisung who opened his arms for you to hug. you quietly sobbed onto his drenched hoodie even more. jeno was reaching the window when the door broke and the horde of zombies rushed in again. jeno was able to pull himself out of the stock room just in time before a zombie grabbed his foot.

“let’s go” jeno takes a mental headcount, his heart aching at the thought of a fallen member.

“theres a small suburban area around this place, we should head there” hyuck informs jeno. jeno hums and followed hyuck who knew the place.

you four found a house to sleep in. it was a two story house with food and other important necessities inside. jeno went inside first to check the house if it was safe or not. he later came back saying it was cleared. jeno decided it would be good if the team separated into two. one group sleeps on the second floor and one on the first floor. you paired with haechan since he was the only other person who’s capable of holding a real gun unlike jisung.

“hyuck, i’m scared… and i want mark here” you trembled as you scooted closer to his figure. haechan stares at the makeshift fire in front of him. “go to sleep, i’ll watch” he pats your head. you shook your head and haechan sighs, “i’ll protect you. i promise” you slowly complied and lie down next to him, pulling the blanket to your chin. “i want mark back” you wished, crying yourself to sleep.

you woke up to hyuck ever so slightly shaking your shoulders. you bolt up and looked around the room. “mark?” you called out, hoping it was just a bad dream. hyuck sighs, “come on, we’re heading home” he holds out his hand for you to get– which you did.

you two head downstairs to see jeno and jisung sitting on the couch waiting for the two of you.

“let’s get going”

—

you safely arrived home at the base where jaemin, renjun and chenle were waiting anxiously. “you’re back!” jaemin engulfs you into a tight hug. “i’m so glad you’re safe” he kisses your hair as he inhaled your scent.

“hey where’s mark?” renjun asked. everything turned quiet after that. you hugged jaemin tighter as tears welled up in your eyes again. “oh.. i’m sorry” renjun finally realizes the situation and stayed quiet as everyone begin to process what happened.

–

after how many days later, mark’s funeral finally happened. it took you a while to accept the fact that he really was gone in this world. jaemin helped you along the process of moving on and made a promise to mark that he would protect you no matter what just like what mark did.

it was a peaceful commemoration in memory of someone who was brave and selfless, someone like mark.

— 2 years later —

after mark’s death, it took a toll on everyone and inspired them to be brave and selfless. the old base was getting rusty and there were a few incidents where a zombie would break in. jeno took matters into his own hands and moved out of that place he once called home. he and the rest of the team evacuated and moved on to somewhere more safe and closer to the city.

jeno found an abandoned rehabilitation center in the middle of a ghost town. you all renovated the place a bit and made it feel like home and little by little things were falling into place. you all had your individual rooms, even giving a room to mark. you placed all his things inside like old times sake.

did i mention you guys started a home for the survivors? they lived on the other side of the compound where they had their own facilities to do their own thing. while you and jaemin try and find a cure, you happen to find out you were immune to the virus. making everyone wonder if mark ever made it out alive.

little by little, you guys have the found a cure to this hell. you had all the help you need and you have decided to dedicate all of it to mark. in your recent TV appearance, you announced that you will be launching your cure under the name “the Mark Foundation”

–

“hey mark.. it’s me” you sat by his tombstone, “i did it mark.. i found the cure… i cured everyone” you tell him excitedly. the wind blew past you, you smiled knowing mark was there listening to you. “i named it after you mark.. all my work is dedicated to you” you wiped a stray tear. again, the wind blew past you. “i miss you.. we all miss you” you hug his tombstone. you placed a bouquet of flowers on the grass. “jaemin and I got married, did you know that?” you giggled, knowing mark knows from above. “of course you do, you even visited cause a butterfly came by.. that was you right?” you smiled at the memory.

“my phone’s ringing, i have to get going now. i love you, mark. keep me safe always” you kissed his tombstone before leaving the cemetery. little did you know after you left, mark’s tombstone cracked.

FIN.

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0idril0 · 5 years ago

Note

pls,,,im begging you,,,comfort nico

Pure Comfort

Y’all have been begging, so here’s some pure comfort for you :) Thanks @whumpywhumper & @captivity-whump

This is a future fic, btw and I’ve had a headache like this, it was awful and confusing but Nico is going to be okay.

TW: there is a raunchy joke in here but its a cards against humanity joke.

tagging @whumpitywhumpwhump @comfy-whumpee @imagination1reality0 @vickytokio @genesissane @voidwhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doityourselfbombs @whumptywhumpdump

Nico limped down the hall, leaning against the wall to steady himself. His vision blurred and doubled making his head pound harder before settling back to its new normal.

He’d somehow lost one of his house shoes, making his journey more unstable as his sock slid against the wood floors. The floor blurred in and out of his vision as he looked down at the offending foot, trying to remember what he’d been doing. The floor looked strangely welcoming as he swayed. God he was tired.

A bright peel of laughter made him flinch into the wall, hands raising defensively to his chest as his head ducked, air suddenly hard to come by. The laughter continued, more voices joining until it surrounded him, the walls pressing in on him.

They were laughing because he’d messed up, they were going to hurt him again. His collar was gone, and he hadn’t been given permission to leave his cell. He started to back away, he needed to find his cell. His blindfold and collar.

The soft sock on his foot slipped on the wood floor as he turned, and his shoulder hit the wall, sending a jolt of pain up his neck.

A fuzzy feeling in his gut made him pause, loosening some of the tightness in his chest. His head hurt... where was he? Why he was in the hallway? A baritone chuckle made his feet shuffle forward involuntarily, drawn to the familiar tune.

The living room was a riot of colors compared to the dim hallway and...

Clint...

He could feel the warmth in his chest that meant Clint was happy with something. How—He was going to Clint.

“Oh my god, oh my go- f-fuck you Brian.” Clint was laughing, deep belly laughs that he could feel in his bones. “‘For my next trick, I will pull a big black dick, out of- grandma.’ Oh my god dude, you’ve fucking met my grandma, how could you?”

Nico peeked around the archway to the living room, it was filled with familiar faces smiling and laughing around a bunch of cards and snacks, a quiet movie playing in the background. It was comforting and terrifying.

But Clint was there. Sitting on one of the couches, a fist full of white cards in his hand. His freckled face was flushed, laughter stark on his face as he flipped Brian off where the siren sat across the room. Kristy leaned against the other side of the couch, feet gathered beneath her as she laughed with the rest of the group.

Nico felt a smile of his own tug at a corner of his mouth as he watched them. David was there leaning against the side of the love seat, Selene leaning back against him. Evan and Iris had commandeered dining room chairs. Willow and Oakley had curled up together on a pile of pillows.

He wanted to go in there. It looked warm. He could fit at Clint’s feet, there was some room between him and the coffee table. His hip hurt though, he didn’t know how far he’d walked but the joint throbbed and his knees had started to shake with fatigue.

Before he could move Kristy nudged at Clint’s elbow, concern on her face as she pointed towards the hallway he was hidden in. Nico flinched when Clint looked towards him, a tremor of confusion and concern making his own back and chest clench.

Clint didn’t shout and yell when he saw him skulking, but a slow warmth spread through Nico as a smile re-enveloped the werewolf’s face.

“Hey there Darlin’.” Clint was grinning at him, pushing up from his seat slowly. There was a small furrow between his brow as he got closer, but it didn’t change the warm feeling that had settled in his chest.

Nico leaned behind the archway, hiding behind the thick wood as everyone’s faces turned towards him. It was too much, their combined scrutiny and his throat felt like it was closing again. He gathered his trembling limbs closer, tugging at the ragged sleeves of his hoodie. He could see Clint’s shadow on the floor as the were moved closer, his bulk silent. If his hip wasn’t screaming he would have run.

Half of Clint’s face peeked around the archway, mirth making his eye sparkle. “Why’re you hiding Sugar?”

A strangled gulp was all he could manage, his mouth barely opening before his teeth clacked back together sending tremors through the rest of him. Clint didn’t look angry at all, maybe there was still hope he could sit with him.

Clint leaned further into the hallway, shielding him completely from the rest of the room as they started up a quiet chatter. The furrow had gotten deeper in his brow, his smile dimming a little. Nico felt it deeply. “Darlin’, Sugar, Baby mine, you don’t have to wait to come in. You know that. Are you ok?”

Tears started to prick at his eyes and he couldn’t meet Clint’s gaze, he couldn’t answer the question. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what day it was, he didn’t know what house he was in, he didn’t know what was happening. He couldn’t get enough air. God his head hurt.

He chewed his lip as he hugged himself, tears damp on his face. Clint came closer, making sure to leave enough room so he wasn’t trapped. It took him a moment to realize Clint was talking to him, low baritone murmurs, a litany of reassurances. “You’re home, Nico. You’re safe. It’s Friday night, you went to bed earlier because your head hurt. Is it still hurting Baby?”

Yes. God yes. He could barely nod his head, pain in his neck and temples radiating through his skull.

“Okay Darlin’, it’s okay. It happens sometimes, okay, everything’s gonna be alright. You having a hard time remembering too?” Nod.

“Okay, that’s happened too. You’re safe. You want to sit with us, or do you want to go back to bed?” A picture of a dark room came to mind and he felt a little jolt of terror. No. No he wanted to be with Clint. He reached a sleeve covered hand to Clint’s, taking a shuffling step towards the larger man before he had a chance to think about the decision fully. “Yeah, okay with us it is. You mind if I touch you Sugar? I think you left your cane and one of your house shoes, I don’t want you to fall.”

His broad hand was held towards him, and Nico hesitated slightly before easing forward, letting Clint take his elbow. He’s so warm. Nico let his eyes flutter shut, leaning into Clint’s smoky scent. The larger man paused for a moment, sheer happiness and surprise making Nico’s chest feel warm and full. There was a tremulous inhale before Clint wrapped his other arm around his waist. “Alright Darlin’, we’re going to the couch okay, you can lay down there, let your hip rest.”

Clint hands swallowed his elbow and narrow waist, taking a good portion of his weight as they walked into the room. The conversation flowed around them, unimpeded by their passage except for a few murmured hellos.

Kristy unfolded herself from the couch as he and Clint approached, giving Nico a warm smile as she walked towards the kitchen. Nico froze in front of the couch, trying to figure out how to get to the floor. It’s where he belonged right?

Clint rubbed at his back before helping him turn. “Okay Sugar, lounger’s usually easier for you. Why don’t you sit on that side huh? That way you can still sit up.”

On the couch... Nico’s head throbbed and he uneasily searched Clint’s face for reassurance. It was soft, nothing telling him that he should choose the floor instead. Nico fought with his sleeves, gripping Clint’s shirt through them before letting Clint help him sit. He pushed his head against Clint’s chest as he did, pain in his hip and head combining in a fury.

“I’m sorry Darlin’, I got ya, I got ya.” He could feel the rumble of Clint’s voice and pressed closer, fighting the pull of the couch. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, you want me to sit with you? I can sit behind you and keep you warm?”

Blunt fingers scratched against his scalp, his buzzed hairs almost overly sensitive to the light touch as he gave a tiny nod. “Ok Darlin’, you gotta let go then.”

Nico loosened his fingers hesitantly, allowing Clint enough leeway to slip behind him, settling one of his thick legs around his hip before he pulled Nico to his chest gently. He hooked his chin on Nico’s shoulder as he wrapped his thick arms around him again. He felt like this didn’t happen a lot, he instantly regretted that.

He twitched when someone else’s hands pulled his legs up and onto the lounge, forcing his eyes open again. Evan was standing in front of him with a sheepish look as he shook a blanket out over him. “Sorry buddy, didn’t mean to scare you.”

The blanket looked soft. He wrapped it around a sleeve covered fist, bringing it up to his face as he sank into Clint’s chest, maneuvering himself until he could hug Clint’s arm tightly. It reminded him of something but his head hurt too bad to think of what. The chatter in the room continued, soothing and quiet, Clint’s occasional rumble joining them.

“He’s being snuggly today.” Kristy’s soprano was quiet and close. He hugged Clint’s arm closer, hiding from it.

“I’ll take it, anything he needs.” Clint hugged him tighter, his scruffy cheek pressed gently against his short hair.

#Nico Series #recovery #headache #cuddles #clint #nico #new characters not yet characterized #touch aversion #touch starved #raunchy joke #as told by brian #future fic

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nauseateddrive · 5 years ago

Text

BACK ALLEY SORCERY by Turner Odorizzi

There's nothing like getting that text at 11:30pm from your dealer. Unsolicited, he tells you "HMU. I got it." You know what 'it' is, because you asked him for it two nights ago. At the time, he told you "out, sry", and then to your roommates you said "Fuck. He just responded and he's out." Your roommates start to fight with passive-aggressive jabs that morph into screaming. All the way up the stairs, you could hear it outside.

But he's got it.

I'm at a bar with two shots in front of me, and the bartender snarls at me for taking my phone out as I was ordering. To satisfy him, I put it up and mumble a vague apology. I turn around to see that everyone else in here is under red lights, faces bathed in pale blood, behaving like there's a comfortable toxin drifting around. All sweating. I slug the two shots and leave the red babble into the back hallway where the bathroom is, but I apologize to the bartender for real before I leave.

He says he can meet me two blocks away in an hour.

That's a long time when you've started to become drunk. The first phase of it materializes convex feelings that flip a mental switch and turn you into a false prophet. I'm so transparent when drunk lately that it's become my default setting. I think I am a false prophet.

I often have these waking nightmares when I'm drunk, usually concerning the haphazard and brutal way the world maintains itself. Lately, they've become increasingly unreal.

I finally leave after debating, and as soon as I step out onto the street, I smell the falafel drifting out of that long white truck across the street. To my right, a homeless woman snaps at this girl's ankles while they're talking; the girl likely deserves to have been bit. She's what I would call a talker: one of those placating the downtrodden with a lousy quarter, iPhone in hand. These people on the streets are treated like a dogs, so it's only natural that they react as a dog would.

I digress.

There's an hour before my dealer can meet me, and now I'm thinking I could become a runner of his, you know? A loyal soldier.

A text comes in, but not from my dealer. I'm becoming angrier and spewing emotion like piss out of my eyes.

It reads: 'What r u doing? I'm downtown. Derek and I just picked up. Wanna join?'

She knows me well enough to know I'm getting drugs. It's got nothing to do with her. My anger is vitriol that's been forcibly caged, ready to gnash its teeth and make a feral attack, but I'm sure I'll be more kind when I'm high. By that point, I'll be knee deep in the oblivion I burn into my stomach, and less acquainted with how lucid and fractured all the days seem. Hopefully I'll be nicer then.

I text back: 'Yeah, maybe. Running errands first.'

Errands always means drugs in my world.

There's something unfair about being robbed of my self-image in a place so low-lit. How dare they take me for such a simple projection?

Goddamn, he should be here already.

He knows I'll linger on this stool until he strolls up, grinning like he's got a secret, however late or tempestuous he seems. I’m a cool condensation on a tall glass, just waiting like hell to fall.

But then he taps me on the shoulder. My mind snaps to attention, the neurons all firing with voracious action potentials, and it feels like a stroke but good and warm; my mouth is drowning in saliva. Finally, I can just feel serene and let the drug do its goddamn job.

"Come on. Hit the bathroom with me."

I trail him back to the bathroom, around the corner. He hands me the bag; I hand him the money in the same motion. We do a bump together and then I'm sent on my way to do my drugs in peace.

She texts again:

" At Carrie's. No cover tonight. Would love to see u."

I must be more drunk than I thought, because I don't remember getting here, or being checked for ID. I only remember getting this drunk. But here I am at Carrie's, the bar where she is and where she wants me to meet her. Here. What an absurd concept under the cover of night, blinded by the drugs and the drinks, especially since I could just as easily be there as here. Here or there? I'm already drunk, and I can't tell.

When I first see her, I'm stuck in the memory of our last encounter where, at the wrong moment, I wilted.

About a gram in with twelve drinks washing it down, I looked down to a flaccid dick. Hyper-flaccid. I was on my knees behind her, so she couldn't actually see, but she could definitely feel it. Trying to maneuver it then, in that faltered state, is like death throes in the aftermath of a waning battle, where she's standing there waiting on my surrender to it, because she's seen failing infantry before. She's waiting for me to run down the hill, pants hanging sloppily around my ankles, bellowing that I'm not dead yet.

It happened so quick and mutated to become furiously disappointing. Wilted flowers limp over the edge of the vase, unable to photosynthesize or cope. The question: Does she remember? I'll never let it go; my dick happens to be a good three quarters of my personality. I still remember what she said to me when I huffed and leapt off of the bed like some wounded coyote, to go out for a cigarette.

"Come on! Turner? It's fine, I swear! Please just come back to bed, you can smoke that in here, and we will just open the window. Please, you know it's not a big deal."

She kissed me, and I felt marginally better...but I had stumbled onto my curse.

She stroked the back of my neck while I laid horizontally across her lap. Scorched ego; Typical male bullshit. But that's what chaos looks like for me. Destruction is my motif.

In my head, my dick would never work again, for good or ill. It was permanently soft with embarrassment and inability and extraordinary self-loathing. Without that crucial three quarters, what am I?

He's nobody. He's faceless.

We go upstairs to the balcony dance floor, one step and then two at a time. The staircase is made of new, stained wood steps. Reminds me that this is the point of the night where all highs coalesce and I am... boisterous.

Once we get a drink, she tells me she dropped her small bag of coke when we hugged by the downstairs bar. She must have lost some of it in the process, maybe all, because now she turns to me morose, verging on drug tears in the middle of the dance floor. She asks me if I had bought any from Stone earlier.

She leads me to the darkest stall in the most remote corner of the bathroom.

"Did you pick any up, baby?"

"I don't like it when you call me baby, so please don't. But yeah, I bought some. I met him at the bar, but I waited longer than I wanted to. I should've left."

"I'm glad you didn't. Can I have some, baby?"

Now she's doing it on purpose.

I'm already feeling the pretense to the emotional crash which is requisite in the valleys with uppers. It's fingering my spine, and my ass is cold.

That crash acts as a proving ground to see which drug users will spill over into the abyss.

We finish off what I had left, both of us licking the top of the container earnestly afterward. It's clean by the end.

My fugue state is resolute, allowing me to float through all of this as if it were a dream. But I have sparse hopes, and I want to cry. Badly. There is something welling up, and I need to cry.

"What did you just say?"

"What?"

"I'm asking you what you just fucking said, you drunk-ass."

She chuckles in between drinks.

"I don't...really know. It just feels like I really need to cry right now."

"Um...okay. Did I, like, do something to you?"

In moments like this, I wish there was more booze in the world than I could handle. Like so much booze, that it spews from and falls over the sides of all of those high rises downtown, raging throughout the city, happy to pick me up and transport me to some other place. A place where it's okay to be catatonically fucked up on a daily basis.

Meanwhile, the coke is really getting on top of me.

"No, I never said that. Look, it's not you, and honestly it has nothing to do with you. I just...I can't explain it. I feel gravity more than anyone should, I don't know. That seems like the best way to describe it."

She looks forward.

"It's ridiculous. Fucking tears."

"Well, do you want a hug or something? Or...maybe you need another drink?"

There's a tone in her voice that's covered in moss. Furtive, too. Judging by her oblique reaction, this is what nullifying the rules of engagement is like. Sensory destruction. I can feel that dogging me.

"No, just...never mind. I'm going outside, but I'll be back. I need a cigarette."

I won't see her again tonight, unless darker forces are at work.

Somewhere, in a grand tower with walls of cinder-colored brick, there's an aging wise man, with eyes like surreptitious black pearls, wearing what I could only describe as an onyx-colored warlock's cloak. The cloak trails behind him while he mans the strong brass bell at the top of the antechamber like a ringing monument. It chimes in step with those darker forces.

I sit down on the front steps of a hotel, searching my pockets for...no, there it is, my wallet. I am still me. How fucking disappointing after all the drugs, the alcohol, that some catalytic change didn't materialize. If only I could use alchemy to transmute myself into something productive, maybe someone or something else. As above, so below won't fucking cut it anymore. Those platitudes are hanging from that bell tower as shredded banners.

Can't the warlock hear me over that goddamn bell?

She's texting me again, realizing I'm not good on my word.

"WTF. Where did u go? Are u getting more? I'll pitch on it if you just meet me."

"Pls. Text back. I'm going to Line Bar. Meet me."

I can't help but wonder whether the beginning of hatred is always so subtle? I mean, is it always so...slippery? That I cannot exhale. She won't see me for the rest of the night, except as a useful vision of drugs but I'm just an outline there. A... falsehood. But that doesn't matter, because I would rather smoke on these steps in mute conversation with the warlock, listening carefully as he heaves back and forth, tugging the rope that bids the bell to toll.

Now It's clear that we're approaching the point in the night where the residual effects of all highs begin to wane and shrink up into themselves. They're dull, lanky fingers tickling the insides, fading quickly.

Fading toward an end.

The word of the hour is ‘terminate’. It comes from the Latin word terminus meaning border or end. We're approaching that end. Of everything: the night, the bell, the protective haze of the drugs and the booze. The warlock is shedding his cloak right there by the bell and watching it settle with the dust on the floor. He looks like me, but older, harder; He's just as close to total annihilation.

I don't hate her because I should, or because I have a rationale beyond self-loathing, or even because I'm some noble man saving her from my affliction. I look at her, or anyone, and it's easier to stomach while I'm drunk. Who can survive with that kind of doped up blanket? Better yet, who would want to?

It's getting colder as I sit here and suck down cigarettes all the way to the charred filter.

Wait.

If I'm right I think I... Do I hear...a bell? No, that's just the violent squeak of an Uber driver's horn. Couple the squeak with the image of two homeless and yellow-eyed men fighting nearby, and then you've got the whole picture. Now, one of the men’s knocked the fuck out on the sidewalk, breathing like he's smoking in his sleep.

The warlock whispers, "He's nobody. Now, grab the knife."

Drunkenness is making a hard comeback now. Confusion of...me? Am I not me? The most pressing concern I have is the warlock fading in and out of my vision. Who is he, and why does he keep prodding me to grab some presumably nonexistent knife?

It’s the drugs, I swear.

Am I swearing to the warlock? If so, that begs the question as to whether or not he can hear me.

Who am I?

Only after the haze has made its comeback do I realize I'm no longer on those steps but am walking in the direction opposite the bar where she implored me to meet her. While weaving through crowds and lines of people on the sidewalk, I see a couple standing on the precipice of the curb next to a mangled pile of scooters, fighting about something. They fight like good omens, and I can see...well...something about them. Maybe it's the brutish mannerisms of traitors and bullies.

The girl thrusts out her arms in a half-baked attempt to tell the guy to fuck off; she tells him to leave. Perhaps she doesn't want him to, but he does; he's frustrated, yelling 'fuck you' over and over, alternating between tripping on the curb and the street.

I’ve been there, in those shoes. I've been the brick wall of a person she collided with, only to remain solid and immovable.

I need another drink or to crash, whichever can make it first.

Another text. Two, actually.

"Fuck you. U said seee u later."

"Why di you leave?"

When I look up, I'm at some dive bar, but it's impossible to tell which one. There are old beer signs glowing all over, and everything has a thin, nostalgic dust covering it.

Would that I could feel sorry, but I'm too volatile now. There's a corrosive quality to these things I do. I bleach skin with every word and eat through the rest, like the worst dissolving agent ever conceived. Even then, I'll go on knowing its wrong and stand perfectly still.

My dick deserves to never work again. Perhaps I should take the knife the warlock keeps taunting me with - the short one I notice is sitting there on the bar mat - and turn myself into a eunuch, and then, after the dust has settled, I can take my severed dick and paste it up on the wall like some anti-trophy.

I could see that.

The bartender hands me the last shot of the night, and it tastes like nothing, feels like vapor and kicks me straight in the liver with a twelve-pound steel toe.

After some time, the bar staff ushers us out like drunken cattle, and everybody descends into their phones.

But something happens in that flood of people, among the fucked up din of their cries and slurred shouts. There are far too many people crying outside of the bars tonight, and it's shameful that I'm not even one of them. By the way, how do you cry? Can someone tell me, because I'm drawing a wide blank? What are the mechanisms and motions? If only I could give someone five dollars just so they would teach me how to cry, like an in-person tutorial.

In a bizarre twist, I've become a zealot for crying in the vicinity of bars tonight.

But the bells start again; I hear them ringing out, chime after full, throaty chime. Bells, like the fucking Edgar Allan Poe poem repeating 'the bells' line after line. The warlock has really dug in.

I can't keep ignoring him.

My phone buzzes, but it feels more neurotic and nagging every time it vibrates, and I can sense that neuroses summiting my spine, hovering there like a curse.

I slink down along the wall next to a cluster of dumpsters, the alcohol taking control of basic motor functions this time. I grab my phone with violence in mind.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! STOP! GODDAMN, STOP! SHUT.THE.FUCK.UP."

I rear back and chuck it at the wall opposite me. It hits the brick with a plastic thud and shatters slovenly. I can hear all the words escaping from it into the air. It flashes and breathes with little electric impulses, the life finally going out as something shuffles up beside me.

"You asked it to shut the fuck up y'know. Bit dramatic, heh."

"What? Where the fuck did you come from?"

"I'm Lenny, yeah. Just sayin', yeah...it did what you asked."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks?"

He gazes down at me, fiddling with some glass thing between his fingers and tossing it from hand to hand. Crack pipe, is it? No. Maybe? Well, if it is, and If I ask him, he might toss some my way, which could be a great way to pass the time while I lose my mind up against this filthy alley wall. It will just be a small hit, you know, just enough to take me away for a second.

Before I can ask, something overtakes me. I can't tell if this man is real.

My vision is blinded by an esoteric haze, and I can't be sure Lenny isn't just a facsimile of something or someone I've encountered in my worst dreams, because he does look familiar. Maybe he's never touched a drug in his life. I envy him. He's scruffy, but smiling. I think it's me who is the junkie.

Even better, this could be the warlock passing himself off as a man living off the street, like a messiah.

The bells come back fuller, and they ring louder as I feel psychosis encroaching on me, daring me to go just one step further and fall over my edge, to cross that border and finally come to the crucial end. The last stage, and the whole world's a stage. What a stage this godforsaken alley will be when this is a play in some dinky theater.

Dong, Dong, Donggggggg.

"Hey man, let me ask you, you got a dollar?"

"No. Uh, No, man, I'm sorry. I don't have a phone either."

He grunts and whispers something about me lying, which I am. I'm a liar. Tonight is full of these strange thoughts and lies. How...fucked up am I, really? How much more miserable can I get? Those are the thematic concerns of my whole fucking life. Those studying me will have to accept my capricious self and take these fundamental themes with them, because there's nothing left: no cigarettes, no drugs, no real me.

In fact, I think this would be as good a place to die as any. Better here than someone else's bed; the light is good enough to show that I don't seem the kind of person who should die in an alley, adjacent to shit and sewer water.

The bells are ringing out across my mental landscape. I can't hear anything else, I can't feel anything but the warlock's gaze. He's not laughing, just looking down with placid eyes. What does he see?

I look at my reflection in the puddle where my dead phone lays. Is this me?

Smile.

There's always tomorrow.

Turner Odorizzi is an author that lives in Austin, Texas. He is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin's English and Creative Writing programs, in addition to being an intern for the Bat City Review. As of yet, he is previously unpublished.

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