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woahjo · 9 months ago

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The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got a name?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his understanding.

"Come with me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You must be tired.”

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

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

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

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell?

"Sounds like a good deal," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Mina says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thick and nod a little.

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

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

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

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

“Nothing really,” Mina says.

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

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

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

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

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.”

You recognize Katsuki’s voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listen as you eat your crackers.

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

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

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

Mina laughs a little.

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

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

“You’re really forthcoming with information.”

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

“Can you blame me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward.

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

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

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

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

“Got everything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says.

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

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

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

“How long are you staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group grows quiet for a moment.

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says.

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

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.

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

There’s a pregnant pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Need some help?” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?”

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

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

You tilt your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him.

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

“You’re doing laundry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

“Were you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s pretty,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

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

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

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peggyao3 · 5 months ago

Text

Preyd

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x f!reader (reads like an ambiguous OC)

SUMMARY: Feyd calls his pet to his chambers for a monthly feast.

WORD COUNT: 2,259

TAGS: 18+, smut, graphic depiction of violence, she/her reader, AFAB reader, dubious consent, ambiguous relationship status, oral (f receiving), period oral ❗, period sex, blood play, knife “play”, blood kink, BITING, pain kink, vaginal sex, violence, sadomasochism, attempted murder, aftercare-ish (love that tag right after attempted murder)

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Cool air streams into Feyd’s chamber when the door opens at his command. The servants who bring the struggling woman don't need to knock. The increasing volume of her irate pleading out on the hallway has been caressing his ears for the past minute. He regards it as foreplay.

The woman's toes scrape over the stone tiles as she is delivered to him like a meal, but without a platter because a good meal is best devoured on the floor, with dirty teeth and fingers.

She is shoved into the room by rough hands which hastily retreat, bending and bowing to the Na-Baron who sits with his hands on his knees, a black smile already forming on his alabaster skull.

She stands on shaky legs, clutching the robes that still cloak her frame. Warm wetness already runs down her inner thigh. Red, not black.

“You left me waiting.”

“I can't exactly control when I start,” she snaps. The irate edge to her tone doesn't fool him. “My Lord,” she adds in a much more timid voice, head lowered so the hood of her cloak hides her trembling lips.

“I expected you two days ago.”

“Tssk. Forgive me.” Feyd's head tilts to the side and he stands up, striding over to the cloaked woman.

“You know I could keep you in a prison cell instead?” The calm control of his voice is a farce. In truth he is quaking with excitement, yearning to get under her skin.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“So, be a little more grateful.”

The Harkonnen heir's hand shoots forward and grasps her chin. He yanks her head up. The ferocious tug makes her hood fall off, revealing a head full of hair and glossy eyes that never stopped smoldering with a sliver of reckless defiance.

Feyd squeezes her chin, squishing delicate flesh against easy to break bones. His fingers leave bruises as he slides his black tongue over her mouth, along the side of her nose, into the apple of her eye until she winces and forces the black appendage out by shutting her lids. His tongue wriggles through her lashes instead, wetting them with saliva that clings to the fine hair like inky tears.

Ruthlessly, he shoves her backwards with a force that could snap a neck. She stumbles and falls, landing hard on the bed. Feyd-Rautha leaps after her like she's a felled enemy in the ring and he is one stab away from victory. Strong hands half push up her robes, their warmth a stark contrast to their snow white hue, devoid of color like they are devoid or mercy.

She tries to push at his chest to hoist him off, but he catches her foot and bites her toe until she lets out a shrill scream. The robes fall over her bent thighs and pool around her hips. She is bare underneath, except for the blood that glistens on her center.

Inky eyes light up with nauseating joy as he admires the crimson landscape between her thighs. His outlandish pet is so colorful and full of life… Pale hands wrap around her thighs to part them. Her muscles flex, as if she could ever stop him from taking what he wants.

“Let me eat. I've been starving.”

“You are sickening.”

Feyd-Rautha's mouth descends between the woman's forcefully spread thighs and his tongue hotly slips through her folds, parting them effectively to get to the source of her heady lifeblood. She shivers, spine arching despite the revulsion she feels for him. Her fingers dig into the sheets - white, to mark the occasion. They will be stained red all over by the time her period is over.

Stubbornly, she stares at the ceiling, though in the long run her gaze can’t resist the twitching silhouette of pale, lithe muscles that shape Feyd’s shoulders and back. He produces sounds like a sloppy eater, like a panting beast whose teeth are tearing through a carcass, except that her flesh is lively and, unlike the carcass, highly receptive to both pleasure and pain.

She knows this is only the beginning. The easy part. When Feyd’s dark eyes lift to monitor her expression, she knows what he is about to do, yet he catches her by surprise. His teeth close around her clit and nip, forcing a squeak out of her mouth and a hand to shoot down and push against his skull.

Feyd feels virtually invigorated and laps at the swollen bud like a salivating dog until her body spasms and her nails dig into his scalp. Each clench of her walls offers him more sanguine fluid to drink.

His tongue returns to her slit while he stares at her disheveled face, eyes like black, bottomless pits, insatiable. She knows nothing she can give will ever be enough.

One might think a wet tongue on a bleeding center would make the area in question cleaner, but Feyd somehow makes a mess like a child with no table manners, smearing blood over her thighs and venus mound. It is almost like slaughtering his outlandish pet, but without the commitment. It makes his cock hard.

The treatment continues until the sheets are drenched in sweat and blood, until the woman’s thighs quake violently in the na-Baron’s wicked hold. She feels lightheaded and every touch to her overstimulated center burns almost like a whiplash.

Feyd however is far from being done. He relishes how her flesh feels now that it’s hot and swollen and covered in bite marks all around her cunt. He is unable to tell if the blood that spills comes from her center or the searing wounds he’s caused with his voracious teeth.

Nails dig into his skull, leaving marks that bleed. A thin rivulet of black runs down his brow bone and seamlessly disappears in the corner of his eye. He only grins, bites harder where many old scars already adorn her flesh. His cock strains against the fabric of his trousers and his pelvis grinds against the mattress, dry-humping it, spurred by the taste of blood like a beast by the scent of pheromones.

“Stop!” She pleads. “You greedy monster, stop stop stop!” But he doesn't listen.

He pretends not to see the way her hand slips into the pocket of her robe, producing a blade of shiny silver that finds a new home in Feyd-Rautha’s neck. Sweet pain radiates through his flesh and a moan comes out of his blood-smeared mouth.

His pet snarls and strains, fighting against the hand around her wrist that had stopped the lethal attack at the last second. The knife’s tip trembles in the na-Baron’s throat but then her fingers go slack, acknowledging defeat. Feyd takes hold of the blade and gingerly pulls it free, exhaling a soft moan.

Fascinated, he regards the black blood that decorates the tip of the blade. Rapt as he is, he has finally stopped assaulting her center with his greedy mouth. He is almost proud of her for the attempt, even if it was a pitiful one. His neck throbs where the blade had kissed his jugular.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear!” The pitiful would-be assassin hiccups, tears slipping down her temples. She clutches her robes to her heaving chest as if that could protect her fragile life.

“I should split your tongue.” Feyd-Rautha rises to his knees between her parted legs. Blood and slick have left a sanguine pattern on his face. Pensively, he twists the blade in the air so it catches the light. “Or maybe you should split mine? So I can make twice the mess of your cunt.”

“You are insane.”

“You brought the tool.” He laughs and offers the blade to her mouth. Panicky, she shakes her head, twisting it away and into the sheets with squinted eyes. “I want you to lick it. Taste my blood, pet.”

She refuses until he nudges the tip between her lips, drawing a droplet of blood. Quickly, she surrenders, opening her mouth like he wants though her brows remain pinched with fear. Feyd languidly slides the flat side of the blade over her pink tongue, sullying it with black.

“Swallow. And tell me how it tastes.”

She swallows, cringes and hesitates. “P-Potent, my Lord.”

Feyd-Rautha laughs and his free hand drops to his pelvis, unfastening the black fabric that has kept his manhood covered. Panic rises to her eyes, bigger panic than when she had feared she might die by his knife.

“Wait, n-no!” He has never done this to her before.

“You’ve impressed me.”

The fabric is pushed down to his mid thighs. She has always feared his length and girth would be daunting, but the sight before her is as monstrous as the monster he is in flesh and in spirit. He lowers himself, hand wrapped around his shaft to nudge the thick head to her swollen entrance.

She raises her feet and plants them against his abdomen, pressing against adamantine flesh with all her strength but she doesn’t stand a chance. Feyd watches all hope go out in her eyes as her feet slip to the side and her knees fall against her cloaked chest.

A cage of white, wiry flesh leans over her. She smells her own heady blood on his face and cringes. It almost distracts her from the velvety flesh that presses against her cunt, still sopping wet with her own slick and blood and the na-Baron’s black saliva.

He breaches her, stretching her obscenely as inch after inch carves into her cunt. Black teeth are parted for a near-maniac grin as his virile length is massaged by snug, bloody walls.

She winces, shifting her hips to accommodate to the intrusion. It actually hurts less because he hasn’t marked her from the inside yet, so she is almost grateful for it. This way the sore marks on her inner thighs can rest.

Feyd shoves the final half of his cock inside with the force of a gut punch, knocking the air out her lungs with a pathetic yelp. He rolls his hips, grinning, getting comfortable inside her body. After only a few moments, he is comfortable enough and slams his pelvis down, grinding into her with short, hard thrusts that batter her cervix. Blood squelches wetly with every move.

She pushes at his chest but avoids his face, knowing her fingers would only end up between his teeth, bitten and bruised. A ferocious slam of Feyd’s hips makes her howl like a wolf. Reflexively, her hands shoot up to his pale throat, squashing his Adam’s apple under her palms. One fingernail digs into the wound on the side. A strangulated moan escapes the man’s throat, hips stuttering, lids fluttering.

The hand that isn’t busy supporting his weight offers the knife to her. “A second chance,” he rasps, eyes alight with madness. A thread of black drool dribbles off his lower lip and lands on her chin.

Shuddering, she accepts the offered weapon, holding it with a weak grip. Her worn-out body struggles to muster the strength, but she brings her arms around Feyd’s back, a wicked embrace. Aimlessly, the tip of the blade scrapes over his muscles as she tries to find two ribs between which to slot it.

“Higher. Or you’ll never hit the heart.”

“Why don’t you kill yourself then, if you’re so keen on it!” Furiously, she lashes out, but the blade only slips off a rib, leaving only a shallow cut on wiry flesh. Still, it stings beautifully and a small groan escapes him.

“A third chance, because I’m so generous.”

“Now you’re j-just being greedy.” She grits her teeth, tears wobbling on her waterline. His cock makes her sore from the inside and his hip bones dig into the marks on her inner thighs.

“I’m not greedy. I get everything I want. Again!”

A merciless thrust makes her cry out and it’s not very hard to lift the blade again and slam it down. This time, it finds its target, slipping beautifully between two ribs. The Harkonnen-heir roars out, black spittle spraying over her face as his features scrunch up and his hips slam down and stutter, nearly knocking her unconscious with his force.

Her hand weakly slips off the blade handle. She already knows she has missed any vital organs, or he would have stopped her.

His seed paints her cervix and even as his length begins to soften, it still feels like too much.

She doesn’t cum around his cock, but that’s alright. After half a dozen on his tongue, her body has nothing left to give except weak tremors and tears of relief when he finally pulls out. Black seed oozes out of her, mixing with red. She buries her face in her hands and rolls on her side, curling up. Fatigue makes her dizzy. The servants are going to have to carry her back to her chambers, she fears. Her shaky legs are incapacitated.

The wet sound of the knife being slipped out of his flesh nearly makes her retch, but even for that her body is too weak.

In awe, Feyd swipes black blood off the blade. The bed dips when he sits next to his astonishing pet. A throaty hum is all it takes to convince her to crawl into his lap, still curled up and shivering. He brings his bloodied fingers to her face, stroking it softly as she presses against his body for warmth.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she mumbles, on the brink of passing out. “Next time I’ll kill you better.”

A/N: If you had fun reading this, consider leaving a comment! ❤️ It would make me very happy!

#feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune part 2 #house harkonnen #dune fanfiction #feyd-rautha harkonnen #feyd x oc #feyd rautha x oc #fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #peggysuave fanfics

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justagalwhowrites · 11 months ago

Note

I saw this video and I feel like something like this would be fun to read! I have to ask would you ever consider writing a kidnapper!Joel fic?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Dfp6Na/

Hi Bestie!

So.... Yes :)

Not quite the vibe of the linked video but I hope you enjoy it!

Run Rabbit: Part One

It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They're harsh, they're cold and they're killers. But, as a nurse, you're a valuable person to have around and they're not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS. Written as part of the @romana-after-dark Dead Dove December event (but posted late because it's impossible for me to make a deadline at the moment apparently.) This will be in two parts.

Relationship: Joel Miller x Female Reader X Tommy Miller

Warnings WHOLE FIC: DUBCON (reader is a captive, participation might be enthusiastic but consent is dubious under the circumstances.) Raider!Joel; Raider!Tommy; Captive reader; Canon-typical violence; graphic depictions of violence; graphic depictions of injury; attempted SA (not by Joel or Tommy); Dom/Sub dynamic but not an established relationship; Dom-ish Joel; Brat tamer-ish Joel; Sub-ish reader; DDDNE; M/F/M threesome; unprotected P in V sex; Anal sex; Oral sex; No use of Y/N; Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 8k

PLEASE NOTE: part one does not get smutty ❤️

Part 2

November, 2004

“You can have whatever you want, please!”

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you tried to keep quiet from your place below the floorboards. Your boyfriend, Zach, had tucked you into the crawl space when he ran in from hunting with three men on his tail.

“They don’t know about you,” he’d said, breathless. “Stay quiet, I’ll get us out of this.”

But even a year into the apocalypse, Zach wasn’t a great shot. It wasn’t long before he was out matched and the men were breaking down the door to the cabin you’d been holed up in for a few days.

“Seemed awful keen to protect whatever it is you got,” one of the men said. “How do we know you’re not gonna just come and try to take it back?”

“Should just kill ‘em,” another man said. “Don’t gotta worry about it then.”

“No, no, I swear I won’t,” Zach pleaded.

“Prove it,” the final man spoke for the first time. “Got no reason to trust you now, why should we leave you alive?”

You kept your hands tight over your mouth, trying not to cry, trying to stay quiet, hoping they’d leave Zach alive.

“Because I have something better than supplies!” He yelled it, his words flowing together as he stumbled over them.

“Like?” The third man said.

“My girlfriend,” Zach panted. Your breath caught. “She was a nurse before, in an ER, she can keep you alive, you can have her, please…”

“And where is this girlfriend?” The first man said. “You seem awful alone here…”

You hoped Zach was just buying time, that he wouldn’t actually tell these animals where you were.

You were wrong.

“In the closet,” he said. “There’s a crawl space there, I told her to hide there while I took care of things here. Please, she’s worth a lot, she’s good at patching you up, she’s real pretty, you can have her, you can have her…”

The sound of his begging almost covered the thud of boots as you heard the closet door creak open and the floor over your head disappeared.

“Well, would you look at that,” a large man with shaggy curls and a patchy beard - the first one who has spoken, you thought - smirked down at you. “He’s not full of shit.”

“No,” you shook your head, eyes wide. “No, please…”

The man ignored you, grabbing a fistful of fabric at your chest and hefting you up from the crawl space with a grunt. He dropped you on the ground and you tried to scramble away only to have another man grab your shoulder and throw you down. You landed on your backside, a different tall, broad man with dark curls looming over you.

“Where you think you’re running to, little rabbit?” He smirked, the second man who had spoken. You pulled yourself back from him, looking for a way out. The third man, blond and pale and the youngest of them, stood over Zach, a gun pointed at his head. He started humming Run, Rabbit, Run as he smiled at your boyfriend, glancing your way, prowling toward Zach. A predator enjoying his prey.

“So,” the first man dropped your pack that had been in the crawl space next to you at your side with a thud, making you jump. “You really a nurse?”

“She is,” Zach answered for you. “She is and you can have her, please…”

“Zach!” Tears tightened your throat.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, not looking at you. “I’m sorry, but I can’t…”

The man who pulled you from the crawl space sighed, pulling a handgun from his side, going up behind Zach and pressing the barrel to his head before pulling the trigger. Your scream hung in the air longer than the crack of the gun, the salty, metallic taste of Zach’s blood on your tongue as his body slumped to the ground.

“Hey,” the man who shot Zach dropped to one knee in front of you, grabbing your face roughly, gripping your cheeks in his large hand. There was blood on him, too. “You really think that piece of shit is worth screamin’ and cryin’ over? He was sellin’ you, girl, he ain’t worth any grief of yours.”

He released you and looked over his shoulder to the other dark haired man.

“Tommy, got something we can hold her with?” The other man - Tommy, apparently - started going through his bag. He looked toward the blond next. “Vince, gather what you can, we’re heading out in 10. Made a lot of noise here, don’t want to wait and find out what that attracts.”

“Are you going to kill me too?” You asked quietly.

The man who seemed to be in charge cocked his head at you.

“Now why would we go and do a thing like that?” He asked. “Your boyfriend might have been scum but he was right, you’re valuable cargo. You’re gonna be a good girl for us, right?”

You weren’t really sure what to say to that, your heart beating so hard and fast you were sure this man could see your pulse in your throat.

“Don’t really matter either way, does it?” He said as Tommy handed him some rope. “You either cooperate or you’re more trouble than you’re worth and we just kill you. Don’t make much difference to us. Hands out, wrists together.”

You just looked at him and he sighed, pulling his sidearm out again and putting it below your chin. The muzzle was warm and wet from where he’d just killed Zach and, for a moment, you thought you were going to vomit.

“Didn’t I just say I’d kill you if you got to be more trouble than you’re worth?” He said. “You’re already a lot of trouble by bein’ and extra mouth to feed so I recommend cooperating before my temper runs out. So. Hands out, wrists together.”

You obeyed and the man wrapped your wrists in rope tight enough that you had no hope of wriggling out but not so tight that it was painful, just uncomfortable. He wrapped his large hand around the cluster of rope between your wrists and yanked you to your feet.

“Got anything on you I should be worried about?” He asked. “Be a lot easier on you if you tell me now than later.”

“Knife,” you said, voice shaky. “Right pocket.”

“Good girl.”

He reached into your pocket and pulled the weapon free, opening and examining the blade.

“Know how to use this?” He asked, brows raised.

“I’ve used it,” you replied. He nodded and closed it, putting it in his pocket.

“Be a good enough girl for a long enough time and maybe you can get it back,” he said before turning to Tommy. “I’m gettin’ a head start with this one, heading north west, back to site. You know the way.”

“I know it,” he said. “We’ll clear out quick, catch up soon.”

The man who had you grabbed your pack from the floor and slung it over his shoulder before bringing his rifle around to his front, nudging you forward with the muzzle.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Try and take off and I’ll shoot ya. And I don’t miss.”

The man kept close to you, nudging you along in front of him and you tried not to trip on roots and overgrown brush but you’d only been walking about 20 minutes when you failed, falling with a pained grunt. The man sighed and grabbed you by the collar, pulling you to your feet.

“You OK?” He asked, gun pointed at the ground and not at you.

“Yes,” you said, even though your hands were scraped up and your knees hurt and you had your boyfriend’s blood on your skin and your throat hurt from screaming.

“Keep movin’,” he ordered.

You kept looking back over your shoulder at him. He reminded you of a guy you dated once who was in the army. He never looked in one place too long, head constantly turning, looking, searching. There were threats, he knew that. He also knew how to see them coming. The gun was tilted toward the ground but close and ready. You were waiting for him to change his mind about you, to shoot you, too. Part of you wondered if this was part of a game for him, if he was going to walk with you just long enough to lull you into a false sense of security before shooting you. Maybe he liked the fear, the surprise. Maybe he’d given too much away by killing Zach and now he couldn’t get what he wanted from you.

Maybe that was better than the alternative.

You were only walking about an hour when the other men, Tommy and Vince, caught up to you. The man you were with turned and pointed the gun, noticing their approach before you did. You froze, only realizing that it was probably a good time to run now that his attention was elsewhere once it was too late.

“Just us, Joel,” Tommy called as they climbed up the hill you’d just made it up yourselves. “No trouble behind us.”

The man - Joel, apparently - lowered the rifle and the men joined you. They had four packs between the two of them, two you didn’t recognize and two backpacking bags that you recognized as yours and Zach’s. Your stomach turned.

“Not a terrible haul,” Tommy said. “These two had decent gear and must have just taken somethin’ good. A lot of jerky, good stock of ammo, some medical shit.”

Joel looked down at you, his eyebrows raised.

“You know how to use the shit in those bags?” He asked. You just looked back at him. He sighed and grabbed a fist full of your hair, jerking you close to him, making you squeak in shock. “Don’t play dumb, girl, you know how to use that shit?”

“No,” you said sarcastically, not sure where the guts for that came from. “I enjoy hauling around shit I can’t do anything with.”

Joel’s jaw tensed and you weren’t sure if he was about to yell or laugh.

“Not gonna get far with an attitude like that, little rabbit,” Tommy said, but he was smirking a little. “Lot better for you if you just answer the questions when we ask ‘em.”

You looked between the two men closest to you for a moment. You wondered if they were related. Their eyes were the same, same hair, too. They would have been handsome in another context, one where you weren’t afraid they were about to kill you.

“It’s mine,” you said after a moment. “We were backpacking when the outbreak happened, we didn’t even know for a day or two, we were in the middle of the mountains and there weren’t other people around. I know how to use it all.”

Joel released you.

“Good to know you ain’t completely useless,” he said.

“You mean outside the fact that I can save your life?” You bit out. Again, you weren’t sure why.

He snorted.

“Outside of that. Keep movin’.”

With the other men there, Tommy took the lead and you followed, Vince and Joel behind you. You could feel Vince’s eyes on you, the cold, lecherous feeling of his gaze making your stomach churn.

Night was starting to fall by the time you reached a cabin that showed greater signs of people than you’d seen in what felt like forever. There was a stack of wood on the front porch, a line between the house and a tree that looked like it was meant for drying clothes, barrels placed to gather rain water. You stopped, staring at the small structure.

“Inside,” Joel said after a moment.

“I have to pee.”

He sighed.

“Vince,” he said. “Take her to piss. Don’t fuckin’ touch her unless she tries to run, got it?”

Vince groaned but nudged you off to the side of the house with the muzzle of his gun. You looked around, trying to get a lay of the land, see what a good route out might be. There was a small path that looked like it would take you deeper into the woods, eventually up into the Smokies. That was fine. If you could get your pack, you could survive out there for at least a week or two on your own, maybe find a settlement or something. You’d never had to survive on your own, you’d never hunted or shot a human being. Zach had handled that. You weren’t sure how long you could really make it on your own but you’d rather give that a shot than leave yourself to whatever these men had in store for you.

“Here’s good,” Vince said after two minutes of walking. You held out your wrists and he raised his eyebrows. “You think I’m a fucking idiot?”

“I can’t really pull my pants down like this,” you said. “I’m not a man, I can’t just whip my dick out…”

He stomped over to you and unbutton and unzipped your jeans before yanking them down to your knees, ignoring your surprised sound before going back to your hips. His fingers trailed over your skin, sinking into the meat of your ass and making your stomach churn, before he pulled your panties down, too. You could feel his eyes on you, lingering on you, before he stood up.

“There,” he said. “Happy?”

He walked a few steps away and turned back to look at you.

“I can’t go with you watching.”

He shrugged.

“Not my problem. You have to go bad enough, you’ll go.”

You glared at him and held his gaze before squatting and peeing, missing toilet paper and privacy more than you had since the damn outbreak started. You straightened up when you were done and stood there, still looking at him.

“Afraid you’ll have to come pull up my pants, too,” you said. “Since your boss apparently wants you to wait on me hand and foot.”

A muscle in the man’s neck twitched but he stalked over and yanked your clothes back up, harshly buttoning and zipping your jeans before shoving you back toward the cabin hard enough that you stumbled.

Inside, Joel and Tommy were sitting at a rustic table, a fire going in the nearby fireplace. There were two Nalgene bottles of water on the table and a bag of jerky between them. The jerky you recognized. You and Zach had made it just a few days earlier.

You tried not to think about it.

“He behave himself?” Joel asked, stretched out with his legs far in front of him.

“You’re really gonna take this little cunt’s word over mine?” Vince asked.

Joel just kept looking at you, ignoring him entirely.

“Asked you a question girl,” he said. “He keep his hands to himself?”

You glanced at Vince who was staring down Joel, his blue eyes hot and angry. You looked back to Joel.

“He was fine,” you said.

“Good,” Joel said, getting up, grabbing a bottle of water and going over to you. He put one of his huge hands on your shoulder, guiding you to the nearby couch and nudging you down onto it.

You obeyed his unspoken command, lowering yourself slowly down but not relaxing into the cushion, staying on the edge of it.

“Open,” he ordered.

Your eyes narrowed. He glared back.

“Open your mouth,” he said when you didn’t obey.

“You put your dick in my mouth I’ll bite it clean off.”

Joel squared his jaw and held up the bottle of water.

“Don’t got a smaller bottle right now and you can’t hold this with your hands tied. Don’t want you droppin’ dead from dehydration after we went through all the trouble to get you here so open your goddamn mouth.”

You ground your teeth for a moment before you obeyed. He unscrewed the top and poured the water on your tongue, crisp and cool and making you aware of just how thirsty you’d become in the few hours you’d been with him.

“Good girl,” he said. “Was that so hard?”

Eventually, he stopped and you closed your mouth, wiping your lips on the back of your tied hands as he closed the bottle.

“Don’t gotta worry about that shit from us,” he said. “Prefer when a woman begs for it, not about to take it from one who ain’t.”

“Because I can trust what a group of murderers says,” you snapped.

“Murderers,” Joel shrugged. “Not rapists. Hungry?”

“Why?” You asked, tongue still sharp. “Going to be kind enough to give me scraps of the food you stole from me?”

“Something like that,” Joel said. “If you’re gonna try to starve yourself to death, just let me know. Save you the trouble and put you down quick instead.”

You watched him for a moment. For some reason, you trusted what he was saying to you. That he wasn’t going to hurt you - at least, not like that. That he was intending to keep you alive.

“Not hungry,” you said eventually.

Joel shrugged.

“If you change your mind.”

You sat on the edge of the couch cushion as the men took inventory of what they stole from you, what they killed Zach to take. You tried not to cry.

It’s not like you’d been especially close to Zach when the outbreak happened. You hadn’t said “I love you” yet, you’d been dating for a month and a half and fucking for just a few weeks of that.

The backpacking trip had been a spur of the moment thing for both of you. You had some vacation time to burn before the end of the quarter, his job was flexible and you’d bonded over a shared love of the outdoors. You’d ignored the words of caution from your girlfriends when he wanted to take you hiking for a second date, the two of you ending up exhausted but proud as you came to the end of the seven mile trail he’d selected. He kissed you there for the first time, his lips salty with trail mix and sweat and a view of a valley swelling with shades of green spread out below you.

You were somewhere in the mountains when the world collapsed. You didn’t even know it had happened until you returned to where you’d parked your car to find the windows smashed and the inside looted, a body missing a chunk of its skull not far away. You’d ran to it on instinct, dropping to your knees beside them to check their pulse even though it was clear that there was no way they would be alive. Their skin was cold and there were fibrous, vine-like tendrils swarming in their brain.

It had been you and Zach from there. He was more of a survivalist than you. He knew how to hunt and trap, taught you how to skin a rabbit and process a deer. You weren’t sure if you’d truly come to love him or not, if the feeling you had for him was just what happened when you went about surviving the end of the world with another person and became dependent on them for your very life.

But you were certain that he hadn’t loved you. Not really. If he had, he never would have given you over to these men.

You’d never have done that to him.

Maybe you did love him. You weren’t sure you’d ever know.

“Sleep here,” Joel ordered as the day fully shifted to night and Tommy and Vince started readying for bed. “I’m keepin’ watch for now. We were gone long enough, some dumbasses might think they can move in. Don’t try anything.”

He went onto the porch and you stretched out on the couch, the other men going into what you expected were bedrooms at the back of the cabin. Your hands were still bound. You stared at the dying embers of the fire, the orange glow, and cried.

***

Joel needed Vince to stop acting like a shit head.

The man didn’t seem to understand the position he was in. He was the least valuable person here. He was young, he was dumb and he was disposable.

He just didn’t seem to realize it. If he kept looking at you like you were something he could take, he’d find out just how disposable he was.

Joel came in from his watch about 5 a.m. to find you whimpering quietly on the couch. He sighed.

“You really still crying over that jackass you were with?” He asked as you sniffled quietly.

“Shut up,” your voice was thick and wet.

“He ain’t worth it,” he said gently, sitting in the armchair that was near where your head was. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering. But then, he’d never really taken a captive before. He usually just killed people or turned them loose. You were valuable enough to keep and sending you out into the wilderness alone seemed crueler than holding onto you. He just had no idea what the fuck he was supposed to do with you now. “He didn’t know who the fuck we were or what the fuck we’d do with you - lot worse out there than us, little girl - and he handed you over on a silver fuckin’ platter. More than happy to trade your pain for his sorry life.”

“He’s the only person left that I knew,” you said softly. It was the first truly genuine thing Joel had heard you say. Except, maybe, when you asked if he was going to kill you. “I’m alone now.”

“Not alone, little girl,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was reassuring you. He shouldn’t care. “You’re better off.”

“Why do you call me that?” You asked, lifting your head ever so slightly from the arm of the couch to look at him. “I’m not a little girl…”

“Little compared to me,” he said.

You scoffed and sniffed at the same time.

“You’re a giant,” you said. “Everyone is little compared to you. Don’t see you calling Vinny there little boy…”

Joel laughed a bit.

“Maybe I should. And you’re a girl.”

“I’m a woman,” you said, a spark of defiance in your tone. “I don’t think I’m much younger than you, if I am at all.”

Joel frowned a bit at that.

“How old are you?” He asked after a moment.

You thought for a second, like you were doing the math. Which was fair. It’s not like he’d celebrated his last birthday, either, his stomach twisting at the thought. He had to think about it, too.

“I’m 33,” you said. “How old are you?”

He was surprised. Not that you looked terribly young, now that he thought about it. More that human faces lacked much definition to him anymore. Anyone older than a teenager looked about the same until they started going gray. You just seemed younger.

“I’m 37,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m not a girl,” you said, putting your head back down.

“You could tell me your name,” he said.

You scoffed.

“Then I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you, little girl,” he said. He could feel you glare at him.

“I had a whole life before,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Joel. “I had a house and a job and friends and I used to go to dinner and to concerts and buy the people I loved presents. I had a life before.”

He realized then why he’d thought you were younger. You were, possibly, the most human person he’d come across in a year. Some small spark of divine mortality - the juxtaposition of life and a kind of death that was still possible - there in your eyes that didn’t exist in others. It seemed naive, in a way. Made you seem younger than you were. But he wasn’t sure that was it. Maybe you weren’t naive. Maybe part of you was just clinging to your humanity harder than anyone else left.

“We all did,” he said, voice harsher than he’d really meant it to be. There was part of him that wanted to snap that tie in you. It was unfair that you got to keep it when he didn’t. But it was a kindness, too. You’d survive better without it. “You move on. Go to sleep.”

He went to the room he shared with Tommy who was unconscious, sprawled out on the bed and snoring. Joel took the sleeping bag on the floor and stared at the ceiling, trying to make himself not listen for the sound of you crying in the next room.

Things were surprisingly smooth with you for the next two days. Vince was a fucking idiot and got a nasty cut on his arm that you tended to, giving him stitches while he leered at you and Joel ground his teeth.

He felt better with you tied. Your wrists, at the very least, but during the day when the men were coming and going, Joel bound you to a chair at the table.

“Comfortable?” He asked the first time he did it.

“No,” you spat, face scrunched in anger that was so fierce it was almost cute. If Joel even found things cute anymore. “I’m not.”

“You gonna lose a hand from me cuttin’ off your circulation?” He asked instead. You just glared at him. “Good. Stay put, like a good girl.”

“I hate you,” you seethed at him.

Joel shrugged.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Don’t gotta like me to keep me alive, do ya?”

He went outside to gather wood.

By the third night, you were yawning and looked barely conscious before the sun had even set. Joel frowned.

“I keep telling you to sleep,” he said. “You ignoring me for fun or you think exhausting yourself is good for your health?”

“I’d love to sleep,” you snapped. “But something about having my wrists bound keeps me up at night. Maybe it’s the discomfort, maybe it’s the looming threat of death, who can say?”

Joel pulled Tommy and Vince aside after dinner, the men standing in the dirt outside the cabin, snow starting to drift down.

“She hasn’t tried to hurt anyone yet,” Tommy shrugged. “Don’t think she’s gonna go far if she gets away and doesn’t seem like the kind to kill us in our sleep.”

“Don’t like it,” Vince said, glaring at the cabin for a moment before looking back at Joel. “Can’t trust her as far as we can throw her…”

“No one said shit about trust,” Joel cut him off. “But we can’t keep ‘er tied up forever.”

“Fine,” Vince shrugged. “We can put her to use then kill her. Won’t need to tie her up then.”

Joel could hear the blood in his ears.

“Suggest that one more time, little boy, and see how long you last,” he straightened up as he said it, the full six inches he had on the younger man all the more apparent then. “You want to do that kind of shit, find someone else to run with.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he raised his arms in a moment of surrender before crossing them again. “Just don’t come crying to me when she slits your fucking throat.”

“Can’t cry if she kills me, can I?” Joel said, stomping back toward the house, pushing past Vince on the way.

You were still bound to the chair. He wordlessly unwound the rope and you relaxed your elbows, stretching your arms as best you could with your wrists still tied.

“Hands up,” he said. You frowned, just looking at him. “You heard me, you want me to untie you or not? Hands up.”

You practically flung your wrists at him and he tried not to laugh at you as he loosened the knot and pulled the rope from your wrists.

The second you were free, you rolled your shoulders and closed your eyes, groaning at the feeling of it.

“God that’s good,” you moaned before you started flexing your fingers and rotating your wrists before you glared up at him again. “What? You try being tied up for days, see how you deal with it.”

“Rather not,” Joel said, winding up the rope. “Better be a good girl, don’t try anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said as you spread your arms wide and sighed. Joel found himself smiling a little for the first time in he didn’t know how long. He stopped himself.

“Actually get some sleep,” he said, voice gruff. “No good to us exhausted.”

He left you alone, taking the bed in he and Tommy’s room that night and Tommy taking the floor. It took effort to not listen for you moving in the front room as he drifted off.

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep when Tommy shook him awake.

“Joel,” he said urgently. “She’s gone.”

***

Absolutely none of this was ideal.

You were exhausted, the only thing keeping you upright the adrenaline that ran through your whole body. You didn’t have supplies, your pack and all its valuable contents in the bedrooms of the men. You were stuck running through snow, leaving a clear path to follow until the woods got dense enough that the snow hadn’t piled up much.

But you had to go, you had to go now, now, now, right now. You couldn’t spend another night there like that, not when you had the option to get away, not when you had the use of your arms back.

Your body wouldn’t let you sleep, even for an hour or two, even just for a night to try to make a break for it tomorrow. The second Joel had freed your hands it was like you could feel every part of your body in sharp, acute detail. Every frayed nerve, every thrumming vein, every peaked hair was stark and clear. You couldn’t relax enough to sleep. You had an opening, a chance. You had to take it, you had to.

You didn’t even have your knife.

But you had your body and you knew how to push yourself over long distances in the mountains. You’d been good at it before, too. You’d hiked most of your life, knowing how to get yourself to make it to the top of the next ridge even when your calves were burning and your lungs felt on the verge of collapse you knew you could make it.

All you had to do was do that now, through all the exhaustion and all the panic, and put as much distance between yourself and those men as possible.

You’d find some way to keep yourself alive eventually. There’d be supplies or a settlement. Something. You were sure of that.

Mostly.

Your breath rose in a cloud in front of you and you broke away from the trail into the brush of the woods, thankful that the moon was bright enough that you could have some sense of where you were going.

You were just starting to relax a little when you heard it behind you. A sharp, shrill whistle. You froze.

“Come on out, little rabbit,” Tommy called. “Not gonna hurt you…”

“Shit,” you whispered as you panted for breath. They sounded pretty far away but they’d catch up eventually.

You scrambled through the forest until you reached a cluster of ferns that was thick and full and you ducked into it. If you stayed quiet and still, they’d walk right past you. You could stay put for a while and then find your way from there. Simple.

You tried to not shake from cold and fear as you heard the signs of the men getting close. There was the crunch of sticks, the rustle of leaves and the eerie sound of Vince humming Run, Rabbit, Run. The glare of a flashlight trickled between the ferns and you held your breath, the humming getting louder.

For a second, a glorious second, you thought you were in the clear. Vince had passed your hiding spot, poking through the brush closest to the trail with his rifle but you were just far enough off the trail that he missed you, and you relaxed.

Then you heard the snap of a twig.

“Found you.”

You spun, Vince turning the flashlight on and shining it in your face, all but blinding you. You threw up a hand instinctively to protect your eyes and he grabbed your wrist, yanking you out of your hiding spot and almost pulling your arm out of its socket in the process.

You yelped in pain, you couldn’t help it, and he all but threw you onto the trail. Your eyes were still adjusting to the light but it took you a moment to realize that he had his gun trained on you.

“Knew you’d take off on us,” he said, panting a little. You put your hands up and looked for a way out. “Knew you’d be more trouble than you’re worth…”

You backed away from him, more on instinct than anything else, not able to watch where you were going and you shrieked as you tripped and fell back, landing hard and barely catching yourself before your head smacked into the rock of the path. You rose up on your hands quickly, scrambling back from him as best you could but he was standing, could see where he was going. You didn’t have a hope.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please just… just let me go, you already have my supplies and…”

“Can’t let you go with you knowing where we are,” he replied. “And you were already more trouble than you’re worth in my opinion…”

“I stitched up your arm,” you said, tears stinging at your eyes. “I helped you…”

“And those two idiots won’t even let me fuck you,” he cut you off. “What good is pussy you can’t fuck, hm?”

“Please,” you said again.

“That’s not an answer,” he prowled closer, the muzzle of his rifle so close you could almost touch it. Your heart was in your throat. “Think I’ll just kill you, bet that pretty head of yours would make all kinds of nice colors when I blow it off…”

“Hey!” Tommy snapped, his gun up and pointed at Vince. “Know you’re not threatenin’ to kill her, not when we all agreed to keep her alive.”

“You agreed,” Vince snapped. “You and your asshole brother, not me.”

“That asshole has been keepin’ your sorry ass alive,” Joel growled from behind you. Your head whipped around to see him there, looming large over you. His gun was up, too, pointed at Vince. “You need us a whole hell of a lot more than we need you. You can do what I fuckin’ say or you can move on. But you keep pointing that gun at her and you ain’t gonna have much to move on with.”

The three of them stood there for a moment, Vince aiming at you, Joel and Tommy aiming at him. Your heart felt like it was going to break your ribs it was beating so hard.

Vince lowered his gun. Tommy did the same but Joel left his up.

“Joel,” Vince said but Joel cut him off.

“Don’t like men who don’t listen,” he said. “Not worth shit to me if you can’t take orders. Said you could join me and my brother if you did what you were told.”

“I told you she’d run!” Vince snapped.

“Don’t give a shit,” Joel said. “You think nurses pop up every five fuckin’ feet? She’s valuable. To us and to people we come across. Worth a little trouble. Worth a whole hell of a lot more trouble than you. Know your goddamn place.”

He lowered his gun and looked down to you.

“You alright, little girl?”

You were too shaken to fight the nickname. Instead, you just nodded.

“Good.”

He slung his rifle on his back and reached down, yanking you sharply to your feet, the movement so rough it shocked you. Once you were on your feet, he grabbed you by your chin, his callused fingers harsh on your cheeks, and pulled your face close, so close that you’d expect him to kiss you if he were your lover.

But he wasn’t that. He was your captor.

“Thought I told you not to try anything stupid,” he asked, his face almost eerily calm but his tone on the edge of anger. “You seem smart enough to know better, give you an inch and you decide to take a mile. Several, in fact. Maybe Vince is right, maybe we should kill you…”

“Joel,” Tommy said cautiously but Joel threw him a glare and he quieted.

“You really think you can do better than us out there? Hm?” He demanded. “You think you can survive all on your lonesome?”

“No,” you said, fighting to not cry. You hated that you reacted this way, that when you were scared or mad your first instinct was to cry. “But I could find…”

“Find what?” He cut you off. “Find someone else who’s willin’ to stick their necks out for you? Willing to feed you, shelter you without takin’ more from you?”

He released your chin and you slumped back from him, massaging your face and working your jaw, trying to right it.

“You’re damn lucky to be with us, little girl,” he snapped. “Real damn lucky. Better start actin’ like it instead of running off like some scared little rabbit. Hands out.”

“But…”

“No,” he shook his head firmly. “You lost the privilege of using your fuckin’ hands without my permission. Hands. Out.”

You obeyed, arms trembling, and he bound your wrists together, the ropes finding the same indentations they’d made on your skin before. He dropped your wrists once they were bound and you looked at him as you still fought to not cry. His eyes met yours, sharp and cold.

“You’re mine now,” he said harshly. “Sooner you figure that out, the easier this gets for you. Move.”

The walk back to the cabin felt long and, when you got there, you went to lay on the couch but Joel stopped you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, shrugging out of his coat.

You frowned.

“Going to sleep…”

“Not there you’re not,” he said. “You’re sleepin’ with me, you don’t get to be unsupervised anymore.”

Your eyes went wide and you shook your head.

“No, no, please, you said you weren’t…”

“Wasn’t offerin’ to fuck you, girl,” he cut you off. “You’re sleeping where I can fucking see you so get in my bed.”

Your whole body shook as he nudged you to one of the back rooms. You hadn’t been in one of these before. You had no idea how to try to escape if you needed to. It was stupid of you, you realized now, to trust Joel when he said they might be murderers but they weren’t rapists. Just because they hadn’t forced themselves on you yet didn’t mean they wouldn’t now.

The room wasn’t huge, a queen sized bed in the middle and a sleeping bag on the floor. There was a door - to a closet, you assumed - and a dresser with some picture frames on top.

“Shoes off,” Joel said.

“Please,” you said softly. “Please don’t do this, I…”

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t offering to fuck you?” He asked, sounding exasperated. “I don’t want you tracking dirt into the goddamn bed. Shoes off, get in on that side, one by the dresser. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you will.”

You obeyed and curled as tightly in on yourself as you could, facing away from him. You felt the bed dip as he climbed in, the heat of his body close to yours. But he didn’t touch you.

“Actually sleep,” Joel muttered after a moment.

You glanced over your shoulder at him. He was flat on his back, eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest. The opposite of someone who looked like they were about to grope you the second you passed out.

Still, you rolled to face him, curled tightly on yourself, and watched him until his body loosened and his breaths evened. Tommy snored lightly from the sleeping bag on the floor. You weren’t sure if their unconscious state made it feel safe enough to rest or your body gave out from exhaustion but, the next thing you knew, it was morning and you were alone.

You sat up slowly, hands still bound, an unfamiliar blanket draped over you that hadn’t been the night before.

You made your way slowly, cautiously, to the main part of the small house. The men were talking in low voices around the kitchen table and you hovered for a moment, not sure if you wanted them to notice you or not.

But Tommy was the first to see you there, a slow smile spreading over his face.

“Well hey there little rabbit,” he took a sip from a mug. “You look rested.”

“Probably wore herself out taking off,” Vince muttered.

“Gonna be just you and me today,” Tommy said, ignoring Vince’s comments. “Those two are headin’ out to do some business.”

“Business?” You asked, brows raised. “Is that code for murder?”

“Our business is none of yours, little girl,” Joel said, drinking from a mug of his own. “You stay here, behave yourself, and maybe we’ll bring you something back.”

“Rather not get anything that comes from killing,” you said. “Thanks though.”

Joel just rolled his eyes and shoved back from the table.

“You’ll take what I give you and you’ll like it,” he said, coming to stand in front of you. He put two fingers below your chin and tilted it, forcing you too look him in the eye. “Gonna take off on me again? Or do I need to tie your legs up, too?”

You gritted your teeth.

“No.”

“Good girl.”

Tommy helped you use the bathroom and you sat on the couch with jerky and sore wrists and resentment as you watched Joel and Vince get ready to head out to do… whatever it was they were about to go and do.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do to pass the time. You’d had some books in your bags but you weren’t about to risk pissing off the men for a little entertainment.

But Tommy didn’t let you sit in silence for too long, flopping down next to you on the couch as you tried to find patterns in the peeling paint of he wall. You looked at him, cagey. He smiled.

“You’re cute when you sleep.”

You frowned.

“What?”

“You’re cute when you sleep,” he said again. “All curled up and shit, just like a little rabbit.”

You shrank back from him and he put his hands up.

“Not gonna touch you,” he said. “Unless you wanted me to.”

“Well… I don’t.”

He shrugged.

“Didn’t expect you would,” he said.

He was quiet again for a few minutes before he spoke again, a gleam in his eye when he did.

“Wouldn’t happen to play poker, would you?”

You didn’t but he seemed happy enough to teach you. But you couldn’t hold the cards well with your wrists bound and, after a few minutes of struggling, Tommy glanced toward the door like he was half expecting Joel to walk through it.

“Gimme those,” he said, holding his hands out. You thrust your wrists at him faster than you were proud of and he laughed a little, taking hold of you gently. He paused before starting at the rope. “You’re not gonna take off on me, right, little rabbit?”

“Not at the moment,” you said.

“Good,” he replied, untying you. “Not a fan of keepin’ you all tied up anyway…”

You turned your wrists, the bones popping as you luxuriated in the movement.

“Thank you,” you said, massaging one wrist and then the other.

He shrugged.

“The game is Texas Hold ‘Em,” he said, dealing. “We’ll play a few hands open and then see how you do…”

It was oddly easy to forget that you were being held captive when playing cards with Tommy. He was lighter than the other men, more like people you remembered from before, making easy going conversation about things that hadn’t mattered in more than a year.

“I’m still mad that I didn’t get to see the second Matrix,” you said, watching as Tommy put the flop on the table.

“That, darlin’, was a blessing,” he replied. “Wasn’t nearly as good as the first.”

“I heard that, but still,” you said, looking at the seven of clubs, three of hearts and king of clubs on the table and trying not to smile at the seven of spades and king of hearts in your hand. “I think it might have been better than I heard. And maybe it would have made more sense when the third one came out…”

“Maybe,” Tommy said, putting the turn on the table. Ace of diamonds, no good for you. “But I dunno, you seem too smart to like something that shitty.”

“Bold assumption,” you smiled a little and he smiled back.

“Before I put the river card out,” he said. “How about we make this interesting?”

“Interesting,” you frowned. “Interesting how?”

“I win, you tell me something about yourself,” he said. “You win, I’ll give you something you want. Can’t be a weapon but something else.”

You looked at him, brows raised.

“C’mon, little rabbit,” he gave you a cocky smirk. “Let’s have some fun.”

You looked at your hand again.

“Alright,” you smiled a little. “Let’s do it.”

The river was the king of spades and you tried not to smile too wide.

“Alright,” he said, looking like he was holding back a grin himself. “I’ll show you mine then you show me yours.”

You shrugged and he smiled as he put the king of diamonds and the three of spades on the table.

“Full house,” he said. “Kings over threes.”

“Damn,” you sighed. “I just have the kings…” you lowered the card, looking disappointed and enjoyed Tommy’s excited expression for half a second before you put the second card on the table. “Oh, and the sevens. Sevens are higher than threes, right? I mean, I only went to nursing school, I can’t be sure…”

“You little shit,” Tommy laughed. “You’ve got a damn fine poker face on you! Alright, what is it you want?”

“My books,” you said immediately. “I had two, I think, in my pack. I’d like them. Please.”

“I can get you the books,” he smiled. “You sit tight.”

He brought you the books and you played another hand with the same stakes. And another. And another. And more after that.

You got some hair ties and clean socks out of the deal. Tommy got to know your favorite food and what you liked to watch on TV back when there was TV.

After a while, he looked at the books that you’d set aside on the table. He picked up the top one, Slaughterhouse Five.

“Think this was on my reading list in high school,” he said, looking over the back of it. “Never actually read it though.”

“It’s good,” you said. “You missed out.”

“Read it to me,” he said, holding it out to you.

“Read it to you?” You asked, brows raised. “What are you, five?”

“Never much enjoyed reading,” he shrugged, still holding the book out. “But I like listening. Like listening to you well enough. C’mon, little rabbit. Tell me a story.”

You considered him for a moment. You felt oddly safe with Tommy. You weren’t sure if it was because he was showing you kindness and one of the only three people left in the world you knew now or if he was actually safe. You weren’t sure you could trust anything you were thinking and feeling.

But reading to him didn’t sound bad.

“Can we move to the couch?” You asked.

He laughed.

“Think we can manage it.”

You settled on the couch, you folded into a corner and Tommy stretched out. He watched you closely as you opened the book.

“All this happened, more or less…”

You fell asleep on the couch before Joel and Vince made it back but you woke up in he bed, Tommy snoring next to you.

Part 2

A/N: Hey yeah so... this was supposed to be a one shot but it got away from me. So now it's two parts. Part two up sometime within the next week or so ❤️

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #run rabbit #dddne #dubcon #raider!joel #raider!Tommy #dead dove december #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you

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thegaysinmyhead · 10 months ago

Text

Dead on Main Masterpost for 'Obsession'

This is the yandere fic Lol.

Edit: A kind soul has offered to beta-read!! 🫶🫶🫶

I will be posting parts on Tumblr as I write them! They will be unedited and usually on reread (maybe) once! I'll probably be posting them 3 at a time every week or so. Maybe more, maybe less, depending on my mood. I do have Uni classes so please be patient!!!

'Obsession' does and will contain dark themes for graphic depictions of violence, unhealthy attachments, (maybe) emotional manipulation, perverted and uncomfortable imagery, and overall what you'd expect from a yandere-ish fic. They will both care for each other! Their ghost cores will just...be pushing them to extremes? It'll all be explained Lol

BUT do not read if you feel uncomfortable with any of the topics listed below, warning some of these are uncomfortable asf lol (will be updated as time goes on)

Unhealthy Attachments

Graphic Depictions of Violence

Uncomfortable Imagery (ex. sniffing dirty clothes)

Depictions of Gore

Depictions of Sex & Violent Sex

Depictions of Control or (Maybe) Unbalanced Relationships

Anything That Could be Related to the Yandere, Deredere, or Goudere Types (However, not all will be used. I'm kinda gonna mix them up?)

[More to be added, I will watch comments for anything readers believe should be put on this list. Not everything on this list right now is currently present in the story, I am adding things before I post them or things I know I will be writing]

Prologue

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Spotify Links -

[Jason Todd]

[Danny Fenton]

I will be posting this fic to AO3 completely edited and (hopefully) beta-read. The AO3 link below will work when the fic is pretty much halfway through(ish) on Tumblr

AO3 Link

Please limit interactions with this post!

#danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom crossover #dcxdp #batfam #ghost core #ghost king danny #ghost king au #jason todd #yandere jason todd #yandere danny phantom #yandere danny fenton #masterpost

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months ago

Text

I'm in the mood for...

July 15th

~*~

1. For the next itmf I had 2 requests

A) Wei Wuxian not being okay after his 3 months in the burial mounds. Like, not just being mean, I want him to barely be holding to reality, maybe some amnesia, but for him to be bad to a concerning point

B) Wei Wuxian feeling isolated

Thank you! ♡

1A)

🔒 At heart by apathyinreverie (M, 36k, WangXian, WIP, Dark LWJ(Ish), Amnesia, WWX gets to be Not Okay after the BM, Hurt WWX, Recovery, Caring, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, some definite manipulation, but not everything is as it seems, not nearly as dark as the tags make it sound, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, kind of, Domestic WangXian, Fluff, WWX Goes to Gusu, Possessive WWX, WWX happily atticwifing away, Sunshot Campaign, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, ridiculously self-indulgent) LWJ finds WWX in the Burial mounds and he heals slowly. Has Amnesia, doubting the reality and malnutrition as focus points

they who refuse to be blessed by sysrae (E, 7k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Golden Core Reveal, Developing Relationship, wwx can have a little scurvy, as a treat, Bathing/Washing, Confessions, Sharing a Bed) things happen and lwj gets to take care of wwx immediately after finding him, noting all the damage his time in the mounds has done

🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

🔒He knows He knew Once by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (G, 6k, WangXian, Temporary Amnesia, Resentful Energy, Burial Mounds-Induced Amnesia, Blanket Permission, POV Multiple, Not as angsty as it sounds)

1B)

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, wangxian, canon divergence, necromancy, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, Fix-it of sorts, yilingwei sect au)

Having Enough (of your foolishness) by makexianxianhappytoday (T, 18k, WangXian, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiang Family Bashing, Canon Divergence, CSSR and WCZ Live, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, (but what are the consequences), JC Bashing)

~*~

2. [ITMF ask] Are there any fics where the resentful energy from the Burial Mounds (physically? Mentally? Metaphorically??) love wwx and try their best to help him survive? Especially when they still recognize wwx in mxy's body after the whole 13 years thing

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not Rated, 59k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Nightmares, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds, Possession, Panic Attacks, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Good Sibling JC, Hurt WWX, Soft WangXian, Feels, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Delusions, JC Loves WWX, Insomnia, Good Sibling WWX, Sleepwalking, Sleeptalking, LWJ just wants to sleep with his husband, Protective JC, WWX Sees Dead People, LJY pulls through, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses, PTSD, Post-Canon, YLLZ WWX, resentful energy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, WWX is tired, LWJ literally just wants to sleep with WWX again is that too much to ask for??, Soft JC, Yunmeng Siblings Feels)

Devil Flute Upon Graves, Wei Ying by cloudyrobinwrites (jwyoomi) (M, 18k, WangXian, HuaLian, JYL/JZX, MXY & WWX, Major Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Angst, Hints of Fluff, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sentient Burial Mound, Ghost WWX, Future Calamity WWX, Pre-WangXian, what if wwx actually died when he first fell into the burial mounds and came out as a wrath level ghost, he has a murder of crows like HC's silver butterflies, grab some popcorn watch him spiral, WWX is Not Okay, He'll get better I promise, Canon Divergence, WWX is a Calamity, WWX is not having a fun time, the burial mounds is a tiger mom, how to motivate yourself to finish mount tonglu: think of LWJ, hualian are WWX's emotional support parents, deity JYL, Deity JZX, Good Sibling JYL, JZX is So Whipped, Heavenly Emperor XL, but like forced he doesnt want to be on the throne but fate is like lol nope, Xuanli Raise Jin Ling as They Should, dont worry the MCD refers to the canonical character deaths theyre fine, The Burial Mounds Wants More Kids, what happens when a ghost king gets thrown into a murder mystery, WWX picked up MXY and decided he'll be his student now, MXY managed to summon a calamity level ghost what a guy, WWX disguises himself as a rogue cultivator) It's a MDZS/TGCF crossover in which the Burial mounds is an actual character

~*~

3. itmf fics with the wei family. any where cssr and/or wcz are alive and taking care of their baby, or ones where wwx has a sibling! ty!

Building a home by R95irth (T, 586k, WCZ/CS, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-it, Angst with a happy ending, Family fluff)

Cartwheels In Cloud Recesses Series by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 23k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, CSSR and WCZ Live, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans)

The Different Paths We Tread Series by Admiranda, Rynne (T/G/E, 345k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR and WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Minor Violence, Case Fic, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Wangxian's Baby Fever, POV Outsider, Twin Jades of Lan Dynamics, PWP, Desk Sex, Inappropriate Use of Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Light Bondage, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Anal Sex, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, Anal Fingering, wwx's debatably self-lubing asshole, xxc and cssr meet, WWX is a Lan, WWX is Xiao Xingchen's Shizhi, Non-Graphic Depictions of Donkey Childbirth)

~*~

4. Back again with a hand out, begging! Love you all so much! This is an ITMF request: Jiang Cheng-centric groundhog-day AU? I've seen a few with WWX but I'd love one with Jiang Cheng being put through it! (no JC bashing, prefer canon era) @kimboo-york

~*~

5. Is there a Cloud Recesses Study Arc fanfics where they see the future in the classroom? @tjrc18

Wei Wuxian’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good First Meeting With His Future by Enigmatree (T, 3k, wangxian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses, YLLZ WWX, POV Outsider)

~*~

6. Hello! I'm making an 'im in the mood for' fic request! I'd really like to read a fic where Wangxian adopt Xue Yang and give him a good childhood :D

Also if there are any ships with xy, i have a STRONG preference for songxuexiao

🔒 if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect) He gets taken in as a son/disciple together with MXY into the sect WWX is totally not creating on accident

Unstoppbble by Immortal WangXian (Mr_Pervert) (M, 85k, WIP, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, NingSang, QingJue, Immortal LWJ, Immortal WWX, Good Parent YZY, Good Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Good Person XY, Evil JGY, Travel Fix-It, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Bottom JC/Top LXC, Bottom NHS/Top WN, Supportive NMJ, YLLZ WWX, Possessive LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff and Crack, Shameless Smut, Action/Adventure, Mpreg) Time travel fix it where Wangxian pick up XY when he's 6

Alternate by Hanashi_o_suru (M, 60k, WIP, WangXian, Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Established WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Third Person Limited, WWX is a Tease, mentions of rape/non-con, Sporadic and Random Updates) Also a time travel fix it fic where they pick up XY while he's a child. Another plus: he started ironically calling WWX A-Niang and now it's stopped being ironical. It happens

~*~

7. Hello everyone! This time I will use the "I feel like..." section because I would really like fics where only Wei Wuxian is a time traveler and helps everyone live while she wins back her husband! I really just imagine hijinks and fluff. Thank you very much for your effort @makolashida

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) may have more angst then they are seeking but it fits the other requirements.

~*~

8. Hi! This is for ITMF

A) WWX has a chronic illness but not a sickness like cancer. What i want is he was sick in the past and recovered but if he does something his past illness will come again or something like The Porcelain Lotus of Yungmeng by The Feels Whale (miscellea) or 🔒A Burning Cold by MountainRose

B) WWX wants to fix JFM and YZY marriage (because he thinks that it was his fault they always fighting) and JYL or JWY says "you cant fix something that never been whole before" Or something like that or saying that its not WWX responsibility to fix that @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

8A)

misunderstood 'verse by sysrae (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, getting hit by cars, Past Child Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Abusive YZY, Caring LWJ, Injured WWX, partial hearing loss, the real OTP is everyone x therapy) modern au wwx is deaf on one eat because of a past experience

A Bad of Nibs (Nibs are Bad) by Enk (M, 17k, WangXian, Quarantine, Slice of Life, Friends to Lovers, Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Fluff and Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Found Family, Vague Canadian Location, JYL Lives)

~*~

9. hi! for the itmf, idk if this is specific but any modern au fics where wwx is estranged from the jiangs for some reason either during or before the fic, a-yuan is his kid (adopted or biological) and the jiangs don’t know about him, and they reconnect? thank you for the work!

🔒moonlight falls Series by RoseThorne (T, 19k, WangXian, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Family Fluff, Adoption, Bad parent LQR, Pre-JC & WWX Reconciliation, Dissociation, Mental Health Issues, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Found Family, Emotional Constipation, Communication Failure, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC is Trying, WWX Needs a Hug, POV WWX, POV Third Person, Implied/Referenced Sex, Food Sex, Reconciliation, Psychological Trauma)

~*~

10. itmf fics where wwx discovers evidence that lwj is in love with him. like maybe wwx discovering his floorboard stash and finding his painting of lwj, or alternatively, smth like letters, diary entries, song lyrics, lwj’s own art for wwx, or self-insert fanfic. things like that! @nalalie

Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours. by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 3k, WangXian, Immortal LWJ and WWX, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Well it could be a Bittersweet Ending, Love Confessions) Immortal WWX finds a poem immortal LWJ wrote in the 13 years he was dead. It's a love poem

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los (M, 13k, wangxian, sugar daddy (slightly), case fic, domestic horror, architectural horror, gift giving, happy ending, getting together, confessions) is perfect for it

~*~

11. I’m in the mood for no-war AUs about wangxian getting together post CR study arc. Just want to read about how these two might have figured it out without the stress of war and growing up too fast! Thanks in advance!

Dazzle Like a Diamond by Tsukimiko_san (T, 4k, WangXian, Dragon LWJ, Crow WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, No Angst, ok maybe a tiny sprinkle of angst but like, usual LWJ thinking WWX is just teasing him, it doesn’t last long, Getting Together, they are both so whipped, Boys Kissing, Courting Rituals) iirc there's not even a mention of war on this one, but I do have to warn that it's crowxian and dragonji

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) Fits both 11 & 12. It's a no war AU (mostly - there is some conflict between the Wen & Nie, but WX's role is solely helping refugees) set shortly after CRSA where WX get together. There's also a subplot about WWX setting up a charitable venture to help Yiling's street kids

💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

Orchids in Lotus Pier by Vamillepudding (G, 21k, wangxian, canon divergence, romantic comedy, pining, protective JC, friends to lovers, misunderstandings)

For you by 10thNoNamePerson (T, 16k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Canon Divergence, No War AU, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Jealous WWX, Soft WangXian, Teenage LWJ/Teenage WWX, No Sunshot Campaign)

Straight at the Sun by diamondbruise (E, 33k, WangXian, Canon Universe, no war though, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, Misunderstandings, First Time, Anal Sex, wwx desperately wants lwj's attention, lwj desperately wants to marry wwx, Miscommunication, Jealousy, in abundance, Happy Ending, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX)

~*~

12. Itmf fics that deal with wwx caring about kids (esp canon era), adopting fostering having an official or unofficial ward, looking out for street children in any way he can even in little ways as a kid etc

🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff) wwx teaches Lan kids stuff

the low sky, raining over by chibilwj (thelogicoftaste) (M, 37k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Kid Fic)

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

He never had a plan, he just went with the flow by CrazyGeek_TheGachatuber15 (Not Rated, 65k, WIP, XiYao, WangXian, Gusu Lan Elders Bashing, LXC Bashing, LXC gets his shit together, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Dynamics, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Are Bad at Communicating, Twin Jades of Lan Dynamics, WWX is Good With Children, Water Spirit WWX, Deity WWX, Good Sibling JYL, Protective NHS, Scheming NHS, BAMF LSZ, Angry LSZ, Good Friend LSZ, Demonic Cultivator LSZ, but not really?, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, accidentally, MXY Lives, JRS Lives, OP WWX, Deity LSZ, Inventor WWX, slight OOC behavior, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Future Character Death, Canon Divergence) In it WWX founded an orphanage before the war and is now, after his death, gathering homeless children to bring there and visits them when he's not traveling. The last few chapters were about it, kind of (currently has 9 chapters)

🧡 Vow by draechaeli (E, 216k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BeliefGod!WWX, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Pregnancy Kink, Mpreg, minor male lactation, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con because JGS, Mentions Canon Typical Incest, Canon Typical Violence)

~*~

13. Hi! I love this blog. I was looking for fics where LWJ considers his love wholeheartedly rejected and/or unrequited and as the reader, you feel his pain viscerally. I’ve found some fics like this which I adore like - “it’s always open” by Scarlettstorm, “heart at ease” by Diamondbruise and “A little late (but can I come home anyway?)” by Anobtra (animeobsessedtrash) - but am always interested in more!

Thank you!

~*~

14. helloooo! could i have time travel fanfics where they DON'T end up in their younger bodies? that's it. they teleport as they are, in their future selves. the future can be from whichever arc and teleported to any arc in the past. whichever canon is fine, angst is fine. i'd prefer it completed and somewhat humor but i'll take whatever i can get. i trust this blog's fine tastes. c:

i just really want fics where they co-exist with their younger selves because i don't know how to tag it separately from the "wake up in their younger self" fanfics. thank you very much! @lovewly

💖 From the Future for the Past by friedchickenlord (G, 27k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, First Love, Love Confessions, Fluff and Humor, accidental time travel due to one husband malfunctioning array, teen wangxian meet adult wangxian, Happy Ending, adding extra chapter, in this household we hate JGS, in which WWX love library pavilion, (in a way) Yiling Laozu x Hanguang Jun, Denial, Mutual Pining) Adult LWJ finds himself in the CRSA era due to a mishap with an array

River Stones by littlesystems (M, 18k, WangXian, Time Travel, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study arc, Junior Quartet, Oblivious WWX, Suffering LWJ, Voyeurism) Both CRSA-era WWX & LWJ go forward in time & meet post-canon WX

there's a story on Tumblr with JC who time travels. I don't know how to link it, but you can find it on this blog under fic compilation -> non AO3 (the second one is Tumblr) and then by scrolling all the way down to the master post from Shana storyteller. The fic is just titled "Time travel Jiang Cheng" (link is to the latest part - mod c)

Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 134k, wangxian, hualian, WIP, TGCF, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, characters watching their series, Time Travel Fix-it)

Key Differences by pupeez4eva (T, 5k, WangXian, Humor, Dimension Travel, Crossover, Drama!WWX meets Novel!WWX, Public Confessions, Post-Canon) sort of fits in that it's Novel Wei Wuxian meeting Drama Wei Wuxian, resulting in hilarity.

~*~

15. Hi Mods! Can I get SongXIao Fic recs please? Like main pairing SongXiao fic recs?

~*~

16. Itmf a fic where wei wuxian adopts a 2nd child (or more). So it's not just a-yuan. Esp if it's a developed oc. Ex: twelve moons and a fortnight (oc a-shui), please take this radish (xue yang), mxy, others, etc

~*~

17. hiii!! itmf!! is there any modern au fics where wei ying makes lan zhan jealous on purpose?? @yesibest

Wei Ying's Favourite Customer by QueenofThyme (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista WWX, Jealous LWJ, Texting, Fluff, Flirting, Mutual Pining, Multi POV)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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jariten · 10 months ago

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Recurring themes in 2023: my year of lesbian and yuriful manga

Doing this a little different when summarizing 2023. Since I stuck to my decision to not start buying any new licensed series and mainly did cultural catchup for both english and japanese manga I didn't really read enough hot new releases in 2023 for them to warrant a list of their own as they usually do. So to catch up on the months without a roundup as well as a year end summary I will do some themed lists!

The first came to easy since a noticeable trend was how much lesbian and yuri manga i made time for. For clarity I make a subjective distinction of lesbian and yuri works, just as some works I'm more inclined to describe as a Gay or LGBT story rather than a BL if it wasn't published in a BL imprint or invests time to do cultural or social commentary. Now to the list:

Among my favorite lesbian manga read in 2023 are: The Girl That Can't Get A Girlfriend by Mieri Hiranishi Moonlight Flowers by Mutsumi Tsukumo Indigo Blue by Ebine Yamaji Umibe no Kain by Minori Kimura

I won't reiterate too much as I already talked about it in a roundup but Hiranishi gave an extremely refreshing perspective on being a woman who loves masculine women, the dark story of her first heartbreak and the path forward. Love that Viz took the initiative to give her a graphic novel edition and promote her platform by licensing The Girl That Can't Get a Girlfriend. I've always found women's manga to be a not that secret treasure trove of lesbian stories yet I hadn't read the classic that is Moonlight Flowers... Just a truly suspenseful and romantic story of lesbian love as liberation and freedom that I can't recommend enough. Just with a clear warning of depictions of intimate partner violence that could be upsetting.

Yamaji has a well known track record of exploring lesbianism as well as bisexuality and I think Indigo Blue was extremely interesting in its explooration of the protagonist and her journey to figuring out what she wants as she's caught between two relationships. Another story of a woman's journey to confront who she is and what she wants: Umibe no Cain was a rather heartbreaking story of a young woman seeking refuge with a woman older than herself and as they start forming a frienfdship she begins to face the hurt and trauma she faced from her mother. But as the two women grow closer their relationship might take a turn that they can't come back from.

In the yuri-ish category: Kimi no Kureru Mazui Ame by Kaiko Fuyumushi OL to Ningyo by Mai Shiba

Won't reiterate too much of Kimi no Kureru Mazui Ame as I already talked about it in a roundup but love bite sized depictions of a miserable adolescence and toxic yuri but not quite. And if you found yourself taken by the more supernatural stories in this collection then may I recommend OL to Ningyo? Described by the author themselves as yuri-ish this collection depicts the bonds of human girls and their non-human counterparts. Humans, vampires, tengu, mermaid, and oni all face their own challenges and conflicts both romantic and otherwise.

In the Now That's What I Call Yuri category: Natsu to Lemon to Overlay by Ru & Miyako Miyahara Ki ni Natteru Hito ga Otoko Janakatta (The Guy She Was Interested in Wasn't a Guy At All) by Sumiko Arai Sukeban to Tenkousei by Fujichika

Natsu to Lemon to Overlay is the manga adaption of a yuri award winning novel novel that I picked kind of at random. An aspiring voice actress struggling to make any career moves are requested by a mysterious woman to read the obituary at her own funeral. What happens next will warm your heart. The Guy She Liked is one where I'm just going to assume most if not all of you are aware of so I'm just going to say that I like it and am looking forward to the next volume 👍 And last but not least: an adorable 80's throwback with some truly heartwarming moments and developments not to mention very funny: Sukeban to Tenkousei by Fujichika

#recommendation corner #roundup #my scans #long post

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steddiesmuttyseptember · 2 months ago

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WEEK THREE MASTERLIST

FICS

The scariest thing on the other side of Hawkins by @dame-zoom-a-lot | Rated E | no cw | tags: Talon Kink, Human/Monster Romance, Monsterfucker Steve Harrington, Monster Eddie Munson, Lingerie, Rough Sex, Insecure Eddie Munson, The Upside Down, Under-negotiated Kink

Copy that by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated E | no cw | tags: Office AU; Janitor Eddie; Junior Boss Steve; Secret Relationship; Semi-public sex; Steve in lingerie; Groping; Manhandling; Dirty talk; Dry humping; Inappropriate treatment of office equipment

Beautiful Boy by @runninriot | Rated E | no cw | tags: shy eddie munson, lovingly mean steve harrington, dom/sub undertones, sexual content, self confidence issues, body worship

Southern Hospitality by @scoops-aboy86 | Rated M | cw: weight gain, belly kink, stuffing kink, belly play | tags: chubby steve harrington, fat steve harrington, feeder eddie munson, alcohol, referenced spanking, masturbation, food as a love language, hedonism, steve harrington has bad parents, brief nancy being tactless

Lovers Forever, Face to Face by @adverbally | Rated E | no cw | tags: Eddie in lingerie, body insecurity, mirror sex, body worship, dirty talk, buttplug, anal sex

midnight sun by @hawkinsbnbg | Rated E | no cw | tags: mutual pining, fwb to lovers, rockstar Eddie, escort Steve, mean dom Eddie, soft dom Eddie, brat Steve, Steve in lingerie, Steve wears makeup, feminization, stockings, high heels, butt plugs, rough sex, painal, body worship, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, praise kink, pain kink, a bit of foot fetish, anal gaping

Patterns in the Ivy by @griefabyss69 | Rated E | cw: Public sex, implied/referenced drug usage (weed), Eddie is a drug dealer, mentions of Steve's parents being terrible | tags: college au, getting together, masturbation, oral sex, kissing, anal sex, light bondage, outdoor sex, anal plug

Face to Face in Secret Places by @adverbally | Rated E | no cw | tags: set pre-S3, established relationship, in public (school library), fear of getting caught, exhibitionism (but no voyeurism), making out, dry humping, oral sex

Put On Something Sexy by @v3llichor | Rated E | no cw | tags: Panty Kink, Lingerie, Strip Tease, Anal Sex, references to past offscreen partners and stancy

Slutty Little Mouse by @fkinkindagauche | Rated E | no cw | tags: blow jobs, gags

Therapy by @tinytalkingtina | Rated E | no cw | tags: Dom Eddie/Sub Steve, disabled Eddie, sexual roleplay, established relationship, rope bondage, forced nudity/stripping, interrogation/intentional callbacks to S3 Russian torture, cock & ball torture, cock rings, painplay, pwp, aftercare

In Our Defense, There Was Nothing Else to Do by @intermittentmania | Rated E | cw: graphic depictions of violence | tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Eddie Munson as Deadpool, Steve Harrington as Wolverine, Switching, Blood and Violence, Knifeplay, Cutting, Rough Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

So Jealous by @fkinkindagauche | Rated E | cw: BDSM (heavy-ish), jealousy play, third party doesn’t realize jealousy play is happening but they are in it for a very short amount of time and nothing actually happens with them aside from some dancing, consensual slut shaming | tags: deep throating, anal sex, rough sex, BDSM, sub Steve Harrington, mean Dom Eddie Munson, aftercare, coming untouched, come marking, subspace, slapping, hair pulling, jealousy kink, spitting, established relationship

standin' at that alter, or we will run away by @hawkinsbnbg | Rated E | no cw | tags: exes to lovers, bathroom sex, daddy kink, barebacking, creampie, top Eddie, possessive Eddie, bottom Steve, babygirl Steve, steddie in love

Put to use by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation | Rated E | no cw | tags: Roleplay; Consensual non-con; Mean dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie; Face fucking; Hair pulling; Slapping; Degradation; Humiliation; Coming in pants; Aftercare

No Loose Ends by @thisapplepielife | Rated E | cw: Post S4, Sexual Content, Underage Recreational Alcohol and Weed Use | tags: Eddie Munson Lives, Florida!!!, Hiding Out, Healing, Steve & The Boys of Corroded Coffin Taking Care of Eddie, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson

The String to Strike Within Me by @adverbally | Rated E | no cw | tags: alternate universe - gender changes, female steve harrington, female eddie munson, bdsm, dom steve, sub eddie, rough sex, strap-on, vaginal sex, light degradation, begging, subspace, praise kink

hidden lace by @steddieas-shegoes | Rated E | no cw | tags: established relationship, secret relationship, semi-public sex, car sex, anal fingering, anal sex, anal plug, fluff, unprotected sex

Stiff by Day, Stiffer at Night by @oralmisery | Rated E | no cw | tags: Smut, Humor, Lingerie, Blow jobs, Hand jobs, Brat Steve Harrington, Bathing/Washing, Light Dom/Sub undertones

our bodies are oh so close and tight by @miss-bushido | Rated E | no cw

Only Me by @runninriot | Rated E | no cw | tags: sub Eddie Munson, mean dom Steve Harrington, restraints, nipple clamps, impact play, mild degradation kink, established relationship

Expectations by @steddie-island | Rated E | no cw | tags: Dom Eddie Munson, sub Steve Harrington, rough sex

ART

Rough and Lingerie by @saku-rhyth | Rated M | explicit version on twitter

Lingerie by @alicetallulaafterdark | Rated M | other links available

Lingerie by @arelliann | Rated M

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie events #steddie smutty september #stranger things #18+ mdni #masterlist

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year ago

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Five-Point Star: The Aftermath (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: Bodyguard/Assassin!Chan x Mercenary/Assassin!F.Reader Themes: Smut | bit of Fluff | Angst Word Count: ~17k | AO3 Synopsis: After months of hindering a mercenary’s attempts to get to the person Chris was hired to protect, after months of many fights, injuries, and plotting, he had expected for the resolution to be much more satisfactory than this. [This is the second and hopefully final part to Five-Point Star]. Warnings: pet names · cold weapons · firearms · questionable morals · graphic depictions of violence · mentions of cheating [not involving the main characters] · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut) · open-ish ending.

Author’s Note: here’s the promised second part to FPS! i just couldn’t bring myself to leave these two the way i did in part 1… like, part 1 can totally stand as its own thing, but i HAD to have some closure. i’ve been working on this one for quite some time, so here it is! i hope you enjoy it💜 especial thanks to @notastraykid & @channieskies for beta-reading this one💜

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!)

Smut Warnings: fingering [F.Rec] · oral [F.&M.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv] · no thoughts, head empty sex [aka having sex in questionable locations].

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

After months of hindering a mercenary’s attempts to get to the person Chris was hired to protect, after months of many fights, injuries, and plotting, he had expected for the resolution to be much more satisfactory than this.

Well, he wasn’t sure if this was a resolution, if the problem had been eradicated or not… He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Seungmin, along with Chris and his team, had nicknamed that mercenary the Wraith, since it was hard to predict when they would strike, and it was pretty much impossible to find traces of their identity no matter how hard they tried.

Whenever Chris managed to once again frustrate the Wraith’s attempts at–presumably–harming Seungmin, there simply weren’t any signs that they’d been there in the first place at all. Well, save for any injuries Chris sustained during their encounter.

He had no doubt as to what drove the Wraith to do what they did–or at least he thought he didn’t have any. This hadn’t been the first time someone had been hired to do something to Seungmin. After all, being the child of one of the most powerful families in the city certainly put a target on his back. However, this had been by far the most difficult enemy Chris and his team had to deal with.

It was frustrating, really. The Wraith seemed to always be one step ahead of them no matter how hard they tried to keep the young Kim’s schedule and plans a secret. It wasn’t until they discovered that the phone of Seungmin’s personal tailor–Hyunjin–had been wiretapped, that they were finally able to get the upper hand.

Chris had conjured this plan to get the Wraith to believe Seungmin would be attending an event in one of the oldest theatres in the city. There, Chris would be waiting for them.

He’d admit he was cocky. He’d asked his team to not come with him, he’d told them he had to do this alone, giving them a bullshit excuse.

‘If we’re all there, Seungmin won’t be as protected as he should be, so I’m gonna be there on my own while you guys make sure he’s safe’, that was exactly what he’d told them back then, but, in reality, Chris just wanted to do this on his own because his own pride was hurt.

Chris was decent at his job. Sometimes–admittedly most times–he even believed he was good at it. But in the deep recesses of his mind, he couldn’t help but feel like the Wraith was better than him. It was more than obvious. If they hadn’t been, he would’ve been able to kill them on their very first encounter.

Regardless, he’d gone to the theatre on his own, where he waited for the Wraith to make their expected appearance. He figured that playing the piano would elevate his plan. He hoped it’d give his opponent the impression that nothing was out of place, that this was a normal concert, and they had nothing to be suspicious of.

Funny thing, how after so many months of pushing and pulling, it was almost like Chris could already tell when the Wraith was close. So the moment they’d stepped into the hall, he’d immediately stopped his piece and shot on sight.

It all became a blur of flying knives and missed shots, until there was no other option but to physically fight.

The Wraith was better than Chris, and he came face to face with this fact the moment his back had hit the floor and a knife had been pressed to his neck. He’d been, once again, defeated. He was blinded by rage, by frustration…

How could this person be better than him? No one had been until this point. Sure, he’d sustained many injuries throughout his career as Seungmin’s personal bodyguard, and he’d certainly been close to dying many times, but the Wraith had managed to beat him every single time they met. It irked him beyond belief.

Chris liked to cover his face when he was on duty, at least when he was out in public. He didn’t want people to know his face, he liked to be able to go to the grocery store or meet his girlfriend without having to worry about someone recognising him and trying to kill him, so he wore his mask diligently.

But, of course, his opponent had to remove it.

Of course they wanted to see his face, it made sense to him. But the fact that it made sense didn’t diminish the blow to his pride, though.

‘…Chris?’

No one had ever spoken his first name out loud while he’d been on duty outside of the Kims’ estate. Not even his team members, they knew not to expose him like that. He liked to keep his civilian side and his professional side separated, so he figured he’d give some use to both of his given names.

Which was why, hearing it in that context, from the Wraith, made his blood freeze in his veins. He was beyond confused, borderline panicking, but even then, the voice sounded… familiar.

Chris realised then he’d never heard the Wraith speak. And as he looked into their eyes, even the shape of their eyebrows–the only discernible feature on their face under the hood and kerchief they wore to keep the rest concealed–recognition started to settle in his brain.

But there was no way. It couldn’t have been…

His opponent was stunned, as was he. But that didn’t stop him from slowly reaching for that kerchief covering half of their face so he could pull it down.

Nothing would’ve prepared Chris for what he’d find under that piece of fabric.

Chris always loved to see his girlfriend whenever he could. It was honestly a miracle that he was able to have a relationship in the first place, but she’d just made it so easy from day one, so he always tried to make time and space for her in his life. Seeing her always brought him this immense sense of comfort and familiarity that just couldn’t be matched.

However, this was a setting in which he would’ve never expected to see her face. This didn’t feel comforting at all.

Your name came out of his mouth in a breathless whisper, almost as if he needed to say it outloud for his brain to truly process that it was you on top of him, pressing a knife to his throat. His head started to spin right then and there.

Had you… had you known all this time? Had you been using him? There was no way. Something in the back of his mind told him it was just impossible. He’d been careful…

The few times he actually wanted to reveal his profession to you, something always seemed to prevent him from doing so, and he always took it as a sign that it wasn’t the right time. But maybe you’d known who he was this whole time…

‘I had no idea…’

The look on your face, coupled with the way your voice trembled, made him believe you. And maybe, he wanted to believe you. There was no way the love you’d shown him all these months could be faked, not when it’d felt so genuine…

How fucking twisted… What were the odds of you being both his girlfriend and one of the most annoying mercenaries he’d had to deal with?

God, these past handful of months… He’d been dealing with you.

He’d been trying to kill you.

He’d aimed and shot and hit you with the intent of killing you.

Chris wanted to vomit. He was disgusted with himself, confused, he wanted to cry. This was all so absurd and cruel… It’d been a long time since he’d felt this way, but at that moment, he genuinely just wanted to die.

He was used to killing and hurting people. He was never fazed by any of it at this point, but he’d done it because he wanted to protect the people he cared about. You being on the receiving end of this treatment was just completely wrong. You were one of the people he cared about. He’d never wanted anything other than to protect your safety and wellbeing.

Chris was a firm believer that men who mistreated their loved ones were just scum, that they deserved to die. He’d often killed men like these and felt absolutely no remorse about it.

But now he was one of those men.

How could he go on after this? After knowing what he’d done to you? He couldn’t… He didn’t want to.

At that moment, he firmly believed he deserved to die. He’d hurt you, not only that, but Seungmin’s life was way more important than his own, so if you absolutely had him as your target, he’d just have to continue fighting against you.

And, again, he didn’t want to…

So he asked you to kill him.

However, you refused.

The fact that you wouldn’t take his life puzzled him. How could you not want him dead? After all that had transpired, why wouldn’t you?

Chris had always known he wasn’t a good man. At least, not in the eyes of some. But, he’d made it his mission to be a good man to you, for you… And, most times, when he was with you, he truly felt like he was.

This changed it all. His own perception of himself had just been shattered to pieces. Who was he now? Who were you?

‘Baby…’ Chris honestly almost started sobbing when you called him that. It was his preferred pet name, he’d told you many times before how much he liked it, how it made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside… Right at that moment, it didn’t make him feel that way. It felt like one of your knives had just stabbed his heart. ‘I’m sorry… I don’t think I’ll make it to our vacation this weekend’.

Oh, that stung.

Your vacation this weekend… He’d planned it all out. A relaxing getaway to the coastside, perfect for enjoying each other’s company… He’d even wanted to seriously tell you everything about this side of his life, and if you’d been fine with it, he wanted to ask you to move in with him.

Clearly, that wasn’t going to happen now.

Chris was too stunned to move from his place on the floor. Too stunned to move and do anything to stop you from leaving. He was torn, confused, he was here to kill the Wraith, and not only did he not achieve that, he’d also found out that the person he’d been trying to kill was one of the people he loved most in this world.

The rage he felt coursing through him was uncontainable. So much so, the moment he did manage to stand up from that floor, he started thrashing the stage.

Every piano had been turned to nothing but a pile of useless pieces of wood and ivory. He’d emptied his guns by shooting at the seats and walls. He did all that as tears wouldn’t stop running down his cheeks.

How fucking pathetic.

He was pathetic.

Even when he had composed himself enough to return to the Kims’ estate, Chris still felt like he was nothing but the worst man on the planet, like he was useless as a bodyguard, like he was useless as his loved ones’ protector, and like he’d become the universe’s punching bag…

“Based on that look on your face, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you didn’t get the target?” Felix’s voice greeted him as soon as he entered Seungmin’s home, further aggravating those feelings inside of him.

“No, I didn’t”, was the only thing he said to the younger man as he walked past him and made his way straight to his assigned room.

Chris was in no condition to speak of the matter. He needed to sort his thoughts out. He knew he had to tell his team about what happened, he had to tell them who you were. He had more than enough information about you to finally stop you from getting any closer, he had enough information to end you.

As he entered his room and started taking his gloves off, as he looked at the tiny plastic gnome figurine he kept on this room’s bedside table, Chris wasn’t really sure he’d be able to do any of that.

The sound of choked coughs filled the previously quiet space.

Chris sat up abruptly on the bed, coughing violently since he, once again, had choked on his spit in his sleep.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the bottle of water he kept next to the bed. When the coughing had lessened, he chugged half the bottle in one gulp.

‘You should really go to the doctor’s, baby…’

Your voice resonated in his mind, an echo of the mix of memories from the numerous times you’d woken him up before he started coughing. He remembered the gentle murmur like it’d been whispered to him yesterday. He could practically feel the soft caresses of your fingertips on his back.

It made him feel like his throat was closing for real.

After placing the bottle back on the bedside table, he plopped back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Chris couldn’t help but remember you. It seemed like it was all he did these days.

His brain was certainly his worst enemy, especially at times like these, when he wasn’t on active duty, when he was just trying to get a few hours of sleep in his assigned room. Within the solitude of these four walls, it was easy for his brain to attack him, to send him in a spiral of memories that did nothing but make his heart ache and his eyes sting…

“Aaahhh… The food was absolutely delicious”, you rubbed your belly as you walked, with a big smile on your face. “I feel like I’m about to burst… But seriously, though, you should’ve at least let me pay for my food”.

Chris looked at you, amused at how you slightly swayed side to side with each step. He, too, felt like he was about to burst. The meal had been good, it’d been amazing, but… the company had certainly been much better.

When was the last time he felt like this? This… calm? Calm, but somehow still a bit giddy. He genuinely couldn’t recall…

“Nonsense”, he waved his hand in the air as if to dismiss the thought. “I invited you for dinner, didn’t I? ‘Least I could do was pay”.

You turned to look at him, pouting, and it was honestly… adorable.

You were adorable, he’d known this since the very first day he met you, but every time he saw you after that, you somehow managed to step it up a notch. And he truly couldn’t cope.

Chris could hardly believe he was here tonight, having a date, and with a person he genuinely liked at that. It’d been a long time since he’d done anything remotely close to going on a date, but a few nights ago, after spending another evening talking to you at one of his friend’s gatherings, he found himself asking you out before he could stop himself.

It was unplanned, uncalculated, which was so unlike him… He always tried to plan ahead. Considering the profession he was in, he had to carefully choose who he associated himself with. Chris hardly ever mingled with civilians, but when he did, it was usually with this particular friend group from his childhood, who you seemed to also be acquainted with through a friend of yours.

The first time he spoke with you, he thought he was making a fool of himself, but as the night progressed, something started to linger between you two… Call it tension, or chemistry, but he was certainly intrigued.

Every time he went to his friend’s house to socialise, you were there. And every time, his always ended up with him sitting next to you, talking well into the wee hours of the night, about the silly shows you watched, or anything you felt like talking about, really.

Chris genuinely enjoyed talking to you, which he figured was exactly the reason why he’d asked you out on a date. He was honestly tired of seeing you only in the confines of his friend’s fence, it just wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

“C’mon, no pouts”, Chris chuckled, taking your hand. You seemed to be a bit surprised at the action, and, being honest, he was surprised at the action. But he’d already done it, so he wouldn’t back down. Thankfully, even if it had surprised you, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you intertwined your fingers with his, effectively agitating the butterflies in his stomach. “Let’s take a walk, hm?”

With leisure steps, you walked until you found yourselves at the pier. There were people here, but it wasn’t overly crowded, which Chris was grateful for.

Just before you both made it to the railing so you could look at the sea, you exclaimed an excited ‘Oh!’, and bent down to pick up something from the ground.

“Look!” You showed Chris what you found, and he couldn’t keep the smile from forming on his lips. “It’s just a little guy!”

Chris chuckled at your outburst. He giggled. You’d just made him giggle… When was the last time he giggled like this? “It really is!”

“D’you wanna give him a home?” You wiggled the figurine in front of him. “I heard these can be tokens of good luck”.

Chris immediately extended his palm, and you carefully placed the plastic toy in his hand. A gnome, around half the size of his finger. For having been found on the ground, it didn’t look in bad shape, it was honestly cute, so he put it in his pocket, and placed his hand over his heart after.

“Promise I’ll take good care of him”, Chris smiled at you. “I do need some luck”.

You chuckled at that, before you tugged him along so you could finally make it to the railing. With your elbows propped on it, you both spent a good while there, just talking, joking, and enjoying the sound of the waves crashing against the breakwater.

It was… nice. Relaxing, even.

He didn’t really know how he found himself standing so close to you, moving a few strands of hair away from your face and caressing your cheek with his knuckles. Most shockingly to him, was how you let him do these things. You looked comfortable, like you were genuinely enjoying spending time with him.

“If I tried to kiss you… would you let me?” The words escaped from somewhere deep within him. A question that he’d had in the back of his mind every time he looked at your lips, every time he saw you smile or laugh. He’d never thought he’d say it out loud, but here he was, saying them to you directly.

“Yes”, there wasn’t a single gram of hesitation in your voice, although he was sure he could hear a hint of surprise. It was almost like, just as his question, your answer had come out of your mouth before you could stop to think about it.

Your lips were so soft… you tasted like the balm you’d applied a few minutes ago, and the minty gum you’d been chewing earlier. Your cheeks, too, were soft under his palms when he held them between his hands.

Chris was certain you were soft all over. You looked soft, and maybe that was why his hands had found their way to your hips, where he could mindlessly knead the flesh over your jeans while his mouth was too busy getting acquainted with yours.

He pulled away from the kiss briefly, only to be met with a shy smile on your face before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in again. He couldn’t stop the delighted laugh that bubbled within him, nor the way he dived in fully into your kiss.

Maybe that gnome was lucky. Maybe it was thanks to that gnome that he’d somehow managed to come back to his flat accompanied for once. At least the one time he did want to come back with someone…

Chris could barely remember the last time another person was here with him. It must’ve been with one of his siblings, for sure. He had no doubts that he’d never brought anyone he was remotely attracted to in here, but he figured tonight was a night of trying new things.

Like pretending he could be just some guy… that he could be normal.

He hadn’t truly processed what was going on until you were both on his bed, dressed in nothing but your underwear. Propped on his elbows, he just looked at you.

You were wearing a black set, with a repeating pattern of red hearts on both pieces. It was… cute. In his humble–and absolutely correct–opinion, it fit you amazingly, you looked gorgeous under him like this, looking up at him like you genuinely wanted him. Like you saw him.

Which… made him feel nervous.

Anyone else would’ve told him it was a silly thing to feel in this context. Chris had had plenty of sex in his life, but right here, right now, he wasn’t sure if this was anything like the sex he used to have. It didn’t feel like it, for sure. Mostly because he was feeling things. It wasn’t a chore or a commitment, there was genuine desire spreading within him, and it was a bit scary…

“What’s wrong?” you mumbled, cupping his cheeks.

Chris swallowed, suddenly aware that he’d zoned out for a moment there, long enough for the need reflecting in your eyes to start mixing with concern. Should he tell you what was going through his mind? If he did, would you mind…?

Tonight was indeed a night of firsts, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to open up fully. It was enough of a miracle that he’d let you into his flat, that he himself had willingly brought you here after a date.

“I…” Chris figured there were things he shouldn’t talk about just yet, but he really, really liked you, so saying something that was true, without revealing any details of his past, felt right. And he did just that. “I haven’t really… It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, okay? I guess I’m just… a bit out of my element”.

“Oh…” Your eyes widened in surprise, and your hands moved away from his face to rest on his shoulders instead.

Fuck… He fucked up. He probably shouldn’t have said that. Why did he have to be honest? He should’ve pretended, like he always did…

“Yeah, sorry to be a disappointment”, he chuckled, although it didn’t sound very humorous, not even to his ears.

“What? No, no”, you squeezed his shoulders, and your gaze immediately softened. “I’m just surprised! I just wasn’t expecting someone like you to just… y’know, not be having sex”.

That made him chuckle, genuinely this time. “What do you mean? I can’t even believe you’re here. I’ve got no idea how we managed to get to this point, honestly”.

“You’re very charming”, bringing your hands to his face again, you smiled at him. “If it makes you feel any better, I also haven’t… really done this in a while. I don’t usually go on dates at all… but I guess you’ve really made an impression on me. Clearly”.

That did make Chris feel slightly better.

“We don’t really have to do anything, y’know?” You said it very seriously, with no hesitation. “It’s fine by me, really. Although, I’d appreciate some cuddles anyway, if that’s okay with you”.

It was such a simple thing.

He didn’t have to do anything.

He could say no if he wanted to, and, somehow, he knew you’d respect that. Or, at the very least, he wanted to believe you would respect that. You hadn’t shown him any differently so far.

“Oh, we’re definitely cuddling…” Chris dived in, finding your neck with ease to attach his lips to your skin. “Later, though…”

“Later?” You chuckled, burying one of your hands in his hair, and placing the other on his lower back.

“Mm…” With a trail of kisses, Chris made his way down your neck, your chest, finally using his hands to further push your breasts together so he could bury his face between them. “I really want you”.

And he really, really did. Probably more than he’d wanted anyone in a long time.

“I want you, too”, you replied simply, honestly.

It was one of the things Chris had liked about you since the very first moment he spoke with you. Your honesty, your transparency… you never really seemed to care about keeping pretences, always went straight to the point and voiced your thoughts.

Chris was a taker. He took lives, took money, took territories… he took things from people as he saw fit. Whether it was the right thing to do or not he didn’t care.

But that wasn’t his inherent nature, and he’d always been painfully aware of this. For a long time, he’d been trained to take things, he was good at it, but, deep down, he was a giver.

To the people that were close to him, to the people that really knew him, he yearned to give all he could offer.

That night, he really wanted to give you everything. So he did.

It was all so vulnerable, but so exhilarating at the same time. To not feel judged, nor belittled, to be open with his wants and needs, to be consumed by fire and passion… It was something he wasn’t used to, but the more time passed with you two in his bedroom, the more he realised just how much he liked it, how much he liked you…

With the first orgasm he managed to coax out of you, he realised just how much he wanted this to be a thing, he felt that you were just so compatible. Physically, emotionally, and, with a bit of luck, romantically, too.

Even after a couple of hours, when he was already giving you those cuddles he’d promised, when he asked you to stay the night, basking in the post-orgasm buzz, he believed wholeheartedly that this could work.

‘You’ll call me back, right?’ Chris couldn’t help himself when he asked you that the morning after your date.

It was crazy. There was no real space in his life for a relationship, not when he had to hide his profession from you. What would you think of him once you knew that the majority of the time he was a cold-blooded assassin, and not the dorky guy you met through a friend of a friend?

He would’ve liked to be like you. Honest and straightforward, but maybe it was for the best to not mention this just yet. It was only just one date, just one night of quite possibly the most fulfilling sex he’d ever had, but he already knew that this was something he wanted. He wanted to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible, he wanted you.

‘Would you like that?’ You’d asked amusedly, before you kissed him, standing right on the entrance of his flat.

‘I would’.

You’d smiled at him. After pressing one final kiss on his cheek, you mumbled against his skin. ‘Maybe I will, then…’

And you did.

In recent years, Chris had never felt as happy as he did when he was with you. He wholeheartedly believed that his relationship with you was one of the best things to ever happen to him.

At least, until that night in the theatre.

Reminiscing the past was hard these days, especially after the first month without hearing from you. He’d gone through so many different emotions. He felt angry, sad, and sometimes even betrayed…

He’d always believed you to be a transparent person, and maybe you were, but, just like himself, you clearly wanted to keep this part of yourself in the dark. He supposed he couldn’t blame you, but it still bothered him.

Why didn’t you tell him before?

If you’d told him, you would’ve probably never been in this situation. The Wraith’s attacks started well after you’d gotten together, so, if he’d known who you were, and you’d known who he was, he was convinced none of this would’ve happened at all.

Chris would’ve liked to tell you all this, to shout and get all these thoughts and feelings off his chest. But every time he picked up the phone to call you, he chickened out.

At first, he told himself that it was to keep things less complicated. In reality, he just couldn’t stand the thought of the call not going through…

So he didn’t do anything.

He was too tired, and maybe too much of a coward to face this.

Maybe one day, he’d grow the balls to do it. Maybe one day he’d get some sort of closure, but that day clearly wouldn’t be any time soon.

Chris often spent his nights on patrol around the Kims’ estate. He couldn’t really bring himself to sleep at night, so he was usually working well into the morning, until they changed guard.

Although, no one really dared come here. Since he became one of Seungmin’s personal bodyguards years ago, there’d been only two instances in which someone tried to infiltrate his home.

Both times, the person had ended up dead, of course. That was the Five-Point Stars’ sole purpose, to keep the young heir safe. Chris was genuinely proud of his team, they always carried out their task without hesitation, and he was convinced their skills were unmatched.

Tonight, though, something didn’t feel quite right. There was this feeling of dread inexplicably pooling in Chris’ stomach, and it was making it really hard to focus on doing his job.

It was close to midnight when the feeling started intensifying, so Chris moved from his post outside Seungmin’s wing of the estate, leaving Jeongin on his own to guard the space. If anything went down, the younger man would be more than capable of taking care of it, Chris was very confident in this, so he felt no reservations when he started patrolling the outer areas.

After a while of just walking, he just couldn’t ignore his gut feeling any further.

There was someone sneaking around in the Kims’ estate, Chris could feel their every move, but he couldn’t see them, and that made that feeling of uneasiness grow inside him. Not because he was scared, by any means, but because it all felt just how it did whenever he had to deal with the Wraith… whenever he had to deal with you.

Chris hadn’t heard from you in three months, not from the you that was his girlfriend–…ex-girlfriend?–nor the you that was the Wraith. He supposed, ultimately, you were both, just like he was both Chris and Chan, but it was still just so surreal to him…

Three months and his head still couldn’t wrap around the idea that you were both the person he loved, and the one he despised. Anyone that dared come anywhere near Seungmin with ill-intent was an enemy to him, but the more he pondered on the fact that you were doing that, the less he could see you as an enemy… And that, maybe, just maybe, did scare him.

You’d become his weakness, to the point where if he were to see you now, in this estate, trying to kill Seungmin, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry out his one and only task. He’d spent these last few months begging to the stars above his head that you wouldn’t try to get to Seungmin again, because he genuinely didn’t know if he’d be able to stop you.

As Chris followed his gut instinct, trying to chase that phantom of a presence that seemed to glide through the corridors, he started to come to terms with the fact that the possibilities of the intruder being you were just way too high, it was all too familiar…

And he hated it.

He hated it all…

He caught a shadow moving in his peripheral vision, and not even thinking twice about it, he chased it–as quietly and stealthily as his skills let him.

Before he knew it, he had raised his gun and pressed it against the back of the person’s head, right against their hood. They raised both of their hands to signal they didn’t have any weapons at hand, and even if the movement should’ve eased his mind, it didn’t. It only confirmed his worst fear.

Knowing what he knew now, he could just recognise the fingers poking through the gloves’ holes, and the overall frame.

There you stood, after three months of nothing, dressed just how you had been the last time he saw you. Chris tried his best to ignore the lump that seemed to be growing in his throat, the desperate need to both scream and cry and hug you and push you away.

Instead, he just pressed the muzzle of his gun a bit harder against your skull, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “What’re you doing here?”

Your shoulders seemed to relax the tiniest bit as you heard the sound of his voice, which, in other circumstances, Chris would’ve deemed a very foolish reaction on your part. But, being honest, he wouldn’t be surprised if you already knew it’d be incredibly hard for him to harm you.

“Looking for you”.

Cursed be his heart for jumping in his ribcage, it was almost embarrassing how quickly and easily the sound of your voice was able to kick-start it into a messy, erratic pace. Chris couldn’t let that show, though. He needed to bluff, and he needed to do it well.

“Bullshit”, he swallowed, trying to get rid of that knot in his throat. It just made it worse. “What are you truly here for?”

Your shoulders rose and fell with your deep breath, and slowly, so very slowly, you started to move, to turn around so you could finally be face to face with him. You kept your hands up in the air, to show him you weren’t going to attack, but he just couldn’t let his guard down. Not any more than it already was.

As usual, the lower part of your face was covered by a black kerchief, and the hood of your outfit almost fell over your eyes. The sight was almost revolting, if he thought about it too deeply… His gun raised, pressed against your forehead, ready to be shot at any second. It was something out of his worst nightmares, of those that showed him himself hurting the people he loved.

“I’m telling you the truth, I’ve been looking for you. I’ve come to warn you”.

“Warn me?” The statement was so unexpected Chris couldn’t even hide the surprise in his voice, but he recovered quickly, trying to mask his emotions with a condescending scoff. “What could you possibly need to warn me about?”

“They’re coming for you”, you said simply, your eyes unwavering as they stared deeply into his.

“They being?”

“The Guild”, your fingers moved, but you weren’t doing anything particularly malicious, you simply used your thumb to crack each knuckle, a gesture he knew you did only when you were nervous.

You must’ve known he knew this detail about you. He’d tried to stop you from cracking your knuckles many times in the past, whenever you were watching a scary movie that made you anxious, or whenever you had to order at a new restaurant. Back then, he would always take your hand in his, and drag his thumb on the back of it to help ease those nerves.

Chris couldn’t do that now.

To display such weakness in front of him messed with his head. Were you doing it out of real nervousness, or were you doing it as a tactic to distract him…?

Regardless, he knew of the Guild. He’d heard of them before. Essentially a hub of guns-for-hire, with an extensive catalogue of many different mercenaries, who specialised in different activities. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was who you really worked for, that it’d been through them that you were hired to get to Seungmin.

“Someone has been hired to do what I couldn’t do. I heard them talking and I just… I felt like I needed to warn you”.

“You could’ve just called, why come all the way here for that?” Chris’ arm was getting tired from holding up the gun, but he just couldn’t lower it.

“I tried”, you sighed. “I tried, but you wouldn’t pick up, so I came here…”

Chris’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You called? There was no way… He would’ve seen it. Hell, he would’ve picked up. Unless… “When did you call?”

“Around thirty minutes ago”.

That’d explain why he wouldn’t have heard it. He never carried his personal mobile phone with him when he was on duty–or at least he tried not to. He used to do it a couple of times a week, on the days that he missed you, that he wanted to know anything that had been going on in your day–what you ate, what you were doing, what you were watching, anything that could make him feel close to you… He hadn’t done that in three months.

“And it couldn’t wait?” Chris was doing an excellent job at keeping the scowl on his face and the annoyed tone in his voice, probably because he was feeling exactly like that. Annoyed. “You tried to hurt Seungmin and now you care about what happens to him? Hard to believe”.

“I don’t fucking care about Seungmin”, your eyebrows knitted together, and in a movement way too fast for someone that had a gun pointed to their forehead, you pulled your kerchief down, revealing your face fully to him.

It was almost pathetic how his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“I’ve got no ill feelings towards the kid, truly, but I also don’t really care about him. The people talking… They said they were going for Seungmin’s guard dog first, in hopes of debilitating his security system, so I… I just…”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. When you opened them again, the glint of vulnerability shining in your gaze made his heart ache.

“I know it’s crazy, fuck… I didn’t think this through. They’re planning on striking sometime this week, and I just felt like I needed to come and tell you, so you could be prepared”.

Chris swallowed thickly. His hand trembled the tiniest bit, he wasn’t sure if you could feel his gun tremble against your skin, too. “If any of this is true, how could I even know you’re not here to distract me from doing my job? That this isn’t one of your schemes?”

“You can’t know”, you said, matter-of-factly. “There’s no way for you to confirm what I’m saying is true. All you can do is trust me and my word. I dropped the job after our encounter in the theatre. I just can’t do it when I’m this emotionally involved”.

When I’m this emotionally involved…

When I’m…

I’m…

I am…

Present tense.

You said that in present tense, like you were… like you were still emotionally involved.

Chris was weak. He was weak for you. Three months with no contact couldn’t change that, the fact that you had tried to kill him couldn’t change that, and the fact that he had tried to kill you also didn’t seem to be able to change that.

He was weak, and he couldn’t hide it.

With a sigh, he lowered his gun, and your frame immediately relaxed as soon as the weapon wasn’t pointed in your direction. “How infuriating…”

“What? Me? Or the people coming for your boss?” There was the tiniest bit of a humorous tone in your voice, and it just made him sigh again.

“Both”, he took his communicator from his belt, and clicked the communication button to speak with his colleague. “SpearB, do you copy? Over”.

There were a few seconds of silence, until the communicator crackled and Changbin’s voice resonated from the device. “I hear you, Channie. Over”.

You arched an eyebrow and crossed your arms over your chest, mouthing a ‘Channie?’ at him, which Chris decided to ignore completely.

“Check in with Yongbok and make sure the perimeter is secure. Something doesn’t feel quite right, so we need to keep a close eye on each and every entrance. Over”.

The device crackled again. “You think it’s the Wraith? Over”.

Chris looked at you, and you looked right back at him. Your body was tense once again, and a spark of doubt flashed in your eyes. Licking his lips, he clicked the button on the device once more. “No. No, I don’t think it’s the Wraith. Just do what I said, and let me know if you find anything out of order. Over”.

‘Roger that. Over!’ was the last thing Chris heard from Changbin. He returned the communicator to its holster on his belt, all without taking his eyes from you.

There was a moment of silence, a moment that seemed to be stretching far too long for his liking, so he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “So… You’ve delivered your message. What now?”

You attempted to pop your knuckles again, the action obviously gave no results, since you’d done this already earlier, but Chris knew that wouldn’t stop you. It never did, your nervous habits always shone through.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a door opened somewhere in the area, and the sound of Changbin’s whistling filled his ears. Your eyes widened, just like Chris’ did as you stared at one another.

This was dangerous. If anyone saw you, you were at risk of being tortured for information, or straight up killed because of your numerous attempts to hurt Seungmin.

Chris wasn’t thinking, he just had to act, and he had to do it fast. Taking your hand, he quickly pulled you further down the corridor, where he could push you against the wall, right behind a column to hopefully hide you both from his teammate.

You opened your mouth again to say something, and Chris simply placed a hand over your mouth to stop you, bringing his index finger to his lips to signal you to not make any noise.

As the sound of steps drew closer, Chris mindlessly pressed you further against the wall, hopefully minimising the chances of Changbin seeing you.

He held his breath, waiting patiently as he looked at the shadows his friend’s body casted against the nearby wall.

When it seemed like the steps were becoming more and more distant, Chris looked back at you, and only then did he realise just how close you both were. Your bodice was rigid against his chest, and the handles of your knives poked his abdomen. Noses almost brushed against each other, the hand he’d placed on the wall was itching to hold your waist, and as he looked into your eyes, as he saw galaxies and a plethora of feelings swimming in them, he was almost winded by how warm you felt.

Chris could barely hear Changbin’s footsteps over his heart beating this fast and loud in his ears.

Fuck, he was a weak man.

A weak man who was still hopelessly in love.

It took a couple of minutes for Changbin to finally leave the area completely, his exit was signalled by the sound of a door opening and closing. Just to be safe, though, he kept quiet for a while longer, he kept pressing you against the wall and his hand firmly on your mouth.

Just to be safe… No other ulterior motives at all…

After a few moments, he finally removed his hand away from your mouth, slowly, so very slowly moving it to rest against the wall instead, right next to your waist as well. You mindlessly licked your lips as soon as his hand was off your face, and Chris couldn’t help but focus on the movement.

Oh, your lips… how he missed them… He missed the way they moved with every word you said, how you would mindlessly chew on them when you were focused, how they felt like against his own, against any and every part of his body…

“Why are you here?” Chris’ voice was barely a whisper. He didn’t intend for the words to come out unsteady, nor for his hands to start trembling slightly against the wall, but it was hard for his body not to react this way when he’d spent all these weeks just steeping in his own misery.

You took a deep breath, your chest rose and fell against his own, and right then, with the barely there illumination of the bulbs on the roof, he could see your eyes start to shine with the tears that welled in them.

“Because I care about you”, you said it so easily, like you weren’t just reaching inside his ribcage and squeezing his weak little heart with such a simple statement. “I know it’s stupid. That it’s insane, considering everything that’s happened. But I really can’t help it. Every day, all I can think about is how you’d be. If you’re eating well, if you’re getting enough sleep… And I hate it”.

You were trying really hard not to let the tears fall, it was obvious to Chris, yet your voice didn’t waver, not a little bit.

“I hate that I worry about you knowing what I’ve done to you. I hate that I can’t stop caring. When I heard them talking tonight about how they wanted to hurt you I just… I couldn’t think straight, I had to do something”, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the wall.

Chris couldn’t say anything. He just couldn’t. He wanted to tell you that he couldn’t stop caring, either. That he felt guilty, yes, but he still cared. That he’d always care, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

When you opened your eyes again, those tears you were trying so hard to hold back started to silently fall, and he wanted to cry himself. “Warning you… it’s not much, and it’s probably more a selfish act than anything else, but I had to do it. I had to… had to see you. Because I miss you, Chris, fuck… I miss you so much it hurts more than any blow Chan has ever landed on me”.

Chris was doomed. He was weak, and in love, and he was absolutely doomed.

His brain shut down completely. He knew it the moment he felt his lips on yours, the moment your fingers tangled in his hair and the quietest moan escaped your mouth.

The kiss was messy and desperate, he couldn’t seem to be able to be any closer to you, and yet he still tried. He held your waist tightly, like you would vanish if he didn’t. He pressed you further against the wall, dizzy with the violent stir of his feelings, with the feel of your tongue against his own and your yearning kiss.

At that moment, the fact that he was Chan, bodyguard of Kim Seungmin, didn’t matter. The fact that you were the Wraith, an assassin that had been hired to harm the person he was supposed to protect, didn’t matter, either. All that mattered was that he was Chris, that you were you, and that he’d missed you and that he needed you.

When he pulled back from the kiss, panting slightly, the sight of you, all flustered, breathless, of your blown pupils, was enough for his walls to crumble. That look in your eyes was unmistakable to him, it set his insides alight and sent his mind into overdrive.

“Come with me”, without hesitation, Chris took your hand and tugged you along the corridor.

He vaguely recalled taking his communicator and calling Jeongin to ask him to continue covering for him as there was something he needed to attend to, just like he vaguely recalled the younger man telling him he had it covered. The only thing he could register for sure was the tight hold of your hand in his, and the moan that came out of your lips when he pushed you into one of the supply closets and kissed you again.

Chris blindly reached for the lightswitch before he pushed you against the closest wall. One of your legs wrapped around his hip to pull him closer to you, and he immediately took a hold of your thigh to keep you securely in place.

“Have you… been with anyone after…” You started to ask, your words broken between desperate presses of lips and tugs of teeth.

How absurd. As if he could have. As if he would’ve ever even wanted that in the first place… Regardless, even with the hazy state of his mind, he knew exactly why you were asking, so he shook his head. “Have you?”

You shook your head as well, further pulling on his hair so your lips wouldn’t detach from his. Although there was a part of him that kind of expected you to not have been with anyone, it still made him feel relieved. It made him feel… hopeful.

What a dangerous emotion to feel.

Letting go of your thigh so he could free his hands, your leg fell to the floor while Chris unbuttoned his gloves. “Are you still on birth control?”

“Yes”, your reply came immediately, eagerly, and his mind just fogged up further.

“Good”, he pulled his gloves off and dropped them somewhere on the floor.

With a tight hold on your hips, he flipped you around and pulled your hips back a bit towards him, so your ass could be flush with his crotch. Chris kept kissing your cheek, your neck, any bit of exposed skin he could, just as you ground your backside against his growing erection, while he frantically fumbled with your belt buckle and the buttons of your trousers.

“How many fucking buttons does this thing have?” Chris mumbled against your skin, quickly popping open what seemed like hundreds of studs. “How impractical…”

“Looks better than a zipper–Oh!”

Chris pushed your bottoms down as soon as he’d popped open the very last button, just enough to expose the delectable flesh of your ass to his hungry eyes. He wanted to smack the luscious fat so badly, but even in his desperate state, he knew it was a really, really bad idea, so he settled for holding one of your buttocks tightly with one hand, while he brought the other close to your face.

“Open up, bun”, your lips parted as soon as he’d asked you to, and he quickly pushed two fingers inside your mouth.

A moan muffled against his digits when you sucked on them, and Chris could almost start feeling his head spin with arousal. God, your mouth… He’d always known it’d be the death of him one day…

“That’s it, baby. Make sure you get them drenched”, after letting go of your buttock, he hastily unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his trousers, and pushed the zipper down so he could reach inside his underwear and finally free himself.

The air was cool against his heated flesh, especially at the tip where pre-cum had started to leak. He pumped himself a couple of times, it was nowhere near as satisfactory as he knew your cunt would be, but it was certainly a pleasant warm-up.

As soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth, he brought them to your centre, where he made sure to coat his fingers in your essence to spread it all around your opening before he finally stuffed those two digits into you. You bit your lip to muffle the noises threatening to escape your throat, leaning your forehead against the wall as Chris tried his best to prep you in such an unfortunate setting.

“Tell me if it hurts. Hm? You know you can tell me, right?” Chris whispered in your ear, and you immediately nodded in response.

“Just… Fuck, just get inside, baby, please”, how could he stall any further when you sounded so eager and desperate for him, in the same way that he was for you? When you called him ‘baby’?

So he pulled his fingers out, making you whine at the loss of contact. It didn’t last long, though, because he stepped closer almost immediately after. He spat on his hand, and smeared his saliva all over his length before he lined himself with your entrance.

As he started to push in, he brought his free hand to your front, finding your clit with expert ease, rubbing slow circles on it to hopefully aid his intrusion. There was a whine, a quiet one, and Chris hushed you, kissing your cheek.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing well, so well. Remember to tell me if it’s too much…” He mumbled. It was almost funny how quickly he got into his role, he was so used to treating you like this, to checking in on you, that not even the place you were in, or the outfits you were wearing could stop him from doing it. All he got from you was a nod, a sigh that vaguely sounded like his name, and a push of your hips. “Impatient, bun? Hungry for my cock, are you, baby?”

You nodded, pushing back as much as you could to get him all the way in, making him hiss. “I am. I fucking am. Need you to fuck me, and I need it now, Christopher”.

“Fuck…” It was an awkward angle, but he needed to kiss you. There was hardly anything he enjoyed more than kissing you while he was balls deep inside your warmth. Every push of his tongue, every bite on his lips, everything made it so your walls continuously clamped around him, all of it combined made him delirious, and even more so when he finally started to move.

Chris was trying his best to go slow, his mind was hazy with lust and need and want, but he still wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you. You, however, weren’t making it easy. You pushed back to sharply meet his calculated thrusts, and all he could do was match your pace, until the only noise in the room were the contained groans and moans and the obnoxious clattering of metal as both of your belt buckles swayed with your movements.

His fingers sped up, and very quickly, the obscene sounds produced when your bodies met joined the messy symphony playing all around you. Your grip on his hair was tight, the way your moans were catching in your throat was getting him impatient, he wanted to hear you properly, he wasn’t used to you holding back, and the sudden increased speed of his motions felt like it was his subconscious desperately trying to pull all those delicious sounds out of you.

He was talking. He knew he was talking, but he could barely hear what he was mumbling to you, all he knew was that, whatever it was, it had you whining quietly, meeting his thrusts harder, mumbling things back to him.

Chris wanted to feel more of you, as much as he could, so he pulled his vest up, and took the hem between his teeth. He couldn’t talk like this, but he figured it was a small price to pay so he could feel your bottom freely bounce off his skin. Returning his hand to your hip, he held your soft flesh tightly, relishing the way the flesh dipped under his grip.

“C–Chris… Gonna–gonna come…” Your fingers flexed against the wall in what looked like a futile attempt to get a hold of something, to keep yourself grounded.

He wanted to tell you to come. Hell, he needed you to come around his cock right now or he would die, he was sure. But he couldn’t speak with the stupid fabric in his mouth, so he simply fucked you harder, faster, diligently rubbing that sensitive nub between your legs in that way he’d learnt to do throughout your numerous intimate encounters since the very beginning of your relationship.

Your relationship…

Were you two still in a relationship?

In all honesty, right then, with your presence consuming him, he hoped you were.

The sight of you biting your fist to keep your moans contained, coupled with the feel of your warmth fluttering around his length as a result of your orgasm, made him lightheaded. His pace didn’t relent, though. He fucked you through it, just how he knew you liked it, while you did your best to weakly keep meeting his movements.

His lower abdomen tightened, he could feel his own climax nearing increasingly fast, and God, if he wanted that feeling to wash over him right the fuck now…

He finally let go of the hem of his vest so he could speak. “Where–Shit… Where do you want it, pretty?”

At this point he would come anywhere, in you, on you, out of you… But he needed to do what you wanted, and what you wanted became painfully clear to him when you hastily removed one of your gloves, pushed him away from you a bit, and dropped to your knees.

Oh, how he’d missed the feel of your hand on him, and the squelching sounds it made when you jerked him off while he was still covered in your juices. You held him with that perfect pressure that you’d learnt to use all those months ago, looking up at him with dark eyes and your moist lips slightly parted as you still tried to catch your breath.

“Look at you, fuck–!” Chris threw his head back the moment you took him in your mouth, getting in as much of him as you could while gently squeezing his balls.

You hummed around his length, trying to get his attention, so Chris opened his eyes again, finding that look in your eyes that always got him close, the one that begged him to move. So he did, placing a hand on your head and shallowly thrusting into your mouth to complement your own movement.

“Fuck, bun… Gonna blow, shit–”

It was his turn now to bite his fist to contain his desperate noises. Three months of tension seemed to evaporate from his body when he found his release. He could only feel the tingles of pleasure shooting to every one of his limbs as your lips dragged around his cock, as you hummed and moaned in your own bliss.

His legs felt like they were going to give out, his arms felt like jelly, and his brain was void of anything other than you and your devious mouth. For a second, Chris wondered if you were going to try to overstimulate him, but you didn’t. You simply got your mouth off of him to lick the remnants of his cum that beaded at the tip.

Before he could even think about it, he was already helping you to your feet. Cupping your cheeks, he kissed you. Slowly, deeply, getting the combined taste of him and you from your lips and your tongue.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, and Chris wrapped his around your neck as he waddled forward to press you against the wall again. Partially because he enjoyed the feeling of it, partially because he felt like his legs were really going to give out, and the wall certainly provided much needed support.

As his kiss slowed into simple pecks of his lips on yours–and yours on his–the haze that seemed to have clouded every single one of his senses started to clear up.

In what was quite possibly the worst case of post-nut clarity he’d ever experienced, it started to dawn on him just how stupid and reckless this was. He shouldn’t have brought you in here, the longer you stayed within this estate the more at risk you both were.

You seemed to be coming to the same realisation, because the gentle pecks of your lips on his stopped, and you pulled back to look him in the eyes, nervously chewing on your bottom lip. Your arms unravelled from around his waist, only for your hands to rest on it. “Chris…”

He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I know…”

Stupid. You wanted to tell him this was stupid, he didn’t need you to say it to know.

Pressing lingering kisses on your cheek, he pulled up your trousers, and started fastening the trillion buttons, just as you did the same to him. You gently buckled his belt, and it was now your turn to start pressing kisses on his cheek, just as he finished with your belt-buckle.

His heart felt as if it was both swelling with love and being harshly squeezed with agony.

What was this? What did this mean for you two now? He couldn’t undo the past, what he’d done, what you’d done… It was going to have repercussions, ones he didn’t even want to think about right now.

When he took a step back from your space to finish fixing his clothes, he watched you as you did the same.

“Need to get you out of here”, Chris mumbled, trying to fix the mess his hair had become from your continuous pulling and his own sweat–all that time straightening it this morning for nothing… “You’ve been here for way too long”.

“I can get out. That’s no problem”, you sounded confident in your statement, and, honestly, based on what he’d seen the Wraith do, he wouldn’t really be surprised if it truly was no problem for you to sneak in and out… Good for you, but bad for their security system, he figured…

There was a moment of deafening silence, a moment of you looking into his eyes and Chris looking into yours. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he sighed.

“We need to talk about this. But not now, not here in these… circumstances”.

“I agree”, you replied simply, picking up your glove from the floor and grimacing when you put it on your still sticky hand.

Chris reached for his own gloves he’d haphazardly dropped on the floor earlier, and tucked them in his back pocket before he opened the door and looked out the corridor to make sure no one was there.

Coast clear, so he turned back to look at you. “If… If you want, I’m free tomorrow evening. You could… drop by. After eight, preferably”.

You took a deep breath. It took you a moment to do anything, but when you did, you moved into his space, placing a hand on his chest and the other on the nape of his neck. You leaned in, and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“After eight”, you confirmed, and it was honestly pathetic how fast his heart started to beat when he heard those two words.

After offering him one last, small smile, you finally removed yourself from his space. Pulling the kerchief back over the lower part of your face, you went through the door and eventually disappeared somewhere by the end of the corridor.

This was completely crazy, insane, and the fact that you were still pretty much considered an enemy in his circle should’ve filled him with anxiety. He’d just had sex with you, after knowing who you were and what you’d tried to do…

And yet, oddly enough, he could only feel relaxed. Like he had finally breached the surface after swimming underwater for too long.

Seven forty-five in the evening.

Chris had arrived home two hours ago and had done nothing but try to get his flat to look presentable.

When was the last time he slept here? Probably a few weeks ago… It was hard to be in his flat when everything reminded him of you. After all, he’d mostly stayed here when you did.

He honestly hadn’t spent as much time in this flat as he did after he started a relationship with you. He’d been living here for around three months before he went on that date with you. He used to only come here to sleep on his days off, and even those days he tried to spend them out of the flat as much as possible.

After he met you, though, every day off he had he either invited you over, or went to your place. Week by week, the place started filling up with your stuff as well as his. Things you left behind, things you brought on purpose, things he himself placed there, like that one picture you’d asked a stranger to take of you two by the lake in the park… The place was filled with your presence, and being here, on his own, only reminded him of that night in the theatre, of the fact that you weren’t here and what he’d done to you.

Thankfully, the place wasn’t too bad, it was mostly just dusty. Chris didn’t bother hiding anything of yours that was still on display. There was no point in that when his feelings were more than obvious after what happened last night.

So, fifteen minutes before the agreed time, his flat was clean, his hair was damp from the shower he’d just gotten out of, and food had been ordered. He was starving, and, since you had a tendency to not eat dinner because you got too overwhelmed sometimes, he figured ordering for you as well wouldn’t be too risky of a move. Worst case scenario, he’d just have extra left-overs tomorrow…

Seven fifty-two.

Chris looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. His hair was already starting to curl, there was a bit of a flush on his skin still from the hot shower, and he was second-guessing his outfit choice.

A cropped top he’d cut himself out of an old, oversized band t-shirt he’d thrifted, and shorts… Was it too casual? He hadn’t really thought much about what to wear, he had grabbed these on auto-pilot. Whenever you came over, it was usually just to relax and spend some time together, so it was a no-brainer for him to wear these two garments.

That was before, though… What if you came to his door looking like a goddess, all dressed up and he was like this? Would it matter? Would you mind? Three months ago, you wouldn’t have, but three months ago you were still together. Maybe things would be different now…

Seven fifty-eight.

What if you didn’t come? You did say ‘After eight’ before you left the Kim estate yesterday, but what if you changed your mind? It was a complicated situation, after all. Maybe too complicated. Why did he even invite you over? It would’ve probably been best to just meet at a café or a neutral place, why did he even suggest his home for this?

And, most importantly, what did he want from this encounter? Chris hadn’t even thought about it, and, honestly, he kind of didn’t want to think about it. He’d asked you yesterday to come here because he figured talking about whatever the fuck was going on would be the only way to get answers, to get this heavy feeling in his chest to go away, but he hadn’t thought ahead.

You were a mercenary that had tried to hurt Seungmin numerous times, he was risking everything by keeping quiet about your identity, by asking you to come here even knowing who you were. So why? Why would he do this?

The doorbell startled him.

Slightly panicked, he ruffled his hair and looked at himself in the mirror–admittedly, he’d been standing there the whole time, but he wasn’t really looking at anything…

It was too late now for an outfit change, too late to back down from this insanity he himself had started. So, he bolted to the door, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest when he looked through the peephole.

Once Chris opened the door, and came face to face with you, dressed in your comfy clothes, still pretty much looking like a goddess regardless of your outfit, he remembered the reason why he was risking it all.

Because you made his heart rate spike. You made him feel again. After years of having seemingly nothing but a hole where his heart should’ve been, you had managed to defrost his insides with your warmth.

“Hey…” You fiddled with the straps of the backpack you always brought along with you, shifting your weight from one foot to the other right where you stood.

“Hey”, Chris wasn’t really sure what to say, he just looked at you for a moment, and you looked right back at him.

Silence enveloped you two. You wouldn’t move, save for your fiddling, just like he wouldn’t, he remained frozen on the spot with the doorknob in his hand. Normally, he would’ve kissed you to greet you, but… should he do that? Was it appropriate? You did fuck last night, but that was a heat of the moment thing… Maybe you wouldn’t want him to kiss you at all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the delivery guy popped up right behind you, startling the both of you. So Chris just asked you to come in, and quickly got his card from his wallet that he had discarded by the kitchen counter earlier to pay for the food.

“Have you eaten? I ordered some for you just in case…” Chris asked as soon as the guy was gone, just as he placed the food on the counter.

“No, I haven’t”, you replied simply, finally putting your backpack down on one of the chairs. “What’d you order?”

“Cantonese…” Chris didn’t look at you as he took the containers out of the bag, nor did he acknowledge the quiet ‘Oh…’ that came out of your mouth in response. “Wanna eat on the coffee table?”

“Of course”, you said it like it was an obvious thing, and, honestly, it kind of was. Whenever you both met for dinner, especially when it involved your favourite food, you’d always eat at the coffee table, why would it be any different this time? Not like three months had passed since you last spoke or anything…

While Chris brought the containers with food to the table, you got a couple of plates, two glasses, and the necessary cutlery. By the time you were at the table yourself, he had already gone to the fridge and taken the pineapple juice you both liked.

It was all so… normal. Normal, but like things had been placed slightly to the left. The motions were the same, the same routine you had as a couple, but there was something odd lingering between you two, and Chris figured it made sense, all things considered.

When he finally sat down next to you on the floor, with his back against the sofa, you were already serving the food. Chris busied himself pouring the juice, and in no time, you both had started eating.

It was silent for a while. Well, save for the murmurs coming from the television after you had switched it on for some background noise. Reality was seemingly looming over your heads, or, at least, that was how it felt to Chris. Yet, none of you said anything, you both just ate your food.

It almost felt like an eternity, honestly–even though it’d been probably just shy of ten minutes since you sat down to eat. But, eventually, you took a deep breath, swallowed the food in your mouth, and finally spoke, reaching for your glass of juice.

“I’m sorry this is so awkward… I just don’t know what to say”, you took a sip of your drink, finally looking at him.

Immediately, Chris’ shoulders slumped, and he placed his plate on the table before he turned his body towards you. With an arm on the sofa, he propped his head on his hand while he looked at you. “Me neither, honestly”.

You took a deep breath, chewing your food slowly, deep in thought.

“I’m… I’m gonna be fully honest. I’m tired of secrets. Sick of ‘em. And I feel like you deserve better than that”, you placed your plate on the coffee table as well, and took a napkin to wipe your hands. “I’ll just… I’ll start from the beginning, okay?”

Chris swallowed, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“It started with my dad…” You wouldn’t look at Chris, you just placed your arms on your bent knees and fixed your gaze on the table. “He joined the Guild when he was a teenager. It was tradition in his family, you see? His mum had been a member for years, so she taught him everything she knew. Eventually, he made a name for himself, and he actually managed to get quite high in the ranks… But then he met my mum”.

You took a deep breath, leaning your head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “He fell deeply in love with her. To the point where he realised he wanted to have a peaceful life, so he retired and did just that. Certified himself as a PE teacher, of all things, and then they had me”.

“Problem was… my mum isn’t exactly a good woman. She wasn’t good to him, or me. When I was still a child, she took everything my dad had and left us both, ran away with some guy she’d met… She’s still with him, last I heard. Good for her, I guess”, you chuckled, a chuckle that lacked any semblance of humour. “After she left, my dad just… he went through a deep, deep depression, lost his job, we could barely make ends meet… That was when he decided to return to the Guild, and, of course, like his mum had done to him, he brought me along…”.

You spoke a lot from then on. How you were taught to fight, how your father passed on to you his stealth technique, which was your signature trait to this day, how many people you’d had to kill, kidnap, or extort. You kept a tally, apparently, which in Chris’ experience wasn’t an uncommon thing to do. He himself kept records of his own milestones, as gruesome as that might sound to some people. It always helped put things into perspective, in a way.

“Seungmin… He was just another target. I wasn’t even going to kill him. I try not to kill when I can. It’s too messy… But, I must admit, at some point I was trying to kill Chan”, you finally turned to look at him, and the pained look in your eyes must’ve been a perfect match to his own. “In all honesty, I’m glad I failed. You’re really good at what you do, you know? If you hadn’t been, I would’ve succeeded, and being honest, I don’t think I would’ve been able to continue going on with my life if I had killed the man I love”.

The man I love…

There you were again, using present tense. Was it stupid of him to feel hopeful about that?

Maybe it was.

Before Chris could say anything, though, you looked away again, straightening your head to reach for your plate of food. “What I told you last night… Dropping the job, in the eyes of the Guild, is a sign of weakness. We are supposed to carry out our tasks or die trying. The fact that it took me so long to do what I was hired to do, and the fact that I essentially gave up, it’s all enough for them to consider me a burden, so I’ll have to either prove my worth again, or they’ll just get rid of me”.

You said it so nonchalantly, like you had accepted this as your fate. And Chris honestly hated it.

“How long do you have to prove it?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I could either be given a super hard task soon, or they could’ve already decided I’m no longer worth their time and just try to kill me. I need to be wary now. You’ve got no idea all the trouble I had to go through just to make sure no one was following me when I was coming here”.

As the guard of Kim Seungmin, as Chan, there was a small spark of pride at the fact that he had managed to stop anyone from doing harm to Seungmin. But, as your boyfriend–ex-boyfriend…?–as Chris, there was also guilt pooling in his gut at the fact that you were now being targeted by your own people because of him.

How fucking convoluted this all was…

You remained silent after that, just slowly putting food into your mouth, chewing leisurely. Chris knew you were waiting for him to speak. You had bared your past to him, and it was now his turn to do the same.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to speak, he wanted to do it, he’d wanted to do it for months, way before the theatre situation, way before the Wraith came into his life, back when it was just you and him. But, even though the fact that he’d tried to kill you didn’t seem to have fully pushed you away from him, he was sure that what he was going to reveal to you now could potentially do so. As odd as that might sound…

Chris figured it was now or never. Everything was already complicated, the future of you two was already murky enough, so he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly only to finally open them again when he started to speak.

“You remember I told you… about my brother and sister, right?”

You nodded, focusing your entire attention on him.

Chris hadn’t disclosed much of his family or career to you, but he had told you about his siblings. Not in detail, but you were important enough to him that he wanted you to know, especially when sometimes he’d get texts or calls from either of them and he didn’t want you to get the wrong impression when you saw their contact names with hearts and random emojis next to them.

“We didn’t really… have much. Our father abandoned us right after my brother was born. He left my mum on her own to raise three children, one that wasn’t even a month old, while she was still recovering from her difficult pregnancy…” The memory always made him angry, his father embodied everything he ever hated in this world, and whenever Chris thought of him, he had to make the conscious effort to not give into this need of looking for him and give him the beating of his life, preferably kill him if he could…

Chris shook his head, trying to once again ignore the thought altogether. “Anyway, mum worked really hard to keep us three fed and to give us proper education. She really did her best, and even if we didn’t have much we were at least somewhat pushing through. But…”

It was always hard to talk about these things. Chris hardly ever allowed himself to think of this period of his life. He much preferred to remember his mother as the loving, hardworking woman he knew her to be, but he wanted to tell you this, he needed you to know the whole context, so he kept talking.

“She was sick. We didn’t really know, one day she was seemingly fine and the next she was in a hospital bed, telling me it would all be fine…” It wasn’t fine, clearly. His mother had always been overly optimistic, and even back then he knew this was just her holding onto the foolish hope that she’d make it.

She didn’t.

The very next day, she had passed away, and Chris and his siblings had been entrusted to their uncle.

“It was all so sudden… Very quickly, we realised our uncle just wasn’t a good man. I put myself as the shield between him and my siblings, but even that wasn’t enough. I had to find a way for us to leave, I couldn’t just let my brother and sister live with this guy, it wasn’t safe”, Chris tapped his fingers on his thigh, looking at the only picture of him and his younger siblings he had placed on one of the shelves close to the television.

After a few moments of silence to gather his thoughts, he took a deep breath and started talking again. “I was sixteen, what can a sixteen year old boy do? It was so frustrating, and I was incredibly desperate, so I…” Fuck, this was much harder than he expected it to be, but he swallowed regardless, pushing away the little voice in the back of his mind that urged him to shut up. “Back then, all I had was my charm and my body, you know? So I used just that”.

There were a lot of cruel, disgusting people in this world. People that didn’t even stop to ask how old he was, people who could clearly tell how old he was but weren’t put off by it–on the contrary, those were usually turned on by that fact.

For many years, Chris sold himself to other people. He became whoever they wanted him to become for a few hours, and eventually got himself enough regulars to financially support his siblings and himself. He managed to keep the three of them well fed and studying.

Only problem was, the psychological toll such a profession took on him was almost immeasurable. It was hard to remain empathetic towards other people when he’d had to constantly experience physical and emotional abuse, when he had to do things he just didn’t want to do every single night. But he had to. For the sake of his siblings and himself, he just had to.

You didn’t seem at all surprised by what Chris was telling you, but he could see the look of disgust on your face. Knowing you, his logical mind told him it had all to do with his clients, with the situation, not with himself. But, there was a small part of him–a very self-destructive part of him–that was sure you’d be disgusted at him. After all, you’d been physically involved with someone who was nothing but a whore for a good chunk of his life, with no knowledge of the fact.

Chris swallowed. His mouth was suddenly dry after telling you all this, so he reached for his glass of juice and drank some to quench that nervous thirst. All while you looked at him, clearly deep in your thoughts.

“Mmm… So that’s why you’d been so insistent on me getting that STD test when we were talking about dropping condoms… Why you were so sure you were clean yourself”, you said simply, just as he was placing his glass back on the table. “Not gonna lie, I found it odd back then, considering most guys don’t really think about that stuff, they just want to get it wet”.

“Yep. I always made sure to be careful and keep that in check. I couldn’t afford to catch something dangerous. Who would take care of my brother and sister then?”

You hummed in understanding, but you didn’t really say anything else, and suddenly looking at your face was too much…

“Honestly, I almost never had unprotected sex with any of my clients, but whenever I did, I was super insistent on this, and old habits die hard, I suppose…” Chris picked at some loose threads of the rug under the coffee table, and he swallowed, avoiding your eyes before he braced himself for what he was about to say. “I’m… By the time I met you, I was no longer an escort, obviously. But you… That night with you after our first date was the first time I was able to actually enjoy sex in a long, long time. It was all just so… intimate. The fact that sex could feel like that… I don’t know, it absolutely blew my mind”.

Chris went silent after that. His fidgeting increased considerably, and very quickly, he realised he was nervous. Even before the whole theatre situation, he’d always been more scared to tell you about this part of his past than his current job. He’d always considered telling you about the Kims, about what he did, but whenever he thought about telling you what he used to do for a living, his mind would always convince him you’d just see him differently, and losing you was something he just couldn’t afford.

Maybe it was silly of him, considering killing people for a living was probably way more morally incorrect than having sex for money, but unlike the former, the latter was something he never truly found pride in. On the contrary, he was ashamed of it.

All of a sudden, Chris felt your hand on his knee, and his eyes immediately zeroed in on the movement of your thumb against his skin. It wasn’t until you muttered a soft ‘Hey…’ that he finally pulled his eyes away to look at you instead.

“I hope you know I don’t… I don’t think any differently of you because of your past. You did what you had to do to survive, and that’s completely respectable”, you squeezed his knee a bit, almost reassuringly, and for a moment, Chris feared he was going to cry. “Even knowing what you do now… I get it. I truly do. I’m totally no one to judge, all things considered”.

Once again, you’d shown him why he had fallen in love with you in the first place. And, once again, he couldn’t help but feel that the world was just so unfair.

Out of all people in this whole wide world, why did it have to be you under the kerchief that night…

Chris took a deep breath, looking away from your face to your hand on his knee. Warm, familiar… Your touch seemed to shoot straight to his heart. Without thinking much about it, he placed his hand on top of yours, and held it firmly, as if you would disappear if he let go.

He wanted to tell you more. He didn’t just want to leave it at that, he wanted you to know everything, he needed you to know. So, after a few moments of silence, he started talking again.

“How I transitioned from what I did to working with the Kims was a very circumstantial thing… Turns out one of my clients had business with them. Problem was, he was trying to scam them, which, in retrospect, was very stupid on his part”, he had found himself tangled in this guy’s mess, he was setting Chris up to take the blame, and as soon as he realised that, he immediately ratted the guy out to the Kims.

In doing so, they had offered him not only protection, but also a different career path.

“They found me a mentor, trained me, all while I was still pretending to be this guy’s fucktoy. And, eventually, when the Kims got what they wanted from him, I got to kill him”, even as he said it, Chris knew a normal person would’ve felt some remorse when telling this story. But he didn’t.

Very quickly after that, he realised that killing, torturing people, deceiving them, were much more dignified ways of using his body and his skills, which was exactly what he told you.

“To me, it feels like the Kims gave me my individuality back. I do what I do because I like it, because I am grateful for what the Kims did for me, and because I feel proud of it, as twisted as that might sound…” Somehow, Chris knew you would understand the feeling, considering what you did for a living yourself. “I’m able to provide for my brother and sister by doing something I can find pride in. I love my team, they’re like family to me as well, but I suppose all these things I learnt throughout the years ended up making me a bit… cold”.

“Oh, I know all about that…” You mumbled, with a small smile on your lips.

Chris chuckled at that, maybe a bit incredulously.

He looked at your face in silence for a moment. There was no judgement in your eyes, and the soft caresses of your thumb on his hand had his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Seriously, though…” Chris said after a while. “When you appeared in my life, I was reminded of how it was like to feel normal. I feel like I’m a bit more human”.

“It’s a very mutual feeling, you know?”

Chris remained silent, looking at you, until your words registered fully, and he offered you a nod. Somehow, what you said had heat pooling on his cheeks, and he looked away from your face to stare at your joined hands.

“I was even… Before it all went down, I was genuinely considering retirement”, taking a deep breath, you brought your free hand to hold his hand between your palms. “I should’ve told you what I did for a living. Maybe this whole thing could’ve been avoided if I had, but I was afraid you’d just… leave”.

“I wouldn’t have”, Chris replied before he could think twice about it, but with the words out there, he realised he meant them. How could he leave? You were just like him, after all.

“I know that now”, your hands were so warm, so familiar…

“Come here…” Wrapping an arm around your waist, and taking a hold of your thigh, Chris guided your body to move, until you settled on his lap.

Your hands immediately found his face, just as his arms wrapped around your waist. You looked him in the eyes, in a way that made him feel exposed, like you were reaching deep within his mind and soul. He realised then that he wanted to be exposed. He didn’t want any more secrets or half-truths, you were already his weak spot, so might as well let you fully in.

“You’re so handsome”, you said all of a sudden, with a bright smile on your lips, and Chris immediately chuckled, looking away and shaking his head. “Don’t laugh! You are”.

“You want me to blush? ‘Cause it’s working, baby”, Chris tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. With the same motion, he found your earlobe, and he caressed the skin while his other arm was firmly around your waist.

“Maybe I do want that. It’s my only ulterior motive”, you chuckled, tracing patterns on his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Mmm… Is that so?” Chris supposed this was your way of confirming to him that you, in fact, didn’t have any ulterior motive. He also supposed he could do nothing else but believe you, to trust you.

“Mm”, you leaned in, leaving a tender kiss on his forehead before you pulled back to look him in the eyes again. “It is”.

The warmth of your palms, the soft drag of your thumbs on Chris’ skin, your weight on his lap… All combined had Chris closing his eyes, it had him leaning into your touch, and even questioning if this was a real thing that was happening, if you were truly there. You were. Logically, he knew you were, but it was hard for his brain to catch up with the fact after spending so long doing nothing but yearning for you.

There was a sigh, a sound of relief that further anchored Chris to reality when it came out of your mouth.

“You, too, make me feel alive. These past couple of months… I’ve just missed you so, so much, Christopher”, your voice was so quiet, it was steady, but Chris could’ve sworn he felt your hold tremble on his face. He didn’t dare open his eyes, just took a deep breath and brought one of his hands to lay on top of one of yours on his face. “I know it’s… weird. All of this. It’s weird and complicated and there’s a lot we’d have to work on, but I… I don’t want to lose you. I can’t”.

Chris could feel your words reach deep within him. They might’ve sparked some doubts, maybe even a bit of anxiety at the prospect of facing the results of both of your actions, but… they also warmed him up from the inside out.

He figured that, if there had ever been anything worth protecting, what you both had was one of those things, no matter how difficult it could be. And right then, when he finally opened his eyes and looked at your face, he wholeheartedly believed it was possible.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Chris nodded. With a hand on the back of your head, he pulled you closer to him, close so he could press his lips to yours, and the soft whimper that escaped your mouth was enough to make him want to cry right then and there.

Your hands left his face so you could wrap your arms around his neck. With his arms around your waist, he pulled you further into his lap, chest against chest sharing one breath. Your words kept resonating in his ears ‘missed you so, so much…’ Added to the feel of your tongue against his own, to your hand playing with his hair, he was sure his heart was about to burst.

You kissed for a while. Slowly savouring the feel of one another, almost like you both wanted to catch up on all those kisses missed in the past three months. Quiet moans slipped between your lips, his hands roamed your back, confirming that this was, in fact, very real. Even more so when your hips started to roll, grinding against him when his hands settled to squeeze your backside and your thighs.

“Missed you, too”, Chris breathlessly mumbled against your lips, taking a tight hold of your hips to guide your movement. You just nodded and kept kissing him, more frantically this time, and all he could do was match your pace, in hopes to convey just how much he had truly missed you.

His mind fogged up. There was nothing but you, and you, and you… He didn’t want for there to be anything else. Before he knew it, articles of clothing started to be removed and dropped on the sofa behind him, until skin was touching skin and even the minimal distance between your bodies felt like it was just too much.

Chris needed you closer, as close as you possibly could be, and in his haze, he’d found himself kissing down your body while you laid on his rug. Slowly, he left kisses on your cheek, your neck, between your breasts–where he took a brief pause just so he could be smothered by them for a bit before he continued his path…

With your legs over his shoulders, with his mouth at the apex of your thighs, Chris couldn’t help but groan at the familiar, undeniable taste of you. Oh, how he’d missed this, too… Your hand gripping his hair, and his own roaming the softest areas of your body while he got to drink you up, was absolutely how he’d been dreaming to be, especially when you started making the prettiest noises, those that made his chest swell with pride and satisfaction.

He supposed it was more than fair. You’d gotten your taste of him last night, and it was now his turn.

Your words of encouragement, your sighs of his name, and the quiet sounds coming out of your mouth made his head spin. How had he even survived all these weeks without this? Without you?

As he fixated on gently sucking on that sensitive nub between your legs, as your thighs started to shake a bit around his head, Chris just felt lucky. As unfortunate as this whole thing had been, he had to cherish this second chance. There was a lot to talk about, a lot more truths to tell to each other, but all that could wait. Until later or tomorrow or the day after… It could all wait.

Right now, all that mattered was to feel.

For him to feel you, for you to feel him, and for both to just satiate the burning need for each other.

Getting you to come with just his mouth and his fingers was certainly one of his favourite things in this world. Hearing you gasp and moan his name made him lightheaded, filled him to the brim with arousal and love… Especially so when your legs trapped him right there, when he got to pin you down by the hips so you couldn’t pull away from him while he continued to drink up your essence.

Your body slumped a bit when Chris finally found his way up your body. As soon as he was within reach, you simply pulled him down to you with a firm grip on his hair, sealing your mouths in a slow kiss, uncaring of your taste on his tongue, his lips, or even his chin when you started to leave kisses all over his face.

Chris gave you time to catch your breath. However, when he told you he was doing just that, in that teasing tone that he knew would just rile you up, you just chuckled and told him it was difficult to do so when his lips so deliciously gave attention to your neck.

“What? Want me to stop?” He couldn’t help but chuckle as well, leaving lingering kisses on your skin.

“As if”, was all you mumbled back when you hugged him close and buried your hand in his hair to keep him right there.

After a couple of minutes where Chris just got to place his lips on every centimetre of skin they could find, you pulled him by his hair in that enticing way you always did, and brought him close to you once again, muttering his absolute favourite combination of words you could ever say.

“Fuck me”.

Gladly.

Chris was hard, leaking pre-cum, needy in ways that only you had ever made him feel. There was not an ounce of restraint in his body tonight, no wish to tease or delay the inevitable. There’d be time for that in the future. Or so he hoped.

So when he finally pushed himself into your sopping warmth, when he started that slow, but precise pace of his hips that he knew you enjoyed so much, he was dead set on diving fully into it, into you. Just like he’d done countless times prior to that night in the theatre.

“I love you”, Chris mumbled in your ear, and even before he said it, he had already started to feel his eyes water.

“I love you”, you mumbled back, further digging your nails on his back, tightening the hold of your legs around his torso. “With my whole heart”.

Your words coming out as a shaky whisper were enough to shatter the remaining protective layer around his heart. He could feel himself tremble, and even though he saw the tears running down your cheeks when he kissed you again, he hadn’t really needed to do it to know they were there. Just like he was sure you hadn’t needed to see his to know, too.

Chris had almost forgotten how it was like to sleep with you–in the literal sense of the word.

Your warmth, the way you clung to him sometimes in the middle of the night, how you’d wake him up when he was about to choke on his spit… It was all so, so familiar, it was comforting, and last night, even if you both had gone to sleep late after a couple more mind-numbing orgasms, after finishing your food, and after even more cuddles and deep emotional talks, this had probably been the best he’d slept in weeks.

Which was why, when he turned to drape an arm around your waist because he just needed to pull you closer to him, he almost got whiplash from the feeling of the cold sheets under his hand.

Chris’ eyes snapped open to find your side of the bed empty. Why was it so cold? Had you just left? When did you leave? Had you woken up today filled with regret? Had you decided that trying to work things out was actually too complicated and not worth your time?

Chris’ heart was beating fast in his chest, and just before he flung himself from the bed in a panic to see if the things you brought last night were still in the flat, he heard a sound. It was quiet, but he definitely heard it, and that feeling of panic was quickly changing to one of dangerous hope.

He didn’t even bother putting clothes on, just stood up and walked all the way to his bedroom’s door. As soon as it was opened, he could hear things more clearly.

Music.

Very low, but it was certainly playing somewhere down the hall.

He could hear the sound of a spatula against metal, as well as the crackling of oil, and the unmistakable hum of the airfryer.

“Morning, sleepy bear”, you said as he stepped into the kitchen, not even turning to look at him. Chris had light steps, but he supposed it made sense that you of all people were more than capable of hearing him walking closer. “M’making some eggs and bacon”.

Chris couldn’t help the small smile that came to his lips. He walked into your space, and wrapped his arms around your waist to hug you from behind. “So, the only things that were in the fridge”.

“Basically. You should really go grocery shopping. How are you gonna have energy for work if you don’t eat proper meals, hm? Who’s gonna protect Seungmin then?” There was a hint of a smile in your voice, and it only made Chris’ own smile widen.

It was odd to hear you talk about his job, especially so… neutrally. Resting his chin on your shoulder, Chris watched you carefully and methodically cook the eggs, and he couldn’t help but tighten his hold around your waist.

There was a moment of silence as you placed the two perfectly fried eggs on a plate, next to the already cooked ones. The airfryer timer went off, you switched off the stove, but you remained standing there in Chris’ hug.

One of your hands came to his arms, and you started to softly caress his skin. “Baby… I don’t wanna get you into trouble, you know?”

Chris knew. Being with you would definitely get him into trouble if the Kims found out who you were. He was aware of this, there was no way he wouldn’t be. “I know, love”.

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t… don’t really know what to do. How to fix that. I can’t let them hurt you because of me”.

Taking a deep breath, Chris let go of your waist to take a hold of your shoulders instead. With a gentle grip, he coaxed you to turn around so he could cup your cheeks in his hands. “We’ll figure something out. About the Kims, about the Guild… We’ll just… figure it out”.

You swallowed, but a small smile found its way to your lips. “Why do I get the feeling that this is gonna be some ‘you and me against the world’ bullshit?”

“Because it is”, Chris chuckled, squishing your cheeks, making your lips jut out into a pout. “It’s you and me, bun. We might need to improvise a bit, walk around the truth, but I have hope that we can find a solution to this”.

He pecked your lips briefly, and his hold on your cheeks relented.

You immediately looped your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you just as his hands found the small of your back. “I suppose we can put our two scheming brain cells together to think of something. I must say… doesn’t seem that difficult of a task when you’re here with me”.

Chris agreed completely. As long as he had you there, with him, it didn’t seem a difficult thing to achieve. Either getting the Guild to trust you again, or for you to defect, or even getting him to come clean to at least Seungmin, or keep you a secret, or for both of you to disappear completely, maybe leave the country and get new identities… It didn’t matter what course of action you both decided to take.

As long as you got to be together, happy, and in love, it just didn’t matter.

Even when he leaned in to press a kiss on your lips, when he hugged you close, Chris held onto that possibly foolish hope that everything would be okay. That you both would, in fact, figure it all out.

tagging (people from my taglist + people that asked to be tagged in this part 2 specifically):

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General Masterlist

#neverendingdreams #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #✨🌙✏

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