#and i /liked/ that the series got into the different reasonings people had for becoming a detective you know?

[quitealotofsodapop]

Shihua was probably just having a normal day when her youngest bursts into the throne room talking about how his gege on a cliffside with a bunch of strangers and seemingly didn't recognize him. Confused and fearing if it were an impostor, Shihua orders them to be brought before her after Ma got back to her with knowledge that Shihou was still in the Celestial Realm.

But when the impostor was brought before her, separate from his party, her breath caught. The monkey before her was older than her Shihou, with a wisdom and confidence to his step her cub had not yet gained and wearing strange and expensive clothing, but there was no doubt about it. He resembled Shihou, from the golden eyes he had inherited from her beloved right down to every hair of his ginger fur that seemed to glow like fire in the sunbeams that caught it.

"You stand before the Matriach of the Huā Guǒ Troupe, Shihua." Her beloved announced, careful to not let the unease she felt from him show as he did his due diligence as her advisor, "Name yourself and your purpose!"

The stranger seemed taken aback and before stepping forward, clearing his throat.

"I... My name is Sun Wukong, Lady Matriarch. We had not meant to intrude, we... we fell through a portal and woke up here, lost."

Her troupe murmured, confused as to the name the doppelganger gave and what he said. Shihua considered his words about teleportatuon and portals, familair with the concept from her time speaking to the celestials until her eye caught sight of a familiar fabric of red that had flared up behind him as he stepped forth. Faded and far more weathered than her own, around his neck was a familiar cape tied with a simple knot in the style of a scarf that barely concealed a braded black chord. As she stared, transfixed at the cape, the strange monkey began to stammering in his explanation, fidgeting with his hands and tail whipping about in a manner near identical to Shihou whenever he became nervous, clearly uncomfortable with her attention on him.

"I'm not exactly sure how it happened, but we think we're in an alternate dimension or timeline. It's... it's the only reason I can think to explain it." He was saying, "Our world has had a series of disasters happen recently that resulted in damage to the Pillars and reality itself nearly shattering. We... we managed to stop it but we fell through the cracks and so we ended up here and not at our home and-"

Shihua rose from her throne and stepped closer to the doppelganger, startling him with a choked squeak as he noticed her approach. His stammering increased as he began to become more flustered eith every step, stumbling back as their height differences became apparent and she began to tower over him.

"And I was... uh..." the familiar stranger's words faded out as Shihua slowly grabbed at the cape, lifting it for a closer inspection and sniffing the fabric. Her eyes widened in shock, the scent different yet still unmistakable to her. Peach blossoms and fresh grass after morning rain and bright sunlight and the smallest hint of smoke. It was different but it was Shihou! There was no mistaking it.

"Where... did you get this?" Shihua asked, voice shaky as she looked into his eyes, needing the confirmation. Her son's doppelganger looked away, as if ashamed,

"I found it, draped upon the stone throne when I first discovered the Stone Palace."

"'Discovered?'" Shihua echoed, "Have... have you not lived here you're whole life!?"

What Shihou said next shattered her heart. Her people had lost their ancestral home and he had been the one to reclaim it, and the title of 'king' along with it.

"How old were you?" Ye Lin asked, picking up her concern. He had said he was young, but surely he wouldn't have been-

"It's been so long in don't remember for sure, but I think I was only 10 years. Possibly younger."

A cub, he was just a cub! Ye Lin gave her a concerned look, she knew he too was suspicious of who this monkey was and why he looked so much like their child.

"Surely you're parents would have stepped in!" Ye Lin sounded almost desperate as he spoke, "No parent would let a mere cub rule alone!"

"I... I never had parents."

Those four words were like a nail in the coffin and a knife to her heart. He was an orphan. In whatever world this version of her son had come from, Shihou had been an orphaned and abandoned cub!

"I was hatched atop the mountain from a stone egg, alone." Shihou was saying, his words sounding muffled to her ears through the sheer horror she was feeling, "As far as I'm aware, I'm the only celestial primate alive aside from MK and Macaque."

She felt a firm paw on her shoulder, a glance back showing her mate had stepped up to stand beside her, concerned. Shihua takes another deep sniff of the fabric and even a bit of the other ginger monkey's fur, memorizing the subtle differences in his scent from her cub's. Shihou, no he had said his name was Sun Wukong, looked somewhat confused and uncomfortable. What a peculiar yet somehow fitting name for her child. That confusion only grew as she offered the fabric to her mate, letting him smell for himself. His eyes snapped to hers in shock,

"How could this be!? He smells like Shihou!"

"His story explains everything, my love." Shihua gracefully assured her, "He and his companions truly are from another world. One where our people did not survive the tragedy of the Floods. In that world, he must be our son."

The news created a ripple throughout the gathered troupe as every single jaw dropped, all eyes locked upon the alternate version of their eldest prince. Many, such as the marshals and generals, moved in closer to the younger monkey, sniffing and inspecting his fur.

"Son!? H-hey! What are you-" Sun Wukong yelped, eyes wide as he was crowded by monkeys, trying to step away but by that point he was surrounded and moving back only brought him back to chest with Luzhen, "Uh...?"

"So does that mean I was right!?" Luzhen's paws came to Sun Wukong's shoulder, gripping them excitedly in the same manner he would do so when presenting Shihou with something he considered exciting, "He is gege!?"

Shihua couldn't hide her giggle at the sight, it appears no matter what, Luzhen would always idolize Shihou, even if it was not the one he knew. "No my little one, your brother is still serving his sentence in the celestial stables. Ma had checked when you first announced finding Aun Wukong here. This is version of your brother from another world."

Luzhen's ears and tail drooped for but a moment as he considered her words before perking right back up, grinning even wider.

"Then that means I have two big brothers!" Luzhen announced, excitedly clinging to the older version of his brother. Sun Wukong's eyes were as wide as dinner plated as he stared in shock at the younger monkey,

"B-brothers!?"

Ah, right. He had said he was an orphan, hadn't he. As Shihua left Luzhen to his excitement, she called one of th3 guards over, asking that Sun Wukong's companions be freed and escorted here. No doubt they, too, would want to be a part of the upcoming discussion.

Ref.

You have such a talent with writing!

I love how you wrote in Shihua subtely observing Wukong; how he has little habits indentical to Shihou, and how his smell is nearly identical. Ye Lin being her biiggest cheerleader and support.

And ofc their shock at learning that the "Shihou" before them is an orphan, flrced to take the reins of his troupe as a mere child.

I love it <3

[aparticularbandit]

but also there was so much - particularly in vol. 7 - about how yui's desire to be a detective is based in wanting to be a hero. wanting to protect people. wanting to be an ally of justice.

and i spent so much of that last volume whenever that got brought up thinking about sayaka miki.

different contexts and different characters. but just. that desire, particularly in the last volume. just gave very strong sayaka vibes.

[marcirose]

Randomly started thinking about Fairy Tail after all this time and all of the things wrong with it and how all of the other guilds are just Fairy Tail with a different coat of paint and I'm two seconds away from writing self indulgent fix it fics because good lord

(I'm mainly talking about post-Tenrou cause that's where most of my criticisms are. I have very few complaints about pre-Tenrou cause those arcs slap)

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[minhosimthings]

The Demon of Destruction || 18+

Synopsis: For the first night of the "Make Heeseung jealous" pact, you spend it with the devil incarnate, Park Sunghoon.

Pairings: detective!Sunghoon × fem!reader

Warnings: Smut minors Dni, dildo use, ab riding, swearing, use of aphrodisiac, mention of alcohol slightly drunk reader, fem!reader, p in v, rough sex, degradation, praise, mention of cheating, creampie, dom!Hoon, reader is called 'angel' and 'sweetheart', overstimulation

A/N: bonjour my babies. This is the first installment of the Lucifer series and I seriously cannot wait to start writing Jayeun's next. Also I am shit at writing riding I realised that whilst writing this so pardon me if you cringe Ii

Series Masterlist

If there was one thing that Park Sunghoon would never have expected to ever happen to him, it was taking one of his best friend's wife to his home with the sole objective of luring her to his bed. Although he didn't have any objection towards it, it was rather peculiar now that he thought about it.

Glancing out the corner of his eye, Sunghoon caught sight of how eerily calm you were. Any other woman would have been biting her lips until they bled. Or perhaps making conversation with him at that point.

But no, you were just...silent, devoid of sound, as if you were a creature mute and deaf.

"If you don't want to go ahead with the plan anymore I'm fine with that." Sunghoon offered, snapping you out of your daze. The bourbon had a greater effect on you than you had thought.

"What—no, of course not." You said, looking at him for the first time since you climbed into his car, "Why would you think that?"

Sunghoon considered you for a while before answering. "No reason, angel."

The nickname made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Heeseung used to call you angel too.

•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

"Welcome to my humble abode." Sunghoon whistled, opening the door of the cozy looking house for you. Your expectations of what his house would have looked like, was far different from the house you were standing in now. It was...homelier than you had expected.

"Are you sure you're not married?" You jested, taking off your coat, handing it off to Sunghoon, who hung it up at the door along with his own, "Any sensible woman would be all over this house, and you of course."

"As I said, I'm not that interested in a wife yet." Sunghoon said, guiding you to a small kitchen island, you had to squint in order to see your way through the dimly lit house.

"A drink for the lady?" Sunghoon offered, opening up a cupboard, "I've got whiskey, bourbon, and—" he stopped to look up at you and smirk, "—some special wine."

"What's so special about it?" You leaned against the counter, trying hard to look at him with seducing eyes, "Is it from France?"

"Jake got it for me." Sunghoon popped off the cork of the bottle with a quirk sound, "Apparently it's supposed to work in getting people..ahem-" he looked down, "Into the mood."

Aphrodisiac, you thought, you remembered Heeseung telling you about it once. He had wanted to buy some, before you scolded him, telling him that you were a big enough aphrodisiac for him. Once a laughable memory to you, seemed sadder now.

"Well?" Sunghoon snapped you out of your stupor once again, now nudging a glass of swirling maroon liquid into your hands. You hesitantly took the glass in your hands, inspecting it for a second, before downing it completely.

"Woah angel, slow down." Sunghoon took a sip from his own glass, "It won't work faster if you drink it faster."

Wouldn't it?, you wanted to question him, suddenly becoming hyper aware of Sunghoon's delicate features.

His hair fell perfectly onto his face in stray strands and his figure was strongly built, with slender waist and strong forearms, he almost looked feminine.

"Fuck..." You swore under your breath, holding your head in your hands, causing Sunghoon to look up worriedly. Setting his glass down and quickly walking over to you, he placed his hands on your lower waist before speaking.

"Alright there, sweetheart?"

"Yes I'm—fine." You forced out of your mouth, god did Sunghoon always smell this good?

Turning your body to his, your hands roamed over his stomach, and you could feel evident muscles through his thin shirt. Now that he had taken off his droopy coat, you realised how strongly built he really was.

"See something you like sweetheart?" His devilish smile came onto his face yet again, fueling the fire which kindled in your belly. Sunghoon's arms wrapped around your waist, eradicating the mere inches of air between you two.

One of his hands came up to your chin, his index lifting your dropping head up, as he examined it carefully. You could clearly feel the effects of the wine now, he looked so ethereal, whilst eyeing you up and down. He smirked once more.

"Let's go upstairs shall we, angel?"

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

Heeseung wasn't the kind of man to let go of his treasures that easily. So why exactly he had give you up, Sunghoon couldn't get the answer to that question.

It was invigorating to Sunghoon to see you undress for him. Just one look from his eyes and your shirt was on the floor, the faint tear stains on it forgotten, why would you ever remember Heeseung when a much handsomer devil was in front of you?

So there you were, standing in front of Sunghoon in your petticoat, which barely hid the black of your bra and panties. Not that you wanted to hide it anyway, you thought, internally smiling at how Sunghoon was looking at you with bedroom eyes, before walking over to you with slow steps.

"Heeseung's an idiot for giving up such a beauty." Sunghoon said to no one in particular as he eyed you up and down once more, taking in your nakedness with his ravenous eyes.

His hand came down to your inner thigh, your frail petticoat letting him feel the soft skin before he moved to your stomach. He smiled to himself as he lifted your bra up higher, his hand smoothing over the soft warm skin. Sunghoon bit his lip, his eyes looming over your visible breasts.

"Are you already ravishing me without even touching properly, detective Park?" You chuckled, leaning closer to him. Sunghoon raised a brow.

"I never knew Lee Heeseung's wife would be so..." He trailed off in silence causing you to smile.

"So what?" You quizzed his bemused figure, "So... experienced?"

"I was about to say attractive." Sunghoon chuckled darkly, "But then again—" he let go of your waist, striding to his bed and sitting down at the edge, spreading his legs in a way that made your insides unconsciously burn, "Heeseung isn't a man who'd marry some lowly wench, is he Mrs Lee?"

"You're being brave by calling me that." You followed his footsteps upto the bed, promptly settling yourself down on his thigh, he shuffled a bit to make you more comfortable, "You haven't called me by my name even once since we've arrived here. You just keep calling me angel."

"Why shouldn't I call you angel?" Sunghoon smirked, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pulling you down onto his thigh so harshly it made you wince, "Are you not one?"

"Poetic are you?" You scoffed, trying not to whimper at the distance between your lips and his, along with the added pressure of him keeping your clothed pussy firmly pressed to the fabric of his trousers, "Well, I'm no angel if you're expecting me to be one."

You didn't even get to blink an eye, before you felt your back land painfully against the soft matress. Sunghoon's hands burnt into the skin on your waist and his eyes raged with hellfire. He smelled of wet earth and rain on top of you, looking at you with hungry irises.

"Don't be an angel then." Sunghoon whispered, his jaw dangerously close to yours, you could feel his breath on your lips, "Just be a good girl for me yeah?"

Your hands found his stomach as his lips crashed onto yours. He was devouring you in every way possible, his breath coagulating yours, as he moved his sharp tongue across the flesh of your inner cheek. Your hands on the other side, were tracing his stomach. Through the thin cotton threads of his shirt, you could feel his muscles press against your palm as he kissed you, digging deeper with every moment.

"Sweetheart-" Sunghoon pulled away, you lifted your head slightly to catch his lips again, but he was quicker with his words, "-you've been groping my abs since forever now."

"Don't pretend like you don't like it." You scoffed, looking at him with a condescending expression. That devilish smirk came back to his face.

"Then why don't you get on them?" He asked, pulling away from you and instead lying down on the bed. His position was rather inviting, an unbuttoned shirt, (you had no idea how fast he had taken off his buttons), strong legs spread far apart, and a pretty face, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

You gulped heavily, hesitantly going near him, unsure of ether or not to get your ass onto his elysian figure. Sunghoon seemed to sense your nervousness, as he grabbed your arm and, with surprising strength, pulled you into himself.

As soon as your weight fell on his stomach, you mouth fell agape, and your face went down to make eye contact with him. You never noticed how beautiful Park Sunghoon's eyes were, they were always hidden under the guise of his rakish behaviour.

Sunghoon stops you for a second, motions for you to rise up slightly, and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your dripping cunt to the air.

“Just move your hips sweetheart,” Sunghoon said, his hands on your waist, helping guide your movements. You sighed in pleasure as you started to feel some pressure. He helped your grind on his chiseled abs, until you hit the correct spot, feeling your cunt practically mold onto his tummy.

“Good job, keep going angel.” He said letting you hold his shoulders for support. Seeing your mouth press into an 'o' shape made his carnivorous tendencies ignite on fire.

His hands float to your hips, encouraging you to continue. You drop back down on him, the feeling of your bare clit rubbing directly against the crests and troughs of his abs was indescribable.

Using his firm grip on your waist, Sunghoon pushes you further onto the sharp hills on his stomach, and you quicken your pace, the searing pleasure in your clit overwhelming you.

"Fuck angel," he says, which elicits a whine from you. "you look so fucking pretty like this."

Your back arches slightly at the sound of his praise, your pace quickening even more. His one hand moving upto your hair fists it tight, earning another whimper from you.

“Such a good girl, you're doing so good angel,” He said, now feeling subtle wetness stain his belly button.

“Oh fuck—I-uhh-“ you moan, going faster on Sunghoon's muscled tummy.

“You gonna cum angel?" Sunghoon asks, a mocking tone to his voice that turned you on even more, that his handsome carved face, like the muse of God's scribe himself.

“F-fuck I’m so close, Hoonie” You whimper, your mouth hung open as you breathe hard. Hearing the nickname, Sunghoon jerked his hips up slightly, making you let out a tiny scream at the stimulation on your raw cunt.

“Cum for me angel.” Sunghoon says. With a few more movements, you were cumming, your back arching into his chest as you felt your pussy get drenched.

You nearly screamed as it hit you so strong your body expelled him, along with your wet release. He was quick to move his hips up again, his cum-coated stomach making you feel things you had never felt before, pushing them into you with a loud squelch. Your senses were on overload.

Sunghoon was consuming your entire being. You could feel every inch of him and you didn’t want to stop. Your core began to tingle, feeling another orgasm approach you, reducing you to a blubbering mess.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made angel,” Sunghoon taunted as you came drastically all over his stomach, "messy girl aren't you?"

Sunghoon carefully gripped your waist and lowered you onto the bed, chuckling at how wet his tummy felt. Of all the women he fucked, you were certainly on the topmost tier.

"Wait a tick for me." You thought you had seen him wink at you, but you weren't sure due to the silent darkness, the only noise coming from the rise and fall of your chest. You heard Sunghoon open his bedside drawer, with a creaking noise.

As you relaxed into the sheets, trying to ignore Sunghoon's shuffling around the drawer, you saw him from the corner of your eye, finally taking something out from it. You could see the shape of something easily recognisable in his hands.

"Do you know what this is, angel?" Sunghoon's hands rested flat on either side of your head as he got on top of you once more, waving the dildo in your face, "Of course you do," he answered his own question, "Heeseung wouldn't have let such a good pussy go without one would he?"

"That asshole couldn't have fucked me better even with a dildo." You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "do you just have a market of toys in that drawer?"

"Let's just say a lot of women like the foreplay." You could see him smirk even in the darkness, "I mean if you don't want it, I can put it bac-"

"No that's not what I meant!" You panicked, grabbing his arm. You wondered what about your tone of voice made Sunghoon laugh out loud and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. If anyone asked you later on whether you have felt butterflies or not, you'd had said no.

"Lay down for me angel." His voice was gentler now, a beautiful facade to his internal desires.

Sunghoon places the dildo on your clit and he starts to slowly rub it using the toy while you moan loudly. Moving the toy up and down your pussy, your sinful symphonies become louder, as Sunghoon watched the juices spill from your pussy causing him to groan at the sight. He thrusts the dildo harshly into your walls, and with the slightest touch of the material to your clit, you moan louder than before.

“S-Sunghoon—fuck, I'm-” You moan out as a slap echoes in the room and you feel a sting against your ass cheek. Sunghoon's hand repeatedly thrusts the dildo into your walls, making you wish fervently for his cock to replace it instead. He turns the pace up again as you moan even more while he continues to thrust the dildo in and out of you.

"Aww you want to cum?” he asks, as you struggle beneath him, he wasn't allowing you the pleasure he promised. Your breath came unsteady, fulfilling the reticent desires of Sunghoon's sadistic side.

"speak up, angel, I can't hear you." Sunghoon whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. You quickly pursed your lips, letting yourself make only muffled sounds. but you didn't last long, as every thrust and every inaudible whimper seemed to forcefully open your mouth from the inside.

"so pretty.." Sunghoon trailed off, laughing at your pleasured pain, "You want to cum hm?"

"Sunghoon-"

"Beg for it, come on." He commanded, "Beg me to let you cum, go on."

You weren't ready to give in that easy, but Sunghoon knew that. With a slick, carefully placed flick of his wrist, the slightly sharp end of the dildo touched you in a place that could have made you reach heaven and come back.

"Fuck—Sunghoon please!" You cried, tears falling down your face at the stimulation, "Please—let me cum.."

"Well if you say so." Sunghoon chuckled as you could do nothing but nod and after a few minutes of using the dildo, he takes it out of your pussy, pressing it in again.

You finish for a second time. You cling to him tight as the euphoria washes over you again. Locking your legs around his hips, you keep your face pressed to the warm skin of his neck as it goes through you.

Your juices coat the top of the dildo as you moan raucously, feeling ribbons of cum shoot onto the dildo, making Sunghoon smirk in evident pride.

Your arms grab his, as your chest arches into his mouth, hot and wet. You feel as his mouth comes off of the swollen bud as he removes the toy from your pussy, giving you pain and pleasure at the same time.

You were a mess at this point-- your hair was all tangled and you were a flustered mess full of scratches and hickeys on your tits where he had taken them into his mouth. Sunghoon placed a firm slap on your ass, which made your dripping cunt clench around nothing.

"Can you take more, angel?" He whispered to you, smoothing your hair out with his hand.

Sunghoon didn’t give you enough time to answer over his words as his lips crushed to yours. His tongue invaded your mouth as his hands roamed over your body. His roaming hand grabbed your hair as he ripped your face off himself. He looked down at you as you breathed heavily from his attack on your mouth.

"Hoonie~" you moaned into his mouth, "Want—your cock—please."

That was all it took for Sunghoon to practically rip off his belt and trousers, now laying on the floor, with their owner on top of you. Your throat went dry at the sight of his cock, hard and pulsing, the head of it angry red, glistening with precum.

He pulled back slightly, positioning his cock at your entrance and grabbed a fistful of your hair, stretching your upper body closer to him, putting you into an unnatural position.

His body was perfect, lean and muscular, strong and sharp features etched onto his body that looked straight out of a painting.Your gaze wandered over his arms, his chest and down his waist, hips and strong legs; every detail and body part burning into your mind.

You pant heavily, gasping for air as his large cock stretches your insides. His eyes are darkened but a cocky smirk remains. Achingly slow he pumps in making your eyes roll back, groaning at the sight of your mouth slack and panting.

His hips were moving slowly, with deep hard thrusts that made you moan with each push. His hips were doing most of the work, the thrusts were deep enough and hard enough for you to melt against the bed but enough to make everything shake under your skin as you were taking everything he gave you.  Sunghoon was not going fast, which made you wonder for a split second if he wished to. 

"Yes….Hoonie…FUCK!" You mewled as he hit that spot inside of you, hearing him growl for a moment as he was still fucking you deep into the mattress. His hand that was holding your thigh was in a tight grip, not letting you faint as you clung onto his back of dear life, feeling your nails almost break the skin as your moans were getting louder and more vocal. 

His rhythm was consistent, not slowing down or going too fast just to drive you insane as you felt that feeling of an intense orgasm come over you again. 

 "I'm c-close, Hoonie—" You were moaning into his neck as he huffed and stopped his thrusts. You were about to protest at him, teetering right on the edge of that pleasurable fall when he moved swiftly once again. 

Still inside of you, he leaned back a bit and scooped you in his arms, bringing you closer to him. You let out a noise of pain as you felt his entire girth penetrate deep inside you.

As you threw back your head and moan loudly, it dawns on you how very fragile-mannered Heeseung has fucked you. Your hips tremble as your body tenses, the ragged breath escaping your mouth cuts through your symphony of whines.

"Hoonie~Sunghoon—I can't!"

"Yes you can." Sunghoon groans as he feels you clench around him tighter than ever, "Be a good girl for me, angel and take it."

 The knot in your stomach tightened and snapped, your walls spasming and clenching around him as you released all over his cock that was buried deep inside of you. You were seeing stars and your body was shaking from the intensity. 

His cock jerks around against your walls once, twice, before he’s creaming, filling you up with ropes of hot cum. He thrusts deeper into you, a melody arising from both your moans as you felt him inside your very soul.

Soft pants and deep breaths invaded the space around you, not a word being spoken. You stayed like that for only a few seconds, catching your breath as you both came down from your highs. He then carefully pulled out, muttering a string of curses and an unheard comment about the the mess you both made off of his sheets.

"Come on angel." Sunghoon muttered under his breath, in a barely audible voice, not that you were listening anyway, "Let's get you cleaned up."

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

"Tea?" Sunghoon offered you, your second cup of the night, "People say I make the best tea of all the precinct."

"Alright I trust you." You laughed, taking the mug in your hands and relaxing into the atmosphere of the cozy kitchen island, clad in a robe, you had no idea where Sunghoon got it from.

Calm silence followed, wherein you and Sunghoon sipped tea from your respective mugs. Yours had a 'To Uncle Sunghoon' on it, along with what looked like a child's drawing. You giggled to yourself. A gift from Sunghoon's beloved nephew, no less.

"Can-can I ask you something if you don't mind?" Sunghoon asked, and you noticed, that for the first time, there was no cocky tone to his voice.

"Go ahead." You smiled, "Unless it's about my first night with Heeseung."

"No no." Sunghoon laughed, taking another sup of his tea, his lips stained pink from all the kissing that had taken place, "I wanted to ask—how is it like, being married?"

You were taken aback by his question. Park Sunghoon, perhaps the last person on earth, who would ever think of marriage, was asking you about it? Had the bees stopped producing honey today?

"Well, I can't say," you started, "It's different for each person, you know. And, as time goes on, it changes. Which in my case-" you let out a cold laugh, "-is very evident."

Sunghoon was quick to put his hand on yours, giving it a tiny squeeze, along with a warm smile.

"You know who was really upset when he found out about...ahem.. your situation?" Sunghoon suddenly said, intriguing you.

"I don't know—Jay?" You said, realising you were right when you saw Sunghoon's expression, "Oh. Wait—Jay? You're not joking?"

"Y/N, trust me if you saw how much that man was brooding over it, you'd think he was your husband, not Heeseung." Sunghoon chuckled, downing the last bits of his tea, "Would you like to head to bed?"

Though you fell asleep soundly that night, wrapped in Sunghoon's surprisingly soft arms (now that the effects of the wine was over), you kept pondering over his words.

Jay—worrying about you? It was a heart thumping thought, which made you feel like what warm winter suns felt like. Jay Park, you sighed to yourself, before going off to sleep.

The day after tomorrow seemed too far away.

Taglist:@diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pockettwinzz @heeslomll @shiningnono @noonareads @deobitifull @luvitria @wonibae @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @saanvilovessunghoon @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @heesminee3 @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd @whateverhoon @cloud-lyy @heeseungspookie @nyxtwixx @friedtalong @lyxnneee @hongshuaknow @francinethings23

[dunmeshistash]

Interview to celebrate the opening of the Ryoko Kui Exhibition

About Delicious in Dungeon: Story making

Q1. Your first long-running series has lasted for about 9 and a half years. Has it been different from your previous experience drawing short stories?

A1. Compared to short stories, the series has been easier because the same characters appear each time. But I was surprised to find that I got tired of drawing the same characters too many times.

Q2. You have said before that the overall structure of the story was decided before serialization began, but how much of that had you communicated to your editor? Also, what kind of communication did you have during the series production?

A2. The goal was something we discussed and had decided on from the beginning. The goal itself was simple, but the path to get there was more difficult and took longer than imagined.

Q3. Regarding the overall story concept and development, did you write out or put anything down in writing (such as the plot)?

A3. I did, but it was simple.

Q4. Did you come up with the dishes based on the monsters you wanted in the story? Or did you come up with the monsters based on the dishes?

A4. It depended on the story, but usually the story came first followed by the monsters or food. I feel like that was most often the order.

Q5. As you progressed in drawing the series, what elements of the characters, story, or world expanded or grew in the most unexpected way?

A5. Nothing particularly unexpected perhaps. When I used to draw web manga, I tended to think up inconsequential settings. So, from the beginning I tried to restrain myself as much as possible and not expand too much. I was surprised when my editor said "Let's expand it more," in the second half of the series.

Q6. "Delicious in Dungeon" starts with a relatively simple setting, but as the series and the labyrinth exploration continues, the map slowly expands little by little in the readers' minds. It becomes more three-dimensional, revealing the secrets of the world, and taking on a multilayered structure. Are there any sources that you used as a reference, or which influenced you in creating this multilayered structure?

A6. A long time ago, when I was working on my personal web manga (fantasy), I drew it however I wanted, thinking that "Only people who can read this will read it," but I regularly received feedback that it was "unreadable", so I tried to make it as easily. accessible as possible.

Q7. The series combines many elements, including "fantasy", "gourmet", "battles", and "puzzle solving", but I think it's also important that it is a "comedy" which makes people laugh. Could you let us know if you have a creative commitment towards depicting humor?

A7. My hopes are that I can make it fun for people to read.

[page 5]

About Delicious in Dungeon: Drawing manga

Q1. Please tell us about the drawing tools you currently use, both digital and analogue.

A1. In terms of analogue tools, I use a light box, a G pen, a round pen, and a brush pen. And for digital, I use CLIP STUDIO PAINT and a Wacom LCD tablet. Screentone pasting is always done on the computer, so ultimately it all ends up as a digital manuscript.

Q2. Do you have any rules or reasons for using digital and analog separately?

A2. I'm always looking for ways to draw better and save time, so the exact approach is probably different for almost every chapter. Personally, I feel that analogue methods create more appealing lines, but I feel like digital saves time, so maybe I'll do a digital rough sketch and do the inking by hand… I might have been using a G pen, and maybe I'll try out a turnip pen, or this time I'm short on time so I'll draw it entirely digitally, but with digital I can redo it over and over, so maybe analogue is still faster, and so on and so forth. I'm indecisive in this way and so haven't developed a consistent process.

Q3. I understand that you prepare 3D data for your assistants to draw the backgrounds. What kind of data did you make for "Delicious in Dungeon" ?

A3. You could call it 3D, but it's not a proper model, just something to help with the rough sketching. I line up cubes to share the perspective and sense of scale, and they use it as a reference.

Q4. At the beginning of the series, the characters and backgrounds were somewhat simply drawn, and it seems like they became richly detailed over the progression of the story. What was your intention behind using these different styles?

A4. It's simply that my technique isn't stable. I thought I'd put a lot of effort in at the start. I remember being confused when my editor asked me to add more in to the drawing, and I wondered "Where…?"

Q5. Thinking about the food, were there any menu illustrations that you were particularly satisfied with, or which you struggled with?

A5. I've never liked my own food illustrations. But the times when I read other people's manga and thought "That looks delicious," I think it's been more an influence of the movement, the staging, and the situation than the drawings.

Q6. For the world maps and the terrain of each continent, did you refer to any maps of the real world? I feel like the shape of the 'island' is similar to the shape of Fukuoka Prefecture or Kyushu.

A6. I didn't reference any specific geography, but I did try to put thought into things like whether a developed city would be near a river or the sea, and what the coastline would look like. I'm pleased if it feels similar to a real place, because it means my interpretation was pretty accurate.

About Delicious in Dungeon: Other

Q1. Which is your favorite monster?

A1. Nightmare.

Q2. I'm sure you have received a lot of feedback from readers in countries and regions outside of Japan. Please tell us if there was anything from them that made you happy, was unexpected, or which made a lasting impression on you.

A2. When you play foreign games, there are times when you think "Why did they translate it into Japanese like that?" But having been on the side of having something translated, I've realized some things are unavoidable, or endless, and there are many things that don't matter either way from the author's perspective, so it was interesting.

About Ryoko Kui's short story collections and herself

Q1. Dragons are a consistent and important motif in your work. Was there any particular work or experience which inspired this? Also, are there points about drawing dragons which you find interesting or have had to work hard on?

A1. It's less about liking dragons, and more that I'm interested in the worlds in which dragons exist. When I draw dragons, the depiction in itself has a sweet feeling to it. I have never had a pet reptile, so I don't have a very good understanding of them.

Q2. Unomiya University in your story "The dragon's school is on top of the mountain" has a Faculty of Dragons, Department of Environmental Studies, and Department of Technology Studies, and a Faculty of Veterinary Medicine. If you were to enroll in the university, which department or faculty would you like to enter?

A2. I probably wouldn't be accepted….

Q3. The collection includes a short story staged as an essay manga. Are you a fan of essay manga? Please tell us about any genres of essay manga that you like.

A3. I love all kinds of essay manga. I read them often.

Q4. If you were to make your own game, what kind of game would you like to make?

A4. I prefer being a player when it comes to games.

Q5. When did you first start drawing illustrations (doodles)?

A5. I don't exactly remember when I first drew a picture, but I think I started drawing manga around the fourth or fifth grade of elementary school. in my notebooks and had my friends read them.

Q6. What is the most fun part about drawing manga?

A6. Every part is fun and hard in its own way.

Q7. Please tell us if there is anything you "just can't stop no matter what".

A7. My procrastination habit.

Q8. Could you please tell us if there's something you want to draw now?

A8. I've been working continuously since the serialization, so I'd like to take about 2 to 3 months to just draw whatever I want.

[ambrosiustheunknown]

Character Analysis - Severus Snape

No because I feel like people don't truly understand Severus Snape's character when they say that he's nothing but an asshole and Death Eater who bullies children and did horrible things.

Did he do horrible things? Yeah. And did he bully children? Yeah. Was he an asshole? Yeah. Did his death and guilt relieve him of blame and responsibility? No.

But he was more than just an asshole. He had his reasons, no matter how shitty they may be. And even though his reasons are shitty, I think he at least deserves some consideration. Why? He made most of his shitty decisions as a child. An abused, discriminated against child. Think of it like this:

Meets Lily after ten years of abuse at the hands of his muggle father

At 11, is separated from Lily and is put into a notoriously discriminated-against house

Is (unfairly) antagonized by James Potter and the Marauders (while I do admit that yes, he probably gave back as good as he got, he couldn't have done that until at least his 2nd year because he was raised without magic. he also did nothing to cause the bullying in the first place [as far as I know, correct me if wrong] )

Was bullied and abused up until 5th (?) year

Is humiliated and sexually harassed (because yes, threatening to take off a peer's pants is sexual harassment in my opinion) and lashes out at Lily during this time of intense humiliation and is promptly abandoned by her

Is almost murdered by Sirius Black who receives no consequences

Goes on to join the Death Eaters at after years of being an abused outcast and stereotyped as nothing but a slimy Death Eater

Is then forced to become the potions professor at Hogwarts

1-2 years later, he turns traitor against Voldemort (around 18-19)

The only person he's ever had care for him in his entire life dies

He's only 19-20 when Voldemort is vanquished. I'd say that it's safe to assume that he never got help/support/closure surrounding anything he went through. As far as I'm aware, there's not a single person within the entire series who is shown to support Snape, which leads me to believe that no one ever told him to get help after the first war, and considering his life up until then, he most likely didn't know to get help. He spent the rest of his life doing a job he hated and was forced into, was a spy, and was split between two powerful and dangerous masters.

With all this in mind, I'm unashamedly a Snape supporter (not an apologist, there's a difference). He was an ass who did horrible things but there's more to him then that. The students he taught didn't deserve his ire, and he did and watched horrible things be done, but he's so much more than a Death Eater, and his background and potential to be more than a spy is so interesting to look at and think about.

Edit: A reblogger has mentioned that in the books, James say's he'll remove Snape's pants. In England, 'pants' refers to underwear, and that we never actually find out if James did that. This definitely sexual harassment.

[lxkeee]

UNEXPECTED

—ONESHOT

PAIRING: LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM! SINNER! READER

GENRE: not angst:)

WARNINGS: no angst fr

NOTES: When I hit a writing slump in one of my series, I try to write one shots to inspire myself:3

We fall in love with three different people in our lifetime.

First love, this love often happens at a young age. You eventually grow apart or call it quits over silly things. When you get older you may look back and think it wasn't love. But the truth is, it was. It was love for what you knew love to be.

Lucifer fell in love with his best friend, Raphael. She was the only one who believed in his silly dreams when he was still in heaven, that's one of the reasons he fell for the seraphim. He didn't tell her, he didn't get the chance to as unfortunately, Raphael told him about her crush on Azrael.

This made him put a distance between them, despite a breaking heart, he played as her wingman and set her and Azrael up.

Lucifer was proud of himself for doing that, he got to see his best friend to be so happy and in love. He can see how good Azrael is treating her and he knows that she'll be in safe hands.

Second love, the hard one. You get hurt in this one. This love teaches us lessons and makes us stronger. This love includes great pain, lies, betrayal, abuse, drama and damage.

But this is the one where we grow. We realize what we love about love and what we don't love about love.

Now we know the difference between good and bad humans. Now we become closed, careful, cautious and considerate.

We know exactly what we want and don't want.

After Azrael and Raphael got married, it wasn't exactly difficult for Lucifer to move on. He saw how happy she is and he decided that he shouldn't dwell on heartbreaking things. He continues to do his wonderful creations for the world. Raphael remained supportive of him, continuing to believe in his dreams despite the elders not believing in him.

Then came Adam and Lilith, he was mesmerized when he saw Lilith when he visited the Garden of Eden.

He fell in love with her and so did she to him, he listened to her how Adam wasn't treating her right. He couldn't believe a woman like her is treated like that.

He talked about her to Raphael and even though the seraphim was happy for him, she warned him not to do anything stupid. He promised that he wouldn't.

The more time he spent with Lilith, they slowly got to know each other.

He and Lilith shared the same beliefs, causing them to give the fruit of forbidden knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve who gladly accepted.

With that, evil finally found its way to earth. Lucifer and Lilith were both banished into hell for what they had done.

Even though hell was dark, empty, and incredibly hot. He and Lilith managed to make it work. They were madly and deeply in love. Their love bore fruit and that is their beloved daughter, Charlotte Morningstar.

An eternity in hell with his family doesn't seem so bad.

Not all happy things last, slowly his and Lilith's beliefs started to clash once mortal souls slowly came down to hell. Lucifer witnessed the cruelty of mankind, how his actions gave these souls freedom to do incredibly horrifying things.

“This is how they used their free will...?” he asked himself.

He hated it, he lost so much because of the risk he did to give humanity freedom.

Lilith on the other hand, thrived off the evil.

Their differences caused them to split.

He fell into depression, how couldn't he? The woman he loved for so many eons left him? Not only that, his relationship with his daughter is deteriorating. He doesn't even remember when was the last time he held her.

For so many years, he believed that he was unlovable and he was destined to be alone. Why wouldn't he think that when the love of his life, the mother of his daughter left him?

Third love, this one comes blindly. No warning. It creeps on you silently.

You don't go looking for this love.. It comes to you.

You can put up ANY wall you want, it will be broken down. You'll find yourself caring about that person without trying. They look nothing like your usual crush types, but you get lost in their eyes daily. You see beauty in their imperfections. You hide nothing from them. You want marriage and family with them. You thank the universe for them. You truly love them.

It took a while but Lucifer managed to reconnect with his daughter, he promised to be there for her.

He helped her how to get to heaven, he helped her when the extermination happened.

He was proud of himself, promising to help the hotel as he can finally see that his daughter's dreams weren't hopeless. He was filled with hope once more, he wanted to help humanity once more.

It was sudden, no warning. He wasn't even looking for love.

Lucifer found himself staring at the third sinner who joined the hotel, [Y/n]. She joined and he was able to befriend and get to know the sinner.

He showed off his rubber duck collections to her, he thought she would find his hobby silly but turns out she loved it and found it adorable.

It was unexpected.

He suddenly found himself wide awake in his bed at the dead of the night, staring at the ceiling as countless thoughts of [Y/n] filled his mind.

“Uh oh.” he muttered, a realization that he fell for the sinner so suddenly and he fell hard.

He can only think of her bright and sparkly [e/c] eyes, her soft hair, soft skin, her beautiful face, and everything of her.

He groans, “Luciferrrr... you just had to fall for someone so suddenly and that is your friend too.” he groans to himself, mad at himself for falling for someone he thought he could call a friend.

He doesn't want to be friends with her, he wants to be more. He wants to marry her, have a family with her, worship her like the sinner he is.

After coming to the realization, he decided not to confess immediately. Wanting to see how deep his affections for her goes.

And it was deep, it was rock bottom. He was whipped.

He doesn't mind losing himself in the process when he loves her.

He pretended, he hid his feelings. Afraid of losing her.

It took so long, hiding it became unbearable.

He spilled the three words to her, “I like you.” he says so suddenly, he was mesmerized by her that the words came out so suddenly. Catching both him and her off guard.

His eyes widened, slapping a hand over his mouth.

[Y/n] just looked at him with wide eyes, cheeks tinted pink from fluster.

“I-I'm sorry, pretend I didn't say that...” he says, slightly stammering his words. His heart was beating erratically, his hands felt warm against his gloves. His cheeks are warm, warmer than usual. The spots on his cheek have reddened more than usual, almost glowing red.

He covered his face with his hand, embarrassed.

He was expecting that she would be gone once he removed his hands away from his face.

He felt his hand being held by soft ones, removing them from his face.

“Lucifer, look at me.” she says softly to him, he looked at her shyly and with embarrassment. His red eyes finally met [e/c] ones. He admired how beautiful she looked.

Her eyes were looking at him with so much adoration, cheeks flushed, and she was shyly smiling at him.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked softly, hope evident in her voice.

He gulped nervously but decided to nod at her, a slow shy nod.

He could see how her eyes sparkled, her smile got bigger.

“I'm glad... I like you too, Lucifer.” she admitted softly to him, her voice devoid of any lies and only filled with honesty.

His eyes widened, his cheeks getting warmer.

“Why...? What's something about me to love?” he asked her sadly, avoiding her eyes. He is happy she felt the same but he genuinely can't see himself deserving of love.

“There's nothing about you that I couldn't love, I love everything about you... Lucifer.” she admitted softly, holding his hand with hers.

His breath got caught in his throat, his heart beating erratically against his ribcage.

“I am hard to love.” he says softly, ashamed. He squeezed her hand gently.

“Who said that?” she asked softly.

“Me.”

Her eyes softened, her other hand caressed his cheek adoringly, “Well, you're wrong. I can love you just as easily as breathing.”

Speechless, embarrassed, and flustered. He's not used to such affectionate words said to him.

“Huh...?”

“I meant it.” she says softly, leaning closer to him, “Can I kiss you...?” she asked and he forgot to breathe.

“Y-yes, please...”

Soft lips pressed against his, his eyes closed instinctively as his hand found its way to her waist, pulling her closer to him.

They'll be fine. He'll be fine. He has her now.

GENERAL TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @punching-pentagrams @moonlovers34 @akiqvq @the-attention-whore @homie-xidal @nicora04 @knave-hearts @emekeneme @chirp23 @wendds @crazed-flower @your-next-daydream @rocketxgirl @tobe-a-smiley @purplerose291 @ritzes28

[wandagcre]

drive you mad (part 1) | sam carpenter 🔞

(Mob Boss!Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You’re reunited with your old friend, Samantha Loomis, and she couldn't be any more of a puzzle to you. It doesn't take long to become entangled with her once again – replacing the previously wholesome hangouts; this time you find yourself being in her sheets way more often.

WARNING: dom!mob boss! sam, sub!reader, public sex, voyeurism, mirror sex, praise, degradation, fingering, poor communication, mentions of violence, hints of stalking, sam referring to you in spanish endearments (bc why not), not proofread +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 10k+

[ PART ONE of TWO | Next ]

[ series masterlist ] | [ masterlist ]

You liked the universe and its ways of diverting you into paths you never thought to cross paths once again.

Weeks ago, attending another lousy gala was against your whole will. It didn’t seem necessary to you, finding no difference whether your presence was something that would be amiss to the buffoons dressed in suits of your multimillion dollar company. Sure, you completely detested the idea, yet you gave it a chance, as your good colleague turned into a friend – was nagging you for days before the event. She insisted it was an opportunity (a scenario eerily familiar to your college days as if it was a mere frat party) you thought that might as well maximize these so-called connections, right? So, you caved in and went dressed to kill, anyway.

Funnily enough, the said colleague was nowhere to be seen even if she was the sole reason of your presence here tonight. She claims that she had the flu and so you were forced to take in the hors-d’œuvre by yourself.

Here you were, in a fitted beige-colored pantsuit. You didn’t know whether it was your fake it ‘till you make it mantra during work, but you managed to survive (so far). Sipping in your flute of champagne and socializing with people. Your feet were starting to ache and so were your cheeks due to the endless polite smiling you have done for the night. It was draining, so to say.

Just as you were on your way to the bathroom to do some touch up, a recognizable voice made its way to you.

“Please do tell me that you went here without a date, (y/n/n).” a sultry voice uttered directly on your ears and you turned to them too fast, almost getting a whiplash.

You haven’t heard of that for a while. It was a nickname that your closest friends and family called you by.

Lo and behold – it was Samantha Loomis. 

Your eyes fluttered as she left you flabbergasted for multiple reasons. Sam had you putting your hand on your chest, beating madly as if you’ve seen a ghost. 

“Shit. Sam, you scared me, Jesus. Can’t you say hello like a normal person?”

She bodied the suit better than every man in the room. Sam stood with hands in her pocket, an aura that can easily rival anyone else’s confidence in the room, her jet black hair was fixed in a neat ponytail. She was donned in a well put navy blue suit – truly tailored to her perfect figure, emphasizing her good attributes. Damn this woman. Sam was still taller than you and insanely oozing with attractiveness.

Another thing? This woman was the one you were silently pining over during your teenage years. You were also heartbroken when she left town abruptly, leaving no trace behind.

“Finished checking me out?” she says, cocky. “Not one hi for me? you’re still easily frightened, (y/n/n).” a smile ghosts on her face as if Sam knew a secret. “So, how are you? If you’ve got a mystery date for tonight, I’d say they are doing a bad job of keeping you entertained.”

“Hi. Happy now?” You immediately blush at her blatant flood of compliments. “And I’m fine. Really, I’m just here to enjoy the drinks and all, maybe a bit of expanding in the work field too. So, it’s definitely just me – a last minute decision.”

Sam nods, eyes trailing on you. 

“I’m more than happy to hear that. ‘Cause that also means I can do this–?” she reached for your hand and pressed her lips at the back of it, making you flustered more than ever.

You weren’t used to Sam being this direct. She was affectionate, but not to this extent. She was more laid-back as you recall, not as forward and not this flirty. Women had always been your achilles’ heel but to experience this with Sam in the present time – it was a no-brainer that your old feelings were being tested.

“You always do this to the women you encounter?” you raise an eyebrow.

“Just you, (y/n/n).”

The way she kept saying your nickname felt too intimate as it was the one you were previously called back in one of the towns you used to stay in. One that Sam was a part of until she moved again – a common occurrence in her life that she mentioned in passing – albeit you were somewhat expecting it, you didn’t actually think it would hurt that much still.

You were by each other’s side all night. She blossomed into a refined and sophisticated woman, answering questions from other gentlemen and business people in the room with unshakable confidence. It was apparent too, with how they looked at her with respect. Sam even introduced you to others too, by your respective job and all, definitely buttering up your good qualities too that you haven’t even realized that this was benefiting you in your long forgotten plans of exposure. 

“I don’t think I should be with you Sam,” you whisper close to Sam who had her eyebrows furrowed at your words. “Whatever your business is, it’s definitely beyond what I do. Wouldn’t it be sketchy? Or like using you? Because that’s not–”

“Now slow down, honey. It’s no problem with me. Honestly, I was just thrilled to have you by my side tonight and you deserve the good word and all. It’s still me, (y/n/n).” she assured you as she held you softly by your shoulder. 

Exhaling the distress away, your stomach soon fluttered at Sam’s intentions.

“I’m having fun too, just so you know.” You truthfully admit, stopping a stupid smile to spread on your face. Sam gleamed at your words, evidently content as you are.

Soon you were catching up a little with life. Sam asked you how long you have been away from your hometown and what brought you to a new one. You sheepishly say that a new start was long overdue for you and interestingly, Sam returns the same sentiment, albeit there was longing in her tone but it disappeared quickly as it went. Before you could attempt to pry for more, a new set of people were catching up to the two of you, making you sigh.

Sam murmured to you after the man had left. “That man is definitely a no. He’s got a good history of attempting to shag his secretaries. Bound to be kicked from their board soon. I assumed a terrible workload and possibly environment, too.”

“Noted. Crossing that one out immediately.” You snorted at her unfiltered yet helpful tip. “He was rather creepy with how he was staring.. It’s like his first time seeing a pair of boobs during Victorian times.” you quip and laughter filled your chest.

“Did he now?” Sam squinted her eyes. “Well… you’re absolutely a sight for sore eyes, alright.” You see her eyes now surely over the valley of your chest. 

Was she really checking you out? 

Another new information for you is that Sam had apparently grown playful. You were astounded to receive her gaze, you elbowed her side. “I’m just saying! But him? oh he’s not worth your time, is all.” Sam reasoned, petulant.

“And you’re no better.”

“Excuse me, I am. I was simply admiring you.” she quipped at you very quickly and sipped her drink.

“If you say so. And hey, what about her?” you subtly point at the tall, middle-aged woman you met earlier. 

“Uh-uh, also a pass. Better CEO than him and the others, for sure, but you could do better. A bit of the same as the old man, just a woman version of him on a somewhat low profile.”

You look with much interest now. For two different reasons – one, because you didn’t expect that and two, how exactly of a big shot was Sam to know all of this insider information?

“Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Not for me. Sam murmured as she sipped on her drink. You look at her quizzically, obviously not catching her words. 

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said, what about that one…” Sam subtly points out another person across from you. 

She listed out the company’s stand point, what they were looking for, and you momentarily tuned out – savoring her voice that melted in your ear.

“How do you know all of this?” You blurt out.

Sam was sporting a distant tight-lipped smile. “I own a few businesses from here and there. Can’t spill them all to you in one night. I have to remain mysterious so I can be interesting for you, don’t I, honey?” she tilted her head.

For the hundredth time that night, your heart pounded and cheeks were crimson once again, all by Samantha Loomis.

:: 

This morning as you flipped through the channels, it reported the death of a wealthy CEO, stabbed in most inhumane ways and his eyes were reportedly gouged out. 

Momentarily, you felt sick to your stomach until you realized that it was the same man who was a creep from the gala. You vividly recall Sam's words; with this man's business fluctuating badly and his poor work ethics, your thoughts gradually eased and snapped yourself out of it. He did see that one coming, you suppose.

You couldn’t be any more grateful that you’re far from that circle.

::

While you were terrified, it didn't stop you from going outside by yourself. Normally, this routine of yours is done during day time. However, resting got the best of your time this weekend and so with a resigned sigh, you came prepared with a pepper spray that you blatantly held as your free hand pushed the cart. Your stock of groceries wouldn't be done by itself, after all. Were you paranoid? (The answer is yes, rightfully so).

The mundane chore was going well. 

Until you were on one aisle, on your tip-toes, barely reaching the chips that were now placed a tier higher than normal. It’s like a trick and you were being played, as coincidentally, it was the last one on the rack. You irrationally listed this as a bad sign - change wasn't to be welcomed for you in times of horror.

The lighting grew dark and it shadowed you. it triggered your fight or flight mode as this person towered you from behind, the scent strongly engulfed your senses and so did their body frame, making you gasp as their front was almost pressed against you. 

They picked up the item for you and as you turned around, it was Sam.

She hasn’t preoccupied your mind for a while and you take in her presence as a fresh breath of air.

"Hey, pretty girl, I don't want you getting hurt." She joked and dropped the chips herself on your cart. 

"Fancy seeing you here," you retort with equal amusement to the woman in front of you. You thought it was unfair that she always stunned you as you saw her casual get up. 

Sam wore a bomber jacket and a navy baseball cap. She handheld her own cart and interestingly filled it with junk food, just like yours, and a couple of cleaning disinfectants.

"Do you usually shop this late?” Sam quips gently, hearing the concern in her tone.

You sheepishly smiled, "I know. But in my defense, work kept me late unfortunately. Or maybe it was me over napping..." admitting it out loud felt silly. "I don't have much of a choice. I ran out of stash in my pantry and while it's not really a good time.. wait, I don’t mean that with you, but what I meant is that, given the circumstances happening right now - it’s horrifying to be out and about."

Sam raised an eyebrow at your rambling. She found it endearing that you had to clarify each time how you liked her company. 

"And what circumstances are we talking about?"

"You know, the whole killing thing," you hushed down low and kept walking with Sam who hummed right behind you. "Haven’t you heard it yet? It honestly had me worried. I don't want to be put in that position."

You both come across the isle of candies, you picked up a couple of them. Embarrassment soon crept in the more you confided your fear out in the open and how you revealed your unhealthy fix of snacks in the presence of Sam, the woman you're swooning about.

"I see. That explains your trusty pepper spray," Sam nodded along in understanding. "Say, do you mind if I accompany you? Sticking together could be better, after all." she lightly nudged your side with her arm and swiftly took over to push your cart by her own.

An easy smile crossed your features. You can't say no to spending more time with her.

"I'd like that very much."

::

The simple scare and business exchange was the start of your reconnection with Sam. 

It seemed that Sam was sticking for good - or near you. At least, that’s what you thought so. Her place couldn’t be that far as you happened to come across her for a few times already. 

A few days later she surprised you, sent a rather straightforward message and opened up how she misses you (you almost fainted on that message). Come the weekend, Sam called you to say that she’s sending a driver to pick you up around 6 PM. After you gave her your address, Sam notes to dress in nothing strict and formal as the gala, and you quote Sam who said in her own words: just bring your pretty self. 

It was rather bossy and forward, if you were being honest. Though your senses dulled it out of bias, being Sam’s friend in the past she hasn’t done anything to put you in harm.

Another thing that brought you to a conundrum was how it sounded like a date but you didn’t want to be that hopeful – even with her endless flirting. You simply note it as another Sam evolution; a part of her confident self. The driver who picked you up was dressed in casual business attire, no older than late 20s, gave you a polite smile. He introduced himself as Martin and referred to Sam as Ms. Loomis and as you were in a phone call with her, she immediately confirmed to you that it was indeed your ride.

Relief washed over you, feeling secured enough with the whole get up. Especially with the case of brutal murder as of recently.

Arriving at the place, the door was opened for you and he mentions that he’ll be parked at the same place. The restaurant itself was one of the places you haven’t had a chance to visit yet, mostly because you didn’t feel zealous to spend a lot of money on a glorified casual meal. The ambience striked your interest immediately, the interior was cozy, and welcoming – especially for whatever they served, the aroma made your stomach rumble. 

Looking around, it was opposed to what you expected – there was no single sight of business suits hovering in the place. They were stuffy people in casual attire, maybe.

“You made it.” Sam stood up from her seat and your eyes fluttered at her beauty once again. Her floral scent was hypnotizing and covered your senses as she went for a hug. “How was your ride?”

“It was nice. I like your car,” you timidly say as Sam pulled a chair for you. 

“And I like your outfit. You look so beautiful, (y/n/n.)” Sam’s words were earnest and crimson quickly spread on your cheeks and rose up to your ears.

The stark contrast of her in formal attire with slick ponytail was apparent, yet equally so attractive. Sam stood in plain tight polo, baggy pants and some sneakers with her hair loose. She gave you a warm smile and her eyes also did a once over to your figure; you were dressed simply in a knitted zip top that hugged your torso, some trousers, and decent platform shoes. 

“Says you. You’re absolutely charming, it’s unfair.”

“Don’t start that with me, honey. We’ll be here all night arguing about that.”

Sam grinned at how you affectionately rolled your eyes at her quip. As you settled in and looked at the menu, you noticed the familiarity. It was on par with your tastebuds. She definitely remembered your type of crowd. You hid a smile with this information.

However, your joy was temporarily cut off as you noticed the server giving Sam the heart eyes as she took note of the order, although the latter paid no mind, swiftly reiterating your orders with her polite smile, it didn’t stop you from getting irrationally bothered on the inside.

You should have seen this coming. Surely, other people were bound to find Sam attractive as much as you do.

“Have you ever been here?” Sam eagerly questioned, her doe-eyes all on you. “I was nervous to pick a decent place, to be honest. I didn’t want it to be stuffy and stiff, but not too casual – only because I wasn’t so sure with your taste now, so I relied on my (y/n) senses.”

You were quick to nod off, “No. I was interested but I never had the chance.” a slow appreciative smile spread on your lips. “Your senses were right - don’t worry, Sam. They definitely serve the type of food I like. I hope you didn’t compromise that much for me." While you liked the thoughtfulness, you wanted Sam to have a good time as well.

“Well, that’s great! It means you can enjoy it with me that way. Don’t worry, based on their menu it seems appetizing for me, too.” her eyes lit up assuring you, and it was an adorable sight. She showed you another side of her again, reminiscent of how you remember her relaxed state and wasn’t as constricted from the gala held days earlier. “I have to ask.. is this setup okay with you? In case you’re… seeing someone.”

You’re surprised at her interest at your love life. Her attention remained fixated on you and it made you blink couple of times.

“Definitely not seeing any woman right now. Nothing recently.” you hint your preference, in case Sam hasn’t picked up on it yet even before. You haven’t come out back then. 

Sam smiled at your response. “That’s a relief. Means I won’t be breaking any faces any time soon.” your eyes widen at her words. “I’m kidding, (y/n/n). Or not.”

You nod along at Sam’s words with an unsure smile, not knowing what she exactly meant by that. You shrug it off as her odd humor. 

“What about you, any lucky person yet?” you asked, it was your chance to know more about her too.

A playful smirk was written on Sam’s features. 

“Funny thing is that it's the same case for me, I haven't gotten around it for uh, for some reason.” she ended sheepishly and shuffled a bit on her seat. “I could be eyeing on someone, who knows. But I have to be mysterious to you.” Sam’s voice dropped an octave lower. If you didn’t know any better, your delusions would think that she’s implying suggestively to you.

While her vague answer didn’t provide you what her type was, it was a relief for you to know that Sam is not off the market yet.

Both of your smiles barely wore off since then. Soon you were finally eating your go-to food and Sam with her chosen pasta. You debate whether you should finally ask Sam of her sudden disappearance, but you really didn’t want to spoil the mood either.

“Are you okay? Something wrong with your meal?” Sam leaned in to you and you quickly motioned no. 

“No, no. It’s just– I want to know, why did you have to leave?” you can’t help it but the hurt dripped on your tone. “It was so sudden and I haven’t heard from you since then… and now, you’re here again.”

You felt silly because it was a long time ago. Seeing Sam in flesh again gave you a whiplash, you valued her presence as she was your confidant during your hard times. If it weren’t for the gala, maybe you’d be left wondering until now, you’ll never know.

Warmth covered your hands, surprised that Sam has taken them to intertwine with hers.

“I can’t say the full details yet. But.. I’m here to stay. Believe me, honey. What happened then - it has something to do with my father. You knew how unstable things were at home, right? And I was expected to… step up into things at a faster pace than I can ever imagine,”

You only had a slight idea – if Sam before wasn’t very talkative and open – it was a thing that definitely remained until now. Sometimes their house was rowdy, full of men that wore notable sparkly ostentatious accessories. You only knew that his father’s job was demanding and that he was uptight, didn't want Sam to be out late, she had to sneak to parties, and was harsh with his words - even in front of you. It reflected the fear that glinted in Sam’s eyes when you were caught at their house, at the same beat, Sam also seemed to respect him. It was odd and the similarity of her tone was not lost on you but you didn’t push further.

You also wondered how Sam's sister, Tara, is doing and most likely all grown up now. 

“Is it enough for you right now?” Sam meekly asked you, hopeful glint in her eyes.

You mimic her playful smirk from earlier.

“Only if we get mint ice cream right after this and I’m paying.”

Sam let out a relieved sigh, leaning back to her seat and an easy going grin gracing her features once again. 

“Alright, whatever your heart desires, (y/n/n).”

::

After a wholesome reunion (or date?) the two of you were on a weird loop. At least for you. She was bearing gifts that weren’t so little at all – packages were being sent to your house, always coming with a handwritten note that said ‘reminded me of you’ with a scribbled wink, sometimes a heart, and seeing Sam became a part of your routine. It was all you looked forward to every week – seeing Sam – that your friends even asked whether you were dating someone as you appeared more occupied than ever.  

At this point, you have visited restaurants and stores you could only imagine. Sam mentioned that having to try delicacies with you was a terrific experience, she liked your honesty and fun quips of critique. Although it shifted to something you’d say – a bit odd. While she was warm and welcoming, she never stopped by at your house.

Although you weren’t going to lie, it made you curious. Disappointed, too. Was she embarrassed enough to avoid being seen dropping by in the eyes of the public, in an intimate way? Granted, there wasn’t anything intimate going on. 

Other than that, it dawned to you how tactile Sam was with conversations. It was always knowing something new and familiar, never delving into something deeper.

For her sweet quips, you remain confused whether it was flirty and intentional, after all, you didn’t think that Sam was to take interest in you romantically speaking. So, it was a challenge for yourself to not get any less flustered. Especially when you’re crushing over her.

::

"Hey, pretty girl. Wanna eat out tonight?" Sam smoothly asks you from the other line and you snorted at her forwardness.

You peer over your window at the kitchen before shutting the blinds. You didn’t know whether it was still the lingering paranoia you felt over the gruesome murders and the irrational fear that you could be next. 

What if they were watching you?

"Dunno Sam," you scratch your nape, debating your answer as you remembered the events happening outside. "Is it safe? A brutal death happened recently. And you know, honestly, Sam – it rattled me a little more than I thought it did."

"Is this about the CEO? Honey, I've told you that he was already in deep shit. his decisions have probably caused him to dig himself into a bigger mess unimaginable."

The lack of care in Sam’s tone surprised you a little. But your mind weighed in the facts; these were billionaires who fucked up, didn’t do anything good for the others, and put themselves in the wrong crowd. You give Sam credit for that similar thought as you assume.

"Okay, but still…"

You hear Sam cooing in sympathy. "If it helps, I have my men around. We’ll be safe. You’ll be safe with me, don't worry." she promises with conviction enough for you to believe her.

You hummed as you rethink your answer. You wanted to hang out with the woman you've been crushing over (again) and having an idea of how her bodyguard's in question are built, you feel yourself leaning more to saying yes. 

"I guess that helps yeah- you just had to be so damn convincing, didn't you?" Even if this was a call, you can already see the stupid grin that Sam has now. "Alright, I'm sold with that. I'll see you later, Loomis." you playfully sing-songed to which Sam giggled as you dropped the call.

::

“Let’s try something new today.” Sam said in her low voice and to your surprise she held the car door open for you in the passenger seat and you weren’t in the backseat this time.

“Don’t we always?” you refer to your eating escapades with her. 

To your shock, Sam went to the driver’s seat. 

She was the one driving for today?

“Nuh-uh. We’re going to my house.”

“What?”

You turn your head fast to face Sam with your expectant eyes; filled with surprise and excitement. After all, your brain was racking itself with much curiosity of what is going on with your friend slash crush’s personal life. When Sam caught the glee in your expression, her own eyes crinkled at the corners and muttered something about how adorable you are.

As you parked outside, you noticed familiar vehicles that tailed the one you and Sam were in. You only saw a few of them before, the men only looked at you out of politeness – as if their eyes weren’t around to linger – and they were more pliant with Sam. It instilled an idea that your friend was this much of a respected person.

“Don’t worry, they’re with us.” Sam informs you and you were shy of how evident you were glancing at the side and at the back. 

You took tentative steps inside her home, surprisingly it was bursting with colors. It was apparent that Sam liked the idea of experimenting when it comes to style, as her interior and decorations felt straight out of magazine.

In her living space, she offered for you to sit first. She looked messy this time – not as neat after work, her hair down again instead of the usual ponytail, which seemed unnatural for someone so polished for her professional state.

“This was all of a sudden, sorry. I can’t… I’m a shit host for tonight. I’m honestly not feeling well today. I can get someone to fetch our food, whatever you like, it’s on me mi quierida.”

“You could’ve postponed this thing that we have. I mean, I don’t mind.” Okay maybe that was a complete lie – but you didn’t want Sam to feel forced.

Sam tilted her head. “And risk depriving myself of not seeing you? I do mind that. More than you can imagine. I guess you could say that I selfishly wanted you all by myself tonight, regardless.”

You feel somersaults in your stomach – making you squirm at your seat. Before you can process her words further, your attention panned to Sam’s hands and grew alarmed as you saw a faint view of her knuckles were red, you figure it'll be bruising the next day. She tried to hide it a lot as soon as decent lighting was present. Sam discarded her silver watch and then removed the champagne from the bucket near her to submerged her closed fist as it contained ice. It clinked against the metal, and as seeing her face, her chestnut eyes kept fleeting over you – observing.

"What exactly were you doing anyway?" Amusement was in your tone, although concern crept in quickly. You didn't want Sam to be hurt in some fight club. Or any way, for that matter.

Sam beckons you, "Come here." she softly uttered. as you did, her free hand rested on your lower back. "I ran into a small inconvenience. I guess you can say that I handled it well." 

You snorted at her poor joke. A boyish smile spread on her pretty face.

"If you're joking with that shitty pun… I'll take your word for it, Loomis." You slid an arm around her neck, patting her shoulder affectionately. 

It was truly a gesture meant to be playful but it appeared that it became a cause to shift things between you two. The proximity made you hyper aware with your heartbeat pounding loudly by the minute. You can’t even look Sam in the eye, remaining frozen.

"Uh-huh. You should trust me with it, mi quierida. You know I always mean well.”

Sam smirked, as though she knew something you didn't. She was difficult to decipher at most times but you shrug it off, noting it as a part of her charm. It was her thing thenand apparently, until now. 

Case in point: her sneakily trailing her hand lower as they were, now resting on the slope of your ass. She grabbed you by its underside, feeling her fingers digging into the flesh. Knees growing weak at the contact, you barely stifle a gasp. It was surprising yet very welcomed and better than you imagined.

She rubbed her calloused hand back and forth on your back soothingly. "Stay... stay the night with me.'' Sam whispered as she nosed the crook of your neck, her breath against your skin spreading goosebumps.

It was an all-too familiar scene, however, Sam was bolder.

“Let me give you your present for tonight,” Sam husked out, her face moved to bite on your earlobe – her hands needy all over your body. “or… just say the word and I’ll stop,”

You were pulled in, moaning as you finally cracked through the tension. Both of you no longer teetering in friendly boundaries. It was hard not to – not when it was Sam you adored for a great chunk of your life and how her siren eyes were pierced onto yours. As Sam was nervous, you were simply stunned and returned the same feeling as you did.

"Okay,” you responded shakily yet you moved with an ounce of bravery, finally affirming your answer by grabbing Sam by the nape and lips crashing with much need, electrifying you.

Sam devoured you in her satin sheets until you were swollen, frazzled, and dripping. 

::

The next day, you discover that another case of murder has happened in your town. This was an odd occurrence, as while death is inevitable, it was surprising to hear more of them happening in a short period. More so, it was unusual to hear of a brutal case in your normally nonchaotic town.

Fear began to creep into you as your colleague mentioned it was another CEO yet, this time it was the woman whom you've also met from the gala – being there, meeting these people and hearing them as nothing but reported deaths now felt like a bad omen. It created quite the buzz in your workplace, after all it was one of your company's competitors, too.

Shiver ran down your spine; you couldn't be next, right? 

If you were to follow the pattern, it only suggests isolated killings of wealthy figures and you couldn't be any farther from that. You were another normal person who’s only trying to get by.

Then you remember Sam and the extra security she provides to you. All this time she had kept you safe and away from harm. You found solace over the thought, so you exhale and tried your best to let go of your worries.

::

In all honesty you were only expecting to pull connections that can land you higher positions that promised bits of grandiose escapades in between – all tied to your work during that gala – and you’re surprised that you landed in Sam instead, though in a much more compromising position that ignited your whole body for days. Sometimes you can’t even move due to soreness. More often, you burned and yearned for Sam’s touch. 

It’s like the woman imprinted on you.

Sam finally brought you to her actual place which was a good breaking point. As soon as you saw past the soaring entrance and the modern architecture that greeted your wide eyes. So far, it appeared that she was indeed the only one based on your frequent stays – only men in between casual and formal attires, some being her bodyguards and maids as well were around the area. 

You were surrounded by a lavish wardrobe that you can only dream of. You were amused that you share similar skin-care products as her when you first used her personal bathroom. It was a good coincidence, it made your stay-ins much more comfortable and efficient.

The spacious place felt intimidating to your bones as you walked around halls and doors after one another, although you’ve handled much more terrifying things that were specifically this she-devil.

It was a surprise to you how she can swoon you with her gentleness and barely any of that remains in the bedroom activities. She was absolutely rough and domineering.

She continues to take you to different places you’ve never been to before. Though, now they were private and more high-end properties. Today, Sam took you today to where you wouldn't normally get your sexy undergarments. 

It was sultry and inviting to the ladies. The assisting ladies were polite, kept a minimal distance, and didn’t blatantly stare unless their attention was called to. You and Sam came by fairly early, hence the lack of people, you assume. You were fascinated with the quality of the garters and fabrics that felt different on your fingertips. 

One of her men, Martin, stood by inside the store. Sam assured you that everything was fine, it’s only a precaution and more of a just-in-case business thing. She kissed you before you could ask anything else, effectively distracting you.

Finally having both of your picks, you were welcomed by another part of the area where the sconce's recessed light only added to the thrill that was covering the lavender hall of the boutique. It certainly made the atmosphere downright sinful and erotic. For a minute, you thought that maybe you can handle being Sam’s dirty secret. You felt so dizzy. Feverish. Needy.

Sam placed a final kiss to the side of your neck before she was gently ushering you to go, seeing the familiar look of hunger in her eyes as if she was controlling herself - it made you shiver with the same desire - then you went in to fit.

You nervously stood in front of the mirror, doing final touches on the laces. Sam insisted that she prefers seeing you fit the lingeries instead of her dropping them on your face out of nowhere – something you appreciated.

Slipping yourself into the intricate laces of the lingerie, you were unable to stop nitpicking on the blemishes and stretch marks that were on your skin and how apparent they were beyond this flimsy material that attempted to cover your intimate parts.

“Don’t forget to show them to me, alright?” Sam hollered from the other end.

You try to suck it up, being snapped out of your insecurities. “Wanna come in here?”

“No, come out here.”

In disbelief, you shook your head no even if Sam couldn’t see it. What did she mean by that?

“Are you crazy? There’s… there could be people out. Just come here,” you whisper-yell to Sam.

“There’s no one. We arrived early and just – trust me. It’s only me out here, seated, completely alone.”

You hesitantly move the curtain in the fitting room and step out. Indeed it was silent and no one was there just as Sam reassured. It helped that the room was actually just for the two of you. As you stood there, you felt so naked and raunchy, being were dressed in nothing but lingerie.

“What’s the verdict for this?”

Sam was manspreading on the emerald upholstered chair and you stood in between her legs, inquisitive. 

“Oh, baby.”

“How is it…?” you fiddle with the laces, not meeting her eyes.

Sam looks at you with her mouth agape. She didn't say much but surprise was written on her face. You cannot help but overthink still, as your skin wasn’t flawless nor ridiculously skinny like any other models that Sam surely had been entwined with at one point… or even now. 

“Hey, are you feeling okay, (y/n/n)?” Sam questions and taps on her thigh. “You aren’t comfortable with this one, are you?” she worriedly asks, her hands on your side, rubbing to soothe you. “Because you look so stunning to me, god,”

You refuse to meet Sam’s eyes, “I- I don’t think I look flattering at these. I’m no model, Sam. Surely you had better.” the distaste on your tone didn’t go unnoticed by the woman who frowned at your words.

Your insecurities began to gnaw in rapidly; what if Sam had other women on days you weren’t available? It made you sick to your stomach.

“What makes you think that? Oh, baby this is the best I’ve ever had.” Sam tugs you by your forearm and while you are teary eyed, she places a gentle kiss at the back of your hand. “I’m sorry if you felt forced to do this. You can take it off now if you want. If I’m being honest, I only thought of wanting to see you strip for me."

The explanation had put your mind at ease. It definitely gave you a sense of comfort that to some extent, you do matter to Sam.

“We could have thought of something else. I.. I’m just not feeling this, Sam, it doesn’t fit me. I’m sorry.”

Sam's heart sank at your words. You weren’t to blame at all. Soon, you felt her fingertips subtly tugging down your skimpy underwear to which you put your hand above hers, halting her movements.

"What – Sam, someone might see us," nervousness washes over your expression, you don't want to get caught in such a vulnerable state.

Sam only looked at you with her dilated eyes. "As if I'd let them see this. Trust me, we just have to be quick, princesa, because I can’t wait much longer.." her fingers smoothly went to hook her fingers under the garter of your underwear and moved to grab the base of the fabric. “Let me apologize to you in this way.” She gave it a pulling tug, your moan vibrating in the small space as it deliciously cupped your pussy lips. “You look so beautiful right now, (y/n/n).”

You barely stifle a moan from erupting out of your mouth and feel yourself drip with wetness.

“My pretty girl is getting turned on with a fucking wedgie? You’re just as turned on as I am, aren’t you?” Sam moistens her lips, “So pretty and all for me. You can’t be loud in here baby, I need you to stay quiet. Don’t want others to hear you moan.”

“Thought- there was no others,” you whimper at Sam who only smirked.

“But the assistants are outside. Can’t have them knowing you’re such a whore for me, hm? Now turn your back to me and look at your pretty reflection.”

Nodding your head profusely, you swallow the lump in your throat. It made Sam chuckle in delight, her eyes gleaming. She pulls up the fabric once again, you’re sure that a wet patch is now evidently staining it. She pokes it with the pad of her two fingers and brushes them back and forth, the friction bringing you pleasure.

She interrupts your reverie by halting her motions, unclasping the bra off you and the intricate straps – one your eyes lingered to – only you didn’t realize that Sam saw the dismay on your face, as though it didn’t fit you. It would be an understatement for Sam to say that she abhors seeing you treat yourself this way.

You observe her hooded eyes now full of desire as she looks up to you – it’s undeniable with how it matches her actions, feeling Sam’s thumb pressed then on your back muscle, letting go to run over her hands all over your torso. It’s soothing although given your position, you feel the want and her touch intoxicating you.

“Sam, please.” you begged, ass pushed to her direction with your posture bent over. 

She merely laughs and smacks her hand hard on your ass. The sound echoes in the dressing room. You hissed at how it stings.

Sam had always found your curious look so endearing. You always looked so ready for her to take, attentive, always so curious and beautiful.

She moves her hands agonizingly slow and sensual to your hip bones – brushing her thumb against them – to the skin right under the curve of your ass. You shriek out loud with eyes rolling back to your head, temporarily forgetting that you’re in a public place as Sam notches it up by squeezing you tenderly. 

Repeatedly.

“Look at the mirror, (y/n)” Sam sternly orders. You shudder with eyes wide, still not moving. “My little bunny is not dumb, aren’t you, my sweet thing? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You gulped audibly and a string of moans were pulled out of you as Sam kneaded your supple breasts pleasingly. Being bare while Sam was fully clothed made you uneasy. Looking at the mirror didn’t feel right - seeing yourself become this needy and you meet Sam’s eyes in the reflection. What was her point in doing this? You don’t know either how it intimidates you yet a tinge of excitement is unmistakably laced underneath your impression. While you weren’t new to her roughness, this was particularly still felt exhilarating to you. 

Lost in a haze of lust, the ambience changed within the store – it felt as though you were trapped in a heating chamber. It’s charged and so electrifying to be in a compromising position with Sam – while it was a secluded and high-end one that provided privacy, you hoped that no one barged in soon.

Sam left a kiss on your lower back and feeling her hot breath brush on your skin made you shiver run down your spine, snapping you out of your worries. 

“I’m going to need you to sit between my legs, (y/n/n). And I’m gonna fuck you with my fingers until you understand in your pretty head that you’re beautiful, hm?” Sam’s words echoed titillatingly on your whole body, your breath hitched and bothered.

Soon as you sat hesitantly onto the couch between her legs, Sam gripped it and opened it wide for you as she saw you squirming and shakily closing your legs. You saw yourself in the reflection - how bare you were. And all you can think about is Sam and how you’re about to soil the velvety seat. She tuts at your shyness and manoeuvres her hand, wrist curling as she glides one finger over your soaked slit, gasping at how you were already so wet – teasing you.

You sharply inhaled, chasing more of Sam’s touch. “Told you that I’m gonna fuck you in front of this mirror, baby. So don’t hide yourself. I’d like to keep you like this, so gorgeous and ready for me.”

Sam did it for you – adjusted her own thighs to accommodate your legs, placed them on top of hers and spread them for you to see how exactly you were dripping. The wetness trickled down the expanse of your inner thighs out of your folds. Sam had a wolfish grin, what you’d describe as predatory and hungry for you. Lolling your head back to Sam’s shoulder, you hear her grunt as she glides her fingers now directly to your folds, eventually entering inside of you.

The sloppy sounds of your wetness echoed in the room. It didn’t help that you felt Sam pressed the base of her palm against your pelvis as her curled fingers rammed madly inside of you. You were pouring out your arousal.

“Oh Sam, oh fuck– fuck, fuck!” heat rose on your belly, coming in waves. Sam responded by pressing kisses on your now sweaty face.

“Mm yeah? More?”

“Yes, yes… Please, Sam!”

You were lost in the haze of lust, driving you dizzy, as your pussy kept pounding with Sam’s rapid thrusts. A slew of guttural moans were out of your mouth – not even minding how loud you are now. You feel how your own core clenched and sucked the entirety of Sam’s fingers, taking a peek in the mirror proved it enough – it was a terrible decision for you.

“Open your eyes, come on now, my good girl. Don’t want you to miss out on how beautiful my sight is.”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip, you comply for Sam’s sake. She called you a good girl, after all. You kept bouncing on her slender and now thoroughly soaked fingers, your slick all over her pants and you saw how it trickled down to damp and darkened the very upholstered chair. Seeing yourself blushing and so fucking used, your pussy squeezed once again over Sam’s fingers and to both of your delight, her thumb pried and did circular motions to your clit.

The pleasure shot you straight in waves over your body and vibrated so deliciously. 

You meet Sam’s thrusts and as you bounced, you also saw how intently focused she was on your reflection.

“God, look at these tits,” Sam roughly squeezed the flesh, making them aggressively jiggle. “I fucking love having you like this baby. Aren’t you my good girl?” she hotly whispered to your reddened ear, giving your earlobe a bite.

Her other hand that supported you by the waist, crawled up to grab the very breasts that she verbally appreciated. 

“Come on, say it.” Sam gave it another squeeze – plenty that made you mewl – and tugged your perk nipple harshly. “and look at me as you do.”

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m.. I’m your good girl!”

“Mine only,” Sam growled and you felt her teeth sinking in the skin of your neck, biting and nipping. “Oh how I wanted you for so long, like this for me…”

You moan as you turn your head, not minding the awkward angle, not in this needy state of yours you did mind. Neither did Sam, who was visibly appeased with her pearly grin as you do – even more when you shifted your gaze to the mirror and this time, you actually stared at it. 

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

Your hand slithered to Sam’s nape, who was almost as breathless as you. You tried to keep a firm grip on her as you feel more lost in the pleasure.

“Yes, Oh… oh! Sam!”

You nod instantaneously making the woman smile even wider. Soon, Sam’s fingers were sloppy wet and rapidly applying pleasure on her pad and focused on your very clit. You couldn’t do anything but elicit more expressive moans and squelching noises that bounced through the room as Sam fucked you dumb. The coil in your stomach finally untangled, leaving you breathless.

You meekly look at your figure in the reflection once again. Your cum trickled down continuously, leaking out of your pulsating hole. Sam panted lowly in your ear and inserted her hand again, making you grab her inner wrist as you felt the oversensitivity. She hushed you to calm down and she was gently pumping. 

It was indeed a pretty sight.

The thick slick of your arousal and cum soon was on your lips, Sam prying it open. It wasn’t up for discussion – you didn’t hesitate either. You taste the bittersweetness coating your tongue and mixed with your saliva, eagerly sucking out of Sam’s fingers. She moaned at your enthusiasm, encouraged by this you sucked more of your remains out of it, your teeth grazing along and Sam pushed it deeper until you felt her slender fingers slightly poking at your throat. 

Once she was satisfied, she handled you differently by flipping your position so now you straddled her leg and faced Sam instead of the mirror. Her lips quickly made its way to give you open mouthed kisses to your sternum, to your neck, finally your mouth.

“You did so well, mi amor. And you were so pretty.” You shyly nodded at Sam’s praise. “Remember that, hm? Regardless of dressing like this – lingerie or not – I’ll look and appreciate you the same way.”

“Mm-hmm,” you lazily nodded and met Sam’s gaze.

After Sam helped you dress your clothes. While being fucked the lights out earlier was heavenly, the walking out of the fitting room was not pleasant at all. Your legs feel like jelly, you can barely walk properly without Sam’s tight support on your waist (you refused her offer of carrying you not wanting to be further embarrassed) but it helped that there weren’t any side glances from the assistants. 

Oh, heavens. You forgot that Martin was also waiting inside the boutique. Even if he remained mum, you couldn’t be any more humiliated today.

Sam pushed back her slightly tousled hair and you helped her smoothen the back of her clothing. As for her trousers, the damage has been done and it’s currently stained with your wetness. An odd sense of pride came at you because you did that.

Sam held the undergarments – even the one she destroyed and fucked you into and personally offered to place it inside of the provided bag and then handed her black card. 

“We’ll take the seat too, the green one in the fitting room. I’ll send someone to pick it up today.” she uttered in what you recognize as her professional voice, the lady simply smiled, replying with Yes, Ms. Loomis, as she agreed with no hesitation.

You hid your face in the crook of Sam’s neck and your cheeks burned. Sam only giggled at your shy reaction. She wrapped an arm around you and brushed your hair gently as she leaned closer to you.

::

“Come back ‘ere.” Sam lazily mutters, voice still raspy. She was still in bed which was such a miraculous sight. Not only because her godly body was exposed but the fact that she stayed in. Her arms were reaching out to you, caressing your bare lower back and eyes barely open. “It’s so cold, you know.”

You gave her a wistful smile. “And you do know that I’m out of clothes here, right? I also happen to have a place of my own, Sam.”

“You can always–”

“–borrow yours, yeah. I know, Sam. But I have to go. My work stuff isn’t here either.”

She sits up fully. “Okay, baby.” Sam replied dejectedly. You shake your head at how she’s acting like a kicked puppy and barely the same as an insatiable sex god from last night. “How about I drive you home? This is an inarguable offer, by the way.”

Sam gave you a pointed look and you can’t help but think if she’s tricking you – seducing you, almost. She’s unashamed with her nakedness and the way she crossed her arms, further made her biceps prominent, the mysterious scar across them, and her supple breasts gave you a mouthwatering view. You chose to ignore how your stomach fluttered at her use of endearment. The more time you spend with Sam, the more they slip out.

“Don’t talk business to me, Sam. You’re so annoying.” You turn back fully facing her with an impish disbelief, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself. 

Sam looked at you with childish glee on her face. “Excuse me, you were the one who brought up work. I’m simply reminding you of what you are absolutely missing while I’m on leave for today, mi princesa.”

“Fine, fine. It's not my fault that I’m a corporate slave.”

“That’s why being with me is a good idea.” Sam insists with a kiss on your jugular notch. “Come on, I was planning to make your favorite dish. Maybe you can do it with me, what do you think?” 

“Very professional.” You sigh at Sam’s silliness unfolding in front of you. “You just know all the right words to say…”

She crawled her way to you, shutting you up by capturing your lips with soft ones. It was chaste and you felt her smile in between. Moments like this only tugged at your heartstrings. It deluded you that it was somehow coming home to your girlfriend, only to be shaken to the reality of you knowing it was an unlabeled limbo with an old friend. So you shift, initiating with much force this time, getting rough with how you were kissing Sam as though it was your last time. 

“Am I still annoying if I do… this?” You feel Sam’s calloused fingers smoothly trailing on your inner thighs, making you shiver. You throw your head back as you reeled to her touch. The familiar wetness reemerged on your core once again.

Before she could do anything else, her phone rang. Sam immediately went for it and barely a trace of her sweet disposition remained as she excused herself.

You blinked at her reaction, paying not much mind to it. Instead, you let your body relax in the softest mattress you’ve ever laid on and quickly, you’re pulled by the thoughts of Sam again, missing her already as you sprawl onto the bed, smelling the distinct coconut shampoo and addicting lotion that she uses and how it clung to the space you laid in. 

Half an hour had passed. Getting up, you look around where she could have been, only to find her out in one out of two living rooms, absorbed with the phone call she's in. It wasn’t your plan to eavesdrop but your heart sank soon as the words became much clearer to your ears. 

"Yes, I'm dropping by the strip club tonight... of course." 

Strip club… tonight? Her words came out in a hush, obviously Sam didn’t want to be heard or rather, caught. No wonder she has been insistent on you to stay this morning. 

You simply weren't Sam's fix for this evening.

With cautious steps, you retreat back to Sam's bedroom and with the disgust that brewed in, bile rising in your throat, you start dressing up.

"I thought we agreed that you're staying?" Sam raised her hands in confusion.

"Work couldn't wait, sorry. It’s bugging me the more I ignore it.”

Sam’s face fell immediately at your sudden change of mind. Your heart twinged a little, almost believing that it was genuine.

"Alright. Let me drive you home, (y/n/n)."

Your smile twitched as you hummed in agreement. Suspicion and confrontation will rise if you didn’t, and given what you just found out, you truly didn’t feel up for it.

"I'm bummed that you won't be cooking with me, just so you know. I'll make it alone - don't worry, it will be filled with love and care, a perfect fix as you get your reports done." Sam enthusiastically clasped her hands to you and it only made harder for you to stop the tears that were threatening to pour.

The way Sam took you in her grasp, arms loosely clung around your neck and the mesmerizing gaze she held was doing the opposite reaction. You felt repelled, uneasiness continued to flow through your mind. You've just heard her in the same beat a few minutes ago planning to go to not only a mere club to drink for fun - but a strip joint? Her intentions became even more confusing to you.

Your resolve was crumbling and it was becoming apparent when Sam leaned in for a hopeful kiss and you dodged it, her puckered lips hit the corner of your mouth instead. If she was baffled and had finally picked up your sour mood, you didn't see it as you continued to avoid her gaze.

The car ride was silent. It didn't even occur to you that Sam actually drove you home, but instead of filling the space with laughter and bickering over your taste in music, the two of you were met with an odd silence. You peer at the window throughout the ride, the silent turmoil grew inside of you at the backseat as the car drove on your way home. Eyes fluttering rapidly, you feel the waterworks coming in. Of course this was only a matter of time before it was confirmed to you that you weren’t only the one being fucked by Sam. 

You felt gross. The inkling worry that filled you previously turned out to be right. You just hated yourself for blindly trusting her and giving further meaning to her mistaken gentleness. 

::

Honestly, you did plan that to be your last time to see Sam.

At least temporarily, you wanted to avoid her. You kept making excuses about how you had a lot of work to do. You knew it was unrealistic to actually avoid her forever, not when you literally were tangled with her on her sheets for a couple of months already. Unless you were to flee the country, of course. The idea is slightly tempting. You consider it, albeit impractical, it’s one of your last resort of choices. 

You were used to her scent from her bedsheets to her clothes and to her sleepy self arguing that she is very much awake during your random movie nights, her voice – everything revolves around Sam now and you hated it.

It felt like you were a teenager again with a hopeless crush on the girl you’ve liked from afar for years.

Even as you pulled away from Sam, your brain was racking through heaps of what-if thoughts – were you ever enough? Why did she have to make you feel so special, leading you into this domestic bliss? She always made time. Besides the good, you witnessed her downs, the aggressiveness, how her indistinguishable job took a toll on her. All because she let you in. You wondered why she even thought of you as worthy as such, yet made you feel of being less than that, at the same time?

However, if there is a light to all of this domesticity you shared with Sam that gave you warmth, there were also a lot of questionable actions that she specifically kept on doing. She appeared hesitant with dropping you off to your house and insists that one of her drivers will do the honors instead – with the sex on the table, it made you feel disposable and cheap – or how sometimes hours after sex; you get a sleepy glimpse of Sam sneaking onto the balcony. The faint noises of her raised voice in her phone, doing god knows what – you were there, unaware if it was a conversation with another woman and maybe, just maybe, Samantha Loomis wasn't as heartfelt as you naively believed her to be.

As you expected she didn’t drop by at your house. Her little gifts and take outs from restaurants that you liked and visited with her continued to be sent every weekend. You didn’t know whether it was out of pity or a proper goodbye in her own terms, making your stomach churn uncomfortably at the thought.

Your friends weren’t any less worried even with your now constant appearances for hangouts and karaoke nights, they gently explained that your mind often fled elsewhere and your gloomy disposition was noticeable. It’s not that they were annoyed, your friends were concerned more than anything. So, you finally open up but not too much. You retell you were in this Friends with benefits recently and it ruined your sanity, for better or worse, all in vague descriptions. After all, you were sure that now Sam was more likely ashamed of being seen by you and wanted to keep her bachelorette status.

The chorus of oh sweetie in an understanding tone immediately came and when they hugged you, it worsened the longing you felt for Sam and how you have been entangled with her this whole time.

“It sucks how you can get roped into that so suddenly.” Jane, your friend, empathised. “does that count as a situationship – or whatever it is they call it nowadays?”

“Let’s call it friends with benefits for the sake of simplicity.” Margo, the colleague who ironically was one of the main reasons why you got into the gala and met Sam, nodded her head with no hesitation. “I don’t understand why it is that hard to communicate something simple as that. And getting her fix of pleasure in another place, too, Jesus Christ.”

“Feels a bit of a power trip to me. Based on what you’ve said, how she’s got a sexy mysterious vibe going on and while that sounds sexy in other ways, I can only imagine how it must’ve taken a toll on you, (y/n).” Jane adds with a forlorn expression on her face.

They were expressive with their opinions - you liked how your friends were very protective of you. They felt betrayed almost as much as you do soon as you mentioned that Sam was a friend of yours way back.

Although, you hated how there’s a lump in your throat and a part of you was ready to jump in Sam’s defense. Before you drown more in the thoughts of her, you decided to pour another shot. 

“Fuck that. Let’s drink to this,” your words come out slurred and your friends only follow suit.

Sam didn’t stop spamming you with messages. It was expected considering that she’s the most insistent person you have met yet. Still, you shrug her off, saying that you work overtime these days and you don’t feel like being a booty call for a while – or ever for her. But Sam’s resolve proved to be unwavering as she updated you about her thoughts and invites of coming back home; her words, not yours.

::

“You know, if you’re up for it, you should totally meet this girl. Most blunt person I’ve met yet, so.” Margo indiscreetly implies that it shouldn’t be as troublesome as your previous limbo was. “She’s also really hot. And just down for either something casual or serious, depends how you talk about it.”

“Margo, you know I don’t think–” you shake your head. Besides being full of what-ifs and considering that you might have a good time, your thoughts keep bouncing back to a specific Latina in your mind.

Your mind swirls, not knowing why it feels like a betrayal deep down.

“Just give it a chance.” Margo interrupts, firm with her stand. “One date. It’s also been almost two weeks since you’ve been moping. You know we don’t mind that but- I just wanted to tell you that the dating pool is full of choices. 

What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[riddlerosehearts]

thinking about how people who watch the emperor's new groove and somehow come out of it shipping pacha and kuzco, or thinking yzma only became evil when kuzco fired her and that she would've been a better ruler than him, are both so wrong in so many different ways and are also missing one of the things that i absolutely love about the movie. which is that, the way i see it, pacha and yzma are counterparts. as parental figures to kuzco.

like, just to get this out of the way first, yzma was a dismissive asshole to a peasant whose family was starving. and yeah, if kuzco had been in her place he definitely would've also done that, which... is why she would not be a better ruler than him. she'd just be the same because they're both horrible people in the exact same ways. her reaction to being fired is to plot murder, and as soon as his funeral is over she sets everyone to work on replacing paintings of kuzco with paintings of herself and covering the palace with imagery that makes it clear that it's all about her now. i'm not even sure why this is a discussion tbh.

and also, kuzco is literally a teenager. he's barely 18 years old. source: in the movie, yzma says at his funeral that kuzco was "taken from us so tragically on the very eve of his eighteenth birthday." she also claims in the movie to have "practically raised" him, to which kronk replies "yeah, you'd think he would've turned out better". and sure, she could be exaggerating, but what evidence do we have that she is? we learn absolutely nothing of his parents, who are never mentioned even once in the movie, or of anyone else who could've raised him, and she's his advisor who for some reason sees no problem with attending to royal duties in his place. most likely because she's his regent. also, i'm not exactly a fan of the sequel tv series "the emperor's new school" but it does have something that backs up my point: kuzco is revealed to be an orphan and just before his father went and got lost at sea, he asked yzma (who was also his advisor) to take care of kuzco if anything happened to him. so, yeah, the writers who worked on the series clearly thought that yzma genuinely did raise kuzco, and nothing in the movie contradicts this.

and i find the idea of her being his only parental figure for pretty much his whole childhood incredibly interesting because, and this also goes back into why she wouldn't be a better ruler than him--she mirrors him as a reflection of what would've become of him if he'd never met pacha. they're both incredibly arrogant, power-hungry, selfish, and cruel, with a tendency to blame their problems on everyone but themselves. yzma was even originally going to have her own reprise of kuzco's theme song "perfect world", which i really wish had been kept:

[ID: Lyrics that read:

I'Il be the sovereign queen of the nation And the chicest chick in creation I'm the cat with all the cream and ooh-la-la This deadly concentration Will put an end to my frustration Now this perfect world begins and ends with moi

What's my name? Yzma, Yzma, Yzma Yzma (what's my name?) Yzma, Yzma (What'd you say?) Yzma (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!) Yzma. End ID]

(this song can be fully heard in "the sweatbox", the documentary about the making of the movie, and is also on youtube btw)

anyway, i'm sure yzma would not exactly have been the most nurturing or hands-on guardian, especially given that she and kuzco don't exactly treat each other like family. but it makes a lot of sense to think that her behavior influened kuzco's throughout the years. and for the entire movie, she remains determined to kill him. when he tries to reason with her and admits that he should've been nicer, she says the same thing to him that he originally said when he fired her. she never grows or changes and in the end, she hurts the one person who was willing to stand by her (and even then, kronk had never fully been on board with her plan) and he ends up trying to crush her with a chandelier. kuzco on the other hand is able to realize the error of his ways, come to regret who he was in the past, and start taking steps toward being a better person. his theme song gets a reprise where it's changed from a song about one person being the center of the world to a Power Of Friendship song. why? because, as i've already mentioned, he has pacha.

pacha, who similarly to both yzma and kuzco is in a position of authority as the leader of the village but unlike either of them is gentle and humble. who isn't afraid to stand up to kuzco and be honest with him even though he's the emperor, who agrees to take him back to the palace but has no obligation to be so helpful, kind, and caring toward him--and just about every reason not to be--and still chooses to be anyway. pacha who is 45 years old (also stated in the sweatbox documentary) and can see that kuzco is practically still a kid, not a single day over 18, who has time to grow and change. pacha, who already has a wife and two kids with another on the way, but practically treats kuzco like one of his own. who acknowledges that if kuzco dies all his problems will be gone and then still worries about him and goes out of his way to rescue him after he wanders into the jungle. who sees kuzco shivering at night and covers him with his poncho, who carries him when he's genuinely too weak to keep walking, who refuses to give up on him even after repeatedly being betrayed by him because he believes there's good in everyone.

also, while yzma ends up repeating kuzco's harsh words of dismissal as she tells him of her plans to kill him, kuzco had previously repeated pacha's words that "nobody's that heartless" after he saved pacha's life. and as the movie progresses kuzco and pacha's relationship becomes more and more equal and is constantly contrasted by moments of yzma being cruel and unappreciative of kronk's kindness. a good example of this is how kronk is constantly being forced to carry yzma everywhere on his back while yzma literally walks all over him and steps on his hands when she gets down, whereas when pacha briefly carries kuzco after the latter collapses he tells him he'll have to walk the rest of the way later and kuzco doesn't even protest.

idk if i'm even explaining well what i'm trying to say here. but basically, if yzma actually raised kuzco and contributed to his current behavior, then she and pacha both are figures who guided him and helped him grow. only yzma helped him become the tyrant that he was at the start of the movie, who was selfish and callous and saw everyone else as beneath him. whereas pacha helped him see the value in being selfless and considerate of others. and in the end, yzma is stuck as a cat and nobody is concerned about her. kronk has found a new job that makes him genuinely happy, while kuzco has decided to build a hut on the hill next to pacha's and effectively joined his family. in the sweatbox documentary it's even mentioned that chicha and the kids were at risk of being removed from the film, but it was decided that they needed to be there because having just pacha as a single guy who lived alone wasn't interesting enough--kuzco needed to go from having basically an empty world where he had nobody to being able to come together with pacha's whole family. and i just think that's incredibly satisfying and beautiful. it also leads up to one of the few things i really do enjoy about the emperor's new school, which is the fact that during the show kuzco moves in with pacha and chicha and pretty explicitly thinks of them as basically his parents while he's like a son to them.

idk. i feel like my mind went in a million different directions while i was writing all this. but i guess i just think that for all of the praise the emperor's new groove gets for its comedy and for how hilarious yzma and kronk in particular are as a duo, the movie also has a lot of genuine heart that gets overlooked. kuzco's character growth and his unique dynamic with pacha is, for me, really what elevates the movie from just a funny movie that i like to one of my favorite disney movies. and i wish more people appreciated that aspect of it and saw it as a found family story in the same way that treasure planet, brother bear, and lilo and stitch are all found family stories.

[woahjo]

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!

[witchygod]

Thinking about Kenji Sato Flanderization

I think certain scene with Kenji certainly stood out out about Kenji for fans, particularly the "do my own thing" and "I know it's been a long year but you got me now" scenes and I've noticed a trend where Kenji is characterized as well honestly a bit of an asshole, sometimes to an unlikable degree so let's talk about it.

I also think these scenes have paid into some instances of flanderization of Kenji's character. Yes he's a bit arrogant and witty but he's not as egotistical as everyone thinks- he's certainly not as RUDE as everyone seems to perceive him though he does have a temper. It should be noted his temper only seems to come through when he's extremely stressed or on the field- in conflict. He's very graceful in how he handles Ami's questions as wel. He only gets snarky with his coach because his coach approached him first with abundant hostility which I'm gonna be real- not the kind of behavior that is ideal, one could argue he was trying to weigh Kenji's value but with the context of Kenji being a world series player in America this is value as an athlete that should be proven already, if he's concerned about Kenji's arrogance that'd be another thing and while that's certainly AN issue but he admits it plainly what it is 'this is Japanese baseball not American' and Kenji responding to that with a bit of disrespect is extremely fair- and coming from his coach it very much paints the tone of how he's gonna be interacting with his teammates.

A large part of Kenji's rudeness is a direct result of hostility or an active defense from either invasive questions perceived attacks on how 'japanese he is'. This is not a subtle sub theme of his character mind you- he straight up admits to Ami that the reason he 'doesnt give a shit' is because he had to learn to because he was always being judged for being Japanese in America.

Let's not get it wrong though- Kenji is arrogant and egotistical because seriously who gives out their autograph without being prompted. These are some traits, but he's not entirely up his own ass, and he's not rude (Mama Sato raised a very good boy... Ultradad helped too) . Aside from when he was pissy with her for asking some extremely personal questions off the back at a press event- Kenji is extremely respectful of Ami, he makes sure to remember the reporters by their names not publicist and while he's not humble he's very sociable. Hell he's even polite talking to the Kaiju- actively taking a gentler tone of voice with Gigantron despite his frustrations (and increasing panic over the fact the KDF is going to kill her and he can't figure out how to stop it)- he's snarky with Mina but even then he isn't entirely dismissive of her, honestly he treats an AI more like family than a servant which is a big difference in attitude than most egotistical superheroes with ai companions.

Kenji is not the sort to be a womanizer hell he doesn't even seem the sort to attend parties unless he's forced to, it's pretty clear he's a bit of a loner- this is evident as much as there is never a mention to him missing his teammates in America and the fact the only person he has to talk to in Japan aside from his father is an acquaintance he's not even certain won't publish his personal conversations with. (She won't because she's a fucking professional with ethics which is also the reason that she's not a love interest God bless I love you Ami💕) He's overwhelmed by relearning how to fit in to Japan, dealing with the xenophobia,adjusting to the new culture of baseball become Ultraman deal with his daddy issues and mourning the disappearance of his mother- all things that heavily influence his attitude and a lot of times seem to be overlooked by people.

We take away one or two of those stressors Kenji goes from snarky and arrogant to a whole lot more sociable and pleasant. He's at his core a sensitive and confident individual who's just really passionate about baseball. He's kind enjoys teaching others about his special interest and is charismatic and bold despite being prone to holding people at arms length. Which is fair because he has a lot of dangerous secrets.

In short Kenji Sato is just a Mama's boy girl(jk)

In short Kenji Sato is a pretty complex character who suffers from a decent amount of emotional constipation and just straight up having no friends. He's respectful and kind and a bit sensitive which can make him seem pretty temperamental and he's prone to pushing people away at the first sign of hostility or when they overstep his boundaries. He's extremely stressed throughout the movie and adjusting to a lot of NEW, and the KDF/Kaiju trying to get chunks out of him and the pretty blatant xenophobia from the baseball scene (ill justified by him playing badly :/) doesn't help.

I also didn't mention much of his reluctance to being a hero and his irresponsibility to the role initially I realized and I think that should be its own subject because what's going on there is less a personality thing and more.... Directly correspondent to his relationship with his father, and the fact he was GROSSLY unprepared for the role. But I do want to note that his sense of responsibility is a lot stronger than people think because it doesn't really take a lot to convince him to do the right thing after Nobiranga's death. If he was still prone to inaction after this event I'd chalk it up to a personality defect but no he's pretty quick to make more of an effort as Ultraman after this, he saw the consequences of his actions and while he's gonna whine about it he does what he has to.

I may also go on a Rant Rant later about his coach and how the next movie really needs to try to save his character because he's shit at his job....

[red-riding-wood]

PSA - Community Predator

Over a series of months, myself and other Tumblr users -- fic writers, gif makers, fans of created content -- have been victimised by @mrkdvidal1989, who has extensively lied about who he is, preyed on multiple women and denied involvement -- therefore ruining friendships, reputations and feelings, and promised me life-saving medical treatment that he never followed through on.

More information including mine and their stories under the cut.

The reason I am going public with this is twofold:

A) To protect others from being hurt. He is known to reach out to many tumblr users, especially young women in the Cillian Murphy fandom -- but he may have a wider reach beyond this circle. B) Since his "disappearance" three weeks ago and the unravelling of his lies, this man has ruined my life and the only hope I had of obtaining treatment for a condition that has been plaguing me for four years.

Killian Vidal is the name he has chosen to give us, and has claimed to be both a officer commander and general in the mobility troop in the SAS (the general rank does not even exist), has beaten cancer a while ago (but said to another mutual that his "time was running out" and he is currently struggling with it), and a plethora of other life experiences and general knowledge about him that varies in consistency when talking to different people and is questionable in its validity. He has also shared pictures of "himself" that when reverse image searched, belong to different people.

I got to know Kill when he reblogged one of my fanfics (as the story seems to start with a lot of his victims) and he reached out via DMs. We quickly became close friends who called nearly every day on Discord and when I told him about my health issues, he immediately offered to pay for my medical treatment wherever I could find willing doctors.

I was hesitant to believe this at first since all of this seemed too good to be true (and was). He claimed to be very wealthy, enough to afford private jets like it was nothing and to rent me an apartment in the UK in the same building as him. Over time, I grew to trust him because he felt like such a genuine person and friend, which was made all the more believable by the fact that he has such a huge following on Tumblr and was, at the time, part of a vast social network of fans and friends (one of which he even claimed to know IRL -- who will remain anonymous unless they decide to speak out). I decided to ignore the little red flags because I was so desperate to receive this treatment that for me would be life-saving.

For four years, I have been plagued by an array of (mostly) undiagnosed digestive issues that have made my life almost unbearable and have on numerous occasions nearly killed me due to malnutrition. I've spent months in hospital, endured years of malpractice and misdiagnoses, undergone heart surgery, and have tried absolutely everything I can to get better. In the winter of 2023, I was told by my doctor that I was refused in the TPN program (a treatment that may have slowed or stopped my weight loss) and that with or without it, I was looking at mortality. Refusing to stop fighting but having exhausted the public health care system in Canada, I went into 2024 not really having much hope of anything anymore.

So, when Kill came along, that changed. He promised -- and I mean, from the bottom of his heart, promised -- that he would help me get treatment, that he would get me out of my abusive home and fly me to the UK, that he would be there for me as my friend, etc. I was beyond grateful, and as my trust with him built, so did my hope.

The travel plans kept getting put off; originally, he would fly me out as soon as the apartment became available, which was the 11th of Feb, 2024. He kept finding excuses to not book the jet. Finally, it seemed as if around the 15th/16th I would be flying. My health had been declining rapidly and the situation was becoming all the more urgent, and he said he was in contact with a pilot and would send the ticket soon and call me.

That was the last I heard from him. The 16th.

Initially thinking he had ended his life (he had discussed thoughts of suicide with me prior to this), I was beside myself with worry not only thinking one of my closest friends was gone but also that my chance at life was. I reached out to his other friends, and I made several calls to the UK authorities and emergency services and ended up requesting a welfare check be made to see if he was even alive.

They reported that no one under the name Killian Vidal was in the records of the building name he gave me -- the same building that I was meant to live in within that week.

After reaching out to my now beloved friend @kittenonpluto (A.K.A., Cas) on Tumblr, I learned that Kill was in fact alive, and had told her that he was in hospital for digestive issues in Indianopolis, United States (though again, no record of his name in their medical system). He still wouldn't talk to me, but told her to tell me that he would reach out when he was out of hospital.

Cas and I compared information he'd told us (her story will be attached to this post) and looked into the mystery more. He constantly dodged confrontation and questions about the fake photos and information he'd sent her, and seemed to use his completely fabricated hospitalisation as an excuse to not fulfil his promises to myself and her, as well as a means to garner sympathy.

It was quite obvious that he didn't know how the American medical system worked, and he even incorporated elements of my actual story and used them in his. When asked about his treatments, he responded with medically false information. He reported digestive issues, reflux, and having both an NG tube and TPN -- both of which I have experience with -- and let me say, I am beyond disgusted and infuriated that my real life trauma was used as a ploy in all this.

How do we know for a fact this is false? I checked the police case for his welfare check again, and they said that they confirmed him being in the UK at the same time he had told Cas he was in hospital in the States.

After a final confrontation from both Cas and myself (and a desperate final plea for the medical aid he promised me), he was never heard from again from either of us or our friend circles.

I'm now having to pick up the pieces he's left me in and to be honest, I have little to no idea of what the hell to do or how to save myself. The fact that he strung me along for a month and built up my hope that I was going to live only to abandon me without even a word is deplorable to me.

And mine isn't the only story. I've heard from four women on Tumblr (who, again, will remain anonymous unless they choose to speak out) who he has been romantic or sexually involved with (and lied about his involvement, made them out to seem insane or toxic, created rifts in our friendships, toyed with their emotions, and made false promises to of relationships, marriage, and finances).

And that's not including the ex-wife who came back to Tumblr to claim that her and Kill had never met nor married. She was promptly silenced by a "lawyer threat" that we have strong reason to believe was a bluff.

At the end of the day, there are so many lies, half-truths, inconsistencies, etc. this man has wrapped himself in and we don't know for the life of us what his motives are, but from the information that we do know is false, he isn't genuine. He toys with people. He hurts them. Myself and the others that have been affected by this want that to stop.

And at any point, he has the ability to make a new account, and take on a new persona, pretend to be someone else. Tumblr is a wonderful place and I have met so many cool people on here, but please be careful about who you interact with and what you share, because aside from making this post, it is beyond my power to stop him from doing what he does. But after what he did to me, I could not remain silent.

Other Stories

If you have an experience or story with Killian that you would like heard, please reblog it on this thread or make a post. With your consent, I can include a link to it below.

kittenonpluto's story

aurorag98's story

everyoneisawhore's story

your-nanas-house's story

hllywdwhre's story

Final Note

Lastly, if you have read this far, thank you.

If you want to reach out to me about this issue -- whether it's to anonymously share your experience, ask questions, ask for evidence (of which I can back up these statements with), or anything at all --, please do not hesitate to do so. <3

For those who may be worried about the potential legality of this post, everything that I have stated as fact is fact and it is not my intention to slander or spread false information.

[dr-spectre]

Guess who turned 7 years old?

SPLATOON 2!!!!! Everyone's favourite Splatoon game!!!! Right? Right guys....? We love Splatoon 2 yeah....? It's the best one right.....? Totally not gonna become the middle child of the series that gets overshadowed by the new fresh Splatoon 3 and the nostalgia of the first game right.....?

Okay, jokes aside about if Splatoon 2 is actually good or not. This was the game that actually got me into Splatoon, I knew about the series since it's announcement but I couldn't play the first game because like the rest of general public, I didn't own a wii u. Still don't but I would love to have one to mod. (And play Splatoon 1 online with fan servers...)

I think Splatoon 2 really did bring a lot of cool stuff to the table and it had a lot of quality of life features and interesting weapon, sub and special concepts.

It gave us the dualies!! THE DUALIES! I LOVE THE DUALIES!

It gave us the brellas! Which.... were kinda bad at launch and still are bad till this day....

BUT! I dont wanna talk about weapons because thats BORING! I wanna talk about one of the best things Splatoon 2 gave us...

OFF THE HOOK! PEARL AND MARINA! These girls are some of the most popular characters in the series and for good reason. They are both funny, likeable, charming, witty and have developed backstories by the time Octo Expansion comes around. Plus their chemistry is top-notch and so damn CUTE! It's almost has if they are somehow more than friends and that kind of connection is canon and people who try to deny it are fucking idiots and will never be in a relationship of their own.....

Also Splatoon 2 gave us a pretty solid hero mode at launch, sure it was basically more Splatoon 1 hero mode but hey, the first hero mode was fun so more of the same is fine by me. Plus you get Marie's classic snark too while you go through levels, she's nice company surprisingly. Way better than some old ass crusty dude...

It also gave us....

totally didn't fuck up my mental health this year and last year and caused me chest pain and discomfort until I had to dig and dig AND DIG for knowledge just to salvage it and make sure my favourite character in the fucking series was given the respect she deserves....

....hypno/octo Callie.... totally didn't fuck up this villain arc for her huh Nintendo? Totally didn't throw away the depth you built up (and was shown in concept art) only to try and hastily fix it 2 years later with an obscure relationship chart no one fucking talks about, not even the timeline explainers...

totally didn't use the wrong terminology to describe her situation and made everything so much worse because you wanted a simple black and white story for the kiddies yeah Nintendo? Despite you making stuff grey in the dlc expansion so the both story modes now clash like oil and water theme wise.

And yet you still treat her like dirt. Still using the wrong poorly localised words. If I still gotta repeat to the sky one more time that callie was under hypnosis and not forceful brainwashing I might have a stroke. You can't even fucking brainwash someone with hypnosis because the limitation of hypnosis is that the person under it must be fully comfortable with the suggestion and the suggestion cannot go agaisnt their morals and ideology. AND GUESS WHAT BRAINWASHING IS! FORCING DIFFERENT IDEOLOGIES INTO SOMEONE'S HEAD! DO YOU GET WHY I HAVE AN ISSUE NOW?!?!?! JUST USE THE WORD HYPNOTISED NINTENDO! THATS ALL YOU GOTTA DO!! ILL BE SOOO HAPPY!!!

YOU TOO INKIPEDIA! I CAUGHT YOU USING THE WORD TOO MULTIPLE TIMES! you better change it... just change brainwashed to hypnotised and I would literally kiss you on the lips or something idk... I love you inkipedia but that's all you gotta change okay? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?

ENOUGH OF THAT! I WANNA TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE!!!

Do you know what else Splatoon 2 gave us?

OCTO EXPANSION BABY! I know people love to call this overrated now but I really don't care. It's not overrated, it's perfectly rated. It also gave us PLAYABLE OCTOLINGS! Which was a highly requested thing people really really wanted and they gave us what we asked for! Even though they lacked a lot of customisation options.... still do till this day... (Nintendo is it really that hard to come up with new hair? The community has been doing that for years for you man.)

And of course... the last thing I want to talk about...

This is probably my favourite Splatfest to date. It brought in a lot of actual genuine philosophical discussion on what kind of world is best, a world of chaos? Or a world of order? I chose team chaos because when the youtuber/streamer Etika was still around he chose team chaos and I chose that team because of him... rest in peace...

The shifty station too was phenomenonal as you got to hear Fly Octo Fly and Pearl would come in AND YOU GOT TO USE HER PRINCESS CANON!!!! IT WAS SO FUCKING COOL AHHHH!!!

God Pearl is so cool... i can't believe I actually used to dislike her. I wanna beat up teen me so badly for having such bad takes. Marina is hot sure, but, Pearl is just so fucking funny. Man what was wrong with 13 to 17 year old me....

Anyways, I wanted to ramble about Splatoon 2. It's pretty special to me as it was the reason I am here today, so I can't really criticise it as much as others do. Well... aside from one obvious thing but, I've done that many times.

Also, before I go... NINTENDO!!! BRING BACK SHIFTY STATIONS FOR SPLATOON 4!!! DO IT!!! STOP BEING COWARDS!!!!

[olderthannetfic]

This isn't a complaint, just sort of a musing-- Yeah, if AO3 allowed monetization, it would cause the whole platform to become way shittier, not just for legal reasons. But this kind of reminds me of something I've thought about a lot.

I'm someone who's not a very strong or attentive reader, but the ease with which I can find thousands of appealing works on AO3 means I have ALSO found dozens of writers who grip me enough that I would read ANYTHING by them. I also find reviews and recs for popular book series' to be... very unreliable, but I can consistently find interesting works by looking at user bookmarks and by trawling tags. And I don't even mean in a "oh, this user doesn't want stories, they want tropes" way, because I'm with everyone else that reading the exact same enemies to lovers romance gets kind of boring after a while (no shade on people who enjoy that sort of thing). I mean that sometimes I find an idea and think 'oh, this is a VERY cool literary theme; I wonder how other writers have explored the same idea?' - and then find out that there's a canonical tag that sees very little use, and trawl through people exploring the same ideas about the nature of freedom when you have a duty to family (or whatever it is this time) until I find one that just NAILS it and sets my brain on fire.

In other words, AO3 is the only place I can get the same reading experience that I had in school where there were teachers and mentors who would not only do just about anything to help me find interesting stuff, but also knew me personally and would help me find extremely specific concepts like "I want a story that captures the feeling of being completely owned by another person and the oppressive surrendering of will that comes with it, but which isn't about slavery, religion, or marriage" or "I want a story that's just like Howl's Moving Castle but specifically in these three ways."

I don't wish AO3 was marketplace, but I wish there was marketplace that gave me the experience of AO3. The fact that there is SO MUCH free user generated content on AO3, and that it's so easy to explore with great specificity, means it's the only place I KNOW I'll find something fun. I wish it served as a platform to find professional artists doing silly stuff on their down time. (In fact, last time I fell in love with a fic, I got to talking to the author, who sent me a novel draft with all of the same themes but original characters and setting. That unpublished work is now one of my favorite books.)

I can think of a bunch of platform ideas that would scratch this itch for me, but I can't imagine any of them working out as well since the fandom experience and culture is such an integral part of why fanfic is different from original fic. (And also since monetization makes platforms get shitty fast.)

--

[itsnothingofinterest]

This is probably a weird note to end my time with MHA's run on; but I find it so strange how I still see people calling Tomura out on just being a destruction-hungry villain with supposedly no plan or follow up...as though he is unique for that simplicity. Especially after the ending we got. Like, Deku and All Might never really had a plan when they were reshaping society by beating up the enemy and everything worked out fine for them, but does anyone call them out for just using violence to mindlessly solve everything with no further plan? (Well, yes. Me. Right now.)

Because like, really thinking about it; how different was All Might's plan from the start of his career to take down AFO and become a symbol, and Deku's plan to end the villains and bring everything back, from Shigaraki's plan to end hero society and bring about a world accommodating to the League? It all seemed to boil down to the same basic premise of Step 1) Beat everyone & everything making things worse, Step 2) ...it all just kind of works out from there. (I guess All Might planned on being inspiring and uplifting, but then we could also count Tomura's plan to be imposing and...uplifting but for different people. Deku was winging it every step of the way though.) Everyone's getting on Tomura's case for doing nothing but destroying; but all evidence from when the heroes do it suggests violence & destruction works. And it just never fails to bug me when people call Tomura out for stuff that's fine when heroes do it.

Which, yeah, let's touch on how it did just work out for Deku that way for no logical reason, least of all anything he planned. He punched out the big bad just like All Might and now things are like a hundred times better than they were under All Might with no more Tenkos abandoned in the street. If stuff like that just happens if you punch out your enemies hard enough, then why couldn't that happen for Tomura? Maybe if he had destroyed the government & hero society it would've, idk, been so fear/awe-inspiring that all the villains would've been nice and cooperative under the PLF and everything would've been fine. Or something. No more contrived than what we saw with the old lady plot line, MHA is just a series where that stuff works out. Heck, one time it actually did just work out that way for Tomura:

Again, violence and destruction works in MHA. I mean; duh, it's a shonen manga.

Plus all this is ignoring the fact that, unlike those two, Tomura did have a follow up to the violence. He did have a step two, or at least one & a half, after "beat down all the bad guys in the country." Rather than just going "and everything will work out from there," he had his guys plan for the future so he could say "and Spinner, Toga, and RD et. all will make sure everything works out from there." (Admittedly, not much; but also, not hopes and dreams.) He did have a plan, it was just the plan from the Overahul arc, where he was last asked to have a plan: leave it to his allies.

And hey, that means it's actually better than what we saw from genius All Might and brainiac Deku. So why are we still, even after everything was over, acting like there's some expectation as a villain he didn't meet? I guess it's just in the nature of a 'tantrum-having man-child who wants nothing but destruction' to put more forethought into the future he wants to build than the society-uplifting greatest heroes.

That or maybe everyone had really detailed follow-ups for when they won that Hori never went much into, but that'd render this post a bit pointless so shhh.