#i be reading my own fic like Someone cooked here

[revehae]

since it’s implied in indulgence that johnny has other victims scattered between the 4 main ones, what would some of the other circumstances be that he just hasn’t gotten caught for yet 🫣

the first thing i thought about was his first victims! in 1998, he had 11 victims including martina mortes. this is his highest kill count in a single year because his first kills were one-offs and he was still learning what he liked and perfecting his M.O.

this also makes them the most interesting, at least to me, because this was before he settled into routine and he was a youngin and all the things yadayadayada.

for the most part those kills looked like this: he found a girl on a night out, wooed and charmed her for a couple of hours, convinced her to go alone with him for obvious reasons, and then boom the poor thing had fallen into his trap. they were dead that same night. i’m certain it didn’t take long for him to get the grand idea to incorporate sex into the kills Lol like by the 2nd/3rd victim he was probably choking them out mid-intercourse vs just straight up strangling them and being done

his victims also age with him like they’re not super young unless he’s super young. for the most part. i imagine indulgence!mc was quite a bit younger than him and although she’s not necessarily a victim he was definitely into her 😭 otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten half that info out of him. maybe late twenties. dylidl!mc was also a decade younger but this one isn’t so bad to me considering shes like early 30s and hes 43.

i said all of that to time skip to his marriage with christine… we’re not going to talk about her lol we’re just going to talk about one of the victims he had during the 3 years that they were married. now at this time he was like 30-33 himself and his victim pool would have been around the same age so he would’ve probably gone for some lady with a REAL job that was also stressed out from it… so like dylidl!mc he was probably just casually blowing her back out until he was like okay time to hide you in my basement for 3 months… which he didnt get to do with her the professor and we all know why. this is funny bc he did all that and his wife just never knew what was happening underneath her house 😭😭😭😭😭

like contrary to johnny 25 years ago, he really goes the whole nine yards. so you can imagine he was flirting and wooing these women for months prior to the kidnappings. because - and i want to explain this in a way that makes sense - he’s not particularly faithful himself. not to his long-term partners (sabrina, christine, probably martina but to a smaller extent), and especially not to his shorter term victims. if he was holding one girl captive in the basement, you can best believe he was already working on the next one to make sure he could keep up with his schedule ☝️ swapping them is really important to this guy lol 1) he gets bored after a while and 2) the urge to kill them gets uncontrollable after a while, 3 months it seems

this is all funny considering he calls women cheating whores and he’s the cheating whore in question like ok sir.

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I��m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that���s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[submattsmxmmy]

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, heavy step sibling kink, risky, fingering, teasing, edging, ruined orgasm, degradation, humiliation, unprotected sex, squirting, roughdom!stepbro!chris, bratty!stepsis!reader

🖤 author's note: 🖤 this is my work! i promise i didn't steal it. this is my backup account. :) someone reported this fic on my first account. :( if you don't like the content, don't read, but don't ruin other people's orgasms. (it's only hot when stepbro!chris does it!)

this is part two of holdyourbreath, and you can read part one here 🖤

🖤 summary: 🖤 when you decide to get all bratty with chris at the family dinner table, he's not going to let it fly, and he doesn't care who's in the room with you.

holdyourbreath part two

You trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen for dinner, and the delicious smell of barbecue chicken wafted through the air. You scoffed and rolled your eyes after making eye contact with your annoying step brother, who was seated at the family table.

You thought he was revolting and vile, and you secretly couldn't stop fantasizing about him since he shoved his throbbing, hard cock down your throat a few weeks prior.

Your dad and his mom were both still cooking, standing in front of a sizzling pan and a pot of boiling water on the stove. "I made your plate for you," your dad told you, motioning to the table behind him. Of course, your place at the table was right beside Chris, and you begrudgingly took your seat next to him, tugging down on the hem of your skirt as you situated yourself.

"Glad to see you finally come down. My mom made me wait to eat until you were at the table, too," Chris rolled his eyes at you, taking a bite of chicken. "Oh, no. Did you have to wait for something for once in your life?" You pouted your lips at him, mockingly, picking up your fork to take a bite of your steamed vegetables.

"Are you talking back to me right now?" Chris said is a raspy, hushed tone, placing his hand firmly on the inside of your thigh. You widened your gaze and looked up at his hypnotic blue eyes. Surely, he wouldn't do anything with your parents right there. They might have had their backs to the two of you while they cooked their own dinner, but it was risky.

"I said, are you talking back, princess?" Chris leaned in and whispered into your ear, but his voice still sounded agitated and angry, even in a low whisper. "You wouldn't," you responded back, narrowing your glare, smirking, and keeping your volume low.

Chris took this as a challenge. He moved his hand from the inside of your thigh, slid it up your skirt, and started moving your panties to the side, and as he slipped two of his fingers inside of you under the table, he watched your smug smile fall and become a desperate, needy expression. "Oh, but I would," Chris replied softly, willing to do anything to prove you wrong.

You were enthralled by how easy it was for Chris to act nonchalant, his right hand dipping below the table, exploring your hole, and his left hand, holding a drum stick while he bit into it, holding eye contact with you the whole time. He acted as if everything were completely normal.

You tried to maintain the same facade, taking bites of your food and trying to remain as composed as possible, but the way Chris ran his fingers up and down your wet folds, teasing your clit, had you in shambles. He stimulated your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing small, tight circles as he watched your eyes starting to roll back in your head.

"Be better at concealing your pleasure. Fucking whore. You're gonna get us caught," Chris growled in a volume just above a whisper. He roughly shoved his fingers back into you, but he kept his thrusts long and slow, teasing you.

"How do you guys like the chicken?" Your dad asked, peeking over his shoulder. "It's so good, daddy," you managed to get out, biting your lip after to keep any moans from escaping. Chris pulled his fingers out of you for a moment and looked into your eyes as he licked them clean.

"Mmm, delicious. I haven't tried the breasts yet, but the thighs are so tender and juicy. Compliments to the chef," Chris replied with a shit-eating grin on his face, shoving his fingers back into your heat. He was obviously talking about the chicken.

"Thanks, Chris. I'm glad you like it," your dad said, completely oblivious to the fact that Chris was manhandling his daughter under the family dinner table. "Good job. He's hard to please. So picky," Chris' mom peered over at your dad.

"Nothing wrong with being picky. I just know what I like," Chris responded, casually carrying on conversation with your guys' parents while he looked into your needy eyes, his curious hand dipping into your pussy.

You fixated on the way Chris' fingers curled inside of you, stimulating your gspot. You could feel every detail of every bone of his long, slender digits as they penetrated you, and you savored the incredible sensation.

"Like that, step sis?" Chris leaned in and rasped into your ear while he watched the pitiful expression carved into your face as you started getting close. You nodded, your heart nearly thumping out of your chest and your palms drenched in perspiration. You didn't know how you were going to hold it together through your climax.

Chris could read your face. He knew how badly you needed to cum, but he couldn't reward you for talking back. Plus he knew how pathetic you were, and how impossible it would be for you to act casual while finishing all over his fingers, so he removed them just as you were at the tipping point.

He had built you up just to ruin your satisfaction right before you could release. The corner of his lips curled into a malicious expression as he watched the light leave your eyes.

"No. Please," you whispered, grabbing his hand and trying to put it back where it was, but he tugged it away before you could. "I had to wait to eat because of you. Now it's your turn. Don't hold your breath, princess. Or do. But you might die waiting," he smugly chuckled next to your earlobe.

"Mmm," He licked his fingers clean once more and withdrew all attention from you, going back to eating his chicken. "Please," you nudged him in the leg with yours under the table as you begged him quietly to keep going. He didn't bat an eye at you. "Chris, please," you whined a bit louder while your parents were distracted and talking amongst one another.

He loved the way you begged, but he was going to make you wait regardless, and he wasn't going to so much as look at you for the rest of dinner. You felt pitiful, pleading with your step brother to make you cum with his fingers while your dad and his mom were in the same room as you while he blatantly ignored you.

You soon gave up, shutting your legs, frowning down at your plate, and picking at your chicken. The rest of dinner was quiet and uneventful. Both your parents sat down at the table with you guys, trying to pry into the details of your personal lives, but you and Chris gave them just about nothing to work with.

And how could you? What were you supposed to tell them? You were upset because your step brother had ruined your orgasm? Or that you were incredibly sexually frustrated all the time because Chris had cum in your mouth a couple weeks earlier, and you couldn't stop thinking about it?

You gave them one-worded answers and excused yourself from the table after you'd finished eating.

Thankfully, it was Chris' turn to clean up after dinner tonight, and while he was in the kitchen doing the dishes, you thought about how good it would feel to relieve yourself, but you needed Chris as much as you hated to admit it. You could never recreate the way his fingers so effortlessly reached certain places. You could never recreate the feeling of your step brother's cock in your throat.

Plus, you were worried that if he caught you getting off without him, he'd punish you further and make you wait even longer to cum.

So, instead you collapsed onto your bed, deciding to take your mind off your throbbing clit and bury yourself into a book you'd been meaning to read but hadn't picked up yet.

Several hours later, your step brother barged into your room. "Give it to me," Chris demanded, climbing onto your bed, hovering over you and holding out his hand to take something from you. You gave him a confused look. "My book? Since when do you read?" You laughed at him.

"Shut up, slut. You think you're so fucking hilarious. I know ya have it," Chris accused you. "Have what?" You asked nonchalantly, laying on your back and flipping through your book, trying to pretend you weren't getting massively turned on by the way he spoke to you.

"I know you have somethin' that's mine," Chris growled at you quietly, narrowing his eyes. "Fuck you. I don't have anything that's yours," you rolled your eyes, kicking him away and chuckling at him. "Talk back to me one more fucking time, slut," Chris whispered, giving you a look of contempt and pushing back up against you. He kept his voice low so he wouldn't wake your parents who were asleep down the hall.

"Fuck you, Chris," you snarked back, laughing at how pathetic he was being. "Last chance," Chris said, nudging open your thigh with his knee. "Beg for it," you smirked, clocking the desperation in his eyes. "You've done it now," Chris rasped at you, forcing your legs open with his.

"I said you have somethin' that's mine, princess. Hand it over," Chris said in a growl. "What do I have that's yours?" You asked, getting turned on by the way he was on top of you, pushing your thighs apart. "That sweet, juicy pussy. Just because it's between your legs doesn't mean it isn't mine," Chris whispered, unzipping his jeans, and in one fell swoop, he'd pushed up your skirt, pulled your panties to the side, and without much warning at all, he stuffed you full with his cock.

You looked up at him, wide-eyed and gasping as he stretched you out, still holding your book. "I'm all the entertainment you need, fucking whore," Chris smirked at you, ripping the novel out of your hands and tossing it on the floor. You nodded at him, lost for words.

The thrusts he delivered were slow but hard. "Fuck. You don't need any foreplay or anything do ya, doll? You just take it so willingly," Chris said in a low but dominant voice. "Unless you've been up here, playing with yourself," he glared at you.

"I promise. I wasn't," you shook your head, trying to keep a straight face while he fucked you, but every time he slammed his cock into you, you let out a pathetic little whimper.

"Better keep quiet so Mom and Dad don't hear me ruining your pretty little pussy," Chris rasped at you, putting his hand over your mouth. You slowly nodded, giving him your most desperate stare.

Your eyes started to roll back into your head as his thrusts picked up speed and power. You couldn't believe you were letting your step brother fuck you senseless, and you couldn't believe how much you loved it. Your muffled moans became louder as he took what rightfully belonged to him, and you couldn't have given it up more easily.

He looked at you with his mesmerizing blue eyes that were usually so good at concealing his dark desires, but you could see through his facade more now than ever. He loved this. He loved watching you submit to him. "Fuckin' whore," he breathlessly grunted through his slightly parted lips while he relentlessly hit your sweet spot over and over.

"You're such a naughty girl. Almost came all over my fingers while your dad was ten feet away from us. I bet you loved it. I bet I could take you anyway I wanted, anywhere I wanted, and you'd let me," Chris growled under his breath. You nodded, grasping pathetically at the blanket beneath you, your knuckles losing color while you squirmed under Chris.

"Getting close? Wanna cum?" He cooed, watching the way you started to lose control of your body. You nodded at him, his mouth still stifling your pleasured sounds. "I'm gonna remove my hand, so you can beg for me, but you better stay quiet, and you better not talk shit to me. Got it?" He said through gritted teeth. You eagerly shook your head yes, and he did as he said he would.

"Beg me to let you finish," he whispered, biting his lip while he slid his cock in and out of you at an incredibly steady and fast pace. "Please. Please let me cum," you quietly whined, using every bit of your might to keep yourself from cumming without his permission.

"Come on, slut. I know ya can beg better than that," Chris replied, maintaining his stamina while he drove you closer and closer to the edge. "I need it, Chris. Please let me cum. Please. I'm begging," you softly whimpered, tears starting to form in your eyes.

"That's it. Beg a little harder," Chris devilishly grinned down at you. "I'll do anything for you, Chris. My pussy's all yours. Please let me cum. Please please please. I can't take it anymore," you begged in a needy whisper.

"You look like a pathetic fuckin' mess," he made fun of you. "I am a mess, Chris. All for you. I'm such a little whore. I can't hold out this long. I need to cum more than anything," you pleaded with him, still trying to keep your voice down, but miserably failing.

"Cum for me," he finally said, smirking at you, getting off on the fact that he got you degrading yourself while you begged. "Cum on my cock," he repeated, his voice becoming more breathy as he chipped away at his own orgasm.

You did as he said, clenching around him rhythmically while you violently shook beneath him as you tipped over the edge. It was such a powerful orgasm that you really felt like you were falling. Your stomach dropped, and you found yourself grasping at anything, scratching Chris' back and tugging on your sheets while your climax relentlessly overpowered you.

It ripped through you, leaving you an even more pathetic mess than before. Of course, you were familiar with what an orgasm felt like, but there was something unique and even more powerful about this one. That's when Chris' eyes widened as he peered down at the mess you made on him and the sheets, and he came shortly after, having realized he'd just made you squirt.

He waited until the last second to pull out, stroking himself to orgasm while he busted all over the inside of your thigh. His grunts were deep and louder than either of you anticipated. His face was contorted in an expression of pure pleasure, his jaw falling slack and his eyes glazing over. He loved the way his thick, white substance glistened on your flesh.

"Holy fuck. I didn't know you were a squirter. That's so fucking hot," he smirked, licking his lips and narrowing his gaze. "I didn't know either," you responded, panting and laughing.

"You really are a little slut. Squirting all over your step brother's dick," Chris said, pulling away from you and stuffing his drained cock back into his pants. "Well, princess. You made your bed. Now lay in it," Chris sneered at you and disappeared from your room.

thank you for reading. this shit was too fucking good to not re-upload. i will be uploading part three to this account once i write it, but for the sake of ease, i'm not tagging anyone in the third part. you'll just have to look on my masterlist on my main account. thank you. 💖

[spitdrunken]

man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.

notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control

it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.

i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.

you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.

in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.

you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.

(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)

oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.

he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!

he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!

…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.

you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.

he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.

a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.

on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.

he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.

[reilemon]

🍒My Everything🍒

♡︎ synopsis: You didn't plan on celebrating your birthday during undercover mission, but Xavier still wanted to surprise you. A little twist on the 21 Days memory.

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: birthday sex, fingering, oral (both male and female receiving), creampie, multiple orgasms

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ a/n: I call myself Zayne girlie yet here I am posting my fourth Xavier fic. Anyways, Sylus is next.

♡︎ requested by @sadfragilegirl ♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this! divider by @cafekitsune

The undercover mission with Xavier has been going smoothly so far. You two put up a convincing act of a young couple in love in front of others, and actually got along well behind closed doors. You didn't want to tell him this, but you were genuinely surprised at how good of a homemaker he is. When you heard about the assignment, you were excited that it's him who's going to be living with you, but at the same time anxious. Xavier is a reliable work partner, but what would he be like as a roommate? So far, you had no complaints and actually were looking forward to coming home back to the apartment you and Xavier temporarily lived in for around three weeks.

As you mindlessly stroll around a grocery store, you reminisce about one more cause of anxiety about the mission - your crush on your coworker and neighbor. You're not sure when it started, but it doesn't matter because you made it your own mission to bury those feelings and hope they disintegrate. For a while you considered acting on it and taking the first step, but then you realized you had a lot to lose if it doesn't work out. And you tried to convince yourself that it was just a small crush, because who wouldn't want someone hot and reliable? Right?

A weary sigh leaves your lips and you turn a corner - Party Supplies. Oh. Right, it's your birthday today. You didn't say anything to Xavier because you didn't want to make him feel obligated to buy you a gift or make something today. You two are on a mission after all, and you can get to celebrate it later when it's over.

You pass the party supplies aisle and head towards the check out. You wonder what kind of concoction Xavier cooked today.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

Even though you settled on not celebrating your birthday today, you still wanted to treat Xavier, so you bought a cherry pie from a pastry shop that always smells so good and makes your mouth water every time on the way back from 'work'.

As you fiddle with your keys at the doorstep, you catch a whiff of something burning. Probably from the inside. Another sigh leaves your lips. Xavier burnt something again, didn't he?

Light gray smoke greets you as soon as you open the door, your eyes taking a moment to adjust and then you see Xavier frantically fanning a kitchen towel over the counter.

You can clearly see the panic in Xavier's eyes over the slowly dissipating smoke when he notices you coming in. "Ah - ! Welcome home!"

You can't help but laugh a little at the scene, but also be confused a little at his behavior. He's usually calm even when he causes a kitchen fire. "So what are we having for dinner?" You tease.

Xavier's shoulders slump in defeat and puts away the kitchen towel. He turns to you and finally looks at you properly, with a defeated smile "A neighbor made you one of your favorite dishes." He nudges his head towards the dining table. Your gaze follows his and you gasp at how beautifully the table was set, with the meal and your favorite flowers waiting for you.

"Xavier, what - "

"Oh, what's this?"

He approached you to take the bag with the groceries while your attention was on the table.

"Oh, I got us a cherry pie."

He only nods and goes back to the kitchen to unload everything.

You sneak towards the cremated object, "So, if we already had dinner, what was this supposed to be?"

"Uh, nothing. I was just experimenting." Xavier absentmindedly answers as he finishes putting everything away.

After he refuses your offer to help with airing out the apartment, you then excuse yourself to the bathroom to take a quick shower and change into more comfortable clothes.

When you exit the bathroom, the smell of what you assume to be burnt dessert is almost completely gone, and now you can see everything properly. You walk back into the dining area and your eyes land on Xavier waiting for you by the table. You gasp in delight when you see what's in his hands - a cute handmade paper crown in your favorite colors.

"Happy birthday." Xavier says softly and steps towards you, placing the crown on your head. It sits so perfectly that you think he might've taken your measurements.

You look up at him, still in disbelief "How did you - "

"Know when it's your birthday? I told you I looked at your profile." He chuckles at the silly question and turns to pull back your chair, offering you to take a seat.

While eating, you found out that what he burnt was supposed to be a birthday cake he thought you would like, but while it was baking he used that time to set the table and make the crown. He didn't want to make it earlier in case you found it. And then the neighbor came to drop off the meal and of course had to linger and chat and also invite herself over tomorrow.

"So, the groceries I bought today - "

"I didn't need any of that, I just wanted to buy myself more time."

You got used to Xavier's weird grocery shopping lists, that you didn't even question why you were buying ketchup, pesto sauce or sausages. You were so touched by the amount of effort and thoughtfulness he put into your birthday dinner; you were smiling the whole time. That crush is not going away anytime soon.

But you can tell that Xavier was almost like a deflated balloon, hesitantly answering your questions as you put two and two together.

You reach across the table, placing your hand over his. "I love everything you've done today." You reassure him in a comforting voice, "And it kinda worked out that the cake got burned, because then the pie would go to waste."

He nods, and you hope you made him feel a little better. Then, he takes your hand and places a soft peck on top of it, and you could feel your cheeks burning instantly. You hope he doesn't notice it.

He does.

After dinner, Xavier shoos you away from the kitchen, not letting you do any of the house chores on your day. So you go to the living room to unwind and wait for him to join you.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

"Sorry, I had to take a shower." Xavier finally appears and takes a seat next to you on the sofa. He's wearing sweats (those gray sweatpants!!) and a loose tshirt, his hair still a little damp from washing away the smoke.

"It's okay, I entertained myself." You throw the other half of your blanket over his lap.

"Did you pick out a movie?"

You nod and start playing the movie on the tv. Since you can't go out together as much thanks to the mission, you found ways to pass the time inside your 'new home'. One of them is watching old movies Xavier used to watch years ago.

And about five minutes into the movie, you feel fluffy gray hair tickling you cheek and nose as his head softly drops on your shoulder. You turn your head and of course, Xavier is already dozing off. You smile softly at him - it's only fair to let him rest, so you try to slowly get up and let him lie down on the soft pillows.

With eyes still closed, he lets you snuggle him into the pillows and the blanket, but then his lips form a playful smirk and in one swift motion, he pulls you under the blanket with him, into his arms.

"You can watch the movie like this, right?" He asks as sleepiness overtakes him again, with the crown, barely on your head, poking his cheek.

Your body is stiff against his, and your voice doesn't help hiding how flustered you are "Um, you don't want to go to your room to take a nap?"

"Nope." He mumbles before dozing off.

You adjust to make yourself more comfortable, resting your head on his chest. The movie is rolling, but it doesn't have your attention. All you can focus on is how relaxing Xavier's presence is, with his weird slow heartbeat and soft breathing. His one hand is holding you close by the waist, while the other one found its way on top of yours that's resting on his chest.

All the nervousness about being so close to him slowly melts away, and you drift off to sleep.

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

When your eyes flutter open, Xavier's hand is in full focus as he tenderly caresses your cheek. The moonlight is the only source of light in the room now, and you wonder how long you slept. You prop yourself up a bit to look up at Xavier, but the crown you forgot you still had on slides off over your face, earning an amused laugh from him.

He takes it off for you and sets it on a nearby coffee table. Then he goes back to caressing your cheek.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks.

"Ye - Ow!" Numbness in your arm that was under you makes you grit your teeth and shift on the sofa in search for relief.

"Here." His arms effortlessly move you on top of him, your upper body completely resting on top of his, his legs encasing yours. "Better?" He asks as he grazes soothing circles on the numb arm.

Well you're not sure if it is better because your heart is beating like crazy now that you're on top of him, your faces a breath away. You did cuddle a little before, but you were never this close. So close you're sure he can feel your heartbeat. So you just nod, not trusting your voice.

You two share a moment in silence, gazing at each other’s features, Xavier's fingers still not leaving your face.

"It's a pity your birthday was during an undercover mission. I'll make it up to you when we get back."

You shake your head "This is one of my favorite birthdays actually." He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to elaborate and hoping you're not just humoring him. "I mean, I had a lovely home and a handsome husband waiting for me. He got me beautiful flowers and made sure I had my favorite meal."

A tone of uncertainty covers your voice "Who should I thank for that?"

When met with a puzzled look you elaborate "Should I thank you as my fake husband playing his role, or as my coworker -"

The fingers on your cheek cover your lips, cutting you off. "Just thank me, Xavier." The digits gingerly graze your bottom lip.

You speak softly “Thank you, Xavier.” Butterflies dance in your belly as you mull over the next question. "And -" You swallow thickly before continuing "What am I to you, Xavier?"

He doesn't say anything, instead he timidly pulls you closer by the back of your head, closing what little distance you had between your faces, his soft lips giving yours a chaste kiss. And when you don't pull away, your hand cupping his cheek, he pulls into a deep, hungry kiss, your bodies pressed hard, feeling every twitch of the muscle and pulse of your veins under your skin - and it's impossible to ignore growing bulge pressing your lower belly.

Xavier curses under his breath "Sorry, I - !" his words get lost in his throat when your hand grazes over his length over the clothes, your lips latching back onto his.

He groans and bites your bottom lip when you give it a few more strokes, feeling out his shape.

Fuck, it's thick.

Growing impatient, you tug at the waistband of the sinful gray sweats, and Xavier lifts his hips and pulls them down just enough to free his rock hard dick. You break away from the kiss to not so subtly look down and even under the low lights you can clearly see it. The sight of it makes you unconsciously rub your thighs and your mouth water.

You might've stared a little too long because a chuckle from the man under you pulls you out from your trance. But he doesn't tease you, maybe because it's your birthday, instead he pulls you back into another breathtaking kiss, while your hand wraps around his length, slowly stroking it.

But you need more - and in the next moment you're sliding down, adjusting yourself between his legs.

A few strokes to the base of his cock and your tongue on the leaking tip elicits a moan from Xavier's lips, and you discover that it's your new favorite sound. So you do what you need to do to hear more of it. Your swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting precum and the tender skin, before you take in more of his length, and greedily you take more and more before your nose is pressed on his pelvis, short hairs of his happy trail tickling you. You don't care how your jaw is barely holding on around his girth, his moans is what keeps you going and panties already drenched. All restrain from Xavier dissipates with every lick of your tongue and clenching of your throat around the tip.

"Fuck, you're doing so good."

His hips start moving faster than your rhythm, his hand on your head holding you in place. Under the hand that's holding you for balance, you can feel his thigh muscles tremble, and you can feel his cock throb in your mouth.

"I'm gonna cum, princess." He gives you the warning, and loosens his grip on your head, but you take it all in, needing to taste him. And in few shallow thrusts, you're tasting and swallowing his cum, not letting a drop go to waste.

You barely catch your breath before Xavier lifts you up and locks his lips with yours, tongue licking your lips and tongue, tasting himself. Then he switches the positions with you, and now you're on your back, stripped of your pants and underwear, Xavier's lips locked with yours and his middle finger sliding between your wet folds. You moan into the kiss as the finger slides into your entrance, quickly followed by a second one. Your hips start moving to meet the pace, the digits hitting all the right spots and your release already building up. Then his thumb presses your clit that was begging for attention, eliciting a yelp from you making Xavier smile against your lips before continuing kissing you. In a few more pumps of his fingers against your sweet spot, you're a panting mess as you cum around them.

When you come down from your high, he brings up those soaked fingers to his lips and licks them, the sight making you blush. His dick twitches in his underwear as he gets a taste of your essence. He needs more.

Before you can even protest about how you're wet enough, he pushes your legs further up against your torso, his face already between them, his breath fanning against your pussy spreading goosebumps all over your skin. The only thing that stopped him from latching onto your pretty pussy is his need to take in the sight of it for the first time.

You cover your face with your hands, too self-conscious about the close up he's getting, even if there's no lights in here. "Xavier..." You whine and move your hips as much as you can under his grasp.

He chuckles at your cute reaction and whispers how perfect you are, then he finally presses his tongue flat against your glistening folds, and your embarrassment melts away. One hand moves from the back of your thigh under your shirt, fondling your breast and playing with your hard nipple until you're squirming from over-sensitivity and he moves to the other one. His lips latch onto your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue around it, sucking and lapping at it, while his other hand finds its way back into your entrance, two fingers easily slipping in and finding the spots that make you moan and buck your hips.

"Just like that - " You breathe, raking your fingers through his hair and holding onto it, while your other hand grabs onto the arm rest behind you, anchoring yourself as Xavier's tongue and fingers stimulate you at just the right pace and you cry out when another orgasm courses through your body.

Xavier soothingly massages your breast and peppers your inner thighs with kisses as you catch your breath.

You hear him ask against your plush thigh "One more?"

Your eyes open and meet his half lidded gaze. You shake your head and grab his wrist "Just fuck me, please."

He was already on edge of another orgasm from just eating you out, and your breathy plea made him so dangerously closer. He positions himself on top of you and pulling down his underwear that now has a big wet spot from his leaking tip. You watch as he positions his cock against your pussy until you hear his soft voice

"Look me in the eyes, honey."

And you lock your gaze with his, eyes barely staying open as the swollen tip slides inside. With languid thrusts, his cock is buried to the hilt and now Xavier needs to anchor himself - he rests on his elbow, burying his face in the crook of your neck, licking and nipping sensitive skin. His other hand finds yours and holds it tight, interlocking fingers and resting it next to your head.

His thrust are deep and hard, his pelvis grazing your clit, making your cunt throb and squeeze around him, making his movements falter. With a strained voice he breathes against your neck "Gonna cum on my cock?"

You nod as you clench around him more when you hear his voice and see his face as he comes up to lock eyes with you and you grab him by the back of his neck, pulling him into a sloppy open mouthed kiss.

You squeeze his hand and lock your legs around his hips as they roll at the right angle.

"I'm so close, honey." He rasps.

And you are seconds away from your third orgasm, your pussy already spasming. "Need you - haah - inside -!"

You open your mouth in a silent cry his dick throbs in your already pulsing creaming cunt, filling it with hot cum. The two of you moan and grunt, erratically moving your hips, riding out each other's high.

With shaky breaths, you slowly calm down and open your eyes.

The two of you can't help but laugh a little when you see each other's blissed out faces. Xavier gives the hand he's still holding a kiss. Your other hand presses on his back to press you completely against him, needing to feel his whole weight on you.

"I'm not crushing you?" he asks as his face is nuzzled against your neck.

You gently stroke his now messy hair. "No let's stay like this for a while."

₊♡₊˚ 🍒・₊✧

After cleaning up the mess on the sofa and showering, you're back in the dining room with the cherry pie on the table. Xavier put the candles on it and the princess crown back on your head. You're about to sit on Xavier's lap and then light the candles but then you remember something.

"Shoot, I almost forgot!"

Confused, Xavier watches you as you hurry out in the dining room. Your phone and the lighter are here, so he can't guess what you would need.

You come back with a giddy smile on your face as you hold something behind your back.

"Something for me?" he asks, amused at your expression.

"Yes, but it doesn't look that good because I had to make it quickly." You then reveal a handmade prince crown.

Xavier's eyes widen "When did you -?"

"I guess you forgot to clean up the living room after making mine, so I just scrambled something while you were showering."

Left speechless at your sweet gesture, his eyes switch between gazing at you and the crown.

You feel a little embarrassed at your craftsmanship because it looks poorly made compared to the one he made for you. "Okay, you looked at it enough. I'll make you a better one later."

He chuckles as you place it on his head and sit on his lap. He kisses your hand and then your lips "Thank you, I love it."

After lighting the candles, you close your eyes and make a wish.

[guiltyasdave]

just close your eyes

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, implied death of a character, the angst is ANGSTING in this one

a/n: once again, i can't thank that jackson joel pedro photo enough for the inspiration that it's brought me. i hurt my own feelings with this chapter, and truth be told, it's gonna get worse from here.

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Over the following days, something of a routine forms between the three of you. 

Joel spends most of his time resting, asleep more often than not, the shape of him on your couch a picture that you grow familiar with. But as his fever goes down and the skin around his injury is less red than when you first laid eyes on it, you allow yourself the tentative hope that you might have been able to actually save him. 

You’re becoming less skittish around him, getting used to his rather gruff demeanor, slowly realizing that what Ellie said was indeed true, it’s not about you. You come to think he just doesn’t like needing and accepting help.

Ellie follows you around like a puppy, eager to soak up every scrap of knowledge that you can share with her. It’s not much, you think, mostly cooking, the task of turning supplies into various meals, given the limited resources that you have in this world. You like having her around, the almost constant stream of chatter and questions never annoying you.

It fills your usual silence, helps keeping you grounded in the present. Most of the time.

Now that you have company, it becomes painfully obvious to you how much time you spend in your head, just sitting and staring straight ahead, lost in your thoughts, oblivious to the time passing. You have taken to having a book open in your lap, to make it seem like you’re reading, but you find yourself looking down at the page without seeing it, not sure when you last turned it. 

It’s not what they would have wanted, you keep telling yourself, trying to shake yourself out of it. Well, it’s not like anything happened the way we wanted, the bitter voice in your head answers.

If Ellie or Joel notice, they don’t ask about it. You hear their voices in the night sometimes, both of them sleeping in your parents’ bedroom now, since the couch was starting to hurt Joel’s back. 

You don’t lock your door anymore, leaving it ajar, just like them. The thought of someone else being down here with you is soothing you, the fear of them being a possible threat basically nonexistent at this point. Instead, a different kind of fear sets in. 

They haven’t talked about where they are going, but you know that they’re not gonna stay forever. Once Joel is completely healed, and winter has given way to spring, they’ll most likely be off again, leaving you on your own again. You don’t want to grow attached, but it’s difficult not to, while being with other constantly. 

You and Joel are taking longer to warm up to each other than you and Ellie have, but you’ve gotten used to having him around you. It’s a quiet, but trustworthy, reassuring thing, his presence in your space. Now that he’s healing, he’s someone who you trust to take responsibility, to take care of things if needed. You’re not sure how you know, but you’re certain that he is.

One evening, Ellie finds the DVD collection that’s stashed away in the cabinet under the small TV in the corner of the room. You hadn’t watched anything in forever, not sure if it’s even still working, but her enthusiasm makes it impossible to turn her down. 

Even Joel pipes up at the prospect of a movie night, crouching down next to her to sift through the DVDs. They’re both drawn to the shitty action movies – usually not your preferred taste, but you find the corners of your mouth lifting when they both turn around simultaneously, looking for your approval of their choice. 

Joel pushes himself back up with a grunt, pressing the button on the TV and making it spring to life without issue. You settle deeper into the couch cushions, pulling a knitted blanket over yourself as you watch the opening credits play. 

It’s so comfortable, so normal, and you want to get lost in the feeling in a way that makes your heart ache. Ellie sits down beside you to share the blanket while Joel stretches his legs out on the other couch. A smile is tugging at his lips when he catches you looking at him, but it can’t hide the wariness in his eyes, mirroring your own. It’s the feeling of things being too good to be true, the fear of nothing good ever lasting, of the world crashing down around you again, that always accompanies you, and without asking, you know that he feels it too. You cast your eyes back to the screen, trying hard not to get yourself lost in the fear, but to enjoy the moments of peace while they last. 

Ellie loves the movie, her eyes wide at every action-packed sequence, gasping at every explosion. At one of the more absurd scenes, you can’t contain the burst of laughter that bubbles up your throat. You’re unexpectedly joined by the deeper rumble of Joel’s, a sound that you haven’t heard before. 

You glance at him, to find his eyes already on you, an emotion in them that you can’t place. Neither of you say a word, both quietly returning your eyes to the TV. 

When you’re lying in bed later that night, you still feel the smile on your face. 

While your closeness with Ellie came quickly, almost taking you by storm, it’s a quiet, slowly growing thing with Joel. 

It begins with him lingering in the kitchen when you’re preparing the morning coffee, asking you questions about the place, about keeping supplies, electricity, the safety measures. He helps you with cooking, grumbling about giving something back when you protest. 

He’s gruff, no comparison to Ellie’s lively chatter and endless questions, and it makes you nervous at first. But you get used to him, his more quiet demeanor, his dry humor. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to scare you again, avoiding sudden movements or getting loud, and while you appreciate it, you also can’t help but wonder how broken you must seem from the outside. 

He doesn’t ask prying questions about your past, how you’ve come to live here all alone, though you have to imagine that he’s curious. You don’t ask him about his either, even if you do wonder how he and Ellie ended up together. It’s a quiet mutual understanding and you’re grateful for it. 

You have to believe that he had his fair share of loss in his own life, that the both of them had; an inescapable reality at this point in the world’s history.

It’s like a silent camaraderie when he catches your eye as Ellie is reading out puns to the both of you once more, rolls his eyes in a way that still holds so much love for the girl next to you, but that fills you with the urge to giggle. It stops you in your tracks the first time it happens, the sensation so unfamiliar to you that you can’t place it for a second. 

When you smile at him, the corners of his mouth rise ever so slightly as well, before he huffs an exaggerated sigh at the joke that you just heard. It riles Ellie up, just like he wanted to, you suspect. But you block out her bickering at him, busy with your own thoughts. One thought in particular, one that you haven’t had about anyone since you were a teenager. 

Joel is kind of pretty when he smiles.

The both of them have also taken to working their way through the bookshelf that’s taking up most of one of the walls. It’s mostly guidebooks on hunting, gardening, self defense, anything that your father deemed possibly useful. Over time, you had added books from your old bedroom, the one upstairs, that you had hastily carried down the stairs, hoping for the familiar words to give you a sense of normalcy in a world where nothing was normal anymore. 

Joel sometimes talks to you about them, asking your opinion on which ones to read, discussing their contents with you. Over time, you realize that he does it when you’re zoning out, pulling you back into reality with the drawl of his low voice next to you. You’re thankful for it, not used to being cared for like this, but also mortified that as it seems, he does notice when you’re too deep inside your head.

It’s one of those afternoons, you’re just about to start preparing dinner, when Ellie asks if you have more books somewhere, about something cool. “Like what?” you reply, an easy smile on your face. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “like comics, maybe? Ohh, or something about space?” 

It takes a moment before the words register, before they form a picture in your mind, the memory of exactly what she’s asking for. You stop in your tracks, frozen on your way to the kitchen. Your toes dig into the carpet beneath your bare feet. A faint trembling starts in your hands and slowly spreads through your body. 

Ellie says your name, an edge in her voice. You’re not sure what your face looks like. 

Your wide eyes find hers, looking up at you from where she was spread out on the floor, her hair splaying out over the scratchy rug, one of your books held over her head. You had joked about how that position couldn’t be comfortable a few minutes ago. 

You see Joel from the corner of your eye, slowly raising to his feet from the couch cushions. It feels like you can’t breathe, like you’re sucking in air but it doesn’t reach your lungs. 

A large, warm hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump. Joel rubs soothing circles over your back, your name a low rumble on his lips. 

“It’s– it’s not a problem if not,” Ellie murmurs, sitting up slowly, her eyes flicking between you and Joel, uncertainty written over her features. 

You force a shuddering breath in, using the sensation of Joel’s hand splayed over your back to ground yourself. Nodding your head, you will your voice to travel up your throat. 

“Yeah no, I– just a second.” 

Joel repeats your name, more questioning this time, but you ignore it, feet carrying you into the bathroom where you quickly shut the door behind you. Skin stretching over your knuckles, you stand over the sink, gripping its edges to stay upright. 

It’s what he would have wanted. He would have been so happy to share them. It’s true, you know what. 

You’re not sure what’s worse. Going in there yourself, crossing the threshold of a room that you haven’t entered in years, haven’t even opened the door to, or letting someone else do it, let them disturb the memory of a reality that you’ve tried to preserve in there. Too painful to touch, but too important to let go of. 

Steeling yourself, you return to the living area. Ellie and Joel are sitting close to each other, both of their heads flying up at the door opening. It’s obvious that they have been talking about you. You bite your lip. 

Ellie rises to her feet slowly, takes a tentative step toward you. “Listen, it’s not that important really–” She sounds like she’s talking to a skittish animal. 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice not to betray you. With a deep breath, you cross the room to the door beside yours. One of two that you keep firmly closed. 

It creaks on its hinges when you open it slowly, your hand shaking on the handle. You try not to look around, to keep your eyes closed to the truth that nothing changed in here, and yet everything changed. It’s stuffy, stagnant air that’s been untouched for too long, but it smells like him. Like he’s still here with you. 

You don’t see the unmade bed, still carrying the trace of the last time he got up, the stuffed lion beside the pillow. Don’t see the half finished drawings on the desk, or the mess of action figures in the corner. You grab the stack of comics from the nightstand, ignoring the way your vision blurs at the edges. Move on to the shelf, smaller than the one in the living room, blindly picking out random books. 

When you step out of the bedroom, quickly pulling the door shut behind you again, neither Joel or Ellie have moved. You can’t meet either one’s gaze, don’t want to see the expression in their eyes.

Ellie takes the stack of books from your outstretched hands, murmuring a thanks, and you sense that there are more words on the tip of her tongue. Questions, apologies, you don’t know and you don’t want to. 

Turning on your heels, you escape into your own room, closing the door as quickly as you can before you collapse on your bed. Tears flood your eyes in time with the memories flooding your head, threatening to pull you under and drown you under their waves. 

You hear their muffled voices through the door, but neither of them comes to disturb you. You’re thankful for it, not needing anyone to witness you in this state. Eventually, you drift off into sleep, your mind gladly giving way to unconsciousness.

The following night is the first time that Joel has to shake you awake from a nightmare.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Imagine sweet little housewife!reader making Ghost dinner after a long deployment. Ghost promises housewife!reader he'll wait till tonight to treat her good, but seeing her in her cute little shorts and his shirt is too much for him to control, so he decides a different dinner.. her tight, wet little cunt.

READ IT HERE

Oh you know exactly what I like Anon, cause anything that has to do with Simon coming home after a long deployment all ramped up and ready to see his sweetheart is right up my alley. I could literally write endlessly about this. 

There is something so fantasruc about having all that pining, all that buildup come to a head so that Simon loses himself and cannot stop himself because he desperately has to be inside you.

Cause, let’s be honest: this man pines for you when he's gone for too long. He never knew he could crave someone until he met you and now every time he goes on mission you are there in his mind torturing him. And he finds that he cannot wait to come home because he knows he has his beautiful girl waiting for him.

You are his little slice of heaven in a chaotic, fucked up world; his sunshine to help rip him out of the overwhelming darkness the surrounds him; the one who he wants to be better for so that your lives together can be good. And that makes him crave you even more.

Sure, to say he is obsessed may be a bit much, but he isn’t subtle about how much he adores you.

Especially his little wife? His sweet girl that he takes care of and in turn she takes care of him? Who keeps things going outside of his work so that he has a life to come back to? The one who makes his life so wonderful just by being in it? Oh yeah he is going to be so down bad to get back to all that that it's almost impossible to function until he sees you. 

From the moment he steps in the door and his eyes catch you working away in the kitchen to have a home cooked meal waiting for him, dressed in nothing but his baggy t-shirt, all that pent up longing is going to come spilling out in the most explosive ways. 

So, best get ready for dinner to be a little dry and maybe burnt because Simon is hungry for something else. And you should probably get ready for the table getting ruined too as he is going to need room to lay out his first course. 

Keep your eyes peeled for this one cause I am definitely going to make it happen as it’s own fic.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 49!

oh, how time flies... i can't believe the end of the year is this close already! not a massive fan of that, not gonna lie, but i am a fan of all of these fics, so let's focus on that, shall we?

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

built a house in the middle of your chest | LongConvolutedSimiles | 5.3k | M

Five times Buck and Eddie touch platonically plus one time they realise it's not platonic at all. i do love a good platonic-to-not-platonic-touching type fic and this hit the spot so perfectly <3

carpe diem | writingcap/@gibuckaroo | 2.6k | GA

Eddie rests his head on Buck’s shoulder and he lets himself follow. eddie's love language might be physical touch but my love language is reading about physical touch <3 so good!!

everything is fine (everything is perfect) | Kwills91/@kwills91| 4.1k | GA

Buck gets sick and Eddie takes care of him. Then Eddie bares his soul and Buck takes care of him. Because that's what they do. because that's what they do!! i love how they take care of each other here, written so perfectly <3

hen wilson's four part guide to making your stupid friends date | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 25k | M

When Buck and Eddie aren't speaking, Hen decides to take matters into her own hands. outsider pov!! hen wilson!! buddie being idiots in love!! what else could a girl (me) want (nothing) <3

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) | Talls/@tallsinspace | 12.6k | E

In which Eddie keeps secrets and Buck is incredibly normal and rational and even brave about his reaction to this. buck being so normal and rational and brave is my absolute favourite <3 love his inner dialogue here!

i don't swim and you're not in love | hattalove/@hattalove | 32.4k | T

eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly. blanket rec for an author whose work i've really been loving this week <3 been making my way through hattalove's entire profile and having such a good time. this one in particular has such a delightful buck and such lovely buddie and all of the yearning!!

i have had enough of crime | lamardeuse/@lamardeuse | 8.1k | T

Josh's view of Eddie's journey in 8A and beyond through the gay Olympic sport of competitive brunching. this fic captures josh so so perfectly and the josh & eddie dynamic is just brilliant <3

i should be pushing daisies | 42hrb/@exhuastedpigeon | 5.5k | T

Eddie goes to Texas to fix things with Chris and Buck pines. pining buck <3 this is such a brilliant character study and i love it so very much!!

practice makes perfect | greenbergsays/@greenbergsays | 6.5k | E

When the subject of Buck 1.0 arises, Buck worries that the reminder will make Eddie rethink their relationship. Eddie reassures him. oh my this is such a perfect way of buck 1.0 coming up in buddie fics... genuinely unmatched i saw the ao3 email in my inbox and audibly gasped. so good!!

properly | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 3.9k | T

“’ve got it, Eds,” someone murmured close to his ear in a way that made him shiver, and oh, that was Buck’s voice. Eddie would know him anywhere. This time, his questioning noise sounded a little more like a hum. “‘ve got it,” Buck repeated, attempting to truly drive in the message. “Y’can sleep in.” this is the loveliest mutual pining/sharing a bed/misunderstandings fic ever <3 honestly everything this author writes is just incredible, i know i'm in good hands when i see her name pop up

somethings said (to turn you inside out) | taegyungie | 12.2k | E

Buck catches Eddie on Grindr and now he can't stop thinking about it. i need ALL of the buck and eddie on grindr fics honestly they always hit the spot <3 this is hot and perfect and so so good!!

the arms of the ocean | anatargmova/@anatargmova | 9.7k | T

after Christopher leaves with his grandparents, Buck notices just how much touch-starved Eddie is — and decides to fix it. listen okay we all know by now how much i love a fic about touch starvation. however what you might not know is that i especially love a fic about touch-starved eddie. and this one has exactly that, but is also buck POV, which is just incredibly well-written and so soft and lovely and feels like a hug <3

trade all my tomorrows | ipretendtobesane/@userbuddie | 74k | E

Buck’s the god of love and was cursed to never fall for anyone, Eddie’s just trying to explore his newfound queerness with someone he trusts, striking up a friends with benefits agreement is the perfect arrangement. this is hands down the most beautiful fic i've read in a long long time. it's so well-written, so fleshed-out, just so good! i'll be rereading this many many times, i just know it <3

[msilwrites]

Midnight Snack Mystery (Simon 'Ghost' Fic) Part 2

Wife! Reader Pregnant! Reader Hungry! Reader Possessive! Ghost Possessive! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley Possessive! Simon Ghost Riley Good Cook! Simon Ghost Riley Husband! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley Hungry Wife! Reader By this time he is already Captain or Major! or Lieutenant Col! Simon 'Ghost’ Riley

Part 1 is here AND Part 3 is here

Long, not so-long, but light hearted read. Warning: Don’t read when hungry!! Summary: Simon has finally discovered his wife’s late-night food hunts. Now, Y/N finds herself grounded—not by pregnancy restrictions, but by her overprotective husband who’s not letting her sneak out again without a word. With Simon now on high alert, he’s made it his mission to ensure she no longer goes on her secret noodle adventures. But what happens when Y/N’s cravings hit again? Will Simon give in to her late-night desires or continue his new role as the ultimate food police?

“I, uh…” You scrambled for an excuse, your voice muffled by the noodle still in your mouth. “Toilet break?”

“Toilet break?” he repeated, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. “Love, the loo doesn’t serve dumplings.”

Your face burned as you set your chopsticks down, the guilt written all over you. “Okay, fine. I was hungry.”

Simon gestured at the table, his brows lifting in mock exasperation. “Clearly. Could’ve woken me up, yeah? Instead of sneakin’ out like a waddlin’ penguin burglar.”

You folded your arms, pouting at the ridiculous comparison. “I don’t think you’d want noodles at two in the morning. You’re not the one who’s pregnant, remember?” He snorted, leaning back in the chair. “You’re right. Not pregnant—just married to someone who’s got the stealth skills of a tipsy badger and the cravings of a bear.”

Before you could retort, the server appeared, looking slightly concerned as they eyed the towering figure now sitting across from you. Not afraid—just genuinely puzzled. This was the first time anyone had joined their sweet, petite, and very pregnant regular for a late-night meal. The sight of Simon, a veritable behemoth of a man with his piercing gaze and commanding presence, was enough to make them pause mid-step.

Simon noticed their hesitant expression and immediately waved a hand, his tone softer now. “Don’t worry. She’s my wife.”

The server’s gaze darted to you for confirmation, and you gave an enthusiastic nod between sheepish smiles. “He’s not bullying me; promise.”

They relaxed slightly, though their eyes lingered warily on Simon. “Um, then, sir, would you like to order something?”

Simon glanced at your nearly empty bowl, his lips twitching into an amused smirk. “Aye, bring me whatever she’s havin’. Clearly, it’s worth sneakin’ out in the dead of night for.”

The server chuckled, noting Simon’s good humor, and scribbled down the order. “Coming right up.” Once they left, Simon shifted his gaze back to you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly knowing way. “You’re lucky this place serves good food. But you’re not off the hook yet.”

“It’s not like I do it every night,” you muttered, breaking eye contact and fiddling with your chopsticks. “And off the hook for what? Eating?”

“For sneakin’ out while I’m asleep, waddlin’ around with slippers that won’t do much if you take a bad step. And don’t get me started on the stairs.” He jabbed a finger toward you, his voice full of mock severity. “Grounded. For your own safety.”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at your feet. “Simon, they’re anti-slip slippers. The safest footwear in the history of footwear!”

He gave you a flat look. “Still doesn’t change the fact you’re out here on your own in the middle of the night. And you’re not just anyone, love—you’re my wife. I love you. That means keepin’ you safe, even if I’ve gotta be a stubborn bastard about it.”

His tone softened, but the firmness in his words made your argument die in your throat.

Just then, the server returned with Simon’s steaming bowl of noodles. He took his chopsticks, twirled a bundle of noodles, and took a bite, savoring it slowly before giving a thoughtful nod. “Alright, I’ll admit it—you’ve got good taste, love.”

You smirked, your earlier pout vanishing as your lips curled into a teasing quip. “Of course I do. I married you, didn’t I?”

Simon paused, then let out a low chuckle, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and affection. “Flatter me all you want, but you’re still not sneakin’ out again.”

You pouted, twirling your chopsticks idly. “We’ll see about that,” you mumbled under your breath, though the truth was, you couldn’t imagine slipping out on him again—at least not without thinking twice.

Simon arched a brow at you, clearly catching your muttered words, but he let it slide, shaking his head with a faint smile.

The two of you ate in companionable silence after that, the warmth of the food and each other’s presence settling over you like a comforting blanket.

Simon might not be able to stop your late-night cravings, but from now on, one thing was clear—you weren’t going anywhere without him, especially late in the night.

----------

Simon and you walked back home, his large hand wrapped around your petite frame, the arm draped protectively around your shoulders like a vice. It was almost as if he feared you might just bolt for the nearest food stand at any moment—even though you were waddling, heavily pregnant, and moving at a pace that barely qualified as fast.

And yet, Simon knew better than to underestimate you. You were like a determined badger on a mission, and nothing—not even pregnancy—could slow you down. He even had your eco-canvas cat bag slung over his shoulder, the one filled with all the essentials you might need to escape. He wasn't taking any chances; in his mind, if you did try to sneak off, at least he'd have your necessities— phone, wallet, coin purse, wet tissue, snacks, a hair tie, and, of course, a spare pair of extra socks—in his grasp.

“Those noodles were really good,” Simon admitted, recalling the warmth of the broth and the satisfaction of each bite. “But you’re still not wanderin’ around at night on your own anymore.”

“I can take care of myself,” Y/N said with a raised brow, a playful challenge in her voice.

Simon’s smirk grew. “You’ve been caught, love,” he said, his arms crossing with that smug grin he was clearly enjoying far too much. “And I’m not lettin’ this go anytime soon. I’m your noodle partner from now on. Get used to it.”

You sighed, eyeing the night sky as you thought about the future. You could already feel Simon’s ever-watchful eyes, even when you were supposed to be asleep. “Guess I’ll just have to sleep with one eye open now…”

“Good,” Simon smirked, leaning closer. “Because now I’m hooked, and next time, I’m coming with you.”

You shot him a look of mock horror. “Oh, great. So much for sneaking out in the middle of the night... Guess I'll need to come up with a better escape plan.”

Simon’s smirk deepened. “You won’t need to escape. I’ll be right there next time, love, making sure you’re well-fed and not running off to some noodle shop at three in the morning.” He tightened his hold on you, as if to make his point clear. “Who’s gonna stop us now, huh? We’re a team, like it or not.”

You huffed, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “Guess I’ll have to get creative then..."

----------

As your pregnancy progressed, Simon's vigilance was at an all-time high. Despite his efforts, though, you still managed to sneak out for your late-night noodle runs. But Simon, ever the overachiever, wasn't just sitting back and letting you get your midnight cravings. No, he had plans.

He’d started researching. The noodles, the broth, the dumplings—he'd figured out everything about the shop. And then, to top it off, he went and bought the exact ingredients that the noodle shop used. So, now, when you got that familiar craving for noodles at ungodly hours, you wouldn’t have to go out anymore. He'd made sure to have everything ready for you at home. It was thoughtful, yes, but it didn’t stop you from sneaking out every once in a while for the real deal. The urgency of it all... the thrill of the late-night snack run was irresistible.

But that was before the new discovery.

It was a day like any other when Price’s fiancée—(A/N: oh no, Mama Bear, you enabler!)—casually mentioned something in passing, her voice far too nonchalant for what was about to drop. “Oh, and there’s this kebab place near you—24 hours. Just a block away from the noodle shop. I love it. We should go sometime.” Her eyes twinkled like she was letting you in on some delicious secret.

24-hour kebabs? Your mind practically did a happy dance. A whole new world of 3 a.m. snack options had opened up to you, and you couldn’t wait to start your next adventure.

From then on, your late-night trips became an alternating game of noodles or kebabs? One night, it would be noodles; the next, kebabs. And Simon? Well, he hadn’t caught on in a while. He was still under the assumption that his homemade noodle efforts were keeping you satisfied. Little did he know, you had your own little secret.

But then came the day you were packing Simon’s lunch. It had become a thing between the two of you—making him a lunchbox, especially since the canteen at base was basically a revolving door of the same uninspiring meals. Today, however, something was different. You’d had those mouthwatering lamb kebabs the night before, and they were so good that you couldn’t stop thinking about them while preparing his lunch. What better way to share the joy than to sneak a bit of last night’s feast into his lunchbox?

You chuckled to yourself as you carefully wrapped the leftover kebabs in foil, adding a bit of salad on the side because you were responsible like that. You even included a cheeky little container of tzatziki sauce, just to keep things fancy. “Sharing is caring, right, love?” you muttered to yourself with a grin.

As you closed the lunchbox, satisfied with your creation, you couldn't help but feel a little victorious. You had outsmarted Simon once again—and this time, you were treating him to a little midnight snack surprise, a little gift in kebab form.

Little did Simon know, his lunch that day was the result of your stealthy midnight food hunt.

---------

Simon sat at his table, digging into his lunch, enjoying the kebabs his wife had sneakily packed for him. The savory flavors were a welcome change from the usual bland canteen fare. Just as he was about to savor another bite from the new kebab wrap in his lunchbox, he heard a rustling noise. Johnny or Roach—hard to tell who started it—had caught a whiff of the fragrant meat. Before Simon could react, Roach grabbed the kebab from Ghost’s hand, and Johnny, in hot pursuit, managed to take a bite as he chased after Roach.

It was like watching toddlers fight over a toy—half laughing, half shoving each other.

Simon sighed, rolling his eyes. There went a quarter of his lunch. He grabbed the other kebab wrap from his lunchbox, shaking his head at the chaos.

“Oi, this tastes like the sauce from that kebab place near your home, Ghost,” Roach commented mid-bite, eyeing the meat with newfound curiosity.

Simon paused, mid-chew. “What do you mean?”

Roach grinned, clearly amused by the memory. “Johnny and I went there once when we were completely sloshed. We’d just embarrassed ourselves at a pub, trying to dance to some live band that sounded worse than an angry cat meowing for its dinner. After that, we decided the best cure for our humiliation was a late-night kebab. Had the best one of our lives, though. That place is just a few blocks away from your place, right? The one that’s open 24 hours?”

Simon’s eyes narrowed as it clicked into place. The kebab shop was near his house. Just a few blocks away from the noodle place. And the same one his wife had probably been sneaking out to in the middle of the night.

He let out an exasperated sigh, realizing the pattern.

His wife, who was almost due, had been sneaking out again, by herself, for food. And now, kebabs had been added to the list.

Simon rubbed his temples, a familiar headache forming. He knew he needed confirmation—he had to catch her in the act again. And this time, he was ready.

----------

That night, as she slipped out from under the covers, Simon pretended to be asleep. He felt her gently remove his large hand from her belly, a subtle movement that barely disturbed the sheets. His eyes remained closed as she quietly slid on his hoodie once again, the same one she’d worn for her late-night excursions.

He watched her movements in the dim light of their room as she grabbed her eco bag, the soft rustle of it making his heart race in anticipation. She was being careful, trying not to wake him.

Once she was downstairs, he listened closely, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. She stifled a laugh as she moved around the house, searching for her keys. Simon’s grin grew. This was it. She was slipping up.

She reached for the console table’s bowl where she usually tossed her keys, but they weren’t there. Her steps faltered as she tried to recall where she’d left them. Simon could hear the quiet shuffle of her slippers as she moved to the kitchen, her search growing more frantic.

When she approached the kitchen counter, the light suddenly flicked on. There, standing like a shadow in the doorway, was Simon—his towering frame blocking her path. He jingled the keys in his hand, his voice low and teasing.

“Looking for these?”

“Oh my gosh! Simon!” Y/N exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest in surprise.

Simon raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward. “Scared, love? I should be the one scared. Who sneaks out of the house at this hour with a bag full of snacks and—” He gestured toward her outfit. “—my hoodie? Really? You’re not fooling anyone.”

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed in a perfect imitation of a fish. “I... I wasn’t sneaking out! I was... uh... getting some fresh air?”

“Fresh air?” Simon smirked. “At three in the morning? Really? Or for kebabs?!”

Just as she was about to protest, a sudden shift in her expression caught him off guard. Her face went from flustered to... well, something else entirely. A small gasp escaped her lips.

And then it happened. A loud, unmistakable pop—the kind of sound you never want to hear in a moment like this.

Simon’s eyes widened as he looked down. “Wait—no. Don’t tell me—”

Y/N’s eyes went wide as she glanced down at her feet. “Oh. Oh, no.”

“That’s it. That’s what I was talking about.” Simon sighed, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. He shook his head, unable to help himself. This was exactly what he’d been worried about. There he was, concerned she might give birth on the street during her midnight kebab or noodle shop run—and of course, it happened just as he’d finally decided to confront her.

Her water had just broken. She was about to give birth.

Without hesitation, Simon snapped into action. He grabbed the overnight bag he’d already packed—because, let’s face it, he’d been expecting this moment to come at any time—and dropped it by the door.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, love. And next time, I swear, no more kebabs without me.”

He paused just before helping her out the door, turning to give her a serious look. “You’re not going to sneak off again, are you?”

Y/N shot him a glare, huffing in frustration—but the corner of her lips twitched upward into a grin. “Maybe if you’re nice, I’ll let you join me on the next midnight snacking adventure.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Simon muttered, ushering her out the door and toward his 4x4 in the garage.

----------

A few hours later, Simon stood in the delivery room, his heart pounding as he watched his wife give birth to their healthy baby girl. The little bundle of joy came out looking like a tomato—bright red, round, and very, very stout. A little bear cub in the making. Must’ve been all those late-night snacks and kebabs, Simon mused, but it didn’t matter. His daughter was healthy, and that’s all that counted.

But what really stood out, aside from her adorable chubby cheeks, was the fact that she looked so much like Simon. The scowl was unmistakable, like she was already plotting a covert mission—or maybe deciding which target to judge for their lack of culinary taste. Or, you know, plotting murder. It wouldn't surprise him if their daughter had inherited some of that... intensity.

Y/N couldn’t stop laughing, tears of joy in her eyes as she looked at their little one. “Oh my gosh, Simon—she looks just like you! That scowl, the little brow furrow... it’s like a mini version of you. I love it!”

Simon chuckled quietly, his lips curling into a grin. “Guess I passed on the scowl gene pretty well, huh?”

Y/N looked at him, still smiling with a mix of awe and amusement. “I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted. She’s like a perfect little replica of you. Can you imagine her looking up at me with that same scowl when she’s older? I’m gonna love it.”

Simon kissed her forehead gently, feeling a swell of pride. “You’ve got yourself a mini me, love. And I couldn’t be happier.”

Then came the question. The one that always followed the arrival of a baby. “What should we name her?”

Y/N thought for a moment, her eyes flicking from their daughter to Simon. “I was thinking something strong, like... a warrior name, you know? Something tough.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Warrior name, huh? You sure? What about something like... (A/N: Hi reader, I'm giving you the choice to name your daughter with Simon ;) ) (Your Child's/Name) Riley?”

She smiled, a playful twinkle in her eye, and nodded. “Well, then. How about the nickname?”

Simon glanced at her, his mind drifting through the countless food adventures she’d had while he was asleep in their bed. He thought of all the late-night runs, the kebabs, the noodles, and the endless snacks. His gaze moved from his wife’s grin to the little bundle in his arms—her rosy, pinkish cheeks, round like a little fruit.

Then it clicked. The tomatoes in the noodles, the kebabs… it all added up.

He looked back at her with a grin. “We’ll nickname her ‘Tom.’ Short for Tomato.”

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with the love she felt for both of them. “Tom. I love it.”

Simon chuckled softly, gazing at his daughter. “She’s definitely earned it.”

Y/N leaned back against the pillows, content and happy. “Well, ‘Tom’ it is then. Welcome to the world, little Tomato.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that one! 😄 I might do a part three sometime, maybe when you (Y/N) are pregnant again, and your little tomato is a bit older and already becoming your little accomplice too! 🍅💕

Also, if you don’t mind sharing, what did you name your daughter, Simon? 🤔 Drop it in the comments—I wanna know! LOL! 😄

Edit: And here is the NEXT CHAPTER --------->

[trendywaifus]

Cuddles with Jane! She needs to be taken care of, gotta cook food for her since all she eats are snacks. Good food and cuddles and sleepy time and soft kisses to her ears and face

‘saved my soul like jesus!

this was basically the majority of the Jane asks and i’m glad we all agree that she deserves to be pampered and loved. i’ll put this drabble under this ask. each time i came back to this, it got longer and longer. ahem, just to let you know everyone, im one of the jane doe ceos!!! (i’m a good little ceo btw)

more fluffy (maybe even a lil angst with comfort) jane doe asks r welcome for more of these as we wait for part 2 of the jane fic and other stuff.

inspired by glue song. i rec u listen to it while reading this!

if someone were to ask jane years ago if she ever thought about settling into a relationship in the future, she’d laugh and say, “ we’ll have to see. though, i think i’ll be better off on my own given i dedicate the majority of my time to my ‘side jobs’. lastly, it’ll be strange for someone like me to be tied down into a relationship. i’m not exactly the ideal partner someone would want after all. “

years later, at the age of twenty six, here she was, stepping into the security of her own home that was once dark and quiet as a mouse—now bright and smelt like dinner at 2am. the exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders, departs and is left at the door. then here you go, stepping out the kitchen with a heart-warming smile on your face. her tail immediately sways at the sight of you, reactive rodent ears fluttering, and the thin line of her faded, pink lips curls into a soft smile.

“ jane, welcome home! “ you greet her, walking over to your girlfriend and embraced her. since it’s fall transitioning into winter, it’s been getting colder. her coat felt cold to the touch and so did her cheek as you nuzzle it against yours. you almost flinched. she chuckles happily, intertwining her tail around your leg. “ hey, you, “ her smooth voice drips with affection, “ it’s almost three. i thought i told you to not wait for me and sleep. “

you pull back and she does too. jane drapes her arms loosely around your waist. she takes a moment to drink in your features she’s been wishin’ to see all day. honestly, she can’t believe that got the chance to experience love. it’s a pure and wonderful feeling that she chased for during her rough teen years and gave up in her early twenties once she became a specialist. then you suddenly came along, like a flare of light and enlightened her to a path she can never walk alone now. “ i was going to but i didn’t want you to come home hungry. “

she raises a brow, snorting, “ i would of been fine. i could’ve just eaten a few snacks or noodles. you sleeping matters more than my appetite. “

you shake your head, giving her a, are you serious look? you press her more into your body and rest your forehead against hers. “ absolutely not jane. like i told you before, you need to be eating proper food and i’ll make sure of it. i can’t let the woman i love eat unhealthy when she needs to be in top shape for her job. “ you argued. her cobalt eyes flicker with prized endearment. how did she get so lucky?

“ come here. .” she murmurs, leaning in for a kiss and you gladly do. her soft lips felt cold against yours but you don’t care. it’s a gentle caress that doesn’t represent how much she truly missed you. jane will be sure to she kiss you more later as you fully break away from her. “ the food is waiting for you, love. slip off your coat and those boots so you can eat. i’ll meet you at the dining table. “

after she takes off her combat boots, coat, and her pouch, she follows after your steps to the dining room. as promised, you’re sitting at the table, waiting for her to come join you with only a singular plate that consists of her favorite comfort food and a canned cold beverage beside it. “ come, come! “ you wave her over eagerly and she snorts again through her nose. jane sits down next to you and plants a lingering kiss on your cheek as thank you. “ just what i needed at 2am. “ jane jokes playfully, digging into her food.

a protracted, peaceful silence falls between you and jane as she eats.

“ soo, “ you speak up, breaking the silence.

“ hmm? “ jane hums.

“ it’s getting really cold outside and i know a thiren’s ears are sensitive this time around—i was wondering if i can buy you a few pairs of thicker leggings and some ear muffs. i know that ear muffs doesn’t really fit your style but—“

“ i’ll wear them. “ jane simply responds, after swallowing a piece of her food. “ anything you buy, i’ll wear it. . as long as it isn’t too tacky. “

she feels her heart skip a beat when she sees that happy, pretty smile on your face. jane feels like a lovesick man whenever you smile. the warm atmosphere makes her feel belonging, like yeah, this is home and i wish it stays like this forever feeling. you two converse and laugh until jane finishes her late dinner and you take the empty canned beverage and threw it in the trash. you grab her plate and placed it into the sink to clean it.

while you spent a few minutes washing the singular dish and wiping down the counters, the rat thiren sneaks up behind and wraps her arms around your waist for a moment. she buries her reddened nose into your shoulder blade, breathing in your welcoming scent. her tail swishes lowly with satisfaction. “ cuddly at 2am, are we jane? “ your body shudders as you giggled.

she kisses at the side of your nape a few times and sighs with content. “ can you blame me? been missing you all day, baby. hurry up and let’s get ready for bed. i have more of where that came from.”intrigued by her words, you hurried up with your current task to finally get in bed with your girlfriend.

once in the bedroom, you climb into bed while the rat thiren rummages around in her drawer for a simple oversized shirt, and enters inside the bathroom. she turns on the light, briefly lighting up the bedroom before she closes the door. you yawned, adjusting the thick covers over your body. after a little over thirty minutes, jane comes back out in nothing but the over-sized t shirt she picked. even when she wearing just that, she’s breathtaking. “ it took you nearly an hour to put on a shirt? “ you joke, jane rolls her eyes playfully as she gets straight into the bed, under the covers and slides ontop of you. her elbows sink on both sides of your head, thighs press firmly into your hips, straddling you.

“ you’re not taking to account of me undressing myself, wiping off my makeup, and doing my nightly routine. “ jane bends down to your face, lidded, teal eyes staring down at you as they softly glow in the dark. her lips hover over yours, the proximity between you is nearly nonexistent. jane waits for your reply one more time before she can get her kisses in.

“ whatever, “ you murmur, your hands finding purchase on her hips, “ don’t know why you even wear makeup when you already look so gorgeous. can’t even tell the difference when you do. “

a half chuckle escapes her and she finally locks you into a slow, passionate kiss. jane exhales through her nose. now, this is what she wants every night, slow kisses in the dark after a long day of work. your hands run up and down her sides sensually, feeling her perfect curves through the cotton fabric. nails scratch along your scalp while her plump lips languidly move with yours. with each soft kiss, the tender smacks of your lips internally sends jane over the moon. her palm finds your cheek as she deepens one of many kisses shared between you currently. your hands ride under jane’s shirt and scope the gentle arch of her back.

“ mmmm. . “ the rat thiren lets out a drawn-out hum from her chest as the warmth of your palm travels against cool skin. in your arms, she turns puddy and that’s how it should be every time; melting into you. “ don’t want no one else but you. . “ she confesses between kisses under the stillness of the early morning but it’s anything but that with you and her. “ so stay with me. .by me. .“ her honeyed voice is hushed yet fierce in your ears.

“ what makes you think i won’t? “ you inquire softly, drawing loose circles into her back as you held her close.

there’s a small pause before jane replies and she momentarily rests her forehead against yours. she exerts out a soft chuckle that sounds melancholic.

“ . .because you’re too good for me. “

your brows furrow together at that. “ that’s not true, you’re saying that like you don’t deserve me or something. “

she kisses you again but it’s brief. “ i’m saying it like it is, baby. .”

“ and don’t. you deserve everything. . “ you mutter, moving your head a bit to kiss at the corner of her lips, jaw, cheek—everywhere on her face where you can reach. jane’s teeth softly grinds together with contentment, her own rat thiren way of her purring, one of many natural reactions you love to pull from her. “ and of course, i’ll stay with the woman i’m planning on marrying. “

her breath nearly gets caught in her throat. jane quickly recovers and gives you an amused, lop-sided smile. the softness in her eyes shows you how she really feels as clear as day.

“ haha, marry? me? you sure you want to? “ she asks jokingly.

you take one of her hands and brought her ring finger to your lips. “ 16k carat diamond ring. i don’t care if you can’t wear it on your missions, wearing it around me is enough. “

jane doesn’t even reply, instead, she replaces her finger with her lips in a ardent, heady kiss. her hand clasps around the back of your head. you’re too good to her, for her. there is absolutely no chance jane’s letting you slip away from her when you’ve changed the direction of her life in two years. she doesn’t care for marriage but it’s starting to have a nice ring to it now. a woman who lives up to her rat thiren species, who goes from one fake identity to another, and mostly is seen in the shadows of the night—is actually married. .

huh. that’s a funny and interesting thought.

she kisses you until your lips are swollen and your lungs are struggling for air. “ you know i’m not letting you go after this right? “ jane whispers possessively, running a quick thumb over the curvature of your bottom lip, a prominent devoted look in her half-lidded eyes as they bore into yours.

“ wouldn’t have it any other way, future wife. “

it’s your turn to be in awe with jane’s warm, breathtaking smile. she rests her head on your chest, legs tangling with yours as she finally stops straddling you. her body weight over yours grounds you. your arms tighten around her frame, holding her close to your chest.

a few minutes pass and it’s just you occasionally planting soft kisses to the crown of her head while she traces nonexistent shapes into your side with a delicate finger.

“ you should sleep, jane. don’t you work in several hours? “

“ oh, i forgot to tell you. .i’m actually off. “ jane mutters, her smooth voice beginning to sound tired and soft. you break out into a happy smile and firmly squeezed jane into you, pulling a quiet squeak from her.

“ you’re off, babe? that means we can sleep in together! more morning kisses and cuddles with my beautiful woman! “ you squealed, following up with a angelic laugh that sounds like music to jane’s ears. she giggles into your chest and finally closes her eyes.

i’m glad i’m yours.

“ i love you. “ jane murmurs under her breath, allowing sleep to finally overwhelm her consciousness.

jane peacefully falls asleep in the arms of someone who loves her back.

[gorefreaklintjrwi]

Band-aids

Troy comes back home from his father after losing another game. Lint helps him patch him up, again.

HELLO LINTROLLER NATION. I AM BACK AT IT AGAIN. I think I could have done better but this will never get done if I keep messing around with it..... ALSO! i guess inspired by. another fic that i wrote. if you wanna read that one too

Troy enters the house. As he closes the door behind him, he already feels his eyes begin to water.

Lint hears him walk through the door, and he puts his pen and paper down to go greet him. He isn’t surprised to see Troy crying, he lost another game and it’s safe to assume that his father didn’t take it well. He usually doesn’t. “Happened again?” Lint says, just above a whisper. Troy nods his head.

There is silence in the room now.

Lint speaks up again, “Do you wanna just hang out for a little bit? We could watch TV. You don’t have to say anything.”

Lint doesn’t see any marks, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there or that nothing happened. Judging by the way Troy holds onto his arm, though, he has an idea of what may have occurred. The two of them walk over to the couch and take their seats. Neither of them really care what’s on the TV, they just care about being by each other’s sides.

Lint wraps an arm around Troy. This has happened enough times for Troy to know that Lint is safe, that he won’t hurt him, and now it is a comforting feeling for him. He likes being close to Lint. It’s nice to know what it feels like to be this close to someone and still feel safe.

“Hey, Lint, I’m not- I’m not, like, a disappointment, am I? My dad’s just lying, right broski?” Troy always asks this, and Lint always tells him that his dad is wrong. “No, Troy, you aren’t a disappointment. Not to me.”

Troy takes a deep breath. Tears still stream down his face, but it has slowed a bit since they sat down. “He hurt me. My arm.” “Do you want me to help?” “Not now. I like how we are now.” “Okay, man. I’ll patch you up later, then. We can stay here as long as you like.”

Lint wants to help more, but if Troy is okay for now, that’s all that matters. If Troy is happy, that’s enough for them.

Lint hates that he expects this kind of thing to happen after Troy loses games, and they wish that one day he won’t have to deal with this. What Lint didn’t expect, though, was for Troy to wrap his own arms around him and hug him. Lint’s not complaining, though. Troy lays his head against Lint’s shoulder. He looks tired. He can’t really blame him, it’s been a long day for both of them. It’s about time they got some rest.

–

Lint wakes up the next morning on the couch, and he immediately notices the absence of Troy in his arms and the sound of eggs scrambling in the kitchen.

Lint got up from the couch and moved slowly to the kitchen. They probably would’ve slept better if he’d gone to his own bed, but they don't mind waking up on the couch because he knows Troy was happy. Lint starts brewing a pot of coffee, and he barely even notices Troy in the corner of his eye cooking scrambled eggs. Surely the eggs are burnt by now, they should've been done a minute or two ago. But they notice something else, too. Troy is wearing a short-sleeve shirt, and now Lint sees exactly what Troy was talking about last night. He saw what was hurting and he wishes they could’ve helped him earlier.

“Does your arm hurt? I could help you make it feel better.” Lint asks. His voice is still groggy and crackly, since they’ve just woken up. “Nah broski, it hurts a little but I’m cookin’ up some freaking scrambled eggs, man!”

Lint glances into the pan. That is not edible. At least not anymore.  “Hey, man, I think the eggs are burnt. Like, I don’t think that’s edible.” “Oh.”

Lint turns the stove off and takes the pan full of extremely burnt scrambled eggs outside. The 2 of them did try to eat the scrambled eggs, but like Lint thought, they weren’t very appetizing.

Well, that’s three perfectly good eggs down the drain. Or should they say, into the yard for stray animals to get after. They place the now empty pan in the sink when they return, and he grabs an ice pack from the freezer. He always has ice packs ready now, just in case Troy gets hurt. And he gets hurt more often than not. Even though they’ve played this game a hundred times before, Troy still just looks back at Lint as if he’s a deer in headlights.

“Dude, I’m fine. It’s not even that bad, man, it’ll just go away soon…” Troy murmured. “But it does hurt, doesn’t it? And it could hurt a little less. Just hold that ice pack up to your arm, wherever it hurts most, man! I’ll be back in a second!” Lint replies before running off to grab a box of band-aids, which in this situation are completely useless, but it’ll make Troy feel a bit better and they know that.

Lint rushes back to where Troy stands in the kitchen holding a box of regular old band-aids. They would’ve grabbed the fun ones with cartoon characters on them, but they ran out of those from last time and this is all they’ve got now. Lint grabs a couple of band-aids and applies them to the bruises. This act isn’t going to help anything, really, but it’s the thought that counts. This says ‘I love you’ better than any words could, at least for Lint and Troy.

For them, they don’t need to say ‘I love you’ to each other, it’s already present in the way that they speak, in the way they look at each other, it’s present in every little thing that they do. Even if Troy is still unlearning, even if Lint is stuck waiting to hear those words for the rest of his life, that’s fine by them. Because everything is okay now. Troy is safe, Troy is smiling. Troy is happy, and so is Lint.

[heyitstam]

dr. robert chase x reader - the chase itself (smut)

hi guys :D i know i haven't posted in a while, but i recently asked a VERY good friend of mine to cook me a fanfic of this very beautiful man, and HE DELIVERED. like all out jaws on the floor type delivered. i love this man fr, so i'm posting it here with his permission. it's his first fanfic ever, and in my humble professional opinion he overdelivered - so have fun reading this beautiful smut fic of reader and dr. chase <3

I. Humble Beginnings

Taking place in Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, New Jersey, you are a fairly new nurse who pursued a medical career in quite a common way. The way being that it was more so your parents’ wish for you to go to medical school than your own, but you don’t necessarily hate that fact; at least it gave you a direction, so to speak.

It’s early in the morning, so there’s not a whole lot going on. You went around doing your usual checkups already and what not, therefore you decide to go on your well deserved coffee break. However, right as you are are on that, and you step out of the cubicle you are in, you glance over to an unfamiliar face through an operating room.

Some would call it love at first sight, but it really is more than that. It’s the kind of tingly sensation no one could forget. It’s almost shameful, but you can’t be bothered by that feeling right now. As if you physically couldn’t take your eyes off of them, you lose all sense of purpose, standing there, unable to think. Suddenly, someone bumps into you, which wakes you up from your total amusement. You feel the need to know more, so as you squint your eyes, you can read their name off of the shirt they are wearing.

“Dr. Robert Chase..?  I need to.. have a talk with him. I just need to.” – you think to yourself, ponderingly.

You go back to working with a saturated mind, unable to concentrate.

II. The Chase Itself

As days go by, you’re quite hesitant to reach out to him, but you seriously feel the need to. Why is that, really, you ask yourself. You ache to even have a talk with him at this point, but you long for more. Way more. You can’t think of anything else.

After contemplating for a good while, you decide to ask around to know what time he gets off from work, since you want to surprise him at the last minute. That’s the only way you see that you could have a one-on-one with him anytime soon.

With that out the way, you now know everything you needed to know. The only thing that divides you from your desire is to actually act up on it, so you gather all your courage. You look at the time, and you’re actually pretty shocked how caught up you were thinking about him. If you don’t hurry then you’re going to miss him that day entirely, so you start sprinting.

You notice him as he is turning around the corner, all dressed up, ready to leave, and you stumble right into him.

“I need to tell you something inside, it’s.. it’s important, alright. And it might just take a while” – you tell him, struggling with your words. “Great. I was just about to leave, you know. Whatever, show me, I don’t have much time for this. Is it really that important?” – he answers abruptly, being quite impatient.

You suddenly catch a rush of excitement. This is all that you were planning for the past few days or so, to get close to him, and it looks like you’re on track.

III. An Uneasy Start

Chase swings open the door of the office he’s just been in, ushering you in and closing the door behind him, since there’s quite the commotion even late into the night, it’s a hospital after all. It’s dark inside, the only light sources being a dim lamp he accidentally left on and the Moon seeping through the closed blinds faintly. The room has a surgical bed, a cabinet behind it with all kinds of training supplies, a desk with an office chair and a hanger stand. He puts his white coat on the stand, then undoes his tie, putting it into his pants pocket in a really apathetic way, with most of it hanging out.

Seemingly being quite contempt with the situation, he sits down onto the office chair, facing you, and he seriously doesn’t look like he wants to be there.

As a last effort at trying to ease up the situation, you grab the glass of water that is sitting on the desk and you splash it at him, in a playful way.  Not surprisingly, this backfires, since he doesn’t seem too happy about, not in the slightest. He stands up from his desk and goes on to wipe off his shirt to make it slightly less messy, all without even muttering a word. You do feel pretty stupid for that.

With another attempt at getting his attention, you arousingly start to cut the strings off of a few upper buttons on your blouse with a surgical knife, as he turns back to you, giving him a snarky look.

“Was that really necessary? What was so important about any of this? Can we get to the damn point?” – he asks you with a loss of temper. “I might have lied about that important thing.” – you answer him not so bravely.

He's visibly frustrated at you, and with a change of demeanor, he stands up and is now closing distance between you in a rush, as you are backing up. He halts as he catches up to you, towering over you.

With both hands on your shoulders, clenching them hard, he asks you, in an almost belittling tone: “Is this what you wanted? “ “I don’t know, is it?” – you answer him in a pretty similar way.

Like the kind of tease you tend to be, you start gliding around your fingertip on his chest, which he.. seems to enjoy, and lets you do for a short while, for then to push you to the nearest wall.

IV. Lust

Fueled by lust, you immediately grab his chin and assertively start kissing him, which absolutely catches him off-guard. In reaction to the advancement on him, he forces your body onto his as he caresses your back. After this goes on for a bit, he grabs you by the thighs, lifts you up and tosses you onto the surgical table.

With your arms behind you, you’re sitting halfway up as your legs are pulled up. You lock eyes while he is still holding you by your thighs. He leans over, drags you closer and is now standing between your legs.

You clumsily unbutton Robert’s shirt, one by one. In contrast, he carelessly tears off a few more of your buttons, making the blouse slide off your shoulders, which then falls onto your lap, flustering you in the process.

He then puts a hand on your lower abdomen, which feels surprisingly soft, even though his hands are quite firm. Most notably, it’s warm. So warm in fact, you feel like you could melt into him, and you are all about that feeling. Starting from your thighs, continuing to your hips, he brushes his both his hands across all the way up to your chest in a painstakingly soft and throughout way, but at the same it’s quite the calm moment.

An intrigued nervousness starts to pile in you as he suddenly starts to unbuckle his belt, which was undoubtedly the loudest noise in the room so far. In the meantime, like the obedient girl you feel like you are, with each rattle, you can't wait to obey. As if you were a household maid, you’re more than ready to satisfy the head of the house, as if he shook a bell around.

He tosses aside his pants and boxers and you feel like you can’t catch up with your heavy heartbeats as he rests his rigid cock on your stomach. It all just feels so sudden, and it’s starting to grow on you in a pleasurable way. He goes onto removing your bra, while you’re simultaneously stroking him slowly and briefly, before he goes down on you again.

You can feel it throb against you, and it’s just as, if not hotter than his hand is, which he has below your stomach again. He needily grinds against you over and over, lifting your skirt up with it every time, and rubbing against your inner thighs.

He doesn’t wait around before removing your panties, which are drenched by this point, and neither does he wait to penetrate you, as he is inside you now.

“Maybe I did need this.. “ - you hear him talk out loud quietly.

At once, as he is slowly, but forcefully thrusting into you, you see him pulling out the tie out his pocket, which he puts around your neck now, instead of his own.

It’s tightened real well, and he’s gripping it by the base, close to your neck. In the meantime he’s constantly pulling on it upwards, as it’s digging into the back of your neck, scraping your chin against it’s band, making your head tilt backwards considerably. With every moan you make, he tightens more on it, leaving your neck all bruised up. As he is fucking you, you’re nails deep in the sheets. You can’t help yourself but feel pleasured.

As he’s starting to get rougher on you, you begin to develop second thoughts and try to resist him, but as you’re doing that, he immediately tugs you closer, rendering your attempt futile. As you look at him, he seems to be way too into this, as his eyes lose all focus and glare, and you can only watch as his control over himself fades, railing you without a care in the world. This creates even more neediness in you, as you cross your legs behind his back, clinging onto him.

You can barely even keep your eyes on him, and you’re not even resisting his pull on your neck anymore, so you fully commit into tilting you head back in joy. All this sexual fulfillment demands you to do so, as you are slipping out of control more by the second. You feel like you could finish at any time, and as he’s also getting close, he’s painfully grazing your stiff walls more and more, with your moans sounding pitifully more helpless.

Ejaculating with a quiet grunt, he blasts the majority into you, leaving two strings across all the way up your body, all for you to feel ecstatic about. You really do feel like you owned up to it with your services, as if it was his way of rewarding you. Not to forget about you, he pushes you over the edge too, as you’re desperately gripping his shoulders. No matter you could barely take a break after your climax, he leans closer over your stimulation filled shivering body, and goes for a deep passionate kiss. Not even bothered by the fact you are still desperately panting and gasping for air along with him.

V. Not So Aftercare

After standing up from the bed, he comfortably hugs you by your hips, to which you endearingly put your hands onto his. After romantically rocking you slightly around with his hug, he leaves his hands off of you to start dressing up. It’s getting quite late.

As he is about to button back his shirt, he looks at you still standing there, still looking a bit shocked from everything that happened so far. Deciding to help out, he steps besides you, getting your bra back from your bed, and putting it on you. He’s slowly buckling the back together, and you are simply just unable to look him in the eyes, since you're becoming increasingly shy in a sudden way, blushing like you never have before.

"You.. didn't have to, you know.." - you tell him in a higher pitch voice.

You really enjoy his care, it does fill you with joy. Then you reach out for your panties, but as you are pulling them up, he slides his hands under yours, taking the lead again, which surprises you even more. You are so overwhelmed with emotions at this point, you shake right into his hand as he pulls it all the way up, giving you a slight friendly chuckle, and blowing you a kiss right above the lining of your briefs, gaining him an immediate gasp from you. You're truly mesmerized by him.

He continues dressing himself, and as you calm down, you rush into his arms, facing his chest. He caresses and pets your face and head with one arm, for him to go onto groping your ass, and going down to your thighs. His hand lifts your skirt away from time to time, letting colder air in. After he finishes clothing up, he swings you to his other side and pushes you right to the desk.

“I need more of you. I need to feel you in more ways.” – he tells you with a shaky voice.

You almost even stumble, and with an utterly scared look on your face, you glance at him. Without precaution, he pushes you down onto the floor. You look down onto your legs. Your knees are together and your feet are far apart, completely side-tracking you. You even put your hands on your knees in a cute way, but as you lift your head, his cock gets into view, poking through his pants fly, which takes you aback.

Your first and immediate reaction is to press your lips all around him, kissing and licking his shaft as it pumps against your mouth. After growing tired and wanting more, he puts his thumb in your mouth, and with a few fingers latching onto your chin, he pushes downwards on your jaw. With closed eyes, you stick out your tongue, waiting for him to enter. He lets go off of his fingers from your face, following up with exactly what you expected. It feels way bigger than what you anticipated, leaving your mouth sore in the first minute, already. He’s being frantic with you, mouth fucking you without relent. You’re huffing for air as you whimper, but you aren’t getting any. You start to sob as he goes deeper down your throat. As you move your tongue in a swing like motion, from side to side, you circle the bottom of his shaft as he shoves himself in an out. You soak his cock with your saliva, blending with his precum. No matter how much of it you gulp down, It’s flowing out your mouth.

Resting his elbows and head above you on the desk, he looks down at the top of your head, as you suck him off. From the table, as he rocks you around, all kinds of documents fly off. Not that he cares, really.

Without even telling, he comes into your mouth, throbbing against your lips. You stomach it all as you look up to him, initiating eye contact, and smiling. After spewing out his cock, you grab it by the base and gently rub it off with a napkin. He pulls his zipper up, and kneels down. He parts your hair slightly and greets your forehead with a last smooch.

Looking back at you for the final time, he waves at you, winks in a mocking, yet sweet way and leaves though the door. You can only wish to meet soon in a similar fashion.

VI. Reflection

You’re at a loss of thoughts. He’s been so careful, yet so careless with you at the same time, and that’s just messing with your brain right now, so you lean your head against the desk, you close your eyes and give into the bliss once again.

Even after he left, you’re sitting in the dark, in the same position he left you in, with his tie still around your neck. You feel embarrassed, but you can’t help yourself as you take in the scent of his tie, pleasuring yourself through your clothes, while thinking about him. He has a hold on you, and you know that well.

[cwritesforfun]

Hi!!

So, I'm so desperate for a Emma D'arcy x Fem Reader fic!!

Pleeeasee

Ok here you go: hope you enjoy!!!

Emma D'Arcy x Fem!Reader: Co-Workers or Something More? (Request)

Y/N = Your Name using She/Her/Hers pronouns Emma's pronouns are They/Them ** I do not own any House of Dragon plot points briefly mentioned

Y/N's POV

Getting the role of Alicent on House of Dragon was nerve-wracking. You were a huge fan of Game of Thrones and even read all the released books. You've been working for years towards getting a role in any TV show or movie. You have been in some indie films and when you got the call to be Alicent, you thought you were dreaming. It was amazing. It was probably one of your favorite days to ever exist.

At the table read for the first season, you were pouring a cup of coffee for yourself when you heard, "So you're playing Alicent?" You turn and see someone beautiful staring at you. You felt lost in their soft blue eyes for years if you could. You instead say, "Yes I am, my name is Y/N. Nice to meet you, what's your name?" The person standing opposite you says, "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Y/N is such a beautiful name. I'm Emma D'Arcy and I'm playing Rhaenyra." You reply, "Emma is a beautiful name for a beautiful person. Rhaenyra is a Targaryen, so I am jealous." Emma lets out a laugh and says, "I'm flattered. Say, do you want to grab a bite to eat after this?" You nod and answer, "Sounds great." You both take your seats next to each other, and the table read begins. It lasts several hours.

Afterward, you and Emma make your way out to a restaurant that claims to have great cocktails. You arrive, get seated in a booth, and both order drinks. Emma orders a Negroni Sbagliato with prosecco in it and you order a Gin Martini with a twist. (If you know, you know.)

The night carries on with you two discussing your career, your lack of a love life, and dragons. It's a great night with even better company.

The next 10 months as you film season 1, you become close with the cast, especially Emma. You both hang out outside of filming time and you really like Emma. You find yourself dreaming of Emma some nights and you can barely meet their eyes. It's so embarrassing to have a crush, especially on a coworker. Emma also flirts when they get drunk and it's always directed to you. You don't know if they're just drunk or actually like you.

Season One finishes filming and the whole cast is at an open bar. You're sitting sipping your second gin martini and you are starting to feel tipsy. You hear, "Is this seat taken?" You see Emma standing there in all their glory and you shake your head. Emma sits next to you, leans back, and puts an arm around the back of your seat. Should you lean back... or what...? You lean back and Emma's hand finds your shoulder. Emma exclaims, "I was wondering if you were going to move closer." You reply, "Sorry, what was that? I keep getting lost in your eyes, what too cheesy?" Emma laughs and asks, "Is that why you've been avoiding me on set?" You shrug and answer, "Yes, you exist in my daily life and in my dreams. It's hard to look at you after I dream about you." Emma raises an eyebrow, places their other hand on your thigh, smirks, and asks, "And what are we doing in those dreams, may I ask?" You place one of your hands on Emma's hand on your thigh and answer, "Oh you know hot stuff." Emma smiles and asks, "Wanna get out of here?" You nod.

You both leave the party together and head to Emma's place.

When you get there, Emma complains about being hungry so you agree to cook with them. You both cook pasta, listen to music, and dance together. You both eat dinner so fast while laughing whenever you make eye contact.

You both walk to the couch and Emma asks, "Just a question, but when you said hot stuff in your dream with me, does that mean you have a crush on me?" You answer, "It's so embarrassing being a 30-year-old with a crush, but yes I do like you like that." Emma says, "I think the only embarrassing thing would be if I didn't feel the same way... I like you too. I really like you. I want to kiss you, but I know we're both really tipsy." You reply, "We can still kiss tipsy. I give my consent." Emma smirks and replies, "I think if we kiss, I won't be able to stop." You smirk and ask, "OK then what should we do?" Emma answers, "We could just watch a show or sleep."

You both watch a part of a movie until you both start falling asleep and waking each other up. You go to the bedroom to sleep and you wear one of Emma's shirts to bed. Emma is the big spoon and cuddles you as you drift off to sleep.

You wake up cozy and with a raging headache. You groan and twist a little. You hear Emma groan next to you and they say, "Morning. Is it just me or did those drinks really break your head?" You say, "I'm in pain. Yeah... but I liked waking up next to you." Emma replies, "I liked waking up to you too. You're a good cuddle buddy."

You both get up, you borrow clothes from Emma, and you go out to eat breakfast. You eat breakfast sandwiches and start to feel like a human. You go back to Emma's place, get back into pajamas, and turn on the TV to watch something.

Emma exclaims, "Let's kiss." You smile and say, "OK." Emma cups your face gently and you kiss. It's even better than in your dreams when you kiss them.

Part Two

[albertasunrise]

Happy Accident

Masterlist

Summary: When Steve learns that Javier has been in a, perhaps not so casual, relationship with you, the office secretary. He tells him to cut ties before you get hurt. Little do either of them know that breaking things off won't be quite so simple.

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings:Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+... Read at own risk. (This is a little one shot that I popped together. Been floating around in my brain and I needed to get it out. Hope you enjoy and I promise updates for Hope and Work Wife are on the way. Also slowly but surely getting an update for Only You finished. It's all cooking away. Enjoy ♥️)

Steve had had his suspicions for some time that something was going on between the two of you. He was sure you thought he hadn't noticed how you both looked at each other when the other wasn't looking. The younger agent hadn'tconfronted Javier about it because he'd wanted firm evidence before he did. It's not that he didn't want you or Javier to be happy, but getting involved with a DEA agent painted a target on your back, and that wasn't something Steve was willing to let happen. 

His suspicions were confirmed that evening. 

You'd not even really made it much through the front door. You were both just too desperate to taste one another that Javier had spun you, pinned you and lifted your skirt so he could fuck you against the wall of his entryway. 

"You feel like heaven, Carino." He purred against the skin of your neck as he continued to hit that perfect spot that had you teetering on the edge of your third orgasm since this had begun "I can feel you squeezing me. Just one more Hermosa." 

You gave him what he asked. Cumming so hard around his length that you pulled him right along with you. Then, you stood there tangled in a sweaty embrace as you tried to catch your breath. 

Neither of you heard the door opening. 

"I fucking knew it." Exclaimed Steve, making Javier cradle you closer in the hope of preserving your dignity. 

"Steve-" 

"Have either of you thought this through?" He interrupted, turning to give you both a little privacy as you untangled from one another. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" You growled and Steve let out a frustrated sigh. 

"This." He said, motioning between you both "Could get messy." 

"We're both adults Steve." Javier grumbled in reply. 

"That's not what I mean and you know it." 

"I should go..." You trailed off, grabbing your purse from the floor and making for the door. 

"Baby no, Steve was just leaving." Javier pleaded, gaining a bemused look from his partner. 

"Was I?" 

"Steve obviously needs to talk to you, otherwise why would he be here?" You started plainly "I will see you tomorrow." You finished before slipping out of his apartment. 

A long, tense, silence hung over both the agents for quite some time before either of them spoke. Steve could feel Javier'sfrustration coming off him in waves but he needed the man to see reason. You and Javier were treading on dangerous territory. 

"Do you really think being in a relationship with her is wise?" Steve asked after what felt like an age and Javier's gaze grew icey. 

"What business is it of yours who I have relations with?" 

"It's my business when the woman in question is a colleague and a friend." Steve growled out "Have either of you stopped to think what kind of danger this could put her in if Escobar were to learn about it." 

"He won't" Javier rolled his eyes at the notion but Steve wasn't going to back down. 

"You and I both know that he has eyes everywhere." Javier's shoulders tensed as he waited for Steve to continue "Shedoesn't even live in this building. What if someone saw her coming here with you? We know that Escobar knows where we live. It's not a stretch to consider that he has this place under surveillance." 

Javier tried his hardest not to gape at his partner as the reality of what had just been said sunk in. He knew Steve was right. Neither of you had stopped to consider what the potential risks were when starting something together. Too desperate to act on the undeniable connection the two of you shared. 

"You need to break shit off with her." Steve said gravely before giving his partner a sympathetic look "You and I both know that she will be at risk if you continue to see each other." He continued, looking down at the wedding band on his hand as he twisted it between his thumb and pointer finger "Don't get the same kind of protection for office flings." 

Javier wanted to argue that you were more than just a fling. That, what had started as something casual, had evolved into something much deeper. Yet, he knew that Steve was right. He needed to protect you from his ugly world. 

He knew what he needed to do. 

He just wasn't sure he had the strength to do it. 

You had been in a fairly good mood when you had gotten into the office that morning, but your mood had soon beensoured when your manager had called you into her office that morning.

You were being transferred to a different department. 

A complaint had been made about your performance and to spare any awkwardness, they had decided that moving you was the safest bet. When you had gone in search of Javier and Steve to tell them what had happened, your mood had soured even more. 

"You have been a little distracted lately." Steve had said and you had fought not to scream at him. 

Javier had simply shrugged and agreed with his partner. 

That had stung the most. 

So that's how you found yourself dragging Javier into the supply cupboard in the hope of a private word. 

"What the hell is up with you today?" You asked as you shoved his shoulder slightly "I'm being moved to a different department on the other side of the embassy and you don't seem even a little disappointed about it." 

Javier sighed as he scraped one of his large hands down his tired face.

"Probably for the best." He stated plainly and your expression fell "We have allowed ourselves to get carried away." 

"What are you saying?" You choked and he let out a huff before continuing. 

"I mean that this..." he motioned his hand between you two to emphasise his point "This needs to stop." He growled, "We got too carried away and let our work slip because of it." 

"But Javier... I-"

"It will be best for everyone if we just don't see or speak to each other anymore." You choked on his last statement. 

You left the room abruptly before he had a chance to see your tears. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry over him. Little did you know that he was fighting to keep his own tears at bay as he watched you leave. 

He didn't want to end this with you. 

He was falling in love with you. But, sometimes to love someone is to let them go. Or at least, that's what he told himself in the weeks that would follow as he tried desperately not to spiral. 

He wouldn't see you then for 4 months. 

It had killed Javier to stop seeing you but, you being moved to the other side of the building had helped make accidental bumping into each other almost impossible. The fact that you also didn't live in the same building added to the fact he had not seen or heard anything from or about you in months. 

Steve had done the smart thing and kept his mouth shut about it. He could see that his partner was hurting but he knew that in time, his pain would pass. This was for the best after all. 

Well, he had certainly believed that until Connie had dropped a bombshell on him the night before. He had been trying to figure out a way to tell his partner what his wife had told him about you. He wasn't sure how the older agent would react but he was fairly sure a fist was almost certainly going to come his way.

And he would deserve it. 

"Why do you keep shifting like you've got crabs?" Javier grumbled, pulling Steve out of his inner turmoil.

"Uh..." 

"What's going on with you?" Peña growled, "Been acting off all fucking morning." 

"I kinda need to tell you something." Steve replied and Javier simply sat and waited for his partner to reply. Perking up when your name slipped from Steve's lips. "She paid Connie a visit at the clinic a few weeks ago." 

"Everything okay?" Javier didn't even try to hide his concern. 

"Well..." 

Three days earlier...

You sat nervously in the waiting room as you waited for your name to be called. Your friend had told you about this clinic when she’d had a similar issue a few years back and had assured you that they were safe and discreet.

That's exactly what you needed. 

Your name was called and you looked up to see a kind-faced older woman smiling back at you. She motioned for you to follow her and you did, thanking her when she held the door to the exam room open for you. 

"Lay on the bed and lift your dress for me please." She said and she pulled out the equipment she needed "This your first?" 

"Yeah." You replied with a nervous smile "Not planned." 

"Are they ever?" She joked and you smiled at her, shivering when she put the jelly on your abdomen. 

As the probe started to dig and slide around your slightly rounded stomach, the room fell into a tense silence. You didn'tdare look. Too scared of what you might see.

"Everything looks perfect." The older woman said, pressing a button that allowed a rhythmic thumping to fill the air"Strong heartbeat." She continued "Looking at these measurements I would say you're about five months pregnant. So a little further along than you had originally thought.”

"Five months?" You asked and the woman nodded "So I am already halfway through?" 

"I would say so." She confirmed, "I also can't be one hundred per cent sure but, the first shot I got of them gave me a fairly good indication of what you're having." 

"So you can tell me if it's a boy or a girl?" 

"Fairly certain yes... Would you like to know?" You nodded eagerly. 

"Well, judging from this picture here." She said and she pulled one of the images she'd printed for you out "I'd say you'rehaving a girl." 

You gasped, smiling at the picture as she handed it to you before handing you a few more of the perfect little accident growing inside of you. Part of you wondered if you should tell Javier now that you had confirmation that all was well.Then you remembered how he had cut ties with you and avoided you at every turn. Even if you wanted to, you didn'tknow how you could get him to listen to you. He was elusive. 

After the exam finished, you were handed the remainder of the images the woman had taken and sent on your way with a grin on your face and happy tears in your eyes. Yet, you had failed to notice Connie as she led her own appointment out and the woman's eyes widened when she saw you hug her colleague before slipping out. 

"Maria, what was that woman here for?" She asked as she walked up beside her. 

"She's pregnant." The woman beamed "Happy accident but she was further along than she expected. Girl's going to be in a mad panic now to get things sorted." She finished with a small chuckle. 

"Pregnant?" Connie gaped, her eyes the size of saucers as she saw you get into your car and pull away. Maria, completelyoblivious to the blonde's reaction to you. 

"Pregnant?" Javier whispered. His eyes were wide and watery as he replayed what Steve had just told him on repeat in his head.

"About five months according to Con." Javier glared at Steve with a look in his eyes that made the younger man shiver. 

"She's pregnant." He choked out again "Why didn't she tell me?" 

"You have been avoiding her." Steve replied and Javier snapped.

"And who was the one who told me to break shit off with her and avoid her?" 

"I was just trying to protect her." Steve tried to defend himself but Javier was having none of it. 

"I was falling in love with her and I hurt her and myself because you told me I needed to." He growled, getting up from his desk and fisting his hands in Steve's shirt as he shoved his partner against the wall "Now she's pregnant with my child and alone." 

"I'm sorry man." Steve choked out "I didn't think-" 

"Think what?" 

"I didn't think it was serious for you." He confessed, earning a punch to the gut. 

"Fuck you." Javier growled before leaving the office he shared with Murphy. 

He had to find you and make this right. 

"Are you going to continue to practice Karate all night in there or do you fancy giving mummy a break at some point?" You said affectionately to your small bump as you stroked it with your thumb.

A knock at your door pulled you from your moment.

"One sec." You called out as you pushed yourself to your feet, the pelvic girdle pain had been getting steadily worse as your pregnancy had progressed and moving was becoming a chore. 

Looking through the peephole you were surprised to see Javier standing on the other side. You were torn about whether you wanted to open the door to him but the woman inside who still loved him wanted to see him so with a little hesitationyou opened the door. He looked a mess and your heart broke a little at the sight of his tearful and bedraggled appearance. 

"What are you doing here Javier?" You asked, trying to keep your tone neutral. 

"I know about the baby." 

Your jaw hit the floor. 

"How do you?" 

"Connie works at the clinic you went to and saw you leaving. Her colleague told her why you were there." 

"Oh." 

"Why didn't you come to me?" He asked and you let out a slightly deranged laugh as you turned your back on him and walked back into your apartment. 

"Would you have seen me if I had tried?" You snorted "Done an excellent job of avoiding me for the last four months." 

"I'm sorry." He choked and you rolled your eyes.

"Yeah well, sorry doesn't make up for the fact you broke my heart, Javier." 

"I never wanted to do that." 

"But you're good at it." You growled, "I know that what we were was more important to me than it was to you but I deserved better."

"You're right." He conceded "But, what we had, it meant a lot to me too."

"I'm sure the latest pussy you're fucking does too." You grumbled as you sat down and picked up your tea that had been cooling on your coffee table." 

"I haven't been with anyone else." 

"Sure you haven't." 

"I was falling in love with you." His confession took you by surprise and your head snapped up at it "Was... Still am..." He trailed off "I broke my own heart breaking things off with you but Steve reminded me that a relationship with me puts you in danger."

"You don't think I already knew that?" You growled, "I chose to be with you in spite of the risk Javier." 

"Why?" His question broke your heart. 

"Because despite what you think... you're a good man and you deserve to be loved as much as anyone else." You confessed "I fell so madly in love with you, Javier... But I knew that you would never commit to me. I was willing to break myself, just to have you for a little while." You finished before turning your back on him. 

"You have all of me." He announced as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close "If you'll have me... I will give you and this baby everything I can." 

"You can't promise me that, Javier." 

"I can... and I will." He said, gently lowering himself to one knee before pulling out a small box from his pocket. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I made the mistake of letting you go once before and I refused to do it again." Javier stated plainly as he smiled up at you, your name falling from his lips as he said "You have made me feel more alive this past year than I have since I... Well since ever I think." 

"Javier..." You choked, your hand shooting your mouth as he opened the box to reveal a gorgeous antique ring.

"I can't promise I won't be an idiot again but I can promise to love you and our baby with every fibre of my being." He choked as his eyes darted to where your hand rested on your small bump "Please... Mi corazón... Will you make me the happiest man on this earth and marry me?" 

You choked on your words so simply nodded, your whole body shaking as you placed your hand in his and smiled when he slipped the ring on your finger. His lips were on yours then. Kissing you with a passion that you had thought was lost to you forever. 

"I love you, Mi Amor." He whispered against your lips and he smiled brightly at you. 

"I love you too." 

Four months later...

"How are you feeling?" Connie asked as she handed you a steaming mug of coffee. 

"Good... great actually." You replied as you beamed at her "Being a mum is so amazing, Connie." 

"I completely agree." She grinned as she looked up at Steve who was in the kitchen preparing Olivia's bottle as she sucked on the shoulder fabric of his t-shirt "How's Javier getting on?" 

"He has taken to fatherhood so well." You gushed "He dotes on her. She's a week old and already got him wrapped around her little finger." 

"Damn right, she does." Javier stated as he entered the room with a freshly changed baby in his arms "She's perfect and deserves the world." 

"Whipped dude." Steve chuckled from the kitchen. 

"Proudly!" 

"Fatherhood looks good on you Javi." Connie gushed and the older agent grinned at her before looking down at his tiny daughter in his arms. 

"It's the greatest gift I have ever been given." He said as he placed a gentle kiss on her brow. 

You and Javier had, had a quickie wedding before the baby had been born. Deciding that once she had been born, you could start planning and eventually throw a more extravagant party. Javier had slipped into married life like it was all he knew. The arrival of your daughter meant he no longer did the ridiculously late nights he had before. He was more careful about the situations that he threw himself into. He had a wife and baby waiting for him and home after all. Things had been more perfect than you could have every imagined. 

All thanks to your happy accident. 

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[velarisnightsky444]

Accepting the Bond*

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister!OC

AN: This is a snippet from my Stargirl fanfiction. OC is Rhysand's sister, and she's accepting the mating bond with Azriel.

CW: Fingering, oral, intercourse, brief allusion to past SA(not super obvious if you haven't read the fic)

Word Count: 2.3k

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

    Rhys got everybody out of the house early the next day, and I got to work on dinner. Steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and roasted carrots, plus a nice dessert of chocolate torte. It was the first real meal he had ever had. The first meal my mother had made for him when he came to live with us.

     Through the years, he would ask for it on every birthday. My mother and I would make it together.

       When I had finished cooking and baking the dessert, I set it all out on the table. I lit a few candles, and put a vase of flowers in the center.

     I took a deep breath, studying my work, then sent the okay to my brother's mind. Nerves settled in my stomach.

     I was wearing a cobalt blue dress, one that sparkled in the light. The bodice was tight to my skin, and the sleeves were sheer and loose. The skirt was loose, but didn't poof out too far. There was a slit in the skirt up my thigh. Underneath, I was wearing a blue set of lingerie that Mor had gone shopping for with me.

     After a few moments, the door opened. He must have winnowed to get here so fast. I took a grounding breath, trying to calm my heart rate.

      When he entered the room, I could feel the string in my chest go taut. He looked more handsome than I'd ever seen him. His curls were tamed, but still perfect. And his eyes . . . I'd always loved those hazel eyes. He wore a lovely suit, which made me think Rhys had instructed him to dress nicely. That likely gave me away. His shadows clung to him, but a few swirled over to me. 

"Hi, Azzy," I greeted quietly, a soft smile on my face.

"You . . . you look . . . " he was at a loss of words as he took me in, his eyes looking me up and down, then studying my face. "Breathtaking." The word was barely a whisper. A blush tinted my cheeks.

"Thank you," I uttered. "You look quite handsome, yourself." He glanced down at the table, looking at the food.

"Does this mean--"

"I accept the bond," I cut him off. "Yes."

      An expression of disbelief twisted his features for only a second, before tears began welling in his hazel eyes.

      He rushed towards me, and I could only laugh as he scooped me up and spun me around. I clutched onto him, squeezing him tight. When he set me back on the ground, I planted a kiss on his lips. He held my face in his hands, kissing me back. 

     When he pulled away, he got to his knees in front of me, hands gripping the backs of my thighs. I reached out, running my hand through his curls, and wiping his tears with the other.

"Evie, I swear I will never lie to you again. And I will never, ever, keep anything from you," he promised me. "And I swear to protect and love you for the rest of our lives. I will never let anyone lay a violent hand on you ever again."

     The thought of being protected and loved by him, forever, made my heart leap in my chest. To be with someone that I trusted--that I loved. It seemed too good to be true.

      Tears began to sprout in my own eyes as I stared down at my beautiful mate. He got to his feet, and held me close, kissing the tears away from my eyes. His shadows twisted around me, doting on me in excitement.

"Shall we eat?" I asked him. He nodded, smiling as he sat down at the table.

      I took his plate and shoveled some food onto it, then filled a glass of wine for him. I set it in front of him and sat across from him, serving myself next.

      The two of us ate in a comfortable silence, one of his hands reaching across the table to rest on top of mine. We seemed to be eating fast so that we could get upstairs sooner than later.

      But we ate dessert, nonetheless. The chocolate torte I made was absolutely delicious, if I did say so myself. It reminded me of my mother's. Though, I had followed her recipe.

      When we were done, I got to my feet and sat myself onto his lap, kissing him again. His tongue slipped into my mouth, massaging my own. One of his hands traveled down to grope my breast, and I moaned into his mouth.

      I whined as he pulled away, brushing my hair out of my face. I had wanted him for a very long time, but right now, it felt as though I needed him. If I didn't have him right now, I would die.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested.

     I nodded eagerly, squealing as he got to his feet with me still in his arms, carrying me bridal style. I wrapped my wings tight around myself as he carried me up the stairs.

      He dropped me onto his silk, deep blue sheets, and climbed on top of me, his lips finding my neck. I moaned, my hands intertwining with his curls as he sucked, bit, and kissed up the tender skin. His shadows settled around me, stroking different parts of my body.

"I love you so much," I whimpered as he absolutely ravaged me. He pulled back, hovering above me, his eyes meeting mine.

"I love you, too," he whispered. "My beautiful mate." His lips met mine again.

      I began clawing at his shirt, trying to undo the buttons around his wings, but struggling. Eventually, I huffed in frustration against his lips, and used my magic to make his shirt disappear. His hand began trailing up the inside of my thigh, and I gasped, my back arching.

       I sat up so he could unzip the back of my dress. I lifted my hips so that he could pull it off of me, leaving me in the lingerie set that I had bought. His pupils were blown from arousal as he took me in.

"You look so gorgeous in my color," he grunted, eyes trailing up and down my body.

"Is this your color?" I teased with a smirk. "I just bought it because I thought it was pretty."

     He snarled, clearly not in the mood for my taunts, and yanked the bra of the set off to reveal my breasts. His finger circled my nipple, making my back arch off of the bed as I whined.

"No whining," he reminded me. He'd always hated my whining, even when we were kids.

     He leaned down, his lips closing around the nipple. I gasped as he licked and sucked at it, his hand groping and kneading my other breast. A few shadows whirled around the delicate skin.

"Az," I sighed in pleasure, squeezing my eyes shut. He glanced up at me, a smirk on his lips. His hand trailed down my side, resting on my hip. I bucked my hips desperately, letting him know exactly where I wanted him.

"Use your words, my love," he instructed.

"Please touch me, Az," I begged, my words a hushed whisper.

"Good girl," he praised, the words sparking more arousal through me. He smirked as he sensed it. "You like being praised?" I nodded, whimpering as he began circling my nipple again. "I'll remember that."

      His scarred finger began trailing up and down my core, over the lingerie. I gasped, throwing my head back at the sensation. I couldn't remember the last time I had been touched like that--so delicately.

       He carefully pulled the lingerie down, lifting my hips to get it off of me. When I was left bare beneath him, he took a few seconds to take me in.

"So perfect," he uttered, causing a blush to stain my cheek.

       He swiped a finger over my clit, making an indelicate moan fall from my lips. I would've been embarrassed had he not been causing me so much pleasure. He pressed down with the perfect amount of pressure, circling it with his thumb.

"So good, Az," I mewled, bucking my hips. He held them down with his other hand. "Want them inside, please."

"Whatever you want, baby," he agreed.

     His fingers swirled around my entrance. He sunk two fingers inside me and I gasped, grinding my hips. They felt so different than any other fingers I'd had inside of me. The texture from his scars made the sensation so much more pleasurable.

"Gods, Az," I moaned, clutching onto him. "Your scars feel so fucking good."

      He blushed, and I almost felt shame for letting the words slip out, but a shy smile settled on his face.

      He leaned down, licking a stripe up my core as his fingers continued drilling into me. I cried out, my hands gripping his hair and pushing his face closer. His lips locked around my clit, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure.

"Oh, Az, keep doing that," I begged, grinding against his face and hands.

        I was getting close, and he could sense it. He began sucking just a bit harder, his fingers moving faster.

       I let out a cry as I got right to the edge, then fell over as his fingers angled themselves perfectly. My moans were loud, and undignified as I climaxed on his fingers and mouth.

      He kept sucking my clit and fucking me with his fingers until I was shuddering from overstimulation.

      Then, he pulled away and crawled up to kiss me again. I could taste my release on his lips and tongue. I began to grope the bulge in his pants, desperate for him to be inside of me. He started to unbuckle his belt, and when he was done, I had no patience left. It felt as though he was taking them off slowly on purpose.

     I waved a hand, and his pants were gone, just as I had done with his shirt. I nearly moaned at the sight in front of me. His body was beyond perfect. And his cock . . . I wasn't even sure if it would fit inside me.

"Az . . . " I said nervously.

"If it's too much, we'll take it slow," he promised me, stroking my cheek.

       I pursed my lips and flipped us over so that I was on top. It seemed as though he was about to protest, so I put a finger to his lips.

"Trust me," I begged him. He sighed, but nodded and laid back.

       I smiled and lowered my mouth to him. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stand having him in my mouth. Not after what had been done to me.

       Instead, I licked up the underside of his shaft, my tongue trailing over the veins. He moaned and bit his lip. I felt a wave of excitement at how sensitive he was. I swirled my tongue over his tip, smearing the precum that had began to collect on it.

       When I felt comfortable, I lifted my head and took a deep breath. I straddled his waist and carefully lowered myself onto his cock. I gasped, slowly filling myself more.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hands resting lightly on my hips.

       I nodded, biting my lip. I let out a moan as I finally sat down completely. He let out a hard breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Having him in me hurt, but it was a pleasurable pain. One that I knew I would crave everyday for the rest of my life.

"I'm fine," I uttered as I began grinding on him.

       He groaned, his grip on my hips tightening. Elio had never let me on top--he'd always stated that the male should be in control. So I wasn't quite sure what I was doing.

       But Az's hands on my hips helped guide me, helped encourage me. I rested my hands on his chest, running them over his muscles.

       His shadows settled on my breasts, playing with my nipples as I sighed in pleasure. One began swirling around my neck, focusing just below my ear.

       I braced my hands on his chest as I began riding him harder, causing a sweet whimper to fall from his lips. I smirked down at him. 

       His eyes were locked on mine, his thumbs stroking my hips. I whimpered as I got close to the edge again, and he could sense it from the way I clenched around him.

"Do you want me to pull out?" he asked me.

"No, please don't," I begged, throwing my head back as I nearly came undone.

"We'll cum together," he decided. I nodded.

      One of his hands left my hips, and his finger began circling my clit again. That was the last thing I needed to fall over that edge, just as he spilled inside of me.

       Our moans filled the room as we both climaxed, his eyes shut tight, his brow furrowed. I grinded against him a few times to draw out our orgasms, until we had wrung all the pleasure from each other.

      I collapsed on top of him from utter exhaustion, and he wrapped his arms around me, under my wings, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Do you want to bathe?" he asked.

"Too tired," I mumbled.

"Okay," he whispered, rolling me off of him.

       I protested as he got out of the bed and made his way to our bathroom. But he came back with a washcloth. He washed our combined releases from my thighs with the warm, wet towel.

       When he was done cleaning me up, he put the towel away and climbed back into bed with me.

"Are you okay?" he asked me. I nodded, humming contently. "Good." He pressed kisses to my face, then one to my lips.

       He pulled me into his warm arms, the two of us still naked. I decided this would be a lovely way to fall asleep, every night for the rest of my life.

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Azriel Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @panther-girl-124 @tangled-sun @hawke1917

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking

Comment to be added to the Azriel and General Taglists!

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got a name?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

"You must be tired.” 

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

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

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

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

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

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

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

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

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

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

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

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

�� 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

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

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

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

Mina laughs a little. 

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

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

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

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

“Can you blame me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

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

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

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

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

“Got everything?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

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

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

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

“How long are you staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

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

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

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

There’s a pregnant pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

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

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

You tilt your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

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

“You’re doing laundry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your eyebrows. 

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

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

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

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

“Were you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

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