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woahjo · 9 months ago

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The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got a name?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his understanding.

"Come with me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You must be tired.”

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

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

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

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell?

"Sounds like a good deal," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

You nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Mina says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thick and nod a little.

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

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

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

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

“Nothing really,” Mina says.

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

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

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

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

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.”

You recognize Katsuki’s voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listen as you eat your crackers.

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

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

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

Mina laughs a little.

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

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

“You’re really forthcoming with information.”

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

“Can you blame me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward.

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

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

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

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

“Got everything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says.

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

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

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

“How long are you staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group grows quiet for a moment.

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says.

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

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.

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

There’s a pregnant pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Need some help?” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?”

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

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

You tilt your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him.

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

“You’re doing laundry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

“Were you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s pretty,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

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

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

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fairvstairs · 4 months ago

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KEVIN AND WYMACK!

Whatever you do don't think about Kevin meeting Wymack for the first time and having to pretend that he's just another coach and not the man that may just give him enough strength to keep going.

Don't think about Kevin finding himself in front of his father years later, a broken hand and a desperate expression on his face, so many things to say but only being able to let out a quiet "please help me" before crashing in his arms.

Don't think about Kevin looking at how Wymack treats his foxes and knowing that he would have been just fine if he had just been with his father.

Whatever you do don't think about Wymack starting to hate Kayleigh a bit more every time he hears about something that happened in the nest.

Don't think about Wymack watching Kevin drink himself to oblivion just because he wants to let go for a while, watching him scream at people during practice or scowling when he's disappointed and think "yeah, that's my son alright".

Whatever you do don't think about Kevin and Wymack being father and son without knowing how to actually be them.

Don't think about them standing awkwardly one next to the other but prefer that than being separated again.

Don't think about Kevin finally telling his father the truth and feeling like he has finally lost the only person that actually believed in him because why isn't he saying something??? Why is his father just standing there, not even looking at him??

Don't think about Wymack hearing the truth for the first time and feeling his whole world collapse. She lied to him. Kevin is his son. His son. He had abandoned his son. He should have pushed harder, he should have known that she wouldn't cheat on him, he should have been there, he should have saved him.

Don't think about Kevin and Wymack being ghosts around each other and not knowing how to be anything else.

BUT

If you do want to think about them then think about Abby making dinner plans for the three of them, just so they can all get to know each other in a different light.

Think about them going camping together because Matt said that it's something he used to do with his father.

Think about Kevin, waking up from another nightmare, one that seemed more like a memory than something made up by his mind, and asking Wymack if he can stay with him for a couple of nights, just until he feels better.

Think about Wymack waking up in the middle of the night because of a screaming Kevin and saying "Come here, son", embracing him in his arms until he calms down.

Think about Wymack teaching Kevin how to fish, how to make a proper steak, how to ride a motorcycle, because he wants to experience every first that the universe has left him.

Think about Wymack taking care of a sick Kevin and hearing him call him 'Dad' for the first time.

Think about "and my father comes to all of my games. That is enough."

Because sure, being father and son is not easy, especially after spending so much time apart, but they make an effort. Abby helps, Bee helps, the foxes help, even Jean unintentionally helps. It's not easy but they try, that is enough.

This is just my take on how things went, English is not my first language so please be kind!

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lees-chaotic-brain · 1 year ago

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Should've (Gojo x Reader)

Your heart stops.

CW: Injury, mentions of death, angst, probably not medically accurate, reader has female pronouns

Part Two | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

It had been days. Three days exactly. Three days since you took that life threatening blow. Three days since you had opened your eyes.

Gojo sat beside your bed, watching you sleep.

"Sweetheart?"

No response.

"Please, if you can hear me, just move your hand. Just a little bit."

Still no response.

"Shoko says you can hear me, so stop pretending you can't."

You still didn't move.

"Come on. This isn't funny anymore. Let's just go home and cuddle. Please-"

His voice cracks and he swallows a sob.

"I love you so much. Please come back to me. I can't- I can't lose you too."

"You should get some rest."

Shoko leaned against the door, looking pointedly at Gojo.

"Sitting there isn't going to make her wake up faster. Plus, she would hate it if she could see how stupid you were acting. You've barely eaten, and I know you haven't slept this entire time. Go home and take a shower. Eat something. I promise I'll keep an eye on her until you get back."

"What if she wakes up and I'm not here?"

"Then I'll text you immediately and you can teleport over."

"Fine."

Begrudgingly he stood and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'll be right back."

Making his way to the door, he shot Shoko one last look before teleporting away.

"Please let me know if anything happens."

"Of course."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gojo was just finishing drying off his hair when his phone rang. Lunging for it, he picked it up eagerly.

"Shoko! Is she awake? Can I come see her? How-"

"Satoru."

It was Nanami, and the way he said his first name instantly made Gojo's stomach drop.

"Shoko told me to call you...I think you should come right away. Just...try to stay in control. Everything is going to be okay-"

Gojo had already teleported into your hospital room.

A loud beeping was the first thing he noticed.

The second was Shoko, kneeling on the bed next to you as she continuously pumped your exposed chest with her interlocked hands.

Was she performing...CPR? But that was only necessary if-

His world collapsed around him. Right there, on your heart monitor, was one long, flat, line.

He stood there numb, even as someone pushed past him and handed Shoko the defibrillator. He watched silently as Shoko placed the paddles on your chest.

Tears streamed down his face as Shoko checked for a pulse, then continued CPR as she waited for the defibrillator to recharge.

He didn't even fight as Nanami gently led him from the room, murmuring that he didn't need to see that. That everything was going to be okay. That you were a fighter.

Slumping against the wall, Gojo slid to a sitting position.

What if you didn't make it? How was he supposed to survive without you? Why is he the strongest, if he can't even protect you, the one thing he can't live without?

He should have told you he loved you more. He should have pampered you more, let you have the last piece of mochi instead of stuffing it in his face before you could get to it. He should have held you tighter, never let you out of his grasp. He should've been there, to protect you. He should've kept all his promises. He should've-

"Satoru?"

It was Shoko, frazzled and exhausted, but relieved.

"She's stable."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Thanks for reading!! My request box is open if anyone has any!!

#jjk #angst #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru one shot #gojo x reader #he thought he lost you #lee's brain writes

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 1 year ago

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"my favorite set of stairs is the one up to Your Room"

"let's tangle our legs again, the world doesn't need us to leave our heads. let's tie our breath in knots again, nothing's complicated if we pretend."

synopsis// a normal morning for you and megumi.

pairing// megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

word count// 812

contents// just pure fluff ! also not explicitly specified but you both are adults :)

requested// by an anon!

notes// i don't usually post oneshots mid smau buttt im making an exception bc this is rlly short and fluffy ! anywho this was also inspired by 11:11 by waterparks!! i was gonna use deep red by movements as inspiration but i think 11:11 fit more sigh... dw movements... you'll get ur time to shine eventually...

You blink the sleep away as you take in your surroundings, realizing you're on Megumi’s chest with your hand draped over his waist and your legs tangled together. You yawn, softly rubbing your face against his chest as if trying to get any bit closer to him, and when his heartbeat drumming in your ear starts to sound like a lullaby, you know it's time to get up. So you do.

Kinda.

Your version of getting up right now consists of lazily lifting your head up to stare at Megumi, who’s still fast asleep. His eyelashes brush up against his flushed cheeks—you can't help but reach your hand up to caress his face, and who can blame you? When he’s asleep like this, looking so at peace, it’s almost as if he's begging you to hold his face in your hands, and when you do, it’s like you have the whole world sitting right there in your palm. and as if he can feel you touching him even in his sleep, he smiles, and you find yourself falling in love with him all over again.

The scene before you is just serene, and yeah, maybe you wake up to this every morning, but it never grows old. In fact, it just gets better with time, and you’re over the moon to have all the time in the world with Megumi. ...Except for right now, because you really should be getting up and getting ready for work. You drop your head against his chest and take a deep breath, silently wishing time would just pause so you could stay here, but alas, it does not.

You lift your head again and litter a series of small kisses against his jaw, soft enough that they shouldn’t have woken him, yet he stirs awake, as if you’ve effectively pavlov’d the poor boy to associate that small, soft feeling with you leaving. Megumi wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you in place. You honestly have no idea how he has this much strength when he’s literally half asleep, but you embrace it—his hold on you is as calming as a weighted blanket.

He tucks your head beneath his chin and slurs, “Don’t go.”

You hum and tuck your head further into his neck, placing chaste kisses against him, reveling in how he shivers. "I have to.”

"No, you don't.”

You laugh softly as you pick your head back up to look at him, his eyes half-lidded, looking like he could fall back asleep any second now.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs sheepishly, collapsing under the weight of your gaze.

"Don't I always?”

He lazily lifts his head to kiss you, but his coordination is horrible due to the fact that his brain isn't even entirely awake right now, so his kiss lands more on the side of your mouth than fully on it. He groans at his failed attempt.

“Kiss me.”

"Yes, your majesty,” you tease.

You ignore Megumi's sleepy glare, instead leaning down and softly pressing your lips against his. You do this a few times, feeling Megumi smile into the kiss, yet it’s all onesided, and you pull away with a huff.

“Why am I gonna kiss you if you’re too lazy to kiss back?”

“Because you love me?”

"Sure, whatever,” you mumble, pressing your hands against his chest to push yourself off of him, but he doesn't give you that chance, instead grabbing you by your wrists to prevent you from getting up any further. "Megumi, I need to go to work.”

He doesn't say anything; instead, he opens his eyes—still lidded, but now he doesn’t look sleepy; now he just looks like he's giving you puppy eyes… Because he is, and he’s evil because he knows your conviction crumbles right then and there at the sight of them.

"Don't look at me like that,” you say, turning your head away from him.

Megumi doesn’t accept that and releases one of your wrists to grab your jaw, forcing you to face him. “Like what?”

“You know what.”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Stay? Please?”

You sigh and drop your forehead against his, mumbling, "Megumi, I have to go to work.”

You hear him tut before pushing you off of him and rolling onto his side, his back facing you, as he bitterly mumbles, “Whatever.”

You roll your eyes, yet a fond smile adorns your face. “You’re such a big baby.”

“Go to work; leave me alone.”

"Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You quickly hop off the bed and get ready for work, not leaving without littering a few more kisses on Megumi’s face, who’s already sound asleep once more. You’d be more sad about leaving him if you didn’t already know that tomorrow morning would play out exactly like this again and the next. And the morning after that. And after that—and probably forever after that.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

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messedupfan · 8 months ago

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Chapter 17

Summary: Wanda looks over her plans for her future after standing up to Vision. You discover something shocking about your friend on a night out. And the kids join you for a special haircut as Wanda collects her prize.

A/n: Hello! I didn't plan on posting this so soon but eh what the hell. Hope y'all don't kill me. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda stands in the middle of the large empty property that she now owns. She walks around the area as she visualizes a house. She sees the walls and the windows. She thinks about where the kitchen would be and the kitchen table for breakfasts and intimate family meals. Then she walks into a dining room where she’ll host holidays and birthdays. She pretends to climb a beautiful staircase as she envisions the separate rooms for her boys. A couple more rooms, maybe one of them is a guest room and the other is an office space. Then she sees a master bedroom. The image of climbing into bed after a long day has her heart racing as she pictures collapsing into your arms.

Her phone ringing breaks her away from her fantasy world and back to the land with overgrown grass. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and sighs. “Hello Vision,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “What can I help you with?”

“Mom?” Tommy's voice has Wanda softening her tone almost instantly.

“Tommy, hi, why are you calling me with your dad's phone? Is everything okay?” She asks as she starts to fill with worry.

“Dad says he has to go out of town for something… for work! I mean um… I mean he has to go out of town for work. Can you come pick us up?” Wanda sighs when she can hear Vision correcting their son. She doesn't understand the man. He is constantly making a big racket about being in Tommy and Billy’s life but this is the third time in the last couple of months that he has had her pick up the boys halfway through the week.

“I'll be there soon,” Wanda says in a soft tone. She does her best to not let her frustrations with his father affect her tone. Vision is being harsh enough as it is. “I love you, sweetheart. Let your brother know that I love him too, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tommy says. “Bye, mom.”

Wanda hangs up the phone. She takes one last glance around the empty land and sighs. One day, she will be able to fulfill her dream. But that is years away.

“Vision, you can't keep doing this to them,” she says quietly once the boys are in her car.

“It's my work, Wanda. It's what pays the bills,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh I'm very familiar with your work,” Wanda retorts. “Who is she this time? Another TA? No, that pairing has to bore you by now. Besides, you don't need a dating profile in order to date a student.”

“You've been stalking me?” He asks, he's more intrigued than anything.

Wanda makes a face, “Gross. No. That would mean I gave a shit about your personal life. I have friends that use dating apps. And you weren't exactly discrete about it on your profile.”

Vision’s face starts to get red and Wanda knows that she has struck a nerve. Not only did she reveal that she knows he isn't being faithful in his current marriage, she revealed how she found out. She is almost certain that the mention of her friends being involved has painted a mental picture of her having a laugh about him with them. She’d put good money on Vision picturing you as the friend, causing him to grow even more upset.

“Vis, I don't care what you do in your free time. I care that it affects my kids,” she states firmly. “Either end the affair or give me full custody. Because I will not allow you to keep hurting them with this deadbeat father act you have going on.” She starts to walk towards her car expecting him to slam the door shut but instead, he follows her.

“Oh you'd love to have me out of the picture, wouldn't you? So that you can live happily ever after with, Y/n! That's it, isn't it?” He shouts behind her. Wanda stops and spins as she lets out a malicious laugh.

“What is with your obsession with Y/n? They have been nothing but kind to our boys when you fail them time and time again. They are always there for the twins when you've abandoned our boys. Y/n has covered for your ass over and over,” she takes steps towards Vision as she defends her friend to him. “They do nothing but try to make you look better to those boys. You should be thanking them instead of threatening them! You have no idea the kind of person they are. And it's not their fault that you are such a sorry excuse for a father. Gosh, your own family finds it difficult to be related to you.”

Vision shakes his head, “You are a vindictive cunt.”

“Call me all of the names you want. You can't hurt me anymore,” Wanda glares at her former husband defiantly. She scoffs. “You're a pitiful man. I hope karma gets you one day.” She walks away and doesn't turn back once as he continues to shout profanities at her. She does, however, raise her middle finger at him.

“Mom, are you okay?” Billy asks from the backseat once Wanda has joined her boys in the car. She turns back and reaches out to hold his hand. She smiles at him and squeezes his hand.

“Mommy is more than okay,” she says confidently. She doesn't recognize herself at this moment and it's a fantastic feeling. “Are you boys ready to go? You didn't leave behind any important homework or school books right?”

“Right,” the boys say at the same time.

“Okay, let's go home then,” she smiles at each of her kids before starting her car and driving away from Vision’s house. When she pulls into the driveway of her current home she can feel the ghost of the person she used to be. The woman that once believed living a life on eggshells was normal. That she was always meant to be careful around her husband. That her children were to be completely obedient and quiet. That woman and that life haunt every corner of the house. They start to hide when the boys laugh loudly at something that happens in the movie they’re watching. But when you stop by to return the tupperware, the ghosts seem to disappear instantly. As if they were never there.

“You know, Y/n,” Wanda starts as she closes the door behind you. “We are friends, you don't need an excuse to see me.”

“Okay, you caught me but we never really got a chance to ourselves last week and I thought since,” you are cut off when the boys come running towards you and wrap their arms around you as they crash into your body. “Oh! Hi guys! What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with your dad this week?” You keep your tone light, you would hate to ever make them feel unwanted. You hug them back just as tight.

“Dad had a work thing,” Billy answers with a smile. “What are you doing here? Rachel isn't here.”

You look at Wanda, not sure how to answer. “That’s right, Rachel is not here. But Y/n had my container and I asked them to bring it back,” Wanda answers for you. “Come on boys, I'm sure Y/n has to get back home and you two need to get ready for bed.”

“Can you stay and read us a bedtime story?” Tommy asks with wide eyes filled with excitement as he steps back.

“Yeah? Can you?” Billy asks as he jumps back, just as excited.

You hesitate and that causes the two kids to start begging. “Please? You and mom tell the stories really well together!” You look at Wanda as you reminisce about the couple of times the two of you read bedtime stories for the three kids when you and Rachel were staying here.

“I thought you said bedtime stories were for babies?” Wanda says as she messes with her son's hair.

“They are but not when you and Y/n tell them,” Tommy defends. Wanda gives you a look that says ‘I tried,’ and it makes you laugh.

“Okay boys, go finish getting ready for bed and I'll join your mom for story time,” you agree and the kids cheer as they run up the stairs.

“Thank you for that. You know, you don't have to stay,” Wanda says as she tests the waters and puts her hand on your bicep. You shrug as your arm warms up from her touch.

“They think we're good together,” you say with slight innuendo. “Besides, it won't be long before they despise my presence. I'm sure their dad will poison them against me as soon as puberty hits. I have to enjoy their praises while I still can.” You smile at her as you maintain eye contact and stand a little closer to her.

Wanda bites her lower lip as her eyes travel to your lips. It's been a week and a half since the two of you kissed. You had been by every day since but neither of you have had a moment alone long enough to discuss anything. She had so much that she wanted to tell you that she couldn't. Not when the kids are so close. She would hate it if the kids got excited about something that may or may not happen. “I wish their father thought about the fact that we only have a few precious years left with them before they become moody teenagers. But,” Wanda shrugs. “I guess that's my fault for falling for a selfish man before my frontal lobe developed.” Wanda’s eyes meet yours again as she flashes you a sad smile.

You reach out and hold her shoulder. You open your mouth to say something but you're interrupted by a loud screech of, “We're ready!” from Tommy and Billy. You laugh.

“I guess that's our cue,” you say as you drop your hand from her shoulder.

“You go first, I have to put this away,” she holds up the tupperware and you nod then you climb the stairs and warn the boys that you are on your way. Wanda takes a deep breath as her body craves your touch. It was an innocent touch but it made her mind wander to not so innocent thoughts and she needed a second. She serves herself a cold glass of water and chugs half of it.

“Mom! Mom! Mom!” She hears you chanting with the boys and hearing you call her that almost makes her spit out her water from laughter.

“Okay! I'm coming!” She shouts as she gets to the bottom of the staircase. The chants don't stop until she walks through the door. You and the boys clap and cheer as she comes in. Wanda stops for a moment and poses. You start whistling as the boys cheer louder. “Alright, settle down. Settle down. What story are we reading tonight?”

The boys fall asleep halfway through the story. You were so engrossed in the storytelling that Wanda had to stop you in order for you to notice that they had fallen asleep. You shut the book and the two of you carefully snuck out of the room. You waited for her in the hallway as she shut off the lights and closed the door.

When the door was shut she turned to face you. The two of you stand there, both wanting to embrace each other. Maybe even share another sober kiss that would intoxicate each of you. Wanda wants to thank you for helping her find her strength. You want to thank her for always being there for you and your daughter. You want to tell her the deep feelings you've developed for her over the months. You want to hold her in your arms and never let go.

“Can I show you something before you go?” Wanda whispers.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you answer, feeling a little awkward. You clear your throat and gesture for her to lead the way. Wanda takes your hand and laces her finger through yours as she guides you to her office. You were a little surprised that she led you here but you were more surprised with yourself that part of you anticipated her taking you to any other room. Especially with her kids here.

Wanda lets go of you and walks around her desk to shuffle through her files in the drawer. When she finds what she's looking for she looks up at you with a grin. “Close the door and come closer. It's a secret,” she says with a playfulness to her voice. You smile and shut the door to her office before joining her side. “So I have a plot of land,” she starts as she opens the folder. “And I want to build my dream house on it. These are some of the ideas that I have so far.” She shows you printed-out mood boards and detailed sketches along with images and measurements of the land.

“Wow, I think this is great,” you say as you flip through the pages. You look at her with a curious glance. “What inspired this?”

Wanda shrugs, “I'm tired of living under someone else's guidelines of what my house is supposed to have or not have. I'm a very overqualified architect, I know what I can and cannot do.” Her confidence makes you smile. “Besides, this is Vision-free land. He's never owned it. He's never lived on it. He's never traumatized me or the kids here. It's a land that is free to have an unlimited amount of good memories and none of them have to be tarnished by him.” Her grin widens and her shoulders relax at the thought.

“That's wonderful,” you tell her softly. “So, why are you sharing this with me?”

A blush appears on Wanda's cheeks and your heart picks up speed in anticipation for her answer. “I um, I could use your expertise in building it. Not anytime soon. I still have to get the money to fund the project but, there isn't anyone I'd rather have build it for me than you,” she smiles up at you.

You lick your lips as you consider kissing her. But you think better of it. Billy or Tommy could walk in at any moment and catch the two of you. It's enough to make you stand up straighter instead of hovering close to her. “I'd be honored to build your dream house for you, Wanda.”

Wanda rises from her chair and pulls you in for a warm embrace. “Thank you,” she says against your chest.

“Of course,” you respond quietly as you wrap your arms around her. You close your eyes as you embrace the moment. “I should get going. It's pretty late,” you state without letting her go. Wanda hums in agreement as she also makes no motion to break away.

Eventually, the two of you do break away and she offers to walk you to your car. You feel giddy as you remember the night of the kiss. Wanda’s mind is thinking about the same thing as she walks with you arm in arm.

“I don't know if this is weird to mention but we did make a bet on it so I feel as though I kind of have to tell you about this,” you ramble nervously as the two of you get close to the car. “Uh, you win the bet. That volunteer texted me the other day.” Wanda's smile drops and her demeanor shifts a little.

“Oh? And what did she have to say?” Wanda asks as she starts to feel her positive energy waiver.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” you say in an attempt to let her know that you're not interested in Nebula as you reach your truck. “Anyway, I'm thinking about getting my haircut on Sunday after I pick up Rachel. Should I give you a call?” You lean against the door as you watch Wanda. She gives you a tight smile and you know that whatever you thought might happen isn't going to.

“Yeah, I um, I think I have a few ideas ready. Just let me know where to be on Sunday,” she doesn't look at you as she speaks and you want to slap yourself for even mentioning another woman.

“Okay, I'll make the appointment and text you the details,” you fiddle with your keys awkwardly. “I'll see you on Sunday,” you say as you climb into your truck. Disappointed in yourself. This was not at all how this was supposed to go. It was starting to feel like there are forces out there trying to keep the two of you apart.

On Friday night, you stare at the message from Nebula as you consider responding while you sit at a booth with Darcy. It's becoming a common occurrence, hanging out with Darcy, Steve, and Bucky. Your coworker is typically the one inviting everyone out. You're surprised that he doesn't invite his girlfriend. In fact, you don't think you've seen Natasha since Wanda's New Years Eve party. And Steve hasn’t talked about Peggy in some time either. But you don't think about it too much.

“I know that face,” Darcy says as she steals a couple of fries from your plate.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you put your phone in your pocket.

“You have many faces, Y/n. That face is one of regret and frustration,” Darcy continues to steal your fries. You shake your head and look around the bar to avoid looking at your friend. “Come on, lay it on me. Is Wanda seeing someone finally? Did your former child-bride reach out to you?”

“Daisy wasn't that much younger than me,” you defend as you take a sip from the beer bottle. “Besides, you never got to meet her. You don't get to judge.”

Darcy leans in closer with wide eyes, “She dumped you when your kid was in the hospital! What more do I need to know about her?” You shake your head. Then your eyes widen as they land on Steve and Bucky kissing. Your eyebrows knit together from the shock. “What?” Darcy spins around to search for what you could be seeing. Then she sees them. “Oh, yeah. That,” she turns back to you with a shrug. “I've known about that. Now back to you.” Darcy snaps her fingers in your face and waves until you look back to her. “Hello? What's going on with you?”

“What do you mean you knew about them?” You ask instead. “They both have girlfriends! They're cheaters! I didn't know I was friends with cheaters!”

Darcy sighs and rolls her eyes. “Calm down. The way I understand it, Steve and Peggy broke up sometime after that party at Wanda’s place. And Bucky and Natasha have an understanding. I don't know if it's an open relationship situation or a throuple or what. I don't ask them questions because I don't care. What I do care about is you. So, what's wrong?”

You shake your head before running your fingers through your hair and sigh. “I fucked up,” you go on to explain the bet you made with Wanda about Nebula. “Then we kissed and before I could get a chance to talk to her about the kiss, I mentioned that she won the bet and she completely pulled away. I haven't been able to get a hold of her since. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just, she likes to win. I thought she'd like to know that she won and she gets to choose my next haircut.” You shrug then shake your head and then rub your face.

Darcy reaches across the table and holds your wrist as a way to provide some sort of comfort. The two of you sit in silence for a moment. Darcy hasn't gotten to know Wanda enough to be able to explain her behavior. But she's known you for some time now and she knows that sometimes all you need is support. No encouraging words. No solutions to your problems. Just someone's presence.

Steve and Bucky rejoin the two of you. Steve sits next to you and Bucky sits across the table next to Darcy. “What’d we miss?” Steve asks as he throws his arm around your shoulders. You shrug in response.

“I'm an idiot,” you mutter.

“Oh come on, I asked what I missed. Not what I already know,” he teases and with her free hand, Darcy throws some fries at him. “Ow, hey!” She snaps her fingers and points to you and you start to feel a little ridiculous. “Oh, I'm sorry Y/n,” he says once he is paying attention. You shake your head and stand up muttering something about leaving. “Hey, no, come on. It was a bad joke. Stay, Y/n,” he tries to call you back to the table.

“You're so full of yourself, Steve!” Darcy says before she catches up with you. “Hey, lets-”

“No, it’s fine. I'm fine. It wasn’t about Steve. He's always like that. I’m just…” you shake your head. “I need to go home.” You tell her calmly. “I won't do anything stupid, I promise.”

Darcy sighs then nods, “Yeah, okay. I'll see you soon. Oh! That reminds me, I will be moving to Germany to join a research team for a year. I leave in three months.”

“Oh my goodness! Way to bury the lead!” You pull her into a quick hug. “Congratulations! That sounds like an amazing opportunity!” You pull away and admire her for a second. “You are possibly the coolest person I know.”

Darcy closes her eyes, tilts her head, and smiles. “I know I am,” she says happily. She opens her eyes and pats your arm. “Get out of here. And tell Wanda I said hi.”

You make a face, “Why would I tell Wanda-”

“Oh please, you think I actually believe that you're going to your apartment? She is your home. And I better be receiving an invitation to the wedding by the time I come home from Germany.”

You shake your head as you give her a final hug goodbye. You get in your car and consider driving to Wanda’s house. Her boys are with her so you try to not think about it. But as you're driving, you suddenly realize that you're close to her neighborhood. You sigh as you think about what Darcy said. Wanda is your home. You take the turn into her neighborhood and start to think about what you're going to tell her when you see her.

As you pull up, you notice the time and frown as you see that the house is dark. You put the car in park and stare at her house. It was pretty late. You shouldn't have expected that she would be awake just because it was a Friday night. You don't even let Rachel stay up past eleven at night. But you know that sometimes Wanda likes to enjoy a glass of wine and catch up on her favorite reality show before going to bed.

So you take your chances and call her. The phone rings a couple of times before you finally hear her voice. “Hey you,” she is speaking softly. You wonder if her boys are near her. Awake or asleep, there's a reason she is so quiet.

“Hey, did I wake you?” You ask as you start to regret being here.

“No, no,” Wanda says, her voice still low. “I’m catching up on my show. But um Billy had a nightmare. He’s sleeping next to me and I'm trying to not wake him.” Your eyes travel up to her window as you see the faint glow of the television through the blinds. “Are you okay? Do you need something?”

You don’t respond right away. You just think about her. “No, I'm okay. I just,” you sigh. “I never responded to that volunteer. I want you to know that. I’m sorry if I-”

“Y/n I don’t think now is a good time,” she interrupts.

“I’m parked in the driveway. If you don't want Billy to hear,” you tell her quickly. You watch the shadows of the curtains move and the blinds open after a couple of minutes. Her silhouette stands in the middle of the window. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Wanda is quiet as she stands still. You hope that she accepts your invitation. “Go home, Y/n. It's late and,” she trails off as she closes the blinds. “We don't have anything to talk about.” Your heart breaks at her words.

“Wanda please,” you beg, “let's talk about this. Maybe not tonight but soon.”

“Y/n, I,” her words seem to fail her as she goes quiet. You sit in your truck patiently waiting for her to continue. To say something. Anything. After a while you wonder if she hung up so you lift the phone off of your face and are slightly relieved to see that the call is still going. Then you watch the call end. Your eyes travel to the front door as it opens.

Wanda walks out and you step out of the truck to meet her halfway but she holds her hands up to stop you. You stay close to the truck. “Wanda, can you explain to me what I did wrong? Because I don't feel like I-”

Wanda waves her hand to cut you off, “Stop, you didn't do anything wrong. It's me. I'm… I wanted our friendship… I want us to…” she closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I practiced this speech to myself since Wednesday but,” she sighs as she runs her fingers through her hair. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “When we kissed, I did want us to explore the possibility of more between us. Hell, I deleted all of the dating apps I was on and blocked every person I hooked up with that night. I thought I was ready. But I'm not. And it's not because of you. You are great. You're great to me, you're great to my kids, to my entire family actually.” She opens her eyes and you can see the tears building up. “I'm in a better place than I was when we first met but I’m not ready for anything more than your friendship. At least not right now.”

You cast your eyes down to the ground for a moment to allow your heart to break. You bite your lips to keep from letting the emotions show on your face. Then, when you feel ready, you swallow your feelings and you nod. “Okay, yeah,” you look at her as you try to hide your sadness. “I can do that. I can be your friend. It’s okay, I understand that you still have a lot of healing or whatever to work through. It's okay, Wanda. I lo-”

“Don't,” Wanda cuts you off and you nod with your mouth shut. “I know that you care about me. A lot. I care about you too. A lot. But I… I don't expect you to wait for me to be ready. No. Let me rephrase,” she steps closer and holds your hands. “Don't wait for me. Don’t put your life on hold for me.”

You want to argue and fight for her but if this is what she wants then there isn't much else that you can do. You look her in the eye and ask, “Are you sure this is what you want?” Wanda nods. “Okay. I won't um I won't wait and I won't bring this up again. Not until you do. I understand.”

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“Will I still see you on Sunday?” You ask as you think about the bet again. “You still have a prize to collect,” you remind her playfully.

“Yeah, I'll be there,” she flashes you a small smile that drops as fast as it appears. You drop her hand and shove your hand into your pockets.

“Darcy wanted me to tell you that she said hi. I was hanging out with her before this,” you tell her.

“That's nice, how is she doing?” Wanda crosses her arms over her chest to keep her body warm as a cool breeze comes by.

“She's good, she'll be gone for a year. She got a big opportunity in Germany. But she's got three more months of being stuck here,” you inform her conversationally. Trying to move past the emotionally heightened moment.

“Wow, that sounds fascinating. I'll have to reach out to her. I liked meeting her,” Wanda says.

“I'm sure she'd love that,” you nod then you look at your watch. “I'll let you go back inside. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-”

“No, I'm glad you did. I'll see you on Sunday,” Wanda kisses your cheek before she walks away. “Goodnight, drive safe,” she shouts over her shoulder as she continues walking to her front door. You climb back into your car and drive to your apartment.

You allow yourself to cry and feel the heartbreak. You don't drink alcohol to forget it or make it easier. You don't smoke from the pack of cigarettes that you purchased on the way home. You just lie on your bed and clutch a pillow to your chest.

On Sunday you pick up Rachel from her mom's house and tell her that you lost a bet to Wanda and that she is going to pick out your new haircut. Rachel giggles with excitement.

“A mullet? Really?” You look at Wanda like she is crazy. “Are you trying to sabotage my dating life?”

Wanda laughs with a shrug, “It's not my fault your hair is long enough for it. Besides, I hear it's a very popular style for the They/Thems of the world.” You shake your head as she plays with your hair. The hairdresser laughs at the request as well before promising that the style is coming back. You tell him to just get it over with.

In the end, you don't completely hate it but you still don't feel like it's your style. However, Wanda's boys love it. “Mom, I want my hair like Y/n's! Mom, can we get our haircut too?”

“Oh, I'm sure that the schedule is busy and we didn't make an appointment for you two,” Wanda tried to tell them.

“Oh we have a couple hours free, I don't mind giving them a cut. The kids want to match their parent,” Clint says.

“Oh I'm not,” you stutter.

“We’re just friends,” Wanda corrects.

Clint nods as he eyes the two of you with a knowing smirk. “So am I cutting the kids' hair or not?” he asks a little loud, drawing the attention of the boys. The twins begin to beg over and over until Wanda caves. They cheer as they each hop into a chair. Clint disappears into the back to collect his wife to cut Billy's hair while he works on Tommy.

You sit next to your daughter and Wanda sits on the other side of her. “What about you? Do you want to get a haircut?” Wanda asks.

Rachel shakes her head with a scrunched-up face. “No, I'm okay.”

“Her hair doesn't grow back fast. It took a while for it to get this long,” you explain. “That's her mom's genetics,” you say lightly as you mess with Rachel's hair. She swats her hand away and goes back to playing games on your phone.

When the boys are done with their haircuts the group of you decide to grab some ice cream together and enjoy the treats at a nearby park.

Wanda is messing with your hair as you watch the kids play on the playground. “Why are you suddenly so obsessed with my hair?” You ask with a laugh.

“I don't know, I've never seen a mullet in person. It looks so… touchable. I don't know. I can't explain it,” Wanda replies as she continues to move her fingers through your hair. “Business in the front,” she touches the front of your hair and then moves her hand down to the back, “party in the back!”

You shake your head slightly, “You're insufferable, you know that right?”

“I know,” she says. As much as you are giving off the impression that you don't want her to touch your hair, you're happy that she is.

“I'm starting to rethink this whole friendship thing,” you grouch with a playfulness to your tone.

“Whatever, Uncle Jesse,” she pulls her hand out of your hair and holds her phone up. “Say cheese!” You roll your eyes as she takes candid pictures of you. Then she calls her boys over to pose with you. The three of you show off your new haircuts.

After going to a fast food restaurant for dinner, you and Wanda decide it's best to split from each other so that the kids can get ready for school on Monday. Everyone hugs each other goodbye.

“Baba?” Rachel asks for your attention as you're driving home. You hum to let her know that she has your attention. “When you do fall in love again. I hope it's with someone like Wanda.” You don't say anything as you keep your eyes on the road.

Chapter 18

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agent-8449 · 8 months ago

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The Negatives: Masterpost

"Howdy there, to the audience beyond the screen! I'm your host Eris, and this is Late Nights With Disharmonia..."

The Negatives AU was borne, long long ago, by me fucking around with the ancient joke of Soul 2. Mind 2, Heart 2, Whole 2, etcetera. It evolved into something more sophisticated if light-hearted, and now it's psychological horror. Oops!

Firstly; Eris, this Whole, is American. That's the first part of the joke. The second is that he's supposedly everything a normal golden Whole isn't-- loud, confident, in control. The third part is that he's exactly like a normal Whole in those respects anyway. He might have willed away the loop amnesia, but this cold war he's started with himself might be worse.

Total and godlike control of his own Psyche means nothing if he can't stop himself from splitting anyway. His Thirds know what he does, and they're horrible like him too.

Phobos, the Green Heart, is the distillation of what Eris thinks makes him different to other people; acting and ingenuity, sure, but also a casual disregard for their wellbeings and a violent streak. His impulsive, or intrusive, thoughts.

Deimos, an Orange Mind, is what Eris believes the world wants him to be; a pencil-pushing pushover, dull and boring and content with mundanity. Deimos might be calculative, but that's in the literal sense. He's a calculator, with about as much personality.

Nemesis is where it gets interesting. This Teal Soul isn't needed to pretend to be him at all, not really. He's less so Identity, and more... self-hate. Sure, Eris intended for him to be an embodiment of social pressure/"cringe culture", yet all that's done is make his Soul even more viscerally self-aware of the futility of this all. Nemesis was built to hate. To hate what Eris wants to be-- to be critical, never-pleased, and cynical. By god does Nemesis fulfill these criteria. Because-- well-- what is he supposed to do? Not hate this? This insufferable, useless war? These two tumours Linked to his thoughts? The fact that him hating at all is decreed by Eris, and he's playing his role perfectly? So he hates, quietly. The other two overpower him, and Eris uses him again and again and again for the things he himself doesn't want to do.

What a cheery quartet!!!

The delicate balance of Whole and Thirds was disrupted by their additions to the chat. Entirely sick of <making his Thirds> running Youtube content farms, Eris seeks a way to monetize this supernatural happening. Mixed with his total control of his Psyche <due to being his Psyche>, it's a recipe for something finally interesting. Eris is more of a filmmaker than a songwriter, and to create The Perfect Story is his goal. If only it was that easy. Pretending to be nice and helpful in chat, in order to lure somebody over, did not go very well at all. Neither did exploiting the phenomenon of his self-duplication; the fact that sending constructs from his Psyche is literally sending chunks of his Psyche, i.e., him. If they're in the right shape to walk and talk and think like him, well, they do! Eris clones 3 and 4 both met separate grisly demises.

Why? Long story short, they're filled with assumption goop, and if Reality questions that too hard, it becomes real goop. They melt. This is what happened to 3. 4..... got beheaded. By Nemesis. OOPS! Turns out the breaking of the pattern gave the Whole-adoring Heart and Mind enough grievances for Nemesis to convince them to murder him. And thus ended a doomed attempt at coexistence. The following month unsupervised screwed up Eris' life, too, on his return. Punishment only made them hate him more, and now it's all collapsing...

Now, desperation makes men do terrible things.

This is all a very quick summary of the Negatives, of course. Feel free to ask for clarifications! I might even respond in-character... Toodles for now!

#negatives au #my art #cccc #chonny jash #cjverse chatroom

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sweetbunpura · 3 months ago

Note

>:D

Ok~ Strap in, Cause this is gonna be a long one too!

So, the basic premise of this idea is that, When Silver, Sebek, Grim, and Yuu escape from Sebek's collapsing dream, Yuu ends up getting splintered off and separated somehow during transit.

While, Silver, Grim, and Sebek land in Lilia's dream, Yuu ends up landing in a completely different dream. Whose dream, you may ask?

Rollo. It's Rollo's dream.

Yuu doesn't crash land into the dream though, no. She jolts awake in bed, as if awakening from a horrible nightmare. Her breathing is ragged and her eyes dart around the room, alert and wary. There is no sign of encroaching darkness or Malleus. Rather, she was in the bedroom she and Rollo would usually share when they cuddled together.

She sits there in bed for a moment, processing.

....

She blinks.

....

Nothing happens. Her rapid breathing begins to slow.

Was... Did she just have a bad dream? But... it felt so real...

She hears what sounds like rustling from down the hall. Then, the sound of the oven going off. Someone was in the kitchen. The smell of breakfast finally decides to make a coying pass at her nose. She smiles and rolls her eyes. Yuu slips out of bed and pads down the hall.

In all her eagerness, she fails to notice that the interior architecture of the hallway is slightly....off...

She turns into the kitchen and smirks when she sees her boyfriend with his back to her, still wearing his pajamas only with the addition of an apron, pulling what looks to be home-made croissants out of the oven.

"Really, Rolls?" she chuckles, eyeing the ensemble of breakfast foods already on the table, "I thought we agreed that breakfast was my thing."

Rollo huffed.

"On any other day, I would have let you, but..."

She sees the tips of his ears flush.

"I..I wanted to do something special. Today is our anniversary after all."

Yuu's brain halted.

Anniversary?

..What anniversary??

They had only been officially dating for three months???

"What are you talking about?"

Rollo froze just as he sat the croissants down, then.. slowly turned around to face her, his expression flat.

"Yuu...Don't tell me you forgot."

Yuu racked her brain, trying to think of anything that would be anniversary worthy. All she was drawing were blanks. It must have shown on her face, because Rollo's scrunched in annoyance.

He rolls his eyes.

"Honestly Yuu.."

He starts pulling off his oven mitts.

Yuu's eyes widen when she sees it. There, on his right hand-

"Its not like you to forget our wedding anniversary."

-was a gold wedding band.

.....And from there things begin to spiral for Yuu. She doesn't hate the idea of being married to Rollo, far from it. Its just...not something she imagined him dreaming about.

In his perfect little dream world, there is no magic and He and Yuu have, apparently, been married for two years, having got hitched shortly after graduating college (a College that weirdly is NRC or NBC, just regular ass college). "Ramshackle" is actually just their house, that has elements of Fluer city architecture frankensteined on to it.

His brother is also alive in this world and comes over to visit later on after getting out of school.

"But, where is the truly angst part about all of this?" You may ask.

Well... did I forget to mention that, since Yuu has no way of leaving this dream, as her dreamwalker is in another castle at the moment and can't choose the dream he enters, she's stuck playing to Rollo's fantasy? Cause if he wakes up, and Silver isn't there to bail them out, then the dream will collapse and they'll get swallowed by darkness.

Also, Yuu has to desperately fight not to "fall asleep" here as this dreamwalking experience slowly morphs into a shared dream, with Malleus's magic beginning to tug at her mental eyelids as the dream begins to include this that she desperately wishes for.

Like her father, for example.

Slowly, the dream begins to feel more and more real.

So, Yuu is effectively forced to pretend that this is all real until Silver and Co. show up, while simultaneously fighting to keep her grasp on what's real and what isn't.

Just basic dream mind-fuckery~

-From Rollo x Yuu angst Anon (Shortened to Angst Anon for brevity)

Okay, but I love that you looked at the info about her, because you brought up her uncle and her father~

Yuu stares at his golden wedding ring and fights to keep her eyes from widening. She takes a glance at her own hand and, yep, there's a matching one right there on her ring finger.

She clears her throat before Rollo has time to think about her mistake. "Yeah, my mistake. I just woke up."

His look of annoyance disappears as he approaches her. "That is true, perhaps it's my fault for waking you up without time to process." He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. "That and you'd have changed into normal clothes by now."

Yuu, for the second time this dream, looks down to see herself in Rollo's large gray shirt. "You're right."

He chuckles and kisses her, which she returns. It's a calming morning for a married couple, Yuu could recount her parents doing this in the morning before both of them had to run off to work. She misses the door opening and closing followed by the pausing footsteps.

"Should I leave you two lovebirds?" That is not a voice Yuu recognized and as they separate, she stares wide eyed at the newcomer.

The man is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. His gray hair is swept to the side of his head and he's sporting a dress shirt combo outfit. His eyes are the same as Rollo's and Yuu's brighter green eyes flick between him and her "husband" before it dawns on her.

Oh lord, this is his brother.

Rollo semi-glares at his brother. "Can I help you, Hector?"

Hector laughs. "No, no, I just wasn't expecting to walk in on you two making out."

Rollo's face flashes red and without his usual handkerchief handy, he just hides his face in Yuu's shoulder. She hardly notices, too busy staring at Hector.

"Wonderland to Yuu." He waves his hand in her face, which she flinches away from.

"S-Sorry about that, Hector. Not 100% awake."

"Understandable." Hector pulls Rollo away from her. "Did you get everything for tonight?"

Rollo, now composed, just sends his brother a look. "You think ill of me if you honestly believe I would forget a single thing for this anniversary."

"What's going on or is this some top-secret 'can't tell the wife' thing?" She jokes.

Rollo grabs her hands and Yuu hears the faint clink of the rings as they meet. "I've invited your parents over to spend part of the day with us."

Parents.

Plural.

"M-my parents?"

"Indeed, your father-"

Yuu feels her mind disconnect immediately after she hears that and her grip tightens on Rollo's hands, causing him to pause.

"My Love?'

"R-Repeat what you just said, I must've missed it."

"I said your mother would try to meet us over at the museum. She'll be dropping by after she visits your father's grave."

Right, right. Her father is dead... and there's no way for him to return. Well, Yuu knew one thing to be very certain in this moment.

She was going to kick Malleus' ass for this.

🎊Thanks angst anon!🎊

#Listen Yuu x Rollo is both soft coded and angst coded #they both suffer #twisted wonderland #rollo flamme #yuu homura #sanctuary #thorn answers

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beanzwrites · 1 year ago

Text

I Miss Her Too

Dean x Sam (Platonic), Sam x Sister! reader

Warning: Mentions of character death, cursing

Description: The brothers open up about their dead sister

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

Dean releases a long sigh as he stares out at the parking lot of a raggedy motel on the side of the interstate. The flickering multi-colored sign bleeds into the inky blackness of the Impala, causing the pulse in the man's frustrated mind to burst against his skull repeatedly. Dean's knuckles were sickly pale in contrast to his freckled tan skin as he held the stirring wheel of the parked car in a vice grip.

His cheeks sag under the pressure of the heavy bags carried beneath his sad hazel eyes. The smile marks that tug at the edge of his lips barely show as a deep frown etches across his face. His usual neatly done hair now stuck out in a disheveled state.

Dean notices a tall shadow rising behind the illuminated brownish-white curtains in one of the rooms. The material tugs slightly from the window and soon enough the deep green heavy duty door opens to reveal his brother. He looks down at the wrapped burgers set on the passenger's seat and grabs them before exiting the car.

"These are cold," Sam remarks as Dean pushes them against his chest.

"There's a microwave for a reason," Dean grumbles in response and sits at the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.

"You do realize you got three," Sam asks softly after a short pause.

"We'll eat it later; It's no big deal."

""This was how (Y/n) liked it," Sam states while observing the content inside one of the burgers.

"I said we'll eat it later," Dean snaps. He snatches the wrapper from Sam's hands and lays it on the drawer between the beds. He keeps his back turned from his brother as the atmosphere becomes tense.

"Dean," Sam whispers. He presses his calloused palm against the eldest Winchester's shoulder. Dean looks over with a distressed expression and places his own hand over his brothers. "I miss her too."

"I'm sorry," Dean apologizes.

"Let's talk about it," Sam insists.

"No."

"Dean-"

"I can't."

"We promised her, Sam cries, "we promised her before she died that we wouldn't end up like this- distancing ourselves and pretending everything is alright when it isn't. We're letting her down."

"I know."

"I know? That's all you have to say? Dean, she was my sister too. She's gone now and faking a world where she still exists is just hurting us."

Suddenly, Sam slams into the wall with Dean's arm against his neck. Dean glowers over him, scrunching his nose into a snarl. "Don't talk about her like that," Dean mutters before releasing the pressure from Sam's body.

"It hurts me too. It was just the two of us, then she came along rocking our boat and it seemed like we were an unstoppable trio. It's going to be so hard going back to the way things were before bug showed up." Sam collapses on the bed as tears stream down his sun-kissed face.

Dean wraps his arm around Sammy in a brotherly hug. "(Y/n) was one hell of a gunslinger."

"Yeah," Sam smiles.

"And a brat too."

"Hey, she wasn't that bad; Although, she did have her moments."

"Your right."

"She kinda gets a pass for being a girl though."

"That's not what I meant- yes, but no- I meant it's good talking about her," Dean confesses.

"See, I told you."

"Alright, alright. I'm done," Dean whines as he gets up, "We may have opened up a bit, but we are not turning into a chick flick."

"We were having a bonding moment, you jerk!"

"Bitch."

"Really?"

"Rest up. We're leaving in the morning."

"Yeah, you too. I don't need you looking like a living corpse anymore," Sam comments.

"Shut up."

---

A shiver trails up Sam's spine and his eyes jolt open in shock. The dark motel room was silent besides the soft snores coming from Dean's side of the room. A soft blue glow appears and shines over the popcorn ceiling. Sam immediately feels each of his tired muscles tense in alertness as the overwhelming foreboding thought that something else was in the room punches his gut.

He slowly reaches under the flat pillows beneath his head for his knife. His fingertips gently graze along the handle and he grasps it tightly. Sam settles his ragged breathing before springing to action. He rushes off the bed in a defense position, with the knife pointing threateningly at the figure leaning over Dean. A soft glow emits from their body as they brush their thumb over Dean's forehead with a gentle smile.

"(Y-Y/n)?" Sam asks feebly. The girl lifts her eyes to him, her (E/c) orbs glittering softly with curiosity. The knife falls from his hand and clatters to the carpeted floor. "You were dead..."

(Y/n) straightens herself, her brows furrowing.

"What happened, bug? Why show up now when we are finally getting over losing you?" Sam's voice cracks and he takes a step towards his little sister. "How exactly did you die?"

The deceased Winchester shakes her head, turning her body away. "Too soon," She gasps out, grabbing at her throat painfully.

"W-what?"

"Love you, Sammy," She whimpers out, before disappearing like smoke and the pale glow fades out.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n)! Don't leave us again!" Sam scurries to unlock the door and runs out. He looks around in a panic, only to find empty cars in an empty parking lot.

"Sammy? What's going on?" Dean calls wearily from the inside, "What is it?"

"N-nothing. It's nothing."

Was he dreaming?

#supernatural x reader #sam winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x reader #sam x dean #platonic #brotherly fluff #angst #supernatural x sister! reader #fanfiction

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is-the-fire-real · 1 month ago

Note

‘Documenting my Jewish conversion’ your opinion on the last year means nothing, then. Absolutely nothing. You will never know the fear that real Jews have been facing since October 7th 2023, and you will never understand the risks that come from looking and acting like a Jew. You people shouldn’t even be allowed to call yourselves Zionists, because you have no ties to the holy land at all.

I bet you think Kahanism is ‘too much’, too.

Wow, Anon, this would really hurt my feelings if I believed for one second you were actually Jewish.

I could leave it at this and move on, but you know what? I'm feeling chatty and it's been a long time since I've made a big post on here, so let's sort out, piece by piece, why I know you're cosplaying.

For starters: if you were really Jewish, you wouldn't be anonymous. Jews who believe gerim aren't "real Jews" post their opinions on their blogs under their names. They are very few and far between, but they aren't shy. I believe that you have chosen to send this anonymously because you ARE shy... because your login info will demonstrate that you are an antisemitic goy who's trying to pick at what you assume is a sore spot.

Second, if you were really Jewish and you'd paid attention to what I've said about "the last year" (and then using the Gregorian calendar date, which is just funny to me), you would know that I haven't actually expressed an opinion on Zionism. I have reblogged material from other Jews expressing their opinions. Those Jews have ranged from Zionists to non-Zionists to post-Zionists to "refuse all terminology"-ists. I have chosen, deliberately, to do what we used to call signal boosting.

When I have expressed an opinion, it has been on the behavior of antisemites on Tumblr who pretend to be something they're not--usually, pro-Palestinian, but in your case, Jewish. I have been wondering what the "pro-Pal" fandom would do now that it's started to collapse from the fans getting bored, and you've demonstrated one possible tactic--so thanks for that!

Third, if you were really Jewish, you would have something to say about being Jewish that isn't what you said. I've read and spoken with countless Jews who talk about being Jewish. Look at the words you've chosen: "risk" and "fear". I have heard Jews express fear, and awareness of risk, but no Jew I've met would reduce all of Jewish experience to risk and fear.

The Jews I marked Yom Kippur with were aware of risk and had prudent fear. But they were not fearful. They were not obsessed with risk. They do not define their Judaism by terror, not even the little old lady in a foreign country who had bad ankles. I'm not going to tell you what the rest of Judaism entails, because you should know it yourself. I'm not going to make your anonymous cosplay easier for you by giving you explicit pointers.

Fourth, let's talk about "looking and acting like a Jew".

The man guiding my conversion has been physically attacked multiple times in the past three months, to the point where he has stopped wearing his kippah in public--especially around his own home because he's concerned someone will find said home and stalk/attack him and his wife. He is the leader of a group of Jews who are reinstating Judaism in a land where there have been no Jews in centuries. There will, for the first time in half a millennium, be a Torah in this part of the world due to his tireless efforts. He has, immeasurably, made the world a better, more spiritual, and more Jewish place. He is the guy the press and the government and the local Christian and Muslim groups contact if they want to ask about Jewish holidays or the opinion of the local Jewish population. He is the guy who writes all the statements put out by the local Jewish organization, of which he is the president and founder. In that sense, even taking off the kippah won't shield him--he is definitionally, visibly Jewish.

And you may tell yourself "Oh, he must be born Jewish if he's doing all that, so of COURSE he's got a lifelong experience with Judaism and of COURSE he's had a lifelong experience of antisemitism so of COURSE he knows more about all of this than you do, Fire."

This man is a convert.

He has, to use your attitude, "only" been Jewish for one-third of his life.

So, like, what did you mean by "looking and acting like a Jew" being a thing gerim know nothing about? What did you mean about how gerim cannot "look" or "act" like Jews enough to experience antisemitism? What was that about gerim not being entitled to opinions because of their ignorance on what being a Jew is like? What kind of phrenology are you practicing to determine who was a born Jew and who converted? What alchemy do you believe in in which the flesh of a born Jew has mystical qualia that mine does not?

I believe that I will enter the mikveh a ger, and I will emerge a Jew. My belief is in line with literally every rabbinical source I have encountered and the opinion of every single Jew I've ever read... except yours. Mysteriously, you don't believe the mikveh is a closed practice only for Jews, and that the only way a goy could ever be permitted to enter a mikveh is so that they will emerge from it Jewish, just as Jewish as those who emerged from their parents' wombs as Jews.

Why don't you believe that? Why are you the odd Jew out?

Is it because you're pretending to be Jewish to sow dissent and hurt random strangers for your own cruel pleasure? I sure think so!

Fifth, let's focus on the next bit in greater detail. Why do you think I'm a Zionist when I've never stated one way or the other?

I'll tell you why!

You found my name on one of the Zionist Blocklists that your fellow antisemites put together. I'm not on all of them, but I have ended up on at least one! And you're going through that blocklist, pretending to be Jewish in order to harass the Jews you found on there. You think you can try to trick me into abandoning my baby-eating ways by suggesting that the "real Jews" don't think I'm one of them.

The funny part about that is that I didn't end up on that list by being a Zionist on main. I ended up on that list by talking about my conversion process, reblogging pictures of Judaica, talking to Jews, and reblogging posts from Jews. That's it. That is why I know those blocklists are utter BS--because I, like dozens of other Jews would tell you if you weren't an antisemitic troll, wasn't on a Zionist Blocklist at all.

I was put on a list of Jews for the crime of being Jewish on Tumblr. You are trying to hurt me because I was visibly Jewish online. You are only here because you found me on a Jew-Hate List.

But go ahead and tell me I've no idea what antisemitism is, or what being visibly Jewish is like.

Sixth: very bold of you to assume I don't have any ties to Israel! Are you sure about that? Are you really sure? It's not something I have ever discussed on my blog, and it's interesting that you would assume this means the answer is "no", when it could just as easily be "I don't discuss that detail of my personal life online with total strangers who are also antisemites and disgraces to their hate movements".

Guess which one is the correct answer! Go on, guess!

Seventh, I don't actually care about what you think about my conversion, even if you are Jewish (you aren't--this is a hypothetical). Conversion isn't a popularity contest. There are a ton of people who don't accept my conversion because I'm going to be Masorti. There are a ton of other people who will assume I don't think they're Jewish because they're not Masorti.

And I just... don't really care about the argument, overall. There are several Jewish opinions which matter to me. The man who's guiding my conversion, the Rabbit teaching my conversion class, and the beit din who will interview me. That's actually pretty much it! If other Jews don't think I'm Jewish, they're entitled to their opinion and they don't have to spend time with me or invite me to their services. They're justified in controlling who accesses their sacred spaces. It'd be nice if they weren't jerks about it, but you can't always get what you want.

Just to be totally, abundantly clear, then: even if you were Jewish, you'd still be wrong to tell me that I'm not and that my opinion is meaningless. It's just useful to point out that you aren't Jewish, about which I have one more point to make!

And last (don't worry, I know you stopped reading long ago, but I like to be thorough), I do not know why you're asking me to refute, or support, an ideology for a nation in which I do not live. I don't have an opinion on Kahanism more complex than "I don't like what I've heard about it". If you'd asked me my opinion on the Vox/PP alliance in Spain, I could write for days! Or if you asked me about how horseshoe theory is validated by the alliance between red fash, green fash, and Republicans in the US--I can and have written about that, too!

I don't write about Israeli politics in depth for the same reason I don't write about the political situation in Ukraine, or Canada, or Myanmar, or Qatar, or Ghana, or Greenland, or any of the other places I don't live. It seems silly for me to pontificate on political situations I don't understand when, most often, all I can offer is what I already said: "sounds bad, if true".

Here, let me liberate you from your self-constructed prison: you don't have to have a strong and informed opinion on every single thing occurring on the face of the Earth. It's okay for you to not know stuff. You do not have to form a hard opinion instantaneously because a stranger on the Internet demanded it. You can, and should, plead ignorance and move on with your life. You will be a far happier person if you are not ruled by obsessive anxiety regarding things you don't know. STOP MAKING HOT TAKES.

But, of course, I kid. I know, the same as you, why you brought up Kahanism. It's because you're the same anon who's going around harassing Jews by pretending to be Jewish, and you finally learned how to spell "Kahanism" correctly, and you're very, very proud of yourself and wanted to show off.

I am glad you found out it's not spelled Khanism!

This is the thing, brother. You are lying through your teeth. You are trying so hard to hurt Jews, and you're convinced this tactic will work. You want to create infighting among all the zionazi scum you despise. You and folks like you pretended to be Jews who were outraged over a bar mitzvah being performed in a television program, and you pretend to be Jews who are salty about the existence of converts. But I've gotta tell you, as a ger, I can still see right through you. It's all pretense.

You are as Jewish as an Easter ham.

Give up the game, anon. You're not clever enough to play it.

#ask box #ask me anything #asked and answered #jumblr #jewish convert #jew by choice #jew in progress #jewish conversion #antisemitism #antisemitism on tumblr #anon hate #antisemitic anon #masorti

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hedwig394 · 10 months ago

Text

The Piece That Doesn't Fit

Derek Hale x Sarah McCall

Timeline: After the last episode of Teen Wolf: Season 2

Derek's POV-

Sarah sleeps in my arms peacefully. Idly stroking her arm, I look at the ceiling and then back at her head, which is lying on my chest. I wonder what she thinks when she looks at me. I wonder why she trusts me. I kiss her head, whatever the reason is, I'm grateful that she does.

Gerard is dying, quite fast compared to cancer, according to what Chris said. He deserves it. I'm not big on forgiveness, and I haven't forgiven Allison either, but that's a story for another day. Everything else in the world can wait, I just want to be here with Sarah.

I have no one in my pack now, I realise. It's only Isaac, but he's more loyal to Scott. And I don't want to fight with Scott again, not after I've seen what it does to Sarah. Being torn between her brother and her boyfriend isn't the best place to be, and she used to be so frustrated and angry at everything.

Words flash into my mind for the hundredth time after the fight, words belonging to Gerard Argent. I'd rather never think of the bastard, but what he said feels like it's true.

"Scott, don't. You know that he's gonna kill me right after. He'll be an Alpha." I plead. Scott doesn't listen. He walks towards me determinedly, and Sarah yells, "Scott stop!" She tries to run towards us but the kanima throws Allison to the ground and grabs Sarah's throat instead.

My own death doesn't scare me more than that monster's hand around Sarah's throat. She isn't giving up, though. My brave, strong woman. My heavenly fire, she isn't giving up even in the face of imminent death.

"That's true... But I think he already knows that, don't you, Scott?" Gerard says, smirking. "He knows that the ultimate prize is Allison. Do this small task for me, and they can be together."

Sarah looks at her brother with disbelief, her eyes slowly flood with tears. "Scott...don't." She chokes. But her brother doesn't stop. He walks towards me, and I've never imagined a day where I'm afraid of Scott. But today is that day.

"Scott if anything happens to Derek, I'll never forgive you!" Sarah shouts, tears streaming down her beautiful face.

I try to reach for her, but can't. Listening to my name from her mouth feels like a declaration of love, and the fact that she's willing to go against her own brother for me makes me feel more loved than I have ever been. But it also makes me feel shameful. She's going against her brother for me.

Scott gives her a pleading look before sinking his claws in my neck. I groan in pain as he hauls me up.

"How very touching," Gerard says, looking at Sarah with malice. "You are the only piece that doesn't fit, Derek. And, in case you haven't learned yet, there is just no competing with young love." He spits at me.

Scott forces me to bite Gerard's arm and drops me to the cold ground. But I never hit it because two soft yet strong arms wrap around me, cushioning my fall. I collapse in Sarah's arms, resting my head on her shoulder. Sarah holds me tightly and whispers, "Don't worry. I'm here for you."

She is. I wrap both arms around her, inhaling her scent. She is here for me. She shouldn't be. What have I ever done to deserve her?

That's the same thought in my head as I reel out of the memory and look at her again. She stirs as if woken by the gravity of thoughts. Holding me tighter, she doesn't have to even look at me before saying, "Can't sleep?"

I pretend to be asleep, but she says, "Don't pretend. I may not be a werewolf but I can detect when you're not asleep."

"Fine," I grumble, turning to my side so that I'm spooning her now. "I can't sleep. Happy?" I kiss her shoulder and inhale her scent of vanilla and jasmine.

"Of course, I'm not 'happy'." She says, turning around to look at me. "Tell me why you're awake. You're supposed to be asleep."

"I know." I sigh, "I was watching you sleep."

"Right. And that's not creepy at all."

I laugh. "You look beautiful when you sleep. Your mouth's slightly open, and you hold me close to yourself. Of course, I'd love to see that."

Sarah blushes. Even after we've been together for months, she still blushes every time I say something romantic to her. She pulls a straight face again, and says, "Hey! You can't distract me by being romantic. Tell me, what's keeping you awake?"

"Nothing," I say, shrugging. She doesn't believe me. "I'm not stupid, Der."

"It's nothing, Sarah." I say, "Go back to sleep."

"I will once you do." She says adamantly.

Even when I don't want to, I turn my back on her, facing the other side. She hugs me from behind and says, "Tell me. What's bothering my Sourwolf?"

Stiles Fucking Stilinski. He gave me that nickname long ago and Sarah loved how mad I got because of it. So much so that even she calls me that.

I don't get mad at her when she calls me that, but still, it's obnoxious.

"Is it what Gerard said?" She asks, and my silence gives her the answer.

"Der, look at me." She says. I turn around and she kisses me. I kiss her back, pulling her on top of me. She breaks the kiss and lays her head on my chest again. I sigh contentedly.

"He was wrong when he said that," She murmurs, and I shake my head, "Was he? I think he was right. I don't fit among you guys, Sarah. I don't fit in Scott's perfect pack, not the traumatised, rude wolf, no."

Sarah doesn't say anything for a long time, and I almost think she has fallen asleep. But then she says, "Not yet."

I scoff. "You think's Scott gonna wanna want me as his ally? After we've been hating each other for months?"

"If there's anything my brother excels at, it's forgiveness." Sarah says slowly, "You may not be a part of Scott's pack, but that doesn't make you insignificant, Der."

I'm sure that she does not want to see me wallow in self-pity, but I can't help but say, "Gerard said otherwise."

"Since when do you take the old hog hag's words seriously?" She chides and I almost laugh. She's right, I shouldn't take Gerard seriously. But I cannot help it. I can't help but doubt if his words are true. Sarah would never let me believe it, but I do feel insignificant.

I turn around, and hug her. What would I do without her? When I came back to Beacon Hills, my sole purpose and focus was finding out who killed Laura, and leaving immediately after.

But then I saw two boys trudging around my house, one of them too noisy and the other wheezing from asthma. When the latter lost his inhaler, I had hoped that he wouldn't come back. I don't want anyone near my house.

But they did. And not just them this time, with them was a woman. Great, I had said to myself, I did not script in more guests. But then I saw her face, only from afar, but my breath was stolen out of my lungs. After a long time, I found myself smiling.

Sarah tries not to fall asleep, and I kiss her. She kisses me back and gives me a goofy smile. But then her face turns serious again.

"Gerard did whatever damage he could." She says grimly, "He said what he wanted to. And Derek, there are going to be people in your life who'll say some pretty mean shit to you."

"And I should rip their throat out." I say nonchalantly and she rolls her eyes, "No. How many people would you kill?" She asks me, and doesn't wait for an answer, "You know what, I actually don't wanna know."

I chuckle and she smiles at me softly.

"My point is," She says, "People talk. One day about one person, and the next day about the other. You cannot silence everyone. You cannot control what you hear, but you can control what you listen to."

I blink. That was a very heavy statement.

"Don't listen to people who don't care about you." She shrugs, "Listen to those who actually care about you."

"Like who?" I tease, stroking her thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She yawns, "I'm sleepy. Not tonight."

I laugh. As much as I would like to tear our clothes apart and bury myself inside her, she's right. Even I'm getting sleepy.

"And just because someone said something doesn't make it necessarily true." She says and kisses my cheek. "I know it's easy to talk about all of this and much more difficult to actually implement it, you have to try."

Her hair fan her face, and I stroke them away as I plant a kiss on her head. There she is. My paramour. Capable of understanding me.

I keep her hand on my heart, wishing that she'd be able to feel what I cannot say. Feel what runs through my veins, feel that every single beat of my heart calls her name.

She's right. As much as I still feel like an oddball, I feel different with Sarah. With her in my arms, I feel like I'm home. I feel that I fit in, in her company. In her arms. In her life.

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crimeronan · 3 months ago

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one further worst timeline thought: when hunter goes to find Luz, it is very much without any sort of permission. because They Don’t Know Belos Is Dead.

so lilith raine and darius’ priority list goes. like.

a) prevent total collapse of society

b) prepare some kind of defense In Case He Comes Back

c) somehow locate human realm experts who can give them even a semi-accurate sense of what Belos could even be Doing Over There

d) oh phew the healers say hunter’s going to make it. thank the titan. wait what do you mean he’s a WHAT

etc etc. as much as they love her, mounting an expedition to the human realm to find luz and probably fight her dad are like. WAY down the list.

so by the time hunter’s recovered enough to help there are still zero concrete plans to rescue luz. which. okay. fine. as usual I have to do everything around here. oh you strictly forbid me to go to the human realm by myself? well okay but I’m Gonna.

at which point amity, who would absolutely be going along were she not the single fragile tether holding Lilith and her sanity together, hands hunter a packed bag and says, shh. chill. wait for the third shift, they’ll leave you a gap in the guard at the portal.

sorry to keep worldbuilding your au for you but it Captivates me

GOD. YEAH. hard to imagine a world where hunter tracks down luz himself after recovering from near-certain death & doesn't have anyone else breathing down his neck about it, Unless he goes in secret.

i was already thinking that the reason it took him so long in the first place was because he kept getting sent back to bed & then having his room guarded to make sure he isn't gonna sneak through the portal while he's still, like.... so messed-up from whatever belos did that he can barely stand up straight.

(darius is behind this dastardly conspiracy. he is right for this.)

hunter spends At Least a week snarling "don't TELL ME WHAT TO DO, i OUTRANK ALL OF YOU" while lilith is like "i.... am not sure that's technically true anymore....?" and darius is like "even if it is, consider this a coup. cope and seethe about it, kid."

so eventually hunter decides his best tactic is to play nice and pretend he's definitely not plotting. while plotting. so much plotting.

LOVE the idea of amity conspiring with him. love thinking about the conversations leading up to her deciding the situation is drastic enough to pack him a bag.

like. her having a Pretty Clear Idea of how bad the circumstances are, given the whole Hunter Almost Fucking Died thing, but she's still like, "do you think he'd badly hurt her?? she's human, he knows she's fragile-"

and hunter is like. "he doesn't have anyone ELSE to hurt now, does he??"

amity promises a slew of lilith-related favors to the guys on third shift & stuffs a truly impractical number of weapons in the bag alongside some clothes n rations. and she's like "listen. don't fight the emperor. don't even Think about fighting the emperor. just sneak in to wherever he's keeping luz and get her Out. okay??"

hunter is like yeah okay. sure. i owe you forever. amity is like uh huh. but if anybody asks, i had Nothing to do with this. especially if the person asking is lilith. or darius. cool??

great!! go save luz.

#replies #toh #princess luz au #princess luz au worst timeline #horrible mindscape trauma pals #and who is that other witch #hunter toh #amity blight #darius deamonne #abuse #child abuse

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kim-jongin-s · 4 months ago

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svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, wonchan + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"after dinner". oneshot, 1k. nc-17.

“This,” Jeonghan says, unbuttoning the front of Seungcheol’s fancy black shirt, “is mine.” He grabs the collar and strips it off Seungcheol’s arms. “Mine,” Jeonghan repeats, and takes the hem of the t-shirt, lifting, and Seungcheol can’t think to do anything but obediently raise his hands in surrender, and let it come off too.

"he saw the lightning in the east and longed for it". royalty!au, omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 5k. r.

The king is old, Jeonghan is his favorite omega, and Alpha Choi Seungcheol is a rebel.

""the incident" (or, an ordinary thursday night)". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

An ordinary Thursday night before another full day of practice really isn't the best time for Seungcheol and Jeonghan to start being reckless. Oh well.

"delicate". omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. oneshot, 8k. nc-17 (pls check the tags).

Licking his lips, the taste of his boyfriend fresh on his mouth, he asked, “And how do you deserve to be fucked?”

Jeonghan shivered in his hold, pressing closer to the warmth of the rutting alpha as he whispered, “Like I’m yours to break.”

"oh, it's automatic". oneshot, 8.6k. pg-13.

Everyone seems to have a crush on the same trainee and Jeonghan doesn’t know what the big deal is.

Until he does.

"like a dog with a bird at your door". oneshot, 13k. nc-17. ♡

Even when Seungcheol was breaking up with you, he would still want to make sure you were going to be alright.

Or: Seungcheol gets a boyfriend. Jeonghan is fine.

"everything's growing (in our garden)". college!au, mpreg. oneshot, 16.6k. pg-13.

When Jeonghan finds out that he is expecting, his world tilts on its axis. Luckily, he has Seungcheol to straighten it out.

"i'll take my steps towards you again". college roommates!au, omegaverse: alpha!sc, omega!jh. 12 chapters, 41k. nc-17. ♡

Jeonghan is in college pretending to be an alpha, per his father's demands. His secret doesn't last long when his roommate—and family friend—Seungcheol gets added to the mix.

"espionage". spy!au. 7 chapters, 73k. r. ♡

When Choi Seungcheol is promised one last mission as an exchange for a simpler life, he agrees easily. What he doesn’t expect is to be paired with Yoon Jeonghan, a well known, charming agent with an unexpected hatred for Seungcheol.

The task is easy—pose as a happily married couple in the middle of the suburbs.

"wrong side of the tracks". gang!au. 24 chapters, 160k. nc-17. ♡

Jeonghan doesn't like serving drinks in the sketchiest part of town but the pay's good and a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. When Seungcheol walks in and immediately becomes smitten, he takes one look at him and decides that he isn't worth his time.

It's funny how quickly your mind changes when someone saves your life...

MINWON

"heatsick". omegaverse: omega!ww, alpha!mg. oneshot, 14.5k. nc-17. ♡

Wonwoo collapses in the middle of dance practice and is rushed to the hospital. He’s heatsick—a common side effect of prolonged use of heat suppressants and scent blockers. Seventeen has two options. Hire a comfort alpha, or:

“I’ll do it,” Mingyu burst out. “Let me do it.”

"achieving escape velocity". high school!au, omegaverse: omega teacher!ww, alpha student!mg. 22 chapters, 105k. nc-17. ♡♡

Wonwoo finds himself drawn into Mingyu's orbit and unable to break free of the alpha's charms. There's a joke about escape velocity somewhere here, but Wonwoo is too busy sneaking around with his student to formulate one.

WONCHAN

"baby said". college!au. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

Wonwoo is forced to go to a party with friends who seem to not care about his well-being. What he isn’t planning on is having sex with the hot dancer that approaches him and tells him to shut up. It may be the best night of his life, he quickly realizes.

"in a spring way". au, single dad!ww. oneshot, 10k. pg-13.

Wonwoo's heart been safely locked inside his chest for six years. A new chance at love is not what he expects when he signs his daughter up for dance lessons, even less for her teacher to be the one to make him start looking for the key.

OTHER

"weak at your will". gyucheol. omegaverse: alpha!sc, alpha!mg. oneshot, 8k. nc-17.

He nods along to something the pretty omega whispers in his ears but his eyes, they don’t leave Mingyu even for a brief second. What Mingyu has to do so he isn't crushed under this presence? His fingers close around his glass until his knuckles turn white. He looks away in hopes of not buckling under.

↳ "in your embrace, i find me". minwoncheol. omegaverse: alpha!sc, alpha!mg, beta!ww. oneshot, 13k. nc-17.

When there's an emergency, Mingyu struggles to be the grounding force to his pack. He seeks for any guidance to find himself for the sake of his pack, to become a better leader to them. Then he finds what he is looking for where he doesn't expect to.

"buckle up, buttercup". seoksoon. zombie apocalypse!au. oneshot, 15k. nc-17.

It was carnal, glory, a celebration of the lives they still got to live even after looking death straight in its five thousand faces, and Soonyoung revelled in the shockwaves, would be quite content to drown if it was with Seokmin’s lips at his neck.

"a matter of heart and soul". booseoksoon. theater!au. 3 chapters, 43k. nc-17.

Seokmin and Seungkwan are cast as love interests for a musical film, and clash from the start. Seokmin has his sights set on their choreographer—but Seungkwan does too.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fic recs #svt fanfic #svt ff #svt fic #jeongcheol #minwon #meanie #wonchan #booseoksoon #gyucheol #seoksoon #ot3 #fic rec

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jatpfanfics · 7 months ago

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Echoes of the Heart (A Juke lovestory)

Summary: Luke Patterson, a rising star in the music scene, grapples with his feelings for his childhood best friend, Julie. Despite his fear of commitment, Luke's love for Julie is undeniable. However, when Julie shows interest in someone else, Luke must confront his feelings before it's too late. Will he risk it all for love, or will his fear drive them apart? Follow their journey of friendship, love, and music.

Chapter 1 - The Night We (almost)Owned

22 January, 2020

Luke leaned against the cold concrete wall, the thumping bass from the stage reverberating through his body and his chest still heaving from the encounter he just had. Even though he's outside he can feel the wall slightly thumping from the bass inside.

"Thank you sweetheart. You just blessed me with some good luck before my show." He says showing off his perfect pearly whites as he is getting ready to leave this scene.

The groupie, her eyes still glazed with desire, sidled up to him, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Leaving so soon, Luke?" she purred, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt.

Luke flashed her a charming grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, duty calls. Can't keep the fans waiting."

The groupie pouted, her lower lip jutting out in a playful pout. "But I thought we were having fun, Luke. Don't you want to stay and play a little longer?"

"I'm good sweetheart. This is kinda my thing, I don't do well on the whole commitment thing" He says shooting her a wink.

"Yeah, yeah, you always say that," she said smugly. "But then you also always come back around. That's some kind of commitment isn't it."

The sound of her smugness slightly annoyed him. He didn't like her thinking she had some sort of power over him. She could never. That was reserved for one person only. The one person that had Luke's heart in a chokehold. Luke felt a sharp pang in his chest thinking about the last time he saw her.

_________

20 January, 2020

The moon cast a soft glow through Julie's bedroom window as Luke slipped through the shadows, his heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and relief. He had been here countless times before, seeking refuge from the storm that raged within his own home. As he reached Julie's window, he tapped lightly on the glass, the sound barely audible over the distant hum of the city. Julie's face appeared in the window, her expression calm and understanding. She didn't even need to ask what he was doing here; it was routine for them. Without a word, she swung the window open, allowing Luke to slip into the room.

He didn't waste any time in crossing the room and collapsing onto Julie's bed, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. Julie followed, closing the window behind her before sitting down beside him. There was a familiarity in their movements, a silent understanding that had been forged through countless nights like this one.

"Rough night?" Julie asked softly, her voice a gentle reassurance in the darkness.

Luke nodded, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he struggled to put his feelings into words. "I just...I don't know what to do anymore, Jules. It's like no matter what I do, it's never good enough for them. They just don't understand why music means so much to me. It's the only thing I'm actually good at."

Luke gets up to make his way to Julie's dresser to retrieve his sleepwear. He opened the bottom drawer and rummaged around for a moment before finding his shorts neatly folded at the back.

"You know, Luke, you don't have to keep pretending like everything's okay with your parents. It's okay to admit that you're struggling."

Luke paused mid-motion, his gaze meeting Julie's in the dim light of the room. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that made his heart ache, a tenderness that he couldn't help but be drawn to.

"I know, Jules," he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But it's easier to just pretend like everything's fine, you know? It's easier than facing the truth." Julie nodded in understanding.

With practiced ease, Luke peeled off his shirt, revealing the smooth lines of his toned physique. Julie's eyes flicked over to him, her gaze lingering on his bare chest for just a moment longer than necessary. She quickly averted her eyes, cheeks flushing with a faint pink hue, even though she was definitely already familiar with the sight. This was routine for them, after all.

Luke caught the subtle shift in her demeanor and couldn't help but smirk, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Like what you see, Jules?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Julie's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as she hastily returned her attention to her book, hoping to hide her embarrassment. "Shut up, Luke," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luke chuckled softly as he pulled on his shorts, the fabric hanging loosely around his hips. "You know you love it," he teased, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her further.

"And you know you love being the little spoon" Julie fires back while sticking her tongue out.

Luke chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he settled onto the bed beside Julie. "You know it," he replied, flashing her a playful grin.

Julie rolled her eyes, but a fond smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Luke scooted closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his embrace. "Come on, Jules, you know you love being the big spoon," he teased, nuzzling into her neck.

Julie laughed, her heart swelling with warmth at the familiar banter between them. "Only because you hog all the blankets," she retorted, leaning back into his embrace.

They settled onto the bed together, Julie's warmth enveloping him like a cocoon as they snuggled close, seeking solace in each other's presence. It was a familiar ritual, one they had shared countless times before.

They lay there together in comfortable silence, the soft rhythm of their breathing filling the room. In moments like these, surrounded by the warmth of each other's presence, they felt like nothing could touch them

_______________________

22 January, 2020

As the memory of their intimate moment faded into the recesses of Luke's mind, he blinked back to the present. With a forced chuckle, Luke gently extricated himself from the groupie's grasp and headed toward the venue, leaving her behind with nothing but a lingering memory of their brief encounter.

"I'll see you around Patterson" Is all he heard before he entered the venue. He pushed open the door, the thumping bass sending a jolt of electricity through his veins. The stage was their sanctuary, their domain where they reigned supreme. The neon lights of the venue flickered and danced in the night as Luke made his way through the entrance. The familiar buzz of excitement pulsed through the air, mingling with the distant hum of the crowd inside.

As he made it backstage Reggie and Alex looked up from where they were tuning their instruments, their expressions a mixture of relief and concern.

"Luke, where the hell have you been?"

Reggie's voice carried a hint of exasperation as he eyed his bandmate. Luke flashed them a winning grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Oh, you know, just tying up some loose ends. Nothing to worry about." Alex raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone.

"Tying up loose ends? Is that what you call it now?"

Luke chuckled, his laughter ringing out in the dimly lit corridor. "Hey, a man's gotta have his goodluck charm, right?"

Reggie shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. Alex rolled his eyes "I hardly think your disgusting alley way hookup is gonna be the reason we kill this show."

Luke waved off their concerns with a dismissive gesture. "Relax, guys. I'm here, aren't I? And besides, I always deliver when it counts."

______________________________

As Luke stepped into the spotlight, the roar of the crowd washed over him like a tidal wave. With a smirk, he launched into the first chords, his fingers dancing across the strings with practiced ease.

This was where he belonged, in the heart of the chaos, where the music flowed like a river of fire. And as he sang, the lyrics pouring from his lips like molten gold, Luke felt alive in a way he never had before.

Luke shredded through the final chorus of their latest hit, the crowd erupting into cheers, their voices blending with the pounding rhythm of the drums. Sweat dripped from his brow as he grinned, adrenaline coursing through his veins like wildfire. This was the high he lived for-the raw energy of a live performance, the intoxicating rush of being on stage.

With a flourish, Luke tossed his guitar pick into the crowd, a gesture that sent the audience into a frenzy. He soaked in their adulation, reveling in the momentary fame that came with being the frontman of a rock band.

But as the lights dimmed and the band made their way off stage, Luke's thoughts turned to the real reason he was here-the music. It was his passion, his obsession, the one thing that consumed his every waking moment. Everything else-the parties, the girls, the fleeting fame-was just a distraction, a temporary fix to numb the ache in his soul.

As the band members made their way backstage, their adrenaline still coursing through their veins, they exchanged excited chatter and high-fives.

"That was insane!" Luke exclaimed, his eyes shining with exhilaration. " The energy in the room was off the chains tonight!"

Reggie grinned, his usual playful demeanor in full swing. "Yeah, especially when you whipped out that guitar solo, Luke! You had them eating out of the palm of your hand!"

Alex rolled his eyes, his sarcasm dripping like venom. "Oh yeah, because we all know how much Luke loves being the center of attention."

Luke chuckled, unfazed by Alex's barb. "Hey, someone's gotta be the face of the band, right?"

Alex shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Patterson."

Beneath the banter, there was an unspoken bond that tied them together-a bond forged through countless late-night jam sessions and the shared dream of making it big. Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude for the bandmates who had become like family to him. They may not always see eye to eye, but when it came down to it, they had each other's backs no matter what.

______________________

The boys gathered in the garage studio, the familiar scent of stale beer hanging heavy in the air. Reggie and Alex sat on the worn-out couch, their guitars resting against their knees, while Luke paced back and forth, his mind still buzzing from the adrenaline of the show.

"Man, that was crazy!" Reggie exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "Did you see the way the crowd went wild when you threw them your pick?"

Luke flashed him a grin, his chest swelling with pride. "Yeah, they were eating it up, weren't they? It's like they couldn't get enough of us."

Alex nodded in agreement, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, it's like we're unstoppable or something. We're gonna be selling out stadiums before you know it."

However amidst the excitement of the successful show, there was a noticeable absence-the absence of Julie, who was usually a fixture at their gigs. Reggie and Alex exchanged a knowing glance, silently communicating their concern.

"Hey, where's Julie?" Alex asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "She's usually always here to support us. I don't think I've ever seen her miss a show."

Luke's smile faltered slightly, a flicker of unease crossing his features. "Oh, she had some stuff to take care of tonight. Nothing important."

Reggie raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident in his tone. "Really? 'Cause it seems kinda strange for her to miss out on a show like this. You sure everything's okay?"

Luke shrugged, attempting to brush off their concern. "Yeah, everything's fine. She's probably just busy with school or something. You know how it is."

But Reggie and Alex weren't convinced. They knew how close Luke and Julie were, how they were practically inseparable both on and off stage. Something didn't add up, and they weren't about to let it slide.

"Come on, Luke," Reggie pressed, his voice tinged with frustration. "You can't expect us to believe that. You and Julie are practically joined at the hip. What's really going on?"

Luke's jaw tensed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Look, it's none of your business, okay? Julie probably had her reasons for not being here tonight, and that's all you need to know."

Reggie shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "When are you gonna drop the act like you don't like each other anyways? It's obvious to everyone that there's something more going on between you two."

Luke's annoyance flared into anger, his fists clenched at his sides. "I said it's none of your damn business, Reggie. So just drop it, okay?"

But Reggie and Alex weren't about to let it go. They knew that where there was smoke, there was fire, and they were determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on between Luke and Julie, even if it meant prying it out of him one painful word at a time.

__________________________________________

20 January, 2020

Luke and Julie lay tangled together on the bed. Their bodies molded perfectly against each other, fitting like pieces of a puzzle as they sought comfort in each other's arms.

Julie nestled her head against Luke's chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She felt a sense of peace wash over her, a feeling of contentment that only came when she was wrapped up in his embrace.

Luke sighed contentedly, his arms wrapped protectively around Julie as he held her close. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

They lay there in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of their breathing as they basked in the warmth of each other's presence. It was a moment of pure bliss, a fleeting glimpse of happiness in a world filled with chaos and uncertainty.

Julie hesitated for a moment, her fingers tracing patterns on Luke's chest as she gathered her courage to speak. "Luke," she began, her voice soft but determined, "we need to talk."

Luke tensed at her words, a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he braced himself for what was to come. He knew all too well what she wanted to discuss, but he wasn't sure he was ready to face it.

"About what?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he avoided her gaze, unable to meet her eyes.

Julie sighed, her expression tinged with frustration as she searched for the right words. "About us, Luke," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "About what's been going on between us."

Luke's heart clenched at her words, the fear and uncertainty rising like a tidal wave within him. He knew he couldn't keep avoiding the truth forever, but the thought of confronting his feelings for Julie filled him with a sense of overwhelming dread.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jules," he muttered, his voice barely audible as he turned away from her, unable to face the truth that lingered between them.

Julie's eyes filled with tears as she reached out to him, her hand trembling as she brushed his cheek gently. "Luke, please," she pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion. "We can't keep pretending like this anymore. I know you feel it too." Luke's heart ached at her words, the weight of his own denial pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth, to confess his love for her and lay bare his soul.

Julie took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "I... I love being here with you, Luke. I love being able to be there for you, to comfort you when things get tough. And I always will," she said softly, her words tinged with emotion.

Luke's heart swelled with affection for her, his fingers gently stroking her hair as he listened intently.

"But," Julie continued, her voice trembling slightly, "if you can't commit to me, if you can't give me what I need... I need to put some distance between us."

Luke's heart sank at her words, the weight of them settling heavily on his chest. He knew deep down that he had been hurting her, that his inability to commit had been taking its toll on their relationship.

"I-I understand, Julie," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I-I never meant to hurt you. I just... I don't know if I can give you what you need."

Julie's eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him, her heart breaking with each word he spoke. "I know, Luke," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the sound of their breathing. "And I-I don't blame you. But... but I can't keep doing this anymore. It's killing me to see you with someone else every week and then have you come back to me like this."

Luke's heart clenched at her words, the realization of what he had been putting her through hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had always known that he was hurting her, but hearing her say it out loud made it all too real.

"I'm so sorry, Julie," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion as he held her close, his arms aching with the need to protect her from the pain he had caused. "I-I don't know what to do."

Julie shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she buried her face in his chest, seeking solace in his embrace. "I don't either, Luke," she admitted, her voice muffled against his skin. "But... but I can't keep pretending like this anymore. I need to do what's best for me, even if it hurts."

Luke listened to Julie's words, his heart heavy with the weight of her pain. He knew he had pushed her away time and time again, too afraid to confront his own feelings and too blinded by his own fears to see the hurt he was causing her. And with that, they held each other in silence, their hearts heavy with the weight of their unspoken words. Even though neither of them said it, they both knew this would be the last time finding comfort in eachothers arms like this.

_________________________________________

22 January, 2020

Alex leaned forward, his expression serious as he met Luke's gaze. "We're just worried about you, man," he said quietly. "You've been acting kind of... off lately. And Julie's been MIA for the past couple of days. You two have a fight or something?"

Luke's jaw tensed, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He knew he couldn't tell them the truth, couldn't admit that Julie had walked away from him because he couldn't give her what she needed.

"We just... had some stuff to work out," he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "It's nothing you guys need to worry about."

Reggie raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Come on, Luke," he pressed, his tone gentle but insistent. "You know you can talk to us, right? We're your bandmates, but more than that, we're your brothers. We just want to help."

Luke's chest tightened at Reggie's words, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a lead weight. He knew he should tell them the truth, should confide in them about what had happened between him and Julie. But the fear of exposing his vulnerabilities, of admitting that he had failed her, held him back.

"I appreciate the concern, guys," he said finally, his voice strained with emotion. "But I think I just need some time to sort things out on my own."

Reggie and Alex exchanged a glance, their concern evident in their eyes. But they knew better than to push him further. They had always respected Luke's boundaries, had always been there for him when he needed them. And even though they couldn't fix whatever was going on between him and Julie, they could offer him their support, their friendship, and their unwavering loyalty.

As Luke turned away, his thoughts drifting back to the night he and Julie had shared that intimate moment, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. It had been two nights since he had seen her, two nights since they had laid their hearts bare and faced the truth of their feelings. And in that time, she had been avoiding him, avoiding the pain of their relationship that would never be.

He had tried to reach out to her, had called and texted her countless times, but she had ignored his attempts at reconciliation, leaving him to wallow in his own guilt and self-pity. Luke's reasoning for being afraid of commitment stems from a deep-seated fear of losing Julie, the one constant in his tumultuous life. Despite his love for her, Luke has always struggled with maintaining romantic relationships, preferring the freedom and unpredictability of his rockstar lifestyle. For Luke, music is everything-it's his passion, his purpose, his escape from the chaos of his troubled home life.

Julie, however, occupies a unique space in Luke's heart. She's not just another girl he's infatuated with; she's his rock, his anchor, his best friend since childhood. They've weathered countless storms together, supporting each other through the darkest of times. From Julie's grief over losing her mother to Luke's own struggles with family turmoil, they've leaned on each other for strength and solace.

Luke can't imagine his life without Julie by his side. She's been there for him through thick and thin, offering unwavering loyalty and unconditional love. The thought of risking their friendship by pursuing a romantic relationship terrifies him, especially considering his track record of failed romances. Despite his intense feelings for Julie, Luke fears that committing to her romantically would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment. He's seen firsthand how relationships can crumble under the weight of expectation and responsibility, and he's not willing to risk losing Julie's friendship for a fleeting chance at love.

In Luke's eyes, Julie is worth more than any fleeting romance. She's his soulmate, his confidante, his everything. And while he longs to be with her in every sense of the word, he's paralyzed by the fear of ruining what they already have. So he continues to push her away, keeping her at arm's length to protect both their hearts from potential pain. However now, as he stood in the garage studio surrounded by his bandmates, he couldn't help but feel a sense of loneliness creeping in, a sense of emptiness that threatened to consume him whole.

But he couldn't let them see his pain, couldn't let them see the cracks in his facade. So he plastered on a fake smile, pushed down his emotions, and buried himself in the familiar rhythms of their music, hoping that one day, he would find a way to mend the broken pieces of his heart and make things right with the girl he loved.

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Let me know If you liked it and if you would like a second chapter!

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