#they would be straight up taking the bathroom door off its hinges so they can repeatedly walk in and out while you're trying to take a shit

[the-moogle-of-your-nightmares]

living with people who Walk Extremely Fast while needing time alone in the shared house spaces to do your basic selfcare/starting-the-day routines + having Trauma around being seen even fucking existing in shared spaces, including a long-ongoing and hefty dose of it from said people themselves, is a living hell actually. especially when they insist on constantly leaving doors wide open that would normally mitigate the house being a fucking panopticon and also give you like two seconds' warning that they're entering the space so you can brace yourself or leave. Hate

[drabblesandimagines]

Dove (part nine)

Leon Kennedy x female reader (bodyguard trope, slowest, slow burn I swear, a few swears in this one) Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight.

The click of the lock – unsure how your ears even picked up on it at all with the ghost of the alarm still screeching around your skull – makes your stomach churn as Leon heads out into the garage, off to face the unknown.

What if it’s one of those… those Lickers, stalking around the house, waiting to wrap him up in one those awful tongues, fling his body from side to side?

Fuck, your chest feels impossibly tight, like there isn’t even space in there to take a deep enough breath. You squeeze your eyes shut, sitting upright on the sofa, forcing yourself to count - in, hold, out. In, hold, out. In, hold out… If those things are out there, you try and placate – your breathing steadier than it was but heart still pounding furiously - Leon can handle it. He’d said so himself that he had a lot of experience so that must count for something, otherwise he'd more cautious and less cocky when he’d strode out the door.

He is coming back – you repeat it in your head like a prayer, maybe if you say it enough times it’ll make it true.

You two had been about to kiss. He needs to come back.

--

Leon heads straight to the trunk of the SUV to rummage through the duffel bag that he’d stored there the previous day. You’d been polite enough not to remark on why it had been accompanying him to the bathroom and out on his perimeter checks, but it could only go on so long without being commented upon. It seemed a good compromise to leave it locked in the trunk, whilst still having enough on his person to get by. He helps himself to a couple more rounds, two flash grenades and two straight up grenades, though he sincerely hopes he won’t be dealing any of those out so close to the house. Attaching everything to his utility belt, he takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. His heartrate is elevated, adrenaline pulsing through his veins from a combination of the alarm, what might be waiting for him behind the garage doors… ..and the fact that he was a millisecond away from kissing you.

Need to address that later.

He won’t have the chance to if he doesn’t get his head on straight, though. He checks his ammo one last time, clicks the safety off and undoes the padlock on the garage door, lifting it up so fast it bounces off its hinges as he tucks himself to the side, preparing for an ambush.

Nothing but a strong gust of wind.

He walks forward, slowly, gun raised, and sidesteps out, keeping his back pressed against the outer wall. It’s a fraction different being in a rural setting, surrounded by fields than it is to be in the depths of an underground facility, not worrying about being so exposed. No-one else here to have his back, so this’ll have to do.

He edges around slowly, trying to keep his ears peeled for any movement above the wind – a heavy footstep, maybe a tile slipping from the roof – but there’s nothing but the rustle of the trees as the wind wooshes through. He keeps his eyes flickering between the horizon, the sky and the ground for any evidence that there was someone or something close enough that would trigger the motion detectors, but nothing is to be found.

Leon circles the perimeter two more times before retreating back into the garage and viewing the footage, trying to pinpoint the exact alarm that was triggered, though it doesn’t seem to be obvious. There’s nothing at all to be seen as he thoroughly watches each of the feeds, checking that there wasn’t some dark flash in the corner of one of something or someone retreating out of shot, but it all comes up blank.

Maybe the alarm was divine intervention, he muses, pulling the garage door back down and securing the padlock. He really shouldn’t be kissing the witness, should he?

His phone rings – Hunnigan. Of course, she’ll be keen for an update.

“Hi. Look, I haven’t forgotten,” he starts, hoping to deflect from a lecture. “Dove’s just got up, so-“

“Great.” Though she doesn’t sound sincere. “Patch me through to your laptop, we can have a video call and I can ask her myself.”

“Oh. Er…” He hesitates, trying to drum up an excuse. “Surely you’ve got a lot of other pressing matters on your plate than this. I’ll ask her now and then I’ll email through the intel, if there’s any.”

“Leon,” her tone is stern, “may I remind you that I’m the handler of this case and it is my right to speak to Dove if I want.” There’s a pause and Leon realizes a moment too late that that was his moment to placate her. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, of course not!” He sighs, frustration creeping into his voice. He knows it’s not professional, that he needs to keep his emotions in check, but it’s all starting to bubble over with the accusation. He can’t just waltz back in the living room, declare the perimeter is clear, shrug off the near-kiss and shove you on a video call with Hunnigan – it’d be emotional whiplash.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not hiding anything from you, you know me better than that. I just… I haven’t had chance to give Dove the last update yet, and I don’t want her to know about the CCTV hack.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think she needs to know.” “You don’t thi…? Agent Kennedy,” he knows he’s in trouble now – he can picture her rubbing her temples as she thinks how to handle this. “You’re aware I was the one who chose you for this assignment, and I can quite easily choose another agent and reassign you if you refuse to co-operate with myself and HQ.” “I am co-operating! And you know what, Hunnigan? You should trust me. I’ve never given you any reason to doubt that.” He huffs back. “I’ve been where Dove is, okay? She’s still shaken up, she’s fragile. I’ll tell her what she absolutely needs to know, but I don’t want to tell her things that will just pointlessly scare her.” “Oh, come on, you don’t want to scare her? You’ve been in that house barely 36 hours together and you sound like an overprotective boyfriend.” “I don’t.” He near enough growls at the accusation.

“You do – you’ve never made me chase you so much to get information from previous witnesses. Why do you care about her so much?”

“No, hold up - those fucks were not witnesses. All they cared about was avoiding Umbrella’s wrath, not wanting to fall victim to the fucking monstrosities they helped create. Dove was just trying to do her job, to try and keep the public safe – like we are – and look where it got her. She’s injured, in pain, locked up in the middle of nowhere, worried about being suspected of being involved, we just had the security alarm go off and-“

“Wait. Alarm?” He’s used to her typing whilst he’s on the phone, but this time it sounds a little more frantic. “What alarm?”

He exhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine. I’ve just checked. Nothing to suggest anyone or anything’s been close. Must’ve been the wind – pretty gusty here today.”

“No, it’s just…” She trails off and Leon can hear her attack the backspace key. “We have it set so FSOs are alerted when an alarm system at any of the safe houses trigger. When did this happen?”

“About 30, maybe 40 minutes ago?  I’ve done the perimeter four times, it’s clear. I’ll review the footage when I’m back inside.”

The typing ceases. “There’s nothing in any of the logs.”

“That a problem?”

“It’s set up to trigger a notification so we can get in touch with whoever we have out on security detail and check in. I should’ve got something.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as if she could see, “maybe it’s glitched.”

“Maybe…” She trails off, scanning the information on the screen once more. “Okay, fine – a compromise. Go and speak to Dove, quickly tell her what you want to tell her and then video call me on the laptop so I can ask about the servers.”

“And you won’t tell her about the CCTV?”

Hunnigan sighs. “No, I won’t tell her about the CCTV. 10 minutes, understood, Agent Kennedy?”

He takes another deep breath, he’s mad at himself, irritated with the situation and the fact he’s on thin ice after that outburst, that’s for sure.

“Yes, ma’am.”

--

The garage door unlocks and you jump to your feet, bracing yourself. There’s no denying the relief when you see Leon step back in, physically unharmed. You want to run over, to embrace him, but you stay glued to the spot.

“All clear, Dove. False alarm.” He offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile but he can’t quite commit, quickly turning to lock the door behind him.

“Really?” You don’t mean to sound quite so skeptical.

“Mm-hm. I think the wind must’ve just hit the sensor a certain way.” He turns back, but doesn’t make to step forward. “Sorry I was gone a while – wanted to be thorough, you know? And then Hunnigan called just as I was going to come back in.”

“Oh, with updates?” You don’t know what you’d like to hear.

“Kinda.” He hesitates for a moment before moving towards the kitchen. “Sit down – I’ll grab some water, okay?”

He clocks the panicked look on your face, even more so than it was when he’d left the room. Good going, Kennedy. “It’s nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“Okay. Sure.” You mumble, sitting back down heavily on the couch and picking a spot on the coffee table to stare at as you hear him busy himself in the kitchen. He appears a few moments later, a glass of water in each hand and his laptop tucked under his arm. He places one glass down carefully in front of you and moves to sit on the other couch.

The distance feels too great for a man you swore was a millisecond away from kissing you not even an hour ago. Are there CCTV cameras in the house? Maybe Hunnigan had seen what was about to happen before the alarm had gone off and Leon’s getting reassigned. If he can’t know your real name, he really shouldn’t be kissing you either, should he?

“So, first of all,” your attention snaps back to agent. He’s opened his laptop up, placed it on the coffee table, and sat right on the very edge of the other sofa that it doesn’t look like it could be comfortable, “the President wanted the surveillance department back up and running as soon as possible. A lot of manpower has been dispersed to assist.”

“That makes sense - national security and that.” You wonder if they’re in the same office, sat in your colleagues’ chairs. Did they just… steam clean the carpets to get out the blood? Rip them out entirely and lay down rugs to cover the concrete floor?

They should burn the whole building down to the ground.

“In a way, but they are still working on tracking down the perpetrators of the attack. It also means that Hunnigan’s not been able to send a team to your place as yet.”

“So, I’m still a potential suspect?”

“Not to me.” He replies, firmly. “But I’m afraid it’s still something that needs done. In the meanwhile, er, she wants to know if you remember anything about the servers, specifically how they operated.”

You shake your head. “Not anything technical.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, just they’re struggling to regain access and, well…” He looks at you, sympathetically.

“I’m the only one left to ask.”

“Mm.” Leon looks down at the laptop then, a few taps and clicks as he seems to set something up. “Hunnigan would like to talk with you – pretty urgently – so I said we’d call after I’ve given you the updates. You ready?”

Leon spins round the laptop before you even had chance to respond, an outward call already ringing, the camera on and showing your rather surprised expression in a box to the right of the screen. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he hung up with Hunnigan – he’d wasted a few precious minutes putting the grenades and ammo back in the duffel bag in the SUV.

“Dove,” Hunnigan’s voice comes through the speakers first before her video appears on the screen. “How are you doing?”

“Okay. Thank you.” You shuffle in your seat as Leon gets up and circles round to the back of the sofa you’re sat on, crouching down to check the angle. “How are you?”

“Good - thank you for asking.” There’s an awkward pause, you can see her purse her lips before she pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose before continuing. “Agent Kennedy, you are not required for this call.”

“Understood, ma’am.” He can’t help himself still, apparently. “I’ll go just shower, then, if I’m not required.”

“Good idea,” Hunnigan bites back. “Go cool off.”

You shift slightly in your seat, not sure how to deal with the tension between the two. What had been said in that call? In the little box to the right hand of the screen, you can see Leon raise a hand, almost as if he was going to reach out to squeeze your shoulder. Instead he drops his hand into a fist, bounces it off the back of the couch twice and strides out of shot towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Dove - the servers.” Hunnigan’s tone has changed – lighter, now she’s talking to you, and she’s typing along with every word. “What can you tell me about them?”

“Erm… Just everything that I told Leon for his report already, I think. All the active cases are stored on there – it distributes them randomly to operatives every morning via the terminals. I already have some pre-allocated when I log in – it must do them at some point in the night.”

“And the end of the day?”

You shake your head. “Nothing particularly different at the end of the day that we need to do. It saves periodically on the server as you update cases. Nothing’s saved on the terminals themselves – it would be a security risk.”

“And did they ever talk about the security embedded into the server itself?”

You hear the shower switch on from the bathroom, wonder if Leon will be using the same shampoo and conditioner… “Dove?” “Er, no. Not that I can recall being told.”

“I mentioned there was a breach on the database when we first met.”

“Yeah.” You swallow around the lump in your throat, wondering what she’s about to reveal. “Did they extract all the information, then?”

“They got nothing.” She sounds disappointed.  

“But that’s good, isn’t it? It’s a lot of information, personal information too. You wouldn’t want that getting out into the wrong hands.”

“Mm, not entirely. The server wiped itself in result of the attempt.”

That doesn’t sound right. “Wiped itself?”

“Apparently”, she sounds skeptical. “it’s protocol.”

“No. I mean…” You shuffle in your seat, trying to think ahead of each word before you say it. “I honestly don’t know what it was meant to do in that scenario, but it doesn’t seem right that they’d set it up to wipe without any sort of recovery method, or a separate back-up in the event of a hack or a breach.”

“We’re of the same opinion, then.” She nods, a satisfied smile on her lips. “But I’m curious as to why you’re so sure.”

“Because some of the surveillance has been going on for months, occasionally even a year before enough intel is gathered to be escalated.” Sometimes you’d had to scroll through pages and pages of notes to get yourself up to speed before you even started analyzing the most recent intel.

“What do you mean by escalated?”

“Well, the surveillance team doesn’t act on anything – we’re just collating it as evidence for action then to be taken if deemed appropriate.”

“Do you decide that?”

“I don’t have the final say in it, but I write advisories.”

“How so?”

“Erm, like, this one was flagged up erroneously so it should be closed. This one is of interest, but not enough to act on, ongoing surveillance required. And then any more than that, I flag for review for the senior analysts.”

The shower shuts off.

“And they worked in the same building.”

 Worked.

“Yes.” You press past the thought. “I don’t see why they would risk losing everything without some sort of failsafe – it would set the whole operation back to day zero.”

“Indeed, as that’s where we are now. They don’t even know where to start.” Hunnigan sighs and leans forward, rubbing temples with one hand.

“If you’re cleared of suspicion of the attack and breach, how do you feel about leading the division?”

“If?” You can’t help but bristle at that, the fact that she’d put the two things in the one sentence. Were you meant to be flattered at the offer?

“Yes – if.”

“I told you, this isn’t anything to do with me. I… I passed all my security checks at interview, we get vetted monthly without fail! If there had any doubt about my loyalties I would’ve been off the team and in custody immediately.”

“No need to get defensive, Dove. You have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“No, I don’t understand.” Tears burn at your eyes, though you’re determined not to let them fall. “I don’t understand how you think I could possibly have anything to do with what happened, that somehow I acquired those… those Lickers and let them, let them…” Your breath catches in your throat, the memories overwhelming you.

The bathroom door opens, but you don’t turn, eyes fixed on the screen. “Surely you have to agree it’s suspicious that you, out of all of those people, were the only one to survive, and yet with so little injury too.”

“Hunni-“

“I don’t know!” You retort, cutting across Leon’s warning to the agent. “I don’t know why they didn’t kill me. I don’t know why they didn’t bite my head off, rip me apart limb from limb, but… but I wish they had.”

“Dove,” Leon’s voice is soft, now directed towards you rather than the laptop screen, “you don’t mean that.”

“Noted.” Hunnigan’s tone is icy. “Thank you for your time.”

There’s a beep and the call disconnects.

You get to your feet, keep your head down, trying to make a beeline for the bedroom – it’s the only place you can go – but Leon steps in front of you, holding his hands up in front of him, as if he’s afraid to touch you, smelling sweet from the strawberry bodywash.

“Hey, look at me.”

“I’m tired, Leon.” You are, truly – suddenly and inexplicably feeling exhausted. Pathetic.

“Please.”

You look up then, defeated – you’re going to have to look up eventually - but there’s no tears in your eyes. His hair is damp and he’d dressed in a hurry, patches of his white t-shirt going translucent. “What?”

“I know it’s difficult right now – and I’m not just saying that, trust me, I’ve had that feeling when you’re the only one left and you don’t know why – but please don’t say things like that.”

You stare at him, but you don’t know what he wants you to say. “Sorry.”

“No, Dove,” he sounds exasperated, “I don’t me-“

“I really am tired.”

And he believes you. He wants to wrap you in his arms, pull you close to his chest, whisper promises in your ear, press kisses to your crown – anything to bring a spark back into your eyes than the look of defeat.

What had Hunnigan said?

“No, of course. You’re recovering.” He steps aside, leaves a clear path to your bedroom. “Go have a nap or just a rest – whatever you need. I’ll make us lunch when you’re up.”

You nod, hurrying into the bedroom and closing the door behind you with a click and near enough collapse into the bed, mindful of your arm, muffling sobs into the pillow.

 --

“Why do you care about her so much?”

The words ring around Leon’s head as he lays on the sofa, one arm tucked behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. It’s been over an hour and a half since you retreated into the bedroom, an hour or so since he last heard a muffled sob behind the door. He’d had to stop himself dialing Hunnigan’s number to find out what happened – tensions were too high. Why does he care so much? You’re beautiful, sure – always been a sucker for a pretty girl and that’s got him in trouble in the past – but it’s more than that, far more.

Maybe… maybe he cares so much because he’s never really had the chance to care for someone like this. He’s not had any sort of real relationship since before Raccoon City, one night stands here and there, but nothing of any domestic substance. You’re not entirely reliant on him, but it’s those things you’d do for a partner when they’re having a rough time. He could’ve been obtuse and unhelpful, watched you struggle in a foreign environment, but that’s never been his style – the wide-eyed, rookie cop who just wanted to help was still in there.

But what was he thinking earlier, nearly kissing you? You’re vulnerable, a prisoner almost, under his watch. He shouldn’t be doing that. It’s too much of a pressured environment, emotions and tempers are high – as the blow-out with Hunnigan had made abundantly clear.

He rolls to his side, cursing the world. Why couldn’t he have met you anywhere else?

--

You wake up, disorientated at first as to why it’s so dark. You’d retreated back into bed just before midday, surely Leon would’ve woken you for your medication at least. You sit up, allowing your eyes to adjust before hauling yourself out from under the warm covers and tentatively open the door, unsure of what the hour may be.

The living room is empty, an abandoned pillow and blanket on the sofa – Leon must be out on a perimeter check – but the garage door is ever so slightly ajar.

Leon’s never done that, even when he went out to search for a chair he’d got through the same routine and locked it up tight behind him. Maybe he’s grabbing something from the SUV and with you being in bed hadn’t felt it necessary to follow his usual routine?

“Leon?” You call out, cautiously.

There’s no response.

You walk slowly over to the door, trying to steady the building panic in your stomach, and peek through.

The garage light is on. The SUV is still in place, the garage door shuttered down and Leon is on his side, his back facing towards you, almost in a crescent shape so you can’t see his head, and the garage floor is smeared in blood. His blood.

You retreat like a coward – you should go forward, check for a pulse, see if you can do anything to help, but the panic is overwhelming. You make it only a good four or five steps when there’s that horrible, unhuman sound at the same time as something wet wraps around your ankle and yanks you down hard.

A tongue.

It’s one of those things’ tongues.

You scream, try and grab purchase on the carpet, your nails ripping up fibres but it’s not enough. You kick back wildly with your other leg, all terror and no substance, but the tongue begins to retract, yanking you along with it, the carpet burning against your knees as it drags you back into the garage.

You turn to look over your shoulder, tears burning your eyes, as the monstrosity waits on the hood of the SUV, dragging you to rest besides Leon’s lifeless body.

Lifeless and headless.

You scream.

There’s a bang – not of a gunshot, but of a door hitting the wall - and you’re up right in bed, heart pounding furiously against your ribcage, hard, shallow breaths but there’s no oxygen reaching the bottom of your lungs.

“Dove?”

--

The scream had come from your room and Leon can’t remember getting from the sofa to the door he’d moved that fast, throwing it open with such ferocity that it had banged against the wall, the handle leaving a hole in the plasterboard. He had his gun raised, cursing himself already for leaving you alone, only to find the room empty of intruders and you sat up in the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks, staring blankly into the space and breathing so hard it was as if you’d been sprinting.

He holsters his gun – safety clicked back on – and is by your side, crouched down, hand on your covered legs in moments.

“Dove?” He asks, softly.

You look at him, eyes wide in alarm, panting, before you grab his hand, squeezing his fingers in the hopes of reassurance, not quite believing you’re awake. “You’re… You’re okay.”

“Me?” He raises an eyebrow.

You nod. “You were… They were… I…” You swallow back down a sob.

“Hey, it’s all right. It must’ve been a bad dream.”

“It had got you, you were… You were dead.”

You squeeze his fingers again before letting go, trying to steady your breaths. “It felt so real.”

“I know.” He wasn’t a stranger to having such dreams, despite how many years had gone by. “But it wasn’t. I’m fine, see? Not a scratch or bruise on me.”

You nod again, shakily.

He gets to his feet. “Let me get you some water, hm?”

You wrap your fingers around his wrist then. It’s not a strong grip, he could pull out of it easily, but it’s enough to still him.

“Can you stay?” You’re not looking at him, eyes fixed on a random spot of the duvet.

“I’ll only be gone a moment, just to the kitchen and back.”

Your grip tightens a little around his wrist. “Please.”

“Okay.” How could he ever say no?

You shuffle along in the bed then, making space wordlessly.

“Are you sure?”

There’s only a slight tug on his wrist before he clambers carefully onto the bed – boots and all – lying back against one of the pillows and you shuffle to lean into his side, leaving a little space. He wraps his left arm around you without thought, pulls you in closer so your head is laying on his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He begins to rub his palm on your lower back in soothing circles – mindful not to go higher with the bruising. He can feel the rate at which your heart is pounding.

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

“Can we just…?” You squeeze your eyes closed tight. “Can we just stay like this in silence for a bit? Please.”

“Of course – anything you need.”

You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on touch to calm your heartbeat - relishing the warmth of his chest on your cheek, his palm on your back and the sound of his steady heartbeat. It doesn’t take long for you to relax again in his embrace, another wave of exhaustion rolling over you from the shock.

“Dove?” He asks gently, cautiously when you’re on the precipice of sleep.

You don’t reply, the effort too great.

“What are we gonna do, huh?” He whispers, giving you a light squeeze.

You feel him press a long kiss to your crown.

--

He’s just extinguished a cigarette, but he already needs another as his associate makes a beeline across the office, a shit-eating grin on his face. Fucker shouldn’t look so happy. He bangs the packet on the table to retrieve another, lighting it and taking a deep drag as a single printed page is laid before him. He looks down – a list of addresses divided into columns that mean absolutely nothing. “What’s this shit?”

“Addresses.” His companion answers, tapping the paper enthusiastically with his every word. “But, more importantly, a list of DSO assets. As you’ll see, there are quite a few of them, all dotted around the States.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, waiting for him to continue. “And I happen to know some of these are designated safe houses - equipped with state-of-the-art alarm and surveillance systems.”

“Right. Do you have a point?”

“Getting there. Alarm systems are all connected to the central hub, so yours truly worked his magic and set all active alarms on the system to trigger at the same time.”

“And why should I care?”

“You should care because only one alarm triggered, suggesting there’s only one in use.” His companion dips his hand in his pocket, pulling out another sheet of paper and a pen. He places it down besides the list of addresses to reveal a grainy CCTV still of a figure and proceeds to pull the cap off the pen off with his teeth, spitting it out on the table and circles an address.

“And that means…?” “That means…” He draws a circle around the grainy image of you laying at the bottom a stairwell, “I know where she is.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

[coco-loco-nut]

007 - part 3

pairing: oscar x reader

summary: no spoilers 🫡

masterlist part one part two requests open

—————

“These are the files,” you toss the drive to your team as you make your way to change out of disguise and into sweatpants - you deserve that much. You barely get a second to yourself, having to go straight to a debrief and getting ice for your bruised knuckles.

“You could’ve called for backup,” your supervisor says.

“There wasn’t time, I narrowly avoided being caught and captured,” you can’t shake the invisible weight and fear off of you.

“This got to you. You are one of our most skilled agents, that is abnormal for you,” your supervisor observes the tension in you, and they are right. You feel off.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, the danger. I can’t put my soulmate through someone showing up at the door in uniform for me,” you choke up a little, the same vision as earlier flashing in your mind.

“Do your reports, go home, take a few days, then let’s talk about it. Make sure this is what you want, once you are out of commission, there is no coming back,” you are dismissed, a flash of empathy from your supervisor. You’ve never done paperwork faster.

A quick call to Alexandra using a burner phone is all you need as you book the first flight in the morning - her phone number was the only one you could easily find. She didn’t question your urgency, she simply promised that there would be a pass waiting for you and Charles would help your surprise happen.

You arrive at the paddock half an hour before qualifying, the bit of luggage you have stored at the hotel. Alexandra meets you at the entrance, helping you quickly get to McLaren. Charles clearly roped Lando into it, since he is waiting for you outside the motorhome.

“Finally! Maybe you can get Oscar out of his head. Just for the record, I’m glad you are alive,” Lando takes you by surprise when he hugs you. You feel your stomach flip as you knock on Oscar’s door.

“I’ll head to the garage in a minute, Lando. Just go without me,” Oscar yells. Lando winks and walks away, leaving the two of you.

“I’m afraid Lando isn’t out here,” you reply, hearing quick shuffling on the other side of the door. Oscar nearly rips the door off its hinges opening it. You don’t even get to properly see him before you are pulled into the tightest hug you’ve ever had.

“Hey, it’s okay, I made it out,” you whisper, rubbing his back. Oscar pulls you into his room, still practically glued to your side.

“You scared me, I thought the worst,” his voice cracks. You wipe a stray tear from his cheek.

“I know, I’m sorry. I came here as fast as possible. I would’ve sent a text, but all I had was a burner and that would freak you out more,” you speak in a slower and calmer tone, helping level him out. He just holds you close, needing to reassure himself that you are here. You don’t mind, you missed it, you missed him.

“Okay, now it’s time for you to shine on the track. I will tell you everything that happened later. Go show everyone what you can do,” you gently pull away.

“Are you coming too?” Oscar asks, gathering his things.

“Of course,” you let him take your hand, knowing you will follow him anywhere.

The first thing you do when you get home is find Boots, your tuxedo cat. Oscar is right behind you, taking your luggage to your bedroom. He hears a meow from beside him.

“Hi Boots,” Oscar leans over to scratch the kitties ears, making a mental note to send Max a picture.

“I’m so tired,” you yawn as you search for your pajamas.

“I’ll pull them out, go ahead and do your routine,” Oscar says gently to which you give an appreciative look, heading into the bathroom to speed run your nightly routine.

Oscar grabs one of his t-shirts and a pair of your sleep shorts, handing them to you as you let him use the bathroom before joining you in bed. He appreciates the comfortable silence, unspoken words as the both of you create a domestic life with each other.

Oscar wraps an arm around you, holding you against him as the beat of his heart quickly lulls you to sleep.

You find yourself once again in a chase, trying to escape with sensitive information when you feel blinding pain. As you lay on the street, bleeding out, you see the same vision. Oscar standing at the door, getting the news that you died.

“Y/n” he says almost pleading.

“Y/n. Y/n, come on, wake up,” you feel your body shake, and wet tears on your cheeks as your eyes close.

With a gasp your eyes fly open, heart racing as you frantically look around the room and feel your chest.

“Hey, hey, you are okay,” Oscar says soothingly, rubbing your arm. “It was only a nightmare,” he moves his hand to your face, wiping away the tears.

“Shit,” you whisper, not knowing what to say, just focusing on your breathing.

“Wanna talk about it?” Oscar asks, concerned that there was more that happened on the mission than you told him. You just shake your head no.

“Okay, I’ll get you some water, stay right here,” he kisses you before sliding out of bed. It only takes a minute and by the time he gets back you seem better.

“Thanks Osc, sorry for waking you up,” you carefully take the water as he gets back in bed.

“You don’t need to apologize. Nightmares happen,” Oscar shrugs.

“I still feel bad. I promise I will tell you about it in the morning, I just don’t want to relive it right now,” you set the water on your nightstand, shifting closer to Oscar for cuddles. You did talk it out in the morning, Oscar is a great listener.

“My mom used to sing me this song when I woke up terrified from a nightmare. It sounds a little silly, but I swear it works,” and that was how you found yourself being serenaded by Oscar at 3am. It did work, because halfway through the song you are asleep on his chest.

A few weeks later, you and Oscar invite Logan and Lando over for dinner, which goes well until Logan puts on a spy movie.

Oscar chuckles every time you grumble about something not being right. You are tucked into him as you sit between him and Logan. Lando is cuddled with a popcorn bowl and Boots on the chair beside Oscar. Eventually Logan pauses the movie, mid grumble.

“Hey! I was watching that!” Lando gestures to the TV, mouth full of popcorn.

“He’s not even doing paperwork,” you say, not realizing everyone could hear you. Lando looks at you confused while Logan clearly wants to know more.

“What else is wrong? Like tell us a real story,” Logan practically begs.

“I don’t know if I have anything declassified to tell you. Most missions are long, I’ve had some short action ones but those were mostly be being brought in last minute for one part of it so the assigned agent could lay low,” you choose your words carefully.

“Wait? You’re a spy?” Lando gasps.

“I’m not answering that,” you immediately say, your instinct to be defensive kicking in.

“Wait, have you ever like, you know,” Lando’s words fall heavy on your shoulders as you stay quiet, barely able to meet Oscar’s eyes.

“It’s a hard job,” Oscar gently rubs your arm, reassuring that he doesn’t think less of you.

“What else is wrong with the movie?” Logan asks, trying to change the mood.

“Well, you are never alone. You always have a team helping you. You might be physically alone, but a lot of the time I had help with intel from others and stuff like that. Only a small part of the job is the paramilitary stuff. You recruit locals to help. Although that doesn’t always work. I wasted a month tracking a government employee for suspicious activity, but she was just feeding stray cats. Right Boots?” you smile at the cat who is too busy grooming himself to pay attention.

“So when you and Oscar first met?” Logan starts his question, but you answer with a nod.

“I had been working on that case for about a year, someone got new intel, and I took action,” you say as little about it as possible.

“Back to the movie,” Oscar tells Logan as he holds you closer to him. He presses a kiss to the back of your head as you find yourself reflecting on your life since 18.

The next week, as you are about to take yourself out of commission, you are offered a training position. It offers stable hours and better pay, as well as being out of danger. You happily take it, especially because it will allow you to travel with Oscar more.

Oscar is thrilled, mostly for your sake. He has seen to toll that the job has on you as well as the passion you have for it, and he’s glad you were able to get a happy medium. It makes it easier for you too when people start questioning what you do for work.

“What do you do professionally anyways? We never asked,” Kika says as you lounge beside the resort pool with Alexandra during your first girls trip. Lily, Carmen, and Rebecca were with you but left to grab drinks. You all skipped most of the race weekend, finding it to be the best available weekend.

“I train government employees and sometimes military personnel. Sometimes I consult on different things,” it’s a lot easier to believe than simply not saying anything. You think about the mission you were read in on for advice and perspective.

“That sounds so cool,” Alexandra says, clearly interested.

“And secretive,” you don’t miss the playful tone in Kika’s voice, but you play it off.

“Guys, I’m not like a spy or some super high ranking government employee. I literally just train people,” you laugh.

“Here’s your drink,” Carmen hands you the fruity cocktail you ordered. You tried the stereotypical whiskey or bourbon or plain liquor thing, but you’d rather enjoy your drink than struggle to drink it.

“I love race weekends, but it is so nice to be out with just us girls,” Lily sighs as she sits down.

“Same, it’s too bad Flavy and Marilou couldn’t be here,” Rebecca chimes in. You are so grateful that you found a great group of friends.

“Oh, it’s Osc, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you can’t hide the smile you get when you see his name across your screen.

“Hey, I just wanted to see how your weekend away way going,” Oscar says as you answer the video call.

“It’s a lot of fun. I do miss you though,” you take in his appearance, messy hair and all.

“I miss you too. I’ve gotten used to having you around,” he replies

“You know, if someone told me a year ago that I would step down and this would be my life, I wouldn’t believe them,” you muse, happy with where your life has led you.

“Me too. When the season is over, I am taking you on a proper vacation. Just us,” Oscar promises. A little put off that you two haven’t spent more than a couple days alone together.

“That sounds wonderful. How’s the race weekend going? We’ve been trying to keep up with it,”

“In between your drinks and lounging by the pool?” Oscar teases, a playful glimmer in his eye. “It’s been fine, I need to push a little more in qualifying to get off the third row. I’ll try to take pole for you though,” he runs his hand through his hair, making you a little feral. What can you say? You miss your soulmate.

“I’m sure you will,” you bite back the flirty remark you want to make, and a part of you think that Oscar knows what he is doing. You chat for a few more minutes before having to end it.

“I gotta go, Osc. I love you,” you tell him, knowing you will likely drunk text or call him at the club later.

“Love you too, stay safe,” he hangs up and you make your way back to the girls.

“I think Pierre and I are going to plan a wedding for late next year,” you hear Kika say. Marriage is only common for those born without soulmates or the ability to find their soulmate due to the lack of marking and/or pull. It has become slightly more common among soulmates as a way to publicly celebrate a bond.

“That’s so exciting, when is he proposing?” you ask as you sit down.

“We’ve been talking about it for the past month, but he’s waiting to surprise me,” she beams and you all celebrate with her. You selfishly think about if a wedding is something you would want with Oscar.

On one hand, the bond you share is enough for you, and you don’t need a wedding to solidify that for you. However, it would be fun to celebrate your bond with all of your friends and Oscar’s family. He has yet to take you to Australia, but you frequently talk with his family on the phone and made off-season promises.

“You okay?” Alexandra nudges you a few minutes later.

“Hmm? Yeah, I guess I just miss Osc. No one really prepared me for how dependent on your soulmate the bond makes you,” you confide.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing tonight is the last night we are here. Soulmates are an interesting thing. No one’s experience is exactly the same and some pairs take to each other quicker than others,” Alexandra pauses for a moment, watching you contemplate her words. “I know there are parts of you that you hide from all of us, and Oscar makes you feel safe. It’s only natural that you want to be with him,” she smiles softly, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“There is a lot about me that I wish you could know. Maybe one day,” your smile is bitter, you hate having to lock so much away. It isn’t safe for them to know yet, and you can’t disclose certain things yet.

“That’s okay, we love you and we don’t need to know your past to love you now,” she reassures you.

“Even if I lied to you before?”

“Well, that would be entirely circumstantial, but nothing we couldn’t get past,” Alexandra says as Kika joins you. You make the decision to disclose your biggest secret, the one only Oscar, Logan, and Lando know.

“I lied about my life before. I was a spy, in simple terms. I recently left that position, but I worked in espionage, reconnaissance, and paramilitary operations since I was 18. Now I train them,” you explain, voice thick with emotion. The girls stay silent, letting you speak.

“So when you weren’t at the race weekend after we met and Oscar was,” Kika drifts off, your silence is confirmation enough.

“He said you had a personal emergency,” Alexandra fills in.

“It was the reason I stepped back. I can’t go into detail, most of my life since 18 is classified information,” you watch their reactions.

“We are here if you ever want to talk,” Kika hugs you.

“How did I get so lucky?” you feel tears in your eyes as Alexandra joins the hug.

“Life puts you where you need to be at the right time. Now, it’s our last night here, so let’s get ready for dinner and go party,” Kika tells you, bringing up your spirits. And it works, the night flys by and it isn’t long before you find yourself getting of the jet, ready to go as a group to the race. It is a night race, meaning you all can make it there rather than watching elsewhere.

Oscar was practically bouncing with excitement when he saw that your jet landed. He is excited to meet you at the paddock entrance, missing his lucky charm.

“Osc!” you call to him as he looks around for you. You barely have time to prepare yourself before he’s pulling you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he says into your hair. You take in his warmth, feeling at home.

“I missed you more. Somehow I even missed you hogging the blanket,” you tell him, letting him lead you to his drivers room. His arm is secure around you, keeping you as close as possible. You catch him up on your weekend, telling him everything you didn’t on your calls.

When you get to his room, he pulls you onto the small couch with him, holding you close. You study his face, memorizing every mole, the curve of his amused smile, and the way his eyes crinkle.

“What are you staring at?”

“You, duh. No wonder I’m the detective of us,”

“You aren’t a detective, you sometimes analyze intelligence,” Oscar looks at you with a shit-eating grin, one which you mirror.

“Shut up,” you bury your head into his shoulder and he holds you tighter.

“Maybe I shouldn’t show at the race. I can just stay here with you,” Oscar hums, happy to never move again.

“Well, that wouldn’t be optimal, seeing as how you took pole,” you recall your excitement at seeing the result first thing when you woke up.

“I told you I would,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’ll even win for you,” and win he did.

The season wrapped up quickly, with Oscar taking home one more win and finishing third in the WDC, just behind Max and Charles. True to his word, the first thing the two of you did was take a week to yourself, then a week in Australia to meet his family who were even nicer than in the video calls.

You and Oscar settled in together, moving into a house shortly before the holidays that suited both of you perfectly- with ample space for Boots of course. Max and Charles took you in as their ‘daughter-in-law’. Lando got more stories out of you when drunk, none highly classified. Logan started a tradition of watching spy movies, happily letting you pause and provide your input. Alexandra and Kika helped you find who you are outside of your job. Most importantly, Oscar showed you what it’s like to be and how to be loved.

[novasdarling]

since asks are open: maybe trying to escape from yan nobunaga? love all ur works btw <3 ur a rlly skilled writer

See, I picture him as a love sick yandere who is extremely delusional. He acts so tender yet will kill if someone looks at his darling wrong. So I can only imagine how hurt he'd be when you try to break his image he has of you two.

Also, thank you so much!

Just Try

TW: Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, a Chase, Mentions of Isolation.

The wind was harsh against your face as you ran. Trying to put as much distance between you and that miserable jail cell he had the nerve to call home. Picking up your feet you made your way through the streets. Trying to avoid tripping on anything and slowing yourself down. This was the first time, and if he caught you, the last time he'd make a mistake in locking the doors. This was your only chance to run, to get away from that monster. There was no telling when he'd be home when he'd notice you were gone and you didn't want to be anywhere near when he found out. Nobunaga wasn't sane. You remembered the last few times you disobeyed him and broke his image of a loving couple. It still haunted your dreams.

The streets were barren, with only broken street lights and abandoned buildings. You weren't sure how far this place was from any help, or where the roads would lead. You could figure that out later, all you needed to do was put as much space between you and him until you came up with a plan.

You must have run for over 30 minutes straight before your body began to get tired. It didn't matter, it wasn't far enough. You tried to push yourself to go further, switching to walking now. Your legs would only carry you for another half an hour. Your body was begging you to stop, to take a break. Especially your legs and lungs. You needed to rest. Looking around you hoped there would be someplace you could hide while you caught your breath. There was a plethora of abandoned buildings, but which one would have the least chance of you falling through the floor? Taking a look, you decided on a four-story building down the street. It was the most intact building on the outside so hopefully, it would be too on the inside. Gathering some strength, you made your way to the building. The front door was mostly off its hinges. Just barely hanging on, allowing you easy access to the building.

You had guessed right. Luckily the inside of the building was also in better condition than probably most on the street. A few cracks along the walls and broken tiles were most of the damage. Step by step you went further inside. Trying to gauge how safe the floor really was while trying to find a place to catch your breath. The first floor was mainly open-concept with tons of windows. A poor place to hide. Looking to the stairs, deciding you would take your chance with them. Step by step you went up. Holding onto the railing with all your might. Both for support in case your legs gave out and in case you fell through the stairs.

The second floor was no better, only having a few rooms to it. Looking in them you saw they were once bathrooms. Now filled with black marks along the walls. You hoped they were just mold as you went on. Taking your luck with another set of stairs. Making your way to the third floor. It was much better. It had multiple rooms that didn't seem to be covered in mold. That looked like you could be in them without contracting something. There was a small room at the back of the floor plan. It was simple, with a closet and one window looking onto the side of the building and some of the street. Pushing open the cracked door, you made your way into the room. It didn't seem to be as dirty as the other rooms. Taking a seat by the window. You let yourself relax. Stretching your legs out. Trying to get them comfortable. Running your hands along your thighs and calves. Running had drained you, the adrenaline was leaving your body now. You could breathe now. You felt a bit more relaxed not being out in the open. If he got home and realized you were gone, surely he'd think you were still on the run. Not hiding in a building relatively nearby.

The minutes ticked by. Your body finally finding some peace and being able to relax. You hadn't realized your body was begging for some sleep. Some rest. It needed it. You had been locked away in some small room for months, barely moving even when he brought you around the "house". This was the most movement you've gotten in so long. Your body was screaming for a long-needed break. For sleep. You use to sleep when he was gone to pass the time or to get away from him. Before you knew it, your eyes closed. At first, you simply told yourself it was just to let them rest for a bit, but the rest lasted longer than you expected as you drifted off.

It must have been a few good hours before you began to wake up. Looking out the window you saw how the sky was now dark, the stars littering the night sky. The panic began to set in. Oh god, how long had you been out? Did Nobunaga already make it home? Did he realize you were gone? Panicking you began to get up, ready to start moving. Maybe the darkness would make it easier, you could hide a lot better. Using the shadows to hide in, moving behind the buildings instead of on the road. Though, so could he. You were prepared to begin your journey again before you heard it. It sounded like footsteps, faint, but you could still make them out. They were coming from outside. Freezing for a second you listened. Listened to them get closer and closer. There was no mistaking what that sound was. Footsteps, human footsteps. It couldn't be him, there had to be another reason. Perhaps some teen looking somewhere to graffiti or smoke. Or some lost tourist whose car broke down. The steps were too calm to be him, to be a man looking for his victim. There had to be a reason that didn't lead back to him.

Making your way to the window, you looked out. Trying to stay near the edge, stay hidden as you looked out. Some of the street lights still worked, but most were out. Keeping the street mainly dark, you could see a shadow getting closer on the street. Making its way to you. Standing there, you stared. Waiting and hoping it was just some random stranger and not him. Second, by second the shadow was getting closer, getting smaller under the light. Until the person was right by your building. You could see feet, but the body was mainly blocked by the neighbouring building. Craning your head further towards and out the window, trying to get a better look. From the bits of the body you could see, it defiantly was a man which didn't ease your worry. You waited for them to move, but they just stood there. Out of sight, playing with the shadows to hide them. Trying to ease your worry, you made up scenarios. Telling yourself it was just some teen or some random man with a broken-down car. Right? That seemed plausible. Even though your common sense told you otherwise. Nobunaga wouldn't pick a place to keep you that was high traffic. Sure you had made it pretty far, but you knew him. He wasn't an idiot. No one came around here. Meaning it had to be him.

"I know you're in there."

You were right. It was him. His voice was calm and relaxed like he always was. While you were the opposite. You were sweating, scared beyond belief. The most fear you've felt since the first day he took you.

"Come out, sweetie. It's late and" Nobunaga let out a tired laugh. "I'm exhausted. Work has been rough today. So please, please make this easy."

Like hell, you would. Running out of the room, you made your way to the stairs leading to the last floor. There had to be some kind of fire escape or something. After all, buildings were usually supposed to have more than one kind of exit. Running up the stairs, not giving a damn for safety this time around. You picked up your feet faster when you heard a loud smash from down below. It was him breaking down the front door. Not caring to dive under its opening like you had. He was in the building with you.

You searched frantically around the building. Hoping there was something, that you were right about a second exit. Tearing open every door, looking inside before moving in. Your search became more desperate as you heard his steps making his way up. Nobunaga was taking his time moving, letting the sounds echo throughout the place. He was on the second floor now.

"This is getting tiring, please let's just go home."

You moved to another room, but this time there was not even a window. Moving to a new room, seeing this time there was a huge window. Looking out it, you realized there seemed to be a ladder leading down. It was narrow and looked like it was one of those maintenance ones. Sliding further down when you got closer to the second floor. Nobunaga was moving again. Making his way up the stairs that led to the third floor.

"I'm tired and hungry. Let's just go home. I'm not in the mood to play this game anymore."

You could hear the change in his voice. The cheerfulness or indifference he held with you was gone. Rather, his voice was lower than normal. You could tell he was on the verge of freaking out. He was trying to keep his emotions in check. Something he was horrible with.

You tried to push the window open and get to the ladder, but the window wouldn't budge. You tried again and again. Silently begging for it to open. Pleading to any god out there to let you get away from him. Your panic skyrocketed when you heard him at the bottom of the stairs leading to the fourth floor.

"Get down here now."

The window was beginning to give in. Slowly opening with each push you gave it. It had rusted horribly and been painted shut.

"I'm not asking. Get down here now."

He was shouting now, not just so you could hear him. He was pissed. This was worse than the time you managed to land a hit on him the first few days he had you. He had freaked out, asking how you could hurt him when all he did was love you. He had shut you in a windowless room for what must have been days. Taking the comfort of a bed or entertainment away.

"I've been good."

He took a few steps up the stairs.

"I've been patient."

He was getting closer causing you to push the window more.

"I've tried so hard to love you properly."

You gave one last push for it to open so you could fit out.

"And this is how you thank me."

He was at the top of the stairs. Making his way to the room you had been in. You were trying to fit yourself out of the window.

"You ungrateful little-"

The door was slammed open. Knocking it off its hinges. There he stood, Nobunaga. His sword slung over his shoulder going down his back. He looked dishevelled. His hair was a mess, not neatly in a ponytail like usual. He looked at you with wide eyes. Taking in what he was seeing. You, halfway out a window, taking your chances with a shady-looking latter rather than being with him. You were breaking the little fantasy he had of you two. Of a picture-perfect couple in love. A couple who were simply just having a normal fight. Forcing him to see reality. An image he never wanted to see.

"Get over here now."

You didn't. You both just stared at each other. Nobunaga took a deep breath. Trying to steady himself. He wasn't acting like the normal man you knew. Like the man who would bathe you. Even as you screamed and kicked. He would still hold you down in the tub. Trying to be as gentle as possible. Apologizing over and over as he scrubbed your skin clean. Even then he showed compassion in his eyes. Even if there was hunger and greed mixing with it too. Now though, now there seemed only to be anger and hurt.

There was no time to react to him. Without any warning, he launched towards you. Yanking you out of the window and towards him. His hands gripped your arms. Holding you in place. Nobunaga was looking down at you. Wide eyes, searching your face. You weren't sure what for. All you do was cry though. Cry that your plan failed. That you lost your chance to get away. You could have been so much further if you hadn't rested if you hadn't slept. It was your own fault why you were back in his clutch. You knew him. He would figure out how you got out and make sure it never happened again.

"Oh, sweetheart." Nobunaga was now brushing your tears away instead of clutching your arms. "Did I scare you? Because you scared me."

A hand was placed at the back of your head. Pushing your face into his chest. One hand held your head in place while the other roamed your back. Like he was trying to soothe you.

"Shh, shh, I'm here now." He placed a kiss on the top of your head. "We can talk about your punishment when we get home." His words just made you cry harder. Soaking his top. "I know, I know, but you did leave the house. I told you it's not safe, That I was protecting you and look what you did."

Nobunaga grabbed you and carried you bridal style. Probably not wanting to take a chance of you running again, hurting his feelings even more. Pushing your face back into his chest. He always hated when you cried. Said it made him feel bad like he was the bad guy.

"If you're good on the way home" Nobunaga started his way down the stairs and out of the building. "and say you're sorry. I promise I'll be easy. I'll even give you options."

This was it. You were going back to that jail cell. Likely just to be locked back up in that room again. Spending days and days in there with little food or water. No real contact or conversation with him. Until you were begging for anything. Praying for any kind of affection, even from him. Nobunaga wanted you to play house, wanted a good little partner. One way or another, he was going to get you to play your role.

[latelyanobsession]

Gossip Swap

summary rumors can be nasty. especially when straight out of your boyfriend’s mouth. kind words however, can make a world of difference when offered up by a kind soul.

warnings cursing, rumors/gossiping, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, smut, TW: use of fat-shaming slurs

word count 2,737

note based on a request by @harringtonfan4: "eddie x steve x plus size female reader…reader has been dating Steve he told reader he was sick he goes to party instead someone gets him on video all over Nancy and telling her and the others how unhappy he has been with reader because of how she looks and what he’s used too whole school sees it …eddie steps in to pick up the pieces (smut preferred) maybe eddie has a squirting kink or breeding kink (regular smut is fine if you don’t do those) and Steve decides he made a mistake..reader chooses eddie ….sorry my asks are long winded I have specific ideas I’m just not good at writing them lol. If it’s too much let me know I’ll tone down my explanations"

i've changed your request a bit by having the reader and steve's break up be based on the spread of a rumor through the school rather than a video. using a video would've taken a lot of effort back then, (ie. filming and then copying multiple VHS tapes or having to pass a single tape around to multiple people would've taken a lot of time). so using word of mouth to spread a nasty rumor would make better sense to spread something like that from a weekend party faster in the 80s.

also a couple lil tweaks to the smut and setting just to make it flow. a full disclosure as well that i've never read any existing smut for eddie so this is just my interpretation of how i think he would align in sexual interactions based on my interpretation of his character.

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You pursed your lips, eyes zeroed in on the dial as you twirled the tumbler on your locker.

35 - 11 - 27

Hooking your finger in the latch, you opened the door. It's hinges squeaking.

"That her?" a voice asked, walking past.

"Yeah, I feel so bad for her..." another answered.

You peered past your locker door, eyebrows creased in curiosity.

The pair of upperclassmen quickly turning their heads away as they wandered further down the hallway.

You shrugged it off. They must've been talking about somebody else. There was nothing going on with you.

Sinking into your seat in first period, the low rumble of whispers slithered its way through the room, snaking its way up your spine and settling beneath your skin.

"I can't believe he said that...!"

"Well... I would want someone more... y'know..."

"Can you blame him?"

Clenching your fists, you tried to ignore their words as they coiled around you. Constricting you with each breath. Your chest pulling tight.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" you burst out loud, throwing your pen gruffly against your notebook, bouncing it to the floor.

Your classmates paused, quieting. Their faces mixed with looks of pity and guilt.

But none of them answered you.

The remainder of the period passed in relative silence, with you leaving the room in frustration.

It felt like the whole school's eyes were on you.

And you didn't know why.

The next period was no better. Nor the one after that.

The day was unraveling into an uncontrolled nightmare. And you wanted to get away from it as soon as possible.

Taking a deep breath, you latched the sliding bolt on the bathroom stall and sat down.

You didn't even need to pee. You just wanted a quiet moment alone.

You took another deep breath, closing your eyes.

The door to the bathroom swung open, the back slamming loudly against the tile wall as girls entered.

"I still can't believe Steve said that!" one girl hummed excitedly.

"Well you should, I was there. I heard the whole thing!" replied the other.

"He was seriously with Nancy?" asked a third.

"Of course!" answered the second, as if this were obvious. "They were all over each other... Steve was practically sobbing about wanting her back."

They giggled amongst themselves.

"But... what about the part... about... Y/N?" asked the first.

"Oh..." the second clucked, "Yeah, he wouldn't stop whining about how sick he is being stuck with a cow like her..."

They shrieked with laughter, the shrill sound clattering off the walls.

"He really called her a cow?" the third snorted ungraciously.

"...Like a pillow that's already too stuffed to stuff... if you get it..." the second mused.

They laughed again.

You swallowed thickly, trying to remain as collected as possible. You didn't want them to know you were there.

Your eyes were brimming over with tears as you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a shaky exhale.

"I mean why'd he ever trade Nancy for that whale anyhow?" the second complained.

"It's a complete downgrade..." agreed the third.

"There's no way a fatso like her could ever satisfy him... she's too busy stuffing her face." the first stated.

They all made varying sounds of agreement, washing their hands. The door slamming back open, and coming to with a soft thud.

You threw the stall door open, letting out a long-held sob. How could any of this be true?

But it had to be... "I was there. I heard the whole thing!"

Steve had bailed on you over the weekend. He called, coughing and whining pathetically through the phoneline of how ill he felt. And you bought it like an absolute sucker.

How stupid you truly were. Planning on bringing him homemade soup after school this afternoon, when he was already wrapping himself up soundly ... in Nancy Wheeler's lap.

Fleeing the bathroom, you quit the school building entirely. Not wanting to deal with another single pair of eyes on you.

You cut out across the football field and into the woods, just looking for a quiet place to walk. To seeth. To hide.

A few yards in you found a clearing with a weathered picnic table, empty beer cans scattered across its top.

This place didn't seem familiar to you, but it was close yet far enough away from school grounds that it seemed like a good place to settle.

Dropping onto the bench, tears began trickling out in steady rivulets down your heated cheeks. Your shoulders shaking with heavy sobs as the conversation you overheard began to replay in your mind.

Steve wouldn't have gone back to Nancy if I wasn't fat.

The voice in your head began...

Steve wouldn't have lied to me and gone to that party on his own if he wasn't embarrassed to be seen with me.

The voice pressed.

Steve doesn't love me. I'm too fat to be with Steve.

Too fat...

You crumbled.

Your hands coming up and hiding your face. Tears quickly turning bitter as your chest felt fit to shatter.

Every sweet thing he had ever told you must have been a lie. Why else would he be able to pivot so quickly? Turn back to Nancy so smoothly?

So thoroughly enveloped in your sorrow, you didn't notice someone enter the glade.

"Uhhhh?" the voice hemmed, cutting through a bout of your sobs, startling you.

"You doin' ok? I mean you're obviously not... but... Are you?"

You peered up through your fingers, snuffling horribly, your nose stuffed with snot.

A lanky boy with ratty hair and torn jeans was standing at the edge of the clearing.

He stood there awkwardly scratching his cheek, a black lunchbox in his other hand.

"I- I'm sorry... -'ll leave..." you sniveled getting up, not realizing you were intruding on someone's coveted lunch spot.

He tossed up his hands lightly, "don't worry about it... it's cool. Y/N right?"

You nodded slowly, he seemed familiar but you couldn't really place him.

"Do I know you?" you sniffed, wiping a sleeve at your eyes.

He shrugged, lips puckered thoughtfully as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"Well, you should... You and your boytoy bought weed from me a few times..." he stated dryly.

"He's not my -!" you clipped spitefully, snapping your jaw shut in realization.

"Oh?" he said, sitting down next to you. "My mistake... thought you were a thing."

"Not anymore..." you whispered.

You looked over at him, "I'm sorry..." you apologized again, "you don't need to hear about my shit."

Kicking his feet to and fro childishly, his heels tossed up leaves all around you. His eyes focused on the trees.

"Well sounds like someone should hear it... It's Eddie by the way..." he smiled at you gently, nudging your shoulder with his own to go on.

You smiled coyly, eyes dodging to your toes.

"It's just..." you sputtered, fingers wrapping around the bench tensely, "he said I'm too fat for him."

Tears were threatening to fall yet again.

He let off an obnoxious laugh, you wanted to punch him.

"I'm sorry..." his brows knitting together, as if in deep thought before they shot high, "Is he mental!?" Eddie shouted, hopping to his feet.

You blinked at him, dumbfounded, "What?"

"Boytoy. Is he completely certifiable?" Eddie pointed at his head, index finger swirling counterclockwise.

Your eyebrows furrowed, "I don't... think... no?"

He tossed his hands dramatically skyward, "Y/N!"

You jumped.

"He has to be!" he reasoned, arms still thrust high.

"You're just so .... kind. And so genuine. And smart. And beautiful and so –" he spoke rapidly, listing your qualities off each finger. Pacing himself into a small tight circle.

"You think I'm beautiful?" you interrupted him.

He stopped, looking up from his fingers, bringing his hand bashfully to his lips.

His eyes darting around the grove, before answering.

"Yeah. But you're so much more than that," he added.

Coming back to the table he straddled the bench, a leg on each side, looking you square in the eyes.

"He's a dumbass for cheating on you." Eddie declared. "I mean he couldn't be more of an idiot! Total dick move!" He waved his arms in an axing motion.

You laughed, "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem! If you were my -" his words fell short as your lips collided with his.

"Eddie?" you hummed, pulling away, your foreheads resting together.

"Yah?" he breathed.

"Please shut up." you giggled.

"Yes ma'am," he replied enthusiastically.

Yoking a hand around his shoulders, you pulled him back in. Lips ghosting over his, your tongue playfully laving at his bottom lip.

He groaned loudly, lips parting in invitation. His hands swiftly seizing you and pulling you in.

His grasp was greedy. Desperate. Wanton. Tugging your sweater out of place, his chilled fingers pricking up goosebumps in their wake along every inch of newly discovered skin.

Small gasps tumbling from your tongue to his as those long fingers crawled lower, twiddling with the button of your jeans.

"You sure you want this?" he asked breaking from you, his eyes shimmering with sincerity.

"Wouldn't want Boytoy to miss you or anything..." he chuffed with a somber smile.

You placed your palm on his cheek. "Eddie, he's already missed me..." you leaned in kissing him chastely, "by a long shot."

A brilliant smile lit up his features, warm brown eyes shining.

"Really?" he was shocked.

"Yes," you replied, crawling into his lap. "I want you. I need... this." You emphasized with a searing kiss, grinding your weight against him.

His hands gripped your sides, digging in and holding you close as he whimpered at the feeling. Even through layers of denim, you could feel a thick bulge burgeoning against your inner thigh.

Sitting up momentarily you wrapped your hand around his belt, yanking him forward, manhandling him. Pressing him back gruffly against the picnic table, he planted both feet back in front of the bench, letting off a slight wince of surprise.

"What you got planned sweety?" he asked cutely.

Propping a knee on the bench you towered over him, hands undoing his belt buckle. Fingers nimbly unfastening his fly.

"You'll see." you teased, a finger tracing up the length of his clothed erection, his neck straining.

"Oh .... ooooh, that's not fair," he whined, a foot kicking in protest. Your hand slyly enveloping his length and pulling him out into the open.

You kissed him, lingering to pull at his tongue. "You're gonna get yours don't worry about it." you hummed, hand pumping smoothly up his length as you admired his pained expression.

Backing off, you unclasped your jeans shimmying them down just below the swell of your ass. A sharp inhale reaching your ear, "fuck."

Peering over your shoulder, you regarded him with heavily lidded eyes. "Like?"

He swallowed thickly, nodding as his gaze washed over you. "Y-yah."

You smirked your cheeks heating.

"You'll like this better..." you challenged as you reversed, placing yourself between his legs.

You lowered yourself onto his lap, grinding your bare cunt against his cock. The evidence of your arousal coating him from base to tip.

"Shit babe," he whined hands clamped onto your hips more so for his own sanity than for yours.

Reaching back you gave him a couple short strokes before lining him against your entrance, the bulging head already pressed between your pussy lips in anticipation.

Sinking down onto his length, you cried out. The stretch making your knees weak, your hands gripping his thighs to ground yourself.

"God Eddie!" you exhaled, eyes blinking widely.

"Babe you gotta move..." Eddie complained, voice straining. "I'm not gonna make it!" His grip was becoming harsh, almost biting. His hips trying to thrust, heels pressing against the ground for purchase.

"Eddie please..." you warned pathetically, "don't do that." He was already so deep. Your walls wrapped snuggly around him. Each small movement lighting up nerve endings you didn't even know you had.

Roping his arms around your middle, he hauled you back, knocking you off balance. Gaining leverage and driving himself deeper.

"Eddie!" you whimpered, pressed flush against him. "Eddie I can't...I'll –"

His pace was gaining, thrusting deeper. The sounds of your pussy beginning to fill the air. The sopping wet clap between your bodies with each stroke.

"Eddie please!" you begged nearly sobbing. You could feel it. That tingle. It was growing with every thrust of his hips.

"Babe I promise. I'm so close." he warbled, his pace growing erratic and hurried.

You were trying so hard to hold back, trying to focus. Trying to clamp down on your muscles. Pulling your legs together snugly. But everything you were doing made the feeling more intense and made him respond more aggressively.

"Fuuuuuuck babe. That's amazing. Just like that!" he encouraged with your last attempt, curling himself up and pistoning his cock into you even harder.

Tears were at the corners of your eyes, you couldn't hold it back. The pleasure was unbearable. Your walls starting to spasm, shaking the pitiful attempt at self-control that you had.

"Eddie... I'm gonna cum!" you wailed brokenly.

"Cum babe...!" he panted, slamming against your cunt. "Cum on my cock!"

"No Eddie ... I'll –" you cut off keening as he connected. Your head tilted back and your legs shook as it struck, warm fluid gushing out.

You thought for certain he'd come to a screeching halt. Toss you off for that. But he kept going, hips stuttering as his lips found your ear.

"Babe can I... can I cum insi –..." his breath faltering, as you dropped your hips back, grinding into him.

"Yes..." you exhaled shakily, continuing to ride him through his high.

The forest became quiet again as you both panted. Eddie beneath you.

You pulled off, trying to gather yourself up. The embarrassment was already suffocating you.

"Eddie I'm so so sorry." you looked at him miserably.

Sitting up, he looked at you casually, "Sorry? Sweets that was so fucking hot!" Tucking himself in, he stood up coming over to you.

Pulling a black bandana from his back pocket he offered it to you.

"Y'know..." he started, as you gratefully took the cloth, cleaning yourself off as best you could. "I'd love to do that with you again sometime..."

You blushed, handing him the bandana.

Looking up at him you nodded. "Yeah... but maybe not outside..."

He smiled coyly, laughing. "Yeah."

You looked at his pants, your face falling into a frown. "God... I'm–."

He laughed tossing up his hands, "Don't worry about it. Was gonna skip after this anyhow."

"You sure?" you looked at him guiltily.

"��'m sure." he soothed.

The warning bell echoed through the trees. How many periods had you missed?

You checked your watch.

"Shit," you cursed, "I gotta motor, but find me tomorrow?"

You grabbed your things and scooted from the grove.

Sliding in late to your last period of the day, the eyes and murmurings from your classmates was no longer as bothersome.

When the day ended you actually had a smile on your face as you headed toward the parking lot. That was until you saw your boyfriend.

"Hey Y/N!" Steve waved you over from his beamer.

You walked wide, heading off to the opposite sidewalk.

"Y/N?" Confusion was settling into Steve's features as he jogged after you. "Hey what gives I'm here to take you home. Y'know..." He reached for your hand flirtatiously.

You jerked yourself away.

"What gives?!" your eyebrows shot high. "Why don't you go ask Nancy!"

You turned on your heels to walk away, as he wrapped a hand around your wrist.

"Guess you found out huh?" he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck with his other hand.

"Yeah I guess so..." you spat venomously trying to wriggle free.

Stepping into your space Steve stroked a thumb over your cheek.

"Ya know I didn't mean it right? I was drunk." he gave you a lopsided grin. "You're my girl. Always will be."

You gave him a rough shove sending him shuffling back.

"No, I'm not!" you shouted. "You chose her! And I'm dumping you!"

He was stunned, his arms hanging limply at his side.

"You what?" he spoke each word as if carefully chewed, his mouth running dry.

"I'm...dumping...you" you enunciated each word. "Don't call me."

Readjusting your backpack you walked away, leaving him standing there.

The next day, you were back at your new lunch spot.

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 19

Third POV

After Jeff left Eboni's place, he went straight back to the mansion. It was getting late, and he didn't want slenderman to chew his ass out. So, for once, the killer will make it to his office on time to give his report about his mission.

Perusal, the killer kicks open the door and kicks it close. He ignores all eyes on him and walks straight to Slenderman's office. Jeff opens the door, not bothering to knock - he just didn't care whether the humanoid creature was busy or not.

Unfortunately, Slenderman isn't in the mood for Jeff's mis mannered tendencies. "Jeffrey...."

"Yeah, I know, so unlike me to 'follow your rules', but there's other shit I got plan."

"Sloopy... you were too sloppy. I should've never sent you out of all my proxies." Slenderman grumbles in frustration, pitching the bridge of his nose - if he had one on his faceless being.

Jeff's decent mood quickly vanishes from the creatures words. Sure, the smiling killer didn't need validation from anything nor anyone. However, Slenderman insinuating that he should've chosen someone else is what ticks Jeff off.

"The fuck you mean by that? I killed those fuckers! Just like you asked!" He shouts, his eyes crazed with anger.

"And I had to clean up your mess, boy! Watch. Your. Tone. You left far too many trances for those humans to find. They were able to link the murders to you, Jeffery. You've caused more trouble instead of relieving me from it."

To say Jeff is fuming would be an understatement. The Chester smiling killer is so livid that he can't control his body from shaking with rage. So what if this beast had to clean up a few trances? He still got the job done.

"So. What?" Jeff said through clench teeth as he walks forward and slames his fist on the monster's desk. "So what!? I killed them! That's all that should fucking matter! So what if-"

Slender stands from his desks, his tendrils spreading wide from his back. He looms over Jeff, grabbing the male by his throat. "You... have forgotten your place here, Jeffrey. You work for me. You follow me. You do as you're instructed with no backtalk. Do you understand?"

The killer didn't answer. Instead, he holds his hateful glare at the faceless creature - thrashing around in its hold while clawing at its tendrils. Slenderman grumbles at this disobedience, the tendril around Jeff's neck tightening.

"Do. You. Understand. Me?" Slenderman asks once more, sending huge amounts of static pain through the killer's brain.

Jeff groans from the pain, choking and gagging from the grip the tendril has on his throat. "Y-Yes.." he forces out through ragged breath.

With that said, slenderman drops the killer to the ground - his tendril retreating into its back. The beast turns around, his back facing Jeff. He points to the file on his desk.

"Take that file. This soul is required as soon as possible. Remember what you do this for, why you do this. Now leave my sight." The creature back, not bothering to show its faceless face to the killer.

Jeff slowly stands, dry heaving as he places one hand on his throat. He reaches for the file, snatching it from his desk as he stumbles out of Slenderman's office. He purposely slames the door shut, leaning against the wall for support as he walks to his room. Once in his room, he drops the file on his bed, walking straight to his bathroom.

His head is still killing him from Slenderman's powers, but that doesn't take away the anger he feels for the sight before the killer within the mirror. A bruise is beginning to form on the killer's neck thanks to Slenderman's tendril.

Rage. Red, fiery RAGE.

Jeff punches the mirror multiple times, ignoring the shatter glass, making his knuckles bleed. The killer then kicks at his bathroom door, knocking the top hinges completely off. Breathing heavily, he slowly walks into his room, destroying anything he can get his hands on.

This isn't the first rage fit that Jeff has thrown. Throughout the killer's life, he lacks control over anything. Going from school to school because of the constant fighting and bullying. Being deemed the troubled child who parents eventually grew tired of handling. Being jumped and having his face disfigured. Jeff lacked control in all aspects of his life.

That was until he took it back. Until he embraced the sickness deep within himself. He took his control back and was finally able to do what he wanted, kill as he please - but then he ran into slenderman, and all of that control he took back was stripped from him once again.

Like a rabid dog on a leash, slenderman gave the killer more rules than anyone else because of his impulsive and crazed nature. But going so far as to lessen the number of kills he could do ticked him off. So here he is now, with bloody knuckles, holes in his wall, a broken bathroom door, and a very messy room.

He sits on the edge of his bed, smile dog there who watches the whole episode stare at him. Jeff grabs the file, reading through it with a frown despite his carved smile. While reading, there's a knock at his bedroom door.

"Fuck off!" He shouts, still coming down from his blinding rage.

BEN zaps his way through Jeff's door, taking a look around his room. "Damn...he must've really ticked you off."

Jeff is about to throw something at the male until he remembers something important. He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a sticky note. He hands it to BEN as well as an old phone.

"Think you can work your magic electric shit on this phone with that number? So, nothing can get trance back?" Jeff asks as he moves to sit back down on his bed.

BEN wants to make a joke, knowing this has something to do with the killer's lady friend- but everyone knows when Jeff gets like this you better be lucky he let's you get this close to him. So, with a sigh, BEN nods his head, letting Jeff know he'll be done by the morning. He also suggests that the smiling killer gets EJ to fix up his knuckles....which is answered by a knife being thrown at him.

After looking through the file once more, Jeff sighs heavily in frustration. The killer is never picky when it comes to the people he's told to kill, but gang members? That's a different story. It's a trigger- that faceless freak knows this, so why have him kill some random bitch in this growing gang? At this point Jeff believes the monster is purposely trying to push his buttons.

The smiling killer runs his hand through his hair as he tosses the file on his nightstand- falling back on his bed. Tomorrow is a new day. A better day is what most optimistic people say. But Jeff is nothing of the sort. He just wants to live his life to the fullest like he was before being caught by slenderman. Of course, his definition of living life to the fullest is killing as he pleases with no restriction - besides the law.

With the night now passed, the killer wakes from his sleep - going straight to the bathroom to handle his hygiene. The killer never really cared for his hygiene at the beginning of his rise, but once caught, slenderman beat the importance of keeping clean into his brain.

Once done, he dresses into his regular attire - walking out of his room, which is still a hot mess. When in the kitchen, Jeff can feel several pairs of eyes on him. Without a doubt, most of the mansion heard his rage fit or felt the shock of Slenderman's mind powers.

Before Jeff snaps at anyone, BEN appears in front of him with his phone in hand. Jeff sighs, nodding towards the living room. Both move to sit on the couch, glad EJ was already there.

EJ has his first aid kit with him, tilting his head at Jeff. "Just a quick look-"

"No." Jeff grits out, snatching the phone from BEN. "So?" He questions.

"Oh yeah, yeah, that shit was hard. Just keep your location off. Though...I did have to program a few bugs in a code thing, so uh... Yeah, I'll kinda be able to see your conversations...phone calls...videos..I'm sure you g-"

Jeff throws a random glass cup that is sitting on the dining table in front of him at BEN. He stands to his feet about to charge at the glitchy creature. "You perverted son of a-"

"Whoa whoa wait damnit! I can block it all out! I'll just be known to it! Like hell, I'd willingly look into your conversations! Shit- I'm not a idiot. I know you'll find a way to kill me." BEN reasons, still keeping his distance from Jeff.

The smiling killer grumbles under his breath, turning his attention to EJ. "No stitches. I hate that shit."

EJ nods, quickly cleaning up his follow killer's knuckles. EJ wraps them loosely so Jeff will still be able to move his hands as he wishes. Once done, Jeff leaves the mansions, hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie. It's too bright outside, so he stays within the woods following the trail leading to Eboni's high school.

The killer had a realization before drifting into slumber. He knows he'll most likely never have control back over his life, but that doesn't neglect his need for it. But if he can't gain control, then how will he get it? Simple, by taking it - stripping it from someone. Someone like Eboni.

The girl is so willing to give it up, so why pass on the opportunity? He made up his mind long ago that he doesn't plan on killing her, but using her is a different story. Sure, keeping her alive would put both of them at risk- but....what's wrong with a little bit of danger?

[holesandlividity]

Guardian Angel: J.Miller x Reader

Chapter I: Welcome to the Family 

Overall Summary: After traveling alone for so long you were on the brink of death, no. You were ready and prepared to die. You knew your luck had to run out eventually and you had come to terms with it, until fate or whatever you call it decided that you still had some lady luck on your side. Hiding in an abandoned Hotel full of infected that’s when you meet him. Joel Miller a total pain in your ass and a man full of secrets you were dying to unravel.

Chapter Summary: Tired and ready to give up you hid away in an abandoned Hotel when an unexpected “helping” hand comes along.

Warnings: Mentions of death, guns, typical TLOU violence

W.C: 1.24k

    You didn’t know why it happened or what you even did to deserve it- him. What you did know however, is that Joel Miller must have been a blessing straight from the heavens above.

    The sun shown, no it beat down on you. The heat was unforgiving and the sweat was sticky, salty, and uncomfortable. You were gross and tired and so incredibly hot, you had run out of water about an hour ago and you had no way to quench your thirst, the sweat your licked off your upper lip doing nothing to help your dehydrated state. 

    You had been on the run for about a month now, ever since your quarantine zone had been taken over by hunters and bandits and your legs could barely carry you any further, you debated taking off the hefty bag you carried on your shoulders and leaving it somewhere for even an inkling of relief but you knew that was a death wish.

    Maybe that’s exactly what you were waiting for though. For the sweet relief of death to carry you in its arms as if you weighed nothing at all. Wether it was from a heat stroke or those god damned infected you didn’t care it’s not like you really had time to be picky when thinking about how you would meet your demise.

    And suddenly there he was, all worn around the edges, and a bit mean but also kind. He reminded you of an espresso flavored cake, bitter but soft. 

   He had found you hiding in an old abandoned hotel, at first you hid from him. As soon as you heard his voice, all deep and southern your mind jumped to the conclusion that he was a hunter coming to collect the meat right off your tired bones. 

    Before you knew it the door to the bathroom you were hiding in was practically torn off it’s hinges and all at once a gun, flashlight, and tall figure were directly in your face. You’ve been shot at before sure, but looking down the barrel of a gun head on was a completely different experience. At least if you were to die by his hands it would be quick.

    “Who the fuck are you?” Bitter. And then-

    “Are you hurt?” Sweet. 

    You felt like a deer in headlights, it had been an entire month since you were actually face to face with someone. You had half the sense to convince yourself right then and there that he was God himself ready to welcome you to heaven. And then it hit you this wasn’t God and you most certainly were not going to heaven. This man was real and breathing and above all alive.

    “No, no I’m not hurt,” Not physically anyways. “could you please lower the gun and flashlight I think you’re going to blind me here soon.” 

    He didn’t move a single inch, hell it didn't even look like he was breathing in that moment. “At least put the fucking light down for god’s sake.” He was giving you a headache and that stupid light prevented you from seeing anything in front of you.

    “I don’t think you’re in any position to be tellin’ me what to do right now.” ‘Maybe I should just beg him to shoot me, get it over with already. I’m dead anyways if not by his hands then by the teeth and hands of all the infected on the third floor.’

    Holy shit the third floor. 

    “I can help you get out of here.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you by the way his finger moves a single inch closer to the trigger.

    “Please! I swear to god. I know the way out of here.” 

    “Then why haven’t you left already?” 

    It was a logical question you knew that but maybe if he took even a second to see the fucking position you and your supplies were in. “Because I was waiting for prince fucking charming to come along and save me duh.” 

    “There ain’t no prince’s around these parts, you know that right?”

    “Clearly.” You mumble to yourself, “but seriously I don’t have enough ammo to get myself out of here otherwise I would’ve been long gone. Only way to the other side is the third floor and it’s loaded with all kinds of infected. By the looks of it you have more than enough bullets to take a couple of them out.”

    “What’s the catch?” You hadn’t thought about receiving anything in return, the fact that he would be helping you get out of here should’ve been enough. Key word, should’ve.

    “First, you get that fucking gun out of my face like I asked you to earlier. Secondly, for the love of god some water would be nice. And lastly, you let me travel with you for a while until I can find somewhere safe. And I mean actually safe, to the point where I don’t have to fight for my life every goddamned second I spend on this earth.”

    “I like her already.” A lighter more feminine voice rang through the air, definitely belonging to a child. 

    “Who the hell is that?” The young girl introduced herself as Ellie before the man shoved her in the next room over. The fact that he had a kid with him helped ease some of your worries about him shooting you right in the face. 

    He thought about it for a second, maybe even two before finally lowering his weapon. “I can guarantee the water you asked for,” He said while rummaging through his bag before pulling out a beat up metal bottle. “But I can’t promise you somewhere safe, at least not as safe as you’re wanting it to be.”

    “Somewhere safe, someone safe I don’t give a damn just take me somewhere other than here for the love of fuck.” 

    He could do that and kill two birds with one stone, drop both you and Ellie off with Tommy in Wyoming. “Deal.” He stated before giving you the bottle filled with water and offering you a hand up.

    “The name’s Joel by the way. Joel Miller.” 

[ourhomealien]

Ilfracombe North Devon

Another long post, describing a place in England.

This was a challenge I set myself because I have a hard time imagining places when they are described in written works, so I thought if I reversed that and write a description of a place I can see maybe it would help. Tbh I feel like a caveman equivalent wrote this, lol.

It looked like a castle, maybe even like Mallory towers. It sat high up on a sloped bend of road overlooking the sea. -Towering over the rest of the houses flowing and going down the road to the right of its front doors.-

- at the bottom of a road past some traffic lights sat a small supermarket and four roads, some going up little hills and others going to the sea, one of these roads leads up and around a small slope, at the top is a walk overlooking the beautiful coast, but more importantly sat on the bend is a mansion; half of its roofs look like turrets while the other half look more like the tops of cottages. Balconies hug its frame. Light coloured Cobblestone make up the majority of it build, bricks only framing the windows and sides and making up the little tower tops.-

- you pull up to an automatic gate, to the side set in the cobblestone wall is a small keypad. You know the passcode off by heart. The gate slides open, when inside the car park you move your car to its usual spot and park it. The carpark is three rectangles sat in an almost L shape, surrounded by light bricks. Standing there you find your keys and walk to the back door, the front door doesn't open from the outside but it's fine because the back door is the only one that connects to the carpark. Once inside the lobby, white walls and pale brown carpet, its smells clean, of nothing, you smile. There's a clear plastic desk pushed against a big wall, the one that connects the back door to the front double doors all made of glass. The front doors are framed by two floor to ceiling windows one on each side. Standing in the middle of the lobby you spin around, it's good to be back. You face away from the desk, the doors on either side of you letting in natural light, in front of you are two options, the two flights of seven steps or the really slow lift. The lobby is a big room with a tall ceiling.

The stairs start as the wide corridor begins hugging the left wall. Underneath the second flight, the corridor begins to bend, the lovely white wall bending with it, stopping at a new-looking wooden door that has a small window, and automatic hinges to stop sound and keep children safe, a fire door you think. You can't see it from here though. Deciding to take to stairs you run and jump two at a time stopping at the second level, technically third because of the basement apartments, again you find a door with a window and a small pale brown carpeted room, a bend and two more flights of seven steps. You open the door and go through, to your left down two wrist-shoulder lengths is the lift, down the hall are three doors, one directly to your right opposite the lift, four, one at the mouth of the lifts corridor, five, and one all the way at the end opposite you, six, your cute little, big, apartment. Stood there outside your door, you push the little white button that's at the side of all these homes, sit there on the white walls and hear a bell chime from within, you know it would make whoever was in the guest bedroom jump, it's loudest in there. Inside you find yourself in a little square of space at the bottom of five steps, two pairs of crocs make a neat line against the white wall. The steps continue into a cozy gallery, at the top of the steps on the right is mirror and two doors, a cupboard; there's a small left curve and then a bathroom; a third door this time on the left wall further down has washing machine and a water tank, the boiler room; straight after is another small curve this one going right. When you get there you stand for a moment to look in the second mirror, it's hung on the wall at the start of the second small gallery, opposite it is the door to the kitchen and living room area. You spin around looking at the paintings hanging on the walls, to your left is the master bedroom and on suite bathroom. Further down on the right is the guest bedroom. It's so Toasty in the boiler room so you take your shoes off in there, it keeps them warm.

Things I want to add:

The Living room and kitchen.

The guest bedroom.

The master bedroom and on suite.

[erineverly]

014, a kitchen during a black out, surrounded by candles. // ( in that 80s verse we talked about long time ago that happens as they were fighting djdjkdk )

as a grand storm rolls in from over the pacific ocean, growling and grumbling and flashing across the evening sky like the fourth of july fireworks, the small house, labeled affectionately by the men living in it as the hell house, begins to tremble with fear. its thin walls and the front door that rattles on the hinges and barely hangs on even without strong gusts of wind testing it, provide a mere illusion of a shelter for those huddled inside. we could as well be sitting in a tent outside, erin thinks to herself as the sky continues to darken, raindrops falling steadily, striking the ground and sending up splatters of mud in their wake. she does her best to put on a brave face, but as yet another thunder rolls across the empty street, the dreadful sound bouncing against the nearby buildings, the act pretty much goes out the window. 

erin hasn’t seen many thunderstorms in her relatively short lifetime, as this particular area of southern california doesn’t really experience them that often — there’s little to no humidity, which makes the environment poorly suited for thunderstorm activity, the national weather services explain — and so this kind of weather simply terrifies her. glancing out the window briefly, she notices that instead of lessening, the downpour’s only intensifying, slowly obscuring the view of the red jeep that she parked at the curb a few hours ago, back when it was still sunny outside and coming here seemed like a great idea. the lightning flashes and thunder grow closer together. and then, seemingly out of nowhere, a tremendous roar, followed by a brilliant flash of light, a shower of sparks from the neighboring yard, and… total darkness engulfs the place as the power goes out. 

“i — i won’t be staying the night, don’t worry. just until the weather clears up enough for me to drive home. shouldn’t take long,” she assures the strawberry-haired singer in the most awkward manner possible, figuring hosting a sleepover could be a challenge given the circumstances — the unresolved tension between them, the mistrust and jealousy, the fight that they’ve basically just had and would most likely still be having if it weren’t for the complete darkness surrounding them. besides, this house… it’s something else. there’s piles of empty pizza boxes, unwashed dishes stacked in the sink, stains on basically every surface, the musty smell of fermenting laundry and mold and spilled alcohol and bodily fluids hanging in the air… she shakes her head, refusing to think about what happens here on a daily basis, and focuses on the task at hand — finding a somewhat reliable source of light. a flashlight preferably, but she doubts such a tool exists in this household, with no bathroom and barely any kitchen. blindly and by some miracle, with some help from the residents of this rotting shoe box for a house, she manages to dig out two tealights and light them up. 

“@rcsechild?” this time, erin’s voice comes out faint, not much fight left in it. the two flames on the counter small and flickering, and she knows they won’t last them very long. maybe an hour? maybe not even that… “any chance you might have more of these hidden somewhere?” she can barely make out his features, at least until the sky outside bruises purple again, briefly illuminating the room as yet another lightning strikes nearby. it hits the oak tree about fifty yards from where they are. a stout branch gets sliced right off with an almost surgical precision and falls straight into the driveway with a thud, scraping the side of a black buick parked there. “or maybe a flashlight? a flashlight would be perfect…” there’s a hint of hope in her voice, but it’s dying rapidly. “or some board games?” running her fingers through her dark locks, she sighs and  figures they might as well try to kill time by doing something other than arguing.

[thatonecoryosimp]

The Devil's Mercenary pt.3 Technoblade X reader

Hey y'all, this is part 3. Probably not the last part tho, I have some ideas for this story, but I would love some help on ideas for 4. This was wanted by the beautiful 🐍 anon. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Cursing, suggestive.

Series Masterlist

Pt. 4

Do I regret agreeing to the deal? Yes and no. I would have never said yes if this wasn't to save my ass, but at the same time, I'm glad that he gave me this opportunity.

Technoblade and I started off the next morning, giving Wilbur some bullshit excuse about going to get resources. I guess it wasn't a complete lie, but it most definitely wasn't a full truth.

The walk to the portal was relatively quiet, but oh gods was it boring. He had insisted on a portal somewhere only he knew, it was ridiculous. Not to mention the clothes I had on were not something to wear into the Nether.

We made it to the border of a glade. The sight was almost breathtaking, it had rolling hills and beautiful flowers. There were spots of ponds dotting the grassy fields. Bees buzzed overhead, and bunny's hopped along through the narrow tree patches.

A smile tugged at my lips as I followed the blood god through the greenery. I was in a daze as the ocean appeared in front of us. The coral-filled water was clear and unfiltered. The breeze was fresh, untouched by the people on the server.

The waves crashed as Dolphins rushed above the water, swimming in small packs. Fish danced in schools as they swam. If you looked close enough in the beautifully decorated area, you could see the colors of an axolotl or two.

The sight was enough to distract me from my evident demise, but only until it was rudely interrupted by the man it would be caused by.

"We're here," he huffed out. I turned to him. He was stalking off along the edge of the beach, there was a tiny shack where the woods began. I started to follow him soon after, my feet sloshing in the sand as I listened to the life around me.

The building would certainly be a blink and you'll miss it, that is if it didn't have the ghostly noises ringing out from inside it. That in itself was enough to catch anyone's attention.

The door thudded open as Tech pushed it. The hinges squeaked, and the floorboards cried out in despair as the hulking man stepped onto them. The eerie sounds only got louder as I followed him in, and it sealed my fate as purple particles came into view.

Technoblade didn't seem to care that I had frozen behind him, that or he didn't notice, which I doubt. He sat the bag he was carrying down on an old chair that looked like it would give way any second.

"We have food, water, and weapons," he stated as he turned to me. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't you need armor?"

"Sweetheart, the day I need armor to go into the Nether is the day Tommy's voice stops cracking."

I slightly chuckled at that, it was nowhere near as close to the feeling of calm the water gave me, but it was something.

"Well, I guess we should just get it over with then." Tech nodded as he looked at me.

"You have a sword on you, right?" I patted my hip.

"Yup."

And that was that. He stepped in first, leaving me in the dark shack all on my own. I could run away now, leave everything behind, Wilbur, Tommy, Techno... this stupid bet... and... Dream. I sighed. I couldn't do that, I've already betrayed my friends, the least I could do is face karma as I should.

I made contact with the purple and a shiver shot down my spine. My feet rested on the obsidian below me as my body started to fade out of the world I knew. My eyes closed and a nauseous feeling fell over me.

I gasped, almost falling forward before catching myself. He stood before me as I leaned on the portal's edge. I will never get used to how that feels.

"There's a fortress right near here, it's only a little ways North."

I shook my head and stood up straight, my swords felt heavier than they ever had as I walked towards the brick building. My heart was hammering as my boots thumped. The Nether was cast in its usual red hue as we walked. The heat was close to unbearable, and my skin felt like it was melting.

The fortress was in a Soul Sand Valley. Of fucking course it was. He did say he needed a bunch of Wither skulls.

"We'll split up, that way we can get in and out, meet back here in an hour, if you're not here, I'll assume your dead and tell others as such, got it?"

I didn't really have the time to argue with him, nor did I feel like it. I just want to get this over with.

"Yeah, whatever."

Then he walked away. I started to make my way through the Nether Brick walls, there was a staircase leading downwards, that's probably my best bet. The clicks of my feet were very apparent as I walked downwards. My eyes caught onto the black bones of almost 6 skeletons. I unsheathed my swords from the belt and smirked. This was gonna be fun.

~~~~

It had been about forty-five minutes. I sighed heavily as I picked up the last skull I needed. I had a full stack, if that wasn't enough then I don't know how to please this man.

My body and clothes were covered in black dust, my hands hurt, and my swords needed to be cleaned. Thank the gods I knew which way was out, otherwise, I'd be completely screwed. The familiar stairs came into sight and I smiled. Finally.

I leaned against the wall where Technoblade told us to meet, my eyes shut and I finally had a chance to breathe. There was sweat dripping from my face, and my shirt was transparent as it hugged my skin.

My eyes shot open as I heard heavy footsteps making their way towards me. I unsheathed one sword and stood there. Eyes scanning along the area. Pink hair became visible and I relaxed.

Technoblade saw me and raised his eyebrows, "I really thought you'd be dead."

"Thanks for having faith in me," I grumbled with a roll of my eyes as I chucked the stack of skulls at him, "Let's just get the fuck out of here."

"Some mouth you have their sweetheart."

"Don't call me that," I stated flatly.

"You sure didn't have a problem with Dream calling you that."

"Well you're not Dream, are you? You're most certainly not attractive enough to be. Looking like some knock-off barbie doll with that hair."

"Oh, alright high and mighty. You think you're some spectacular view?"

"Oh come on, I'm sure you'd just love to fuck me against the wall, huh Blade?"

His eyes turned to slits, "I'm sure you'd enjoy that, y'know, since you seem to be such a cock hungry whore, to the point where you'd betray the people that took you in, helped you, loved you."

I huffed. That sad thing is... he was right. Not about him, of course. But about me, everything he said about me was true in some aspect. My eyes trailed to the floor and I embraced defeat.

"Let's just go."

I stormed out, making my way back to the portal. Technoblade followed close behind me. Eyes glued on my back. I was gonna kill him. One day, I'm going to shove my sword through his heart and watch the Blood God crumbled to his knees.

But that day wouldn't be today...

And that day would never come. Because unbeknownst to me, fate had another idea. One that didn't involve hate, or plunging a sword through his heart.

I stepped into the glowing portal and fell through into the overworld.

~~~~

"There's a shower in the other room, but the water won't stay warm for both of us, the plumbing is shit."

"Well ain't that just lovely," I looked around the room, it was getting dark out, which didn't make much sense, but time is weird in the Nether, "I guess we're staying here tonight?"

Tech nodded, "It's the smartest idea, it's a long walk back, and there's two beds."

Well, ain't this just great? A night with the Blood God. Just what I needed.

"What about the shower situation?" He looked at the door, which I could only guess was the bathroom, "We could shower at the same time."

My eyes widened, "Do you expect me to shower with some pervert?"

He rolled his eyes, "Do you wanna shower in the cold?" I shook my head. "Didn't think so."

"Couldn't one of us just shower in the morning?"

"It'll still be cold, it takes almost two days for the water to warm up, it's never been much of a problem since I don't come here too often."

I sighed, "Fine, just don't be lookin at me." He nodded.

I should have just died in that fortress.

~~~~

Not too sure how I feel about that, but it didn't end up too bad. As I said earlier, I would love some ideas for part 4. Love you babes <3

[queenbeean]

for better or for worse / bucky barnes

author’s note: this is my first bucky fic so bear with me please; this is my entry for @celestialbarnes 4k writing challenge; i’m sorry this is short and bad

warnings: bad writing, angst, mentions of cheating, fluff and smut MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

prompt #6 “i guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse”

taglist: @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Bucky has never walked faster in his life. The handle of the plain brown paper bag was almost burning him. He felt as if everybody walking down the street was either staring at him or at the bag. What’s worse, he felt like every person knew what was inside the bag. His heart was beating faster. You were going to kill him. Maybe worse, he feared you were going to freak out, feel violated and then dump him. But on the other hand, he promised you he’d do this. Well, only part of it.

“Fuck.” He whispered. Or he thought he did. When he felt three people turning their heads to him, he pulled his cap down and walked faster to your shared apartment. Once he closed the door, he finally allowed himself to breathe. Leaning over the door, he took his cap and ran his fingers to his now shorter and quite sweaty hair.

“Why are you all flushed? And what’s in the bag?” Before Bucky could register Sam’s voice, he drew his knife out and threw it at where he heard him. Sam was quick to react and moved his head in the nick of time.

“What the hell, Sam?” Bucky walked up to the wall where the knife was now stuck. That was going to be hard to explain to you. “How did you get in?”

“Did you also shop for lingerie back in the thirties?” Sam’s voice was overshadow by the sound of wrinkling tissue paper.

Bucky almost flew and ripped the bag from Sam’s hand, ripping the bag in the process and making the contents of the bag explode in every direction. “That’s none of your business. Now you need to go.” He said as he pushed his business partner out the door.

Before he could close it, Sam stopped him. “Listen, I wouldn’t have peeked if I knew those were going to be in there. It was payback from that time I got donuts for my nephews.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Say hi to Y/N for me.” Sam said as he walked to the elevator.

For the second time, Bucky leaned against the door. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to go shopping for underwear. But he had promised you to replace the thong he ripped from your body. The memory of your small moans against his neck as you two tried new things flooded his mind. The two of you have never tried quickies in forbidden places but he couldn’t bear the thought of not talking to each other anymore. Which was the other reason why he decided to buy you one or maybe four more lingerie sets. The very same sets that were now thrown everywhere.

As he picked them up, he could only imagine how you would look in them. That image and the memory of the last time you two made love made his pants considerably tighter but you wouldn’t be home for another six hours. Maybe he could wait for you. Prepare dinner and wrap his presents for you.

Who was he kidding? The smallest thought of you had him craving you hard. And since he couldn’t have you right now, he was left with one thing to do.

Six hours later, you closed the door behind you and dropped your stuff, your keys getting caught with your scarf that also fell. “Shit.” You whispered under your breath. As you bent down to pick them up, something from underneath the couch caught your attention. “What the hell?” Your finger was almost burning as the little piece of fabric hung from it. It was a pastel blue and lace and there wasn’t almost any fabric to it. What was worse, it wasn’t yours.

I swear to God, if he cheated on me...

The opening of the door, awoke Bucky from his nap. “Hi, doll.” His smile almost made you forget about the incriminatory thong. The anger in your eyes made him sober up and sit up. “Doll?”

“Don’t call me that, James. What the fuck is this?!” You threw the fabric to his face. As soon as he took it from his face, his eyes widened. “I guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse.”

“Doll? Doll, it’s not what it looks like!” He yelled after you and almost caught you but you shut the bathroom door on his face. The first wave of shock simmered down and the reality of the situation caught up to you. He didn’t deny it but the look on his face was an answer, right? What if he didn’t? But what if he did? Oh, God, you almost threw up at the thought...

You were snapped out of it when the door was opened — or rather ripped off its hinges quite easily. Curse his vibranium arm, you thought.

“Did you cheat on me?”

“No.” Bucky said as he came closer to you. “No, I didn’t. I would never.” His hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs wiped away the few tears that came out. The look on your face broke his heart. He hates that he wasn’t careful enough with his present for you. And more importantly, that yesterday’s fight led to you not trusting him anymore.

“Whose thong is that then?” You sniffled.

Bucky smiled slightly at you. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen pantry where he kept your present for the time being. He rummaged through the contents of the gift bag and pulled out the exact same panties he ripped off you. “Remember yesterday when I promised I’d buy you another?” You nodded and felt embarrassment fill you. “I might have gotten carried away and bought some sets I think you might like but I can always return them if you don’t like them, well except for the blue one because the tag is ripped off. I’m going to make Sam pay me back if you don’t like that one-”

You cut him off by pulling him down to your height and kissing him. His beard was slightly scratching you but you didn’t care. He went through all the trouble and bought you stuff the both of you might enjoy. The thought of this hundred-year-old man going out and do something like that made you feel so stupid but so incredibly loved and special.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky said as he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he led the two of you to the couch. “I can see how this could be misinterpreted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Well I’m sure you can make it up to me.” Bucky smirked as he laid back on the couch, leaving you straddling his hips. “If you want to of course.”

You placed a finger on his mouth. “How can I not want to when you are the sweetest old man? Wait, that didn’t sound as sexy as I hoped.”

Bucky chuckled, placing his hands underneath your shirt and rubbing circles on your hips. “Good thing I know what you mean... and that I don’t look my age.”You frowned and crossed your arms. “I’m kidding, doll.” His palms moved to your back and pulled you to him, your lips meeting his as soon as you were close enough.

“Bucky.” You moaned against his lips, his kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more. “Bucky, please.”

“What do you need, doll?”

“I need you...” You moaned again as his lips kissed underneath your jaw. “Make love to me please.”

“Gladly, doll.” His hands took the hem of your shirt and pulled it off you. Your hands were quick to unclasp your bra and throw it on the floor.

Both of your hands bumped into each other as you tried to unbutton each other’s jeans. “You do yours and I’ll do mine.” You stood up to take off yours along with your pants and he wriggled until he got them off, his boxers included. Once more, you straddled his hips and bent down to kiss him again.

“Ouch.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you as he examined your face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Something poked me.”

Bucky chuckled. “I guess I’m a little excited.”

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t you.” You moved your hand in between your bodies and pulled out a... tag? “James Buchanan Barnes, did you spent seventy dollars on me? Wait, no, you got more stuff. How much did you spend on me?”

“It was my pleasure, doll. Just like it’s my pleasure to do this.” He repeated his actions from before and pulled you down but this time, his lips took one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing it and licking it as his vibranium arm played with the other bud, instantly erecting it with the cold metal.

“Bucky.” You moaned again as you bucked your hips against his, his hard cock rubbing your clit.

“Wrap your cunt around me, doll.” He said as he switched his lips to your other breast.

Blindly, you positioned yourself and slowly sank down onto him. Your hands gripped his shoulders hard at the delicious stretch but he didn’t complain. “Bucky, fuck! Bucky, Bucky!” You moaned out loud as you were filled completely by him.

“That’s it, doll. You feel so good, so tight, so warm.” Bucky never thought he’d be able to enjoy this level of pleasure and he never did until he met you.

You started off by moving your hips lazily, still feeling the stretch from his big cock. As the pleasure built, you sat up straight and placed your hands on his chest. You needed something to support yourself as Bucky decided you were ready to bounce on him. He gripped your hips and helped you move up and down, leaving you breathless.

“Y-you are s-so big, Bucky.” You breathed out as you tried to match the buck of his hips.

“And you are squeezing me too much, sweetheart. I’m close.” Bucky grunted out and took your hands in his.

You opened your eyes and looked at him as your bouncing slowed down. He looked beautiful underneath you, his eyes shut and always the gentleman, he held it in so you could come first. Not that he’d need time to recover, he was a super soldier after all but it was the thought that counted. But you wanted him to enjoy the ride so you started...

“Y/N, no.” Bucky said in between moans. “Doll...”

Your voice was breathless as you started spelling his name. “Just relax, Bucky and fill me up.” As soon as you said those words, he pinned your hands behind your back and brought you down to him.

With a short margin, he was able to drill into you for what felt like forever and even after you were squeezing him for all he was worth, he didn’t let up until the amount of Bucky coming out of your mouth decreased considerably and also when he felt your juices combined with his were running down both your legs.

With shaky legs, you tried and sat up. Your walls still throbbing around his cock. “Let’s stay like this for a bit and then we can take a bath.” Bucky suggested, voice still breathless.

“Okay.” You whispered as you rested your cheek on his chest. “By the way, how did you know what store to go to?”

“How could I not know, doll? I love you and I know what makes you happy.” Bucky felt how you tensed at his words. “What is it?”

“I still feel bad for not trusting you.”

Bucky brought his hand to brush your hair in comfort. “Don’t apologize, love. If it had been the other way around, I’d probably have thought the same.” He whispered and kissed the top of your head. “And I meant what I said yesterday, for better or for worse. Life will take weird turns but we are going to get through them together. It’s you and me.”

“Who would’ve thought Sergeant Barnes could be so soft?” You teased him but knew he meant it.

“Maybe you could model the lingerie for your Sergeant?”

“Way to ruin the moment, James.”

“You love me.”

“I do love you, Bucky. For better and for worse.”

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Eleven

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: soooo um i think this may be a little tension relieving ;;;;)))

Warnings: angst, language, SMUT (18+ ONLY)

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART ELEVEN

** Two years later, Manhattan, New York **

You scrolled down on your phone, pretending to actually be doing something, while you waited for Natasha. A group of teenagers had come into the cafe, loud, laughing, challenging each other to some stupid fight. You rolled your eyes, chewing on some gum, making sure they kept their distance with you. Who knew what those kids had touched. Ew.

Nat texted you that she was around the corner, and to keep from staying a second longer with the obnoxiously loud teens, you all but ran out the cafe. You marched down the street, spring air brushing through your hair. There was a smell between a wood fire and flowers that drafted from God knows where. The sun was high up, the afternoon in Manhattan hot. Many people walked by wearing shorts or tank tops. Summer was approaching. It brought a smile to your face.

But that smile soon faded as you walked by the newspaper outlet and caught sight of the title. 

TWO YEARS SINCE NEW YORK ATTACK

You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheek. It had already been two years since the last time you’d spoken to him? It seemed like way longer. It seemed as if you’d walked into a parallel universe. No one ever talked about him, least of all your friends and family. Least of all you. 

You shook your head, brushing away the thoughts that brought you back to all those years ago. You shook away an image of a loft, of a coffee table full of leather-bound books, of hands on your body.

“Hey!”

You looked up, Natasha standing before you in a trendy outfit that made her look like a runway model. She had huge sunglasses perched on her nose, pink bubblegum in her mouth. 

“Ready?” she asked. 

“Yeah!” you answered, trying to hide the newspapers with your body, but you saw how her chin dipped when you walked by. She would surely see the titles and tell your brother. Dammit. You’d been doing so well.

Technically, you’d been doing fine. 

Ever since the Avengers had defeated Loki and Thor had brought him back to Asgard, you’d never seen or heard of him. You’d gone to a few rounds of therapy, mostly with psychologists who dealt in soulmates, and after a few months of isolation, Bruce had let you go. It had been a relief to have your phone back, your liberties, your God damn car. 

When you’d gotten the keys to your apartment back, it had felt final. But as the last people invited to your “homecoming” celebration had dwindled out, you’d found yourself in a pit. 

Everything was muted. Yes, you still saw colors, but without the person behind those colors, you just drifted. Yes, you were happy, somewhat, but whenever you saw couples together, something in your chest burned, like a slow leaking flame. You’d never be like them. Even though you’d heard stories about people marrying someone who wasn’t their soulmate, the simple thought of having another man - except Loki - in your life sent shivers down your spine. 

“I heard they got free donuts,” Nat said, bending her head close to yours. You giggled, but there was no heart it in.

She was bringing you to a stupid singles night out. Even though she briefly skirted on the fact that you’d already found your soulmate, she said it was an opportunity “to get out there”.

Hell, maybe it would make you forget Loki, although you highly doubted.

The night went on in a sort of downward spiral. It started off really fast and funny, with music and drinks, and a lot of men fighting to come to talk to you and the hot redhead. But with every passing guy, the more they didn’t look like him, the more they said things that set your teeth on edge, the duller you felt. 

Like being emptied slowly, hand by hand, touch by touch. 

By the time Nat brought you back to your apartment, you could barely manage a smile.

You tried, once again, fixing your stupid leaking tap but decided against it and went straight to bed. Because of that stupid newspaper, you had nightmares, plagued by a dark-haired prince wearing green and gold armor. 

In the morning, you ignored the tap and went to work. When you came back, the tap wasn’t leaking and you thanked your lucky guardian because if you had to hear one more drop, you’d lose it. 

The next night, coming home after drinks with your brother, the windowpane was fixed.

You knew something was wrong when your squeaking front door slid on perfectly oiled hinges. 

Someone had been in your apartment. Multiple times. 

Stepping in your apartment that night, eight nights after the tap was “fixed”, you looked around in the darkness. The shadows seemed denser, more menacing, as if they hadn’t been standing there every night, ever. 

You looked at your tiny kitchen. Nothing seemed amiss. You checked the lock, but it locked on its own with no problem. Even better than before.

You couldn’t actually complain about your little home invader because they had fixed all the problems that were slowly driving you to the brink. But you hadn’t said a word to anybody, not even Bruce, because deep down, you knew who’d be waiting for you one night, eventually. 

The bathroom light had been changed. It used to flicker all the time, giving you the creeps while you took a shower. But now it opened wildly bright and stayed there. 

There. That was the daily change. 

You changed in the bathroom, taking a hot, quick shower, keeping the door firmly locked. You felt watched as you padded across your apartment in your jammy shorts and tank top, your hair a wet rope down your back. 

The cabinet where you kept your mugs had a faulty knob that had cut you on more than one occasion. It was polished now. 

Hands trembling, you pivoted in your kitchen, fingers white-knuckling the countertop. 

“I know it’s you,” you murmured, feeling your heart throbbing in your throat. The shadows seemed to listen. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

You apartment seemed to breathe, swallowing your words, digesting them. But nothing came back to you. You kept expecting the shadows to linger, to move, to break away, but everything remained still, quiet.

Your heart plummeted. 

You went to bed looking out the window, noticing just how clean it was for an apartment in downtown Manhattan. 

You had dreams of him, vivid dreams. You swore you could feel fingers on your cheek the next morning. 

It’s when you walked in to the scent of flowers and found a bouquet of your favorite in the kitchen that you truly lost it. It took everything in you not to pick it up and smash the glass vase against the wall. There was no note, but just the fact that now, he wasn’t being so subtle about him breaking and entering, made your heart bash wildly against your ribs. 

But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to get to you without the others knowing. He’d surely scourged the place for microphones or cameras, just like you’d done two years ago, and found none. He knew the Avengers, or anybody watching, wouldn’t know he’d been here. And just the fact that you’d told no one about the mysterious repairs in your flat meant everything for him.

You turned, flowers at your back. The shadows seemed to be smiling. They knew he was here. 

You were older now, wiser. You knew how to play his little games.

“I’m not afraid,” you said to the dark. The curtains had been drawn in the living room, you noticed, as you made your way there. He’d wanted this to be done in private. 

“I know you’re here,” you continued, inching to the windows, intent on pulling them back to shed some moonlight in your apartment. “You can... you can talk to me,” you whispered, heart heavy and harsh in your ribs. Your hands had begun to shake the closer you got to the curtains. 

When you wrenched them open, exposing the city beneath you, you could barely take your eyes off the horizon.

Because you saw it.

The flicker.

His face there and then not, your heart wrenching in your chest, causing an audible gasp from your lips to echo in the room.

You felt the heat of him at your back. “I thought you were unafraid?” he asked, his voice rumbling, something vicious seizing your insides with a hot grip. 

Something akin to a puzzle piece clicked back into place at the sound of his voice. You could breathe lighter now, see colors more vividly, hear the world around you clearly. All this time, you’d suffocated, been drowning, and now you weren’t.

“I’m not,” you answered, but neither you nor he missed the way your voice trembled.

You felt the warmth of his hand on your hip, saw the reflection of him flicker in the window as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the space beneath your ear. Fire lit everywhere on your flesh as he brought himself flush with you. 

He inhaled. “I’ve missed you,” he mumbled against your skin, the sound of it vibrating in your bones. 

“Where...” you licked your lips and restarted. “Where have you been?”

His other hand braced just under your throat, long fingers seeping warmth through the fabric of your t-shirt. 

“Away,” he mumbled. He slid his hand from your hip to the sliver of skin under the hem of your t-shirt and you hummed involuntarily. His touch was like no other’s. “You’re so soft,” he mumbled. 

You tried not to forget that he’d left you there on the floor two years ago, but the way his body fit against yours made any logical thought seep from your brain.

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long,” he drawled, making it seem as if you’d been separated for an eternity. “I’ve dreamt of your eyes. Your voice. The way your body fits right onto mine.” He shifted slightly, pressing you harshly against him. “I’ve not the heart to take another woman to bed. I want it to be you.”

His words sent a strange heat dripping down into your belly, heavy and wanting. Your mouth parted, and the hand Loki had against your chest slipped up until his thumb pressed against your mouth. “How sweet of you,” you said against his thumb. 

He chuckled lowly. “I can show you sweet,” he said.

“I rather you practice restraint,” you mumbled, even though deep down, you meant none of it.

He chuckled again, shaking his head, lowering his hand back so it lay lightly around your throat. Then his chuckle turned into a groan, his force deepening. “Y/n,” but now his voice was pleading, like a man who’d been deprived of everything. “Please. I’ve thought of you all this time. Don’t push me away. Not you.”

The last part made you frown, but you nonetheless pushed from him, turning to face him. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, his face ashen as if he hadn’t slept in a millennia. His hair was slightly longer, curling along his jaw, hiding his ears. He wore a white t-shirt and black slacks, but he was cold as you pressed your fingers against his shoulders. 

“Okay,” you whispered. You tried not to maintain eye contact because the haunted look in his green eyes made you sick. 

He bent forward slightly, grasping your face between his huge, warm hands. The first brush of his lips was soft, sending butterflies scuttling across your belly. But then he gripped your face, bringing you to him, and kissed you like he was a starving man and you were his reprieve. 

A strangled moan left his throat, his lips molding to yours, driving you backwards until your spine hit the window. One hand went to the glass to soften your fall, but he didn’t let up his rhythm. You could barely keep up anyway.

He kept kissing you so harshly, delving his tongue between your teeth, angling your head back to kiss you deeply, that every rational thought in you just went to dust. 

You gripped his back, marveling at the strong muscle, bringing him flush against you. One hand went to his hair, knotting in the raven locks, tugging until you swore you’d hurt him. But he kept kissing you, hands venturing to your hips, sliding over your ass, gripping your thighs and hauling you up. 

On instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his arousal just where you wanted him, and he spun you away from the window. How he moved with such eloquence as he devoured your mouth befuddled you, but when your ass found the countertop and Loki pressed himself between your legs, your brain fizzled. A whole jar of butterflies now flew in your belly. 

He broke from the kiss momentarily to grasp your breasts, kneading them in his hands, marveling at the sight. 

“Restraint, Loki,” you mumbled breathlessly, lips swollen. 

One of his brows furrowed, but he went right back to kiss you, holding your tits in his hands, then moving to grip your thighs with such strength it should have hurt. 

“I can’t stop,” he breathed between kisses, holding the back of your head. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”

You squeezed your eyes shut harshly, ignoring the red alarms in your head. Because it was him. Because it was him, always him, and now that he was here, touching you almost everywhere, his scent invading your senses, you never wanted him to go. 

He pulled your head back and kissed down your neck, over the swell of your breast, taking one nipple lightly between his teeth. A gurgled moan left your throat, Loki holding your head back, exposing everything to him. 

“No bra?” he grumbled against your skin, his tongue soothing the ache on your nipple. 

You just breathed in response, your legs clenching against his arms. 

He chuckled against your body. His left hand, the free one, slid down the length of your chest until he took one finger to lightly circle you through your pants. 

You gasped, jolting in his grasp, his mouth possessively clamping shut on your nipple. 

“Eager,” he hummed. He was so warm, smelled so fucking good, that the second time he applied pressure and circled his fingers, you all but moaned for everyone to hear. He teased you some more, licking and pleasing you all through your clothing.

Then his mouth left your hardened nipple and traveled up to your ear, where the warmth of his breath made you shiver. “If I can do this to you,” he whispered, circling your core through your pants. “Imagine how it’ll feel when I fuck you.”

His words made you want to clench your thighs together, to keep the heat and pressure there, but his body was still between your legs. He chuckled, biting your neck, hard, knowing it would leave a mark. He yanked your head forward until your eyes met his.

“I can feel just how much you want me,” he mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “I can smell it.”

You rocked once against his hand, eliciting a groan from him as your thigh briefly brushed him through his pants. He was hard. Wanting. The hand behind your hand squeezed until it hurt, but when he soothed his tongue against your neck, circling your clit, you lost yourself in him again. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, chanting your name like a prayer. You were almost there and you couldn’t believe it. You rocked against his hand, biting your lip, and when he saw that, he brought your mouth into a breathtaking kiss. “Cum against me,” he said through each kiss. “Cum.” It was a command. 

You squeezed your eyes, grinding against his circling hand, and when he licked your neck, you all but came apart with a moan. Loki quickly kissed you, swallowing your sounds of pleasure as he slowly, leisurely circled you through your pants. Your legs shaking, you trembled against him until his fingers stopped and he brought his forehead to yours. 

“Run away with me,” he whispered. “Let me ravage you every night, y/n, please.”

Lost in the dizzying aftermath of your orgasm, all you could do was breathe, eyes closed. You fisted one hand in his shirt, feeling his heart beating savagely under his breastbone. 

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze.

“No,” you said.

AAAAHHHH omg i was so shy writing that little smutty part lmaooo BUT YES MORE TO COME OOOOHHHH (you will get a whole smut scene soon, let me get used to writing smut again hihihihi)

tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor @winchescumberholland

[thesightstoshowyou]

Slip Stitch

Thomas Hewitt x F Reader (NSFW)

Read Part 1 here

Summary: You sew Tommy up after an altercation. Then, you help him with his other problem. (This fic is a strange mix of sticky sweet and horribly violent. This one got away from me. I’m very soft for this man)

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, death of minor character, oral, mirror sex, praise kink.

 ~~

             “TOMMY! GET OUT HERE!”

             You jerk awake, sitting bolt upright in bed. You’re dazed, wondering where you are until you hear Hoyt shouting outside and Tommy’s thundering footsteps as he descends the stairs. Then comes that horrible noise, the revving, the deafening roar of a chainsaw rumbling to life.

            You scream and clap your hands over your ears, pulling your knees to your chest and burying your face in them. It does little to help. The agonized screaming reaches you anyway. You hear them dying, whoever they are, their screams cut short. The chainsaw idles.

            Your doorhandle rattles and you startle. The lock clicks. A wild-eyed young man bursts into your room. There’s blood splattered across his shirt, terrible crimson dripping onto the floor as he moves. He slams the door shut and blocks it with his body. He spots you on the bed, takes in your tear streaked face, your normal clothes, the horror in your eyes.

            “We gotta get out of here. C’mon!” He assumes you’re a victim, like him. Well, he’s mostly right. He crosses the room and grabs your arm, tries pulling you to your feet. He’s wants to help you.

            “No, no, stop! You don’t understand, you have to get out of here—

            “C’mon, let me help you, c’mon!” he murmurs, keeping his shaky voice as muted as he can. You try and wrench your arm out of his grip, try to get through to him but he’s too frightened, too agitated. He’s not hearing you.

            “STOP, you need to run! You have to RUN!” you scream at him, but he’s not listening. He’s looking behind his shoulder, mumbling “out of here, out of here” over and over, tugging at your arm. He’s traumatized, out of his mind with fear. His nails are biting into your arm he’s gripping you so tightly.

            Suddenly, the door is kicked open with so much force it splinters, one of the hinges flying off the door frame to skitter across the floor. Thomas takes up the entire doorway, chest heaving, murderous intent in his eyes. You’ve never seen him so angry. He radiates it, makes you shrink back onto the bed and cower.

             Thomas grabs the boy’s arm, jerking him away from you so hard you hear the pop of his shoulder dislocating from its socket. He screams in pain and dread as Thomas hurls him down the hall. They disappear from view and you’re glad for it when the chainsaw growls.

            There’s screaming, then there isn’t.

            The chainsaw splutters and goes quiet. You hear Tommy panting, then his heavy footfalls as he hurries down the hall and into your room. He kneels at the edge of your bed, gently pulling you toward him. He inspects your arm where the boy had held you, turning it this way and that in his huge hands.

            You stare blankly at the blood and flesh coating the entire front of him. It takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you questioningly. You meet his concerned gaze and force a thin smile across your face.

            “I’m okay, Tommy. I’m okay.” You reach out to grip his shoulder reassuringly but quickly withdraw your hand when he flinches.

            “Oh no, you’re hurt,” you say, slipping off the bed to inspect the wound. This is good, good for you anyway. It gives you something else to concentrate on, something to occupy your mind instead of the horror that just took place a few feet from where you sleep. Tommy shakes his head, standing and gently brushing you off.

            “No, you can work later. This will get infected. It needs stitches.” You take his hand and lead him from the room. Careful not to look too closely at the mangled body and gore splashed across the walls, you lead Thomas to the bathroom and push him down so he’s seated on the edge of the tub.

            “You’ll have to take your shirt off.” He stares at you for a moment, frowning. You raise your eyebrows at him and he sighs, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. You help him slide the fabric off his injured shoulder. Blood leaks from the deep slash, thick rivulets that pour down his bicep and forearm to drip into the bathtub.

            You slap a washrag over the wound, holding pressure while you get the water in the tub running. Testing it, you find it warm enough. You soak the cloth, lathering it with soap before gently scrubbing away the dried blood and grime around Tommy’s wound. He tenses but says nothing, stoic as always.

            Once you deem it clean enough, you retrieve the sewing kit from under the sink. You choose the thinnest curved needle, feeling sorry for Tommy as you do. As you thread the needle, you recall the conversation you’d had with Luda Mae on your first day at the Hewitt residence:

             “I can cook. I can clean, and sew.” You plead your case, praying this insane family will choose to keep you alive. You wish Tommy would put you down. He still clutches you to his chest like you’ll float away if he lets go. Luda Mae scoffs.

            “Sew. Tommy can sew.” She frowns, looking between you to her son. She sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat and adds, “But it might do to have another cook ‘round here.”

             Guess your sewing skills are going to come in handy after all.

            “Sorry, Tommy. Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?” Thomas nods and grips the edge of the tub. He watches, brow furrowing, as you push the needle through his skin, pulling the thread until it’s red with his blood. You use a slip stitch, hoping to minimize the scarring.

            It’s almost easy to see him as a different person like this, passive and calm, watching intently as your fingers push the needle through his flesh. Like this, he isn’t the frightening chainsaw-wielding cannibal. Like this, he’s just Tommy. Tommy, who so tenderly held your face down in the cellar and cradled you to his chest like he would protect you from anything that would ever think of hurting you.

            It's easy to imagine, so you do. You imagine are together somewhere else, somewhere far away from this awful house. You imagine Tommy is just that: Tommy, not Thomas Brown Hewitt. You imagine you’re just helping Tommy mend an injury he acquired while working in the yard.

            Thomas flinches under your fingers, reaching up with his uninjured arm to grip the edge of your shirt. You’re sure it’s an unconscious action on his part. He hasn’t tried to touch you again since that first time. He’s kept his distance for the five months you’ve been imprisoned here. You wonder if it’s insecurity, or fear, or something else entirely. Thomas treats you like a porcelain doll, like you’ll crumble apart in his hands if he’s not careful enough. He must be afraid of hurting you.

            But he hadn’t hurt you. Oh no, quite the opposite. You’re loath to admit it, but there have been nights where you’ve awoken, drenched in sweat and slick between your thighs, high off dreams of Tommy taking you in the cellar. There are times you’ve burned with need and wished he would burst into your room to claim you again.

            You’re pulled from your reverie as you reach the edge of Tommy’s wound. You tug, knitting his flesh together and tie off the thread. Rinsing away the rest of the blood, you cover the wound with gauze and tape it to his skin.

            Thomas moves to get up but you push him back down. He looks up at you quizzically. You smile softly, taking the wash cloth and gently cleaning the sweat and blood from his forehead. He stiffens, eyes falling to his knees, then flicking to the door, looking anywhere but at your face.

            You comb your fingers through his hair, as much as you can while hindered by the strap of his mask. You still haven’t seen what’s underneath. You wonder if you ever will.

            Tommy’s eyes slip closed as you scratch your nails against his scalp. You move to his temples, rubbing gentle circles into his skin. Warmth blooms in your chest when you see his shoulders relax.

            You move to stand between his spread thighs, a better angle to work your fingers into his neck and shoulders. Thomas sighs, leaning forward to rest his head against your chest as you dig your knuckles into the stiff muscles between his shoulder blades. He flexes briefly before relaxing, and you’re momentarily transfixed by the way his defined back muscles ripple under his skin.

            You card your fingers through the damp hair on the back of his neck and Tommy groans quietly. You bite your lip, face heating up. He sounds like he did that day in the basement.

            He must feel you tense because he leans back to meet your gaze, searching your face. You stare into his deep eyes, full of adoration and a little smile tugs at the corners of you mouth. Only a monster could be unmoved by the way he looks at you.

            Then, your eyes trail lower and you notice the other effect your ministrations are having. You swallow thickly. Christ, you’re nearly drooling at just the sight of his clothed cock straining against his trousers. Too easy.

            Tommy notices you staring. You see the skin above his mask flush crimson and his eyes shift away from yours, ashamed. You suppress another grin, amused by how little effort it takes to make this powerful man squirm.

            You move to your knees, kneeling between his legs and leisurely sliding your hands up the inside of his thighs. Thomas inhales sharply, nails digging into the edge of the tub. He sits up as straight as a board and you briefly wonder if all your work kneading his muscles has gone to waste.

            “Is this okay, Tommy?” you whisper, maintaining eye contact and leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the inside of his knee. Thomas nods quickly, too quickly. You stifle a giggle, fingers moving to his belt.

            Clink, pop, zip, rustle and there he is, heated flesh hard and flushed in your palm. You give him one slow stroke before scooting forward to drag your tongue up the thick vein along the underside. The scent of him hits your nose, spicy sweat and sharp soap.

            Thomas utters a strained whine, the sound going straight to your lower belly. You clench your thighs together and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You’re determined to pull more needy sounds from him.

            There’s no way to fit him all in your mouth, so instead you suckle on the tip, tasting salty tang on your tongue, and work your hands up and down his shaft. Tommy groans again, one hand leaving the edge of the tub to rest on the back of your neck.

            You hum in your throat as you hollow out your cheeks, looking up through your lashes to meet Thomas’ heated stare. He jerks, fisting a hand in your hair and hastily pulling you off his twitching cock. He gasps, the fingers in your hair trembling.

            You flash him a coy smile and bite your lip and you think he’s probably had enough of your teasing when he abruptly stands, pulling you with him and backing you up until you bump the edge of the sink. Fear sneaks up on you then, with Thomas towering over you, looking down at you with unbridled lust.

            His deft fingers find the button on your shorts, working them open and bunching the fabric in his hands, preparing to yank them off your hips. He seems to remember himself then, freezing and looking down at you, the question of consent in his eyes. There he is, your sweet Tommy.

            You place your own hands over his, wiggling your hips and working the shorts down your thighs. They only make it to your knees before Thomas is twisting you around and grabbing handfuls of your hips before grinding his cock against the flesh of your ass, groaning through his teeth. He’s desperate, that sound sending a jolt of arousal through your heated core. Your heart hammers in your chest, anxiety and excitement fighting for dominance in your mind.

            You bend over the sink and raise your hips so his cock brushes against your drooling slit. Reaching behind you, you grip his hot length, grinding down against the smooth skin to coat it in slick before bringing him to your entrance.

            You release him when he begins to push into your eager cunt, gripping the sink and breathing through your nose to keep yourself as relaxed as you can. Holy hell, you’d forgotten how big he is…. Gradually, Tommy advances, parting tight, slippery muscles until his hips meet the flesh of your ass.

            “Ohh my god, fuck,” you murmur, huffing breaths making the hair that has fallen in front of your mouth billow. Thomas reaches for your neck, gently gripping you under the jaw with one massive hand and tilting your head up so he can see your face in the mirror.

            Experimentally, keeping a close eye on your expression, he bucks his hips and you cry out, one hand gripping him around the wrist. You dig your teeth into your lip, afraid the others in the house will hear. He does it again and your eyes snap shut, a strangled moan ripping from your throat.

            Thomas starts up a steady pace, rocking into you and using the hand on your jaw to pull you back onto his cock. He’s more controlled this time, but you can feel his restraint slipping in the way his thick fingers twitch against your neck. He pants and you whimper, each thrust of that monstrous cock sending electric shocks of pleasure arcing through you.

            “Tommy, oh fuck, Tommy, yes, just like that, that’s so good, you’re so good—

            You’re babbling, hardly aware of the praise tumbling from your lips. Thomas moans noisily, his thrusts growing more uncoordinated and rougher the more you speak. Soon the vanity is thump, thumping against the wall with each slam of his hips, but you’re past the point of caring.

            Wonderful, liquid heat curls in your gut. You’re practically leaking around the cock stuffed inside you, can feel it spilling down your thighs to drip onto the floor. The edge is right there, a few thrusts away.

            “Yes, Tommy, please don’t stop, please, please, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum—

            He’s first to the finish line this time, groaning low in his chest and pushing into you as deep as he can to paint your insides. The feel of his cock twitching against your clenching muscles sends you soaring out over the edge, your eyes snapping shut, hot pleasure roiling within you.

             You recover first, cracking your eyes open and taking in Tommy’s wrecked expression in the mirror. His eyes are closed tight and his chest heaves, shoulders hunched and quivering. You’re mesmerized by his arms and chest, defined muscles on display and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

             Gently, you ease yourself away, your dewy skin sticking you to one another. Tommy hisses when he slips out of you, a deluge of seed pouring from your creamy cunt to coat your already slick thighs. What a mess he makes of you.

             Turning to face him, you catch him off guard when you pop up on your tip toes to plant a kiss to the mouth of his mask. Thomas blinks when you pull away, eyes wide in surprise, but he recovers quickly, more than happy to slip his fingers under your ears and pull you in until your lips touch his through the slit in his mask.

             “I think I need a shower,” you giggle against his mouth. You feel his lips curl into a grin and you smile back, adding “Want to join me?”

[fullmetalscullyy]

For the sharing a bed ask bc I can't remember for the life of me if I've sent one to you yet 🙈 'they took turns sharing it while the other was on watch' or however exactly that one was worded ❤️❤️

aaa tysm for the prompt! i loved it and i hope you enjoy! continuing with the no plot just vibes agenda~

send me a prompt

rated: g | words: 3679 | tags: royai, there was only one bed, shelter from the storm, snowstorm, tending to wounds, comfort, fluff

read on ao3

Exhaustion followed both occupants of the crumbling bothy like a shadow. It clung to them, slowing their movements, as if it was physically attached to their ankles like two weights. Booted feet were dragged across the polished, undulating stones underfoot, worn down after years of use, and finally came to stop in the centre of the main room.

Years of use didn’t warrant years of upkeep apparently, Riza thought, as she did a sweep of the building. It was not in the best condition however it was still standing, and it was shelter from the storm outside. That was all Riza was currently concerned with.

There were only two rooms, plus a bathroom with a functioning sink and toilet – surprisingly enough. The pipes grunted and groaned, screaming in protest at being used, but it worked and was clean. A worn plaque above the sink indicated the water was drinkable as well, which was the best news she’d heard all day. A small blessing in this wretched situation they’d found themselves in.

To counteract that thought, at that exact moment, a howling gust of wind rattled the door thoroughly and whistled through the cracked class of the windows to its left and right. The Colonel whipped around to stare, partly in fright and partly because he was on edge. They both were. The sudden scream that sounded as the wind tried to force its way inside through the glass made Riza jump as well.

They shared a look and the Colonel’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“So much for the famed northern hospitality,” he muttered. His words held a bite to them, however Riza was unsure whether it was directed at the situation itself or at anyone in particular.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault they’d found themselves in this situation, however it was not ideal, nor was it pleasant. The first point on their ‘bad things that have happened today’ list (at this point, they were up to around number six) was a snowstorm had rendered their transport from the station in North City to the town they were supposed to be visiting useless. The truck owner boasted it was an all-terrain, all-weather vehicle, that he was handpicked by the military for transport because of his “beauty’s” prowess. He quickly stopped bragging though and started muttering angrily at his prized possession, kicking the tyre in fury as it sat pitifully in a snowy ditch, unable to escape the confines of it. It was safe to say his “beauty” fell short of the mark for the two soldiers. No amount of pushing from the three of them would shift it. However, they had deadlines to meet, so were forced to say their goodbyes and go ahead on foot.

There was no way they’d make it in time but at least they could honestly say they had tried when questioned.

It was by a stroke of luck they’d stumbled upon a walker’s bothy. Night was creeping in quickly, especially with the ongoing snowstorm. The world was turning greyer by the second and when Riza spotted it, she made a beeline straight for the shelter. The wind was too loud to talk over, but the Colonel saw her beckoning gesture and nodded, following behind her without question, already trusting her judgement and thought process.

The main room housed a single wooden bedframe with no mattress. There was another spot where another bed frame should be, but only half it remained. It had been broken in half. Whether that had been from an accident, an act of vandalism, or due to the passage of time, Riza wasn’t sure. Not that it would be of any use to them split in half, but simple curiosity had the Colonel searching the rest of the small building for the other half. There was a large stone fireplace that was bereft of any wood, they noticed with dismay, however after venturing through to the second room on the left, there was a massive pile of it within. It was a supply for the winter months for anyone who needed it, so the piece of paper tacked to an old corkboard on the wall said. There were two chairs placed around the fire and some cast iron cooking utensils stacked in a neat pile upon the hearth, lifting their spirits slightly. They had rations from the truck driver that would not require their use, but the sight of them was still a positive.

“I think we’ll be safe enough to sleep here tonight,” she announced, ignoring the Colonel’s petulant comment.

“Lieutenant,” he called quietly to her, catching her attention. When she turned her head, he gestured to one of the chairs. “You should rest.” He glanced down at her feet, and Riza knew exactly what he was thinking.

She’d stumbled and twisted her ankle while they walked. The pain had eased completely the more she’d walked, so Riza assumed it would be fine. Now they’d stopped, it was throbbing in time with her pulse. It appeared to be worse than she’d thought.

Just what they needed.

She sighed and mentally added that as number seven to their list.

Sitting on one of the chairs, Riza sighed quietly in relief as it lessened the pressure on her injured joint. The Colonel followed suit and he too sounded extremely relieved to finally sit down.

“What a day,” he muttered, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

Riza hummed in agreement, causing him to reopen his eyes and glance tiredly over at her. She shifted in place, feeling a shiver travel down her spine.

Without a word, the Colonel stood and ventured into the other room. He came back with arms full of firewood and started the process of arranging them within the fireplace. After a single snap the fire roared to life, filling the room with a soft orange glow and warmth. A few minutes later the invading bite of the winter chill was beginning to alleviate and Riza could feel her muscles relaxing.

“Do you think there will be anything outside waiting for us?”

His question was so sudden as he stared into the fire that it took Riza a moment to process it.

“Pardon?”

The Colonel blinked and tore his eyes away from the dancing flames. He repeated his question as he turned to look at her, expression serious.

“Like what?”

“What about bears?” He looked genuinely concerned.

Riza blinked at him. “Probably. I think so, yes.” She faintly recalled hearing stories about the size and might of the bears in the north but elected not to bring it up. She didn’t think that would have been beneficial or productive in that moment, especially not after recognising a faint glint of fear that was discernible in the Colonel’s eyes.

“Do you think we should be concerned?”

Riza glanced over her shoulder at the door as it rattled on its hinges. “I don’t think so. We’ll be safe in here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Do you know any bears that can open doors?” Both her brows lifted as she regarded him.

“I know a bear could open that door,” he scoffed, jerking his head towards it. “It’s hardly a strong line of defence.”

That was true. One more gust of wind might snap it off one of the hinges. The top one rattled playfully to emphasise his point.

“I think we’ll be okay, sir,” Riza replied smoothly, trying to keep her amusement out of her tone.

The Colonel scowled at her anyway. Apparently she hadn’t been entirely successful.

Riza chuckled upon seeing his expression. “City boy,” she muttered to herself, her tone light and playful.

“I would say it was a legitimate concern,” he replied haughtily.

“You also thought there were bears in the woods outside my father’s house.”

“I think my point still stands.”

“Bears do not exist in every wooded area and forest, Roy.” She rolled her eyes at him in amused exasperation, momentarily forgetting herself.

It was so easy talking to him like this. The two of them were alone together and stuck in a predicament that neither could have ever predicted or conjured up, yet here they were. It was surreal, but it was nice. Despite everything that had happened today she was still relatively happy. She was grateful to be with him. Ideally, she’d have neither of them stranded in a snowstorm, however she was glad he was here. If there was anyone she’d want to be stranded with, it would be him.

After she’d realised her minor slip up, Riza paused and glanced over at him, noting his soft expression and smile. It was so genuine and happy that she didn’t cringe or apologise. She didn’t feel the need to.

“We sound like we did when we were children,” he replied.

Riza felt her own nostalgic smile spread across her face. “We do.”

“I’ll take first watch,” he offered.

Riza opened her mouth to protest but he’d already shoved a threadbare blanket he’d found towards her. Riza didn’t particularly want to use it – she had no way of knowing how clean it was – however the building was not heated in the slightest, aside from the fire. It was built for hikers who were well prepared with sleeping bags, which they were not. For survival, Riza had to accept any kind of warmth she could get.

“You need to rest that ankle,” he added.

She nodded and took the blanket from him. Riza settled herself on the hard, wooden bedframe so she was facing into the room. It was warmer than facing the cold stone of the wall beside the bed.

“Colonel?”

He glanced over at her expectantly.

“Watch out for those bears.”

* * * * * * * *

The wind had died down throughout the night at least. Roy had been partly joking when he brought up the bears that may be lurking outside for them, however now that he’d put the idea inside his own head, he couldn’t help but take an extra glance every now and then out the window.

Just in case.

It was worth bringing it up to hear the Lieutenant’s laugh. To hear her accidentally call him by his first name. It had been so worth it.

To whittle away the time his mind tried its best to summon a plan of attack against any bear that did appear, going over how he would react and how he would fend one off, but Roy had come to only one conclusion after about half an hour of plotting. It was folly. There was absolutely no way he’d be able to take on a bear. His eyes narrowed at the rickety old door and took solace in the fact the doorway looked too small for a bear to fit through. They were safe from them so long as they stayed inside, and that was good enough for him.

Now the bear appearance dilemma, likely or not, had been put to bed, Roy’s thoughts turned towards the Lieutenant. He glanced down at her ankle as she lay sound asleep, remembering how she’d stumbled and fallen in a snowdrift. Insisting she was fine, they’d pressed on. They didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway, but he was still concerned. He had a strong inkling she was suffering for it as they travelled. A sprained ankle under normal conditions would ease with rest, but that was not a luxury they’d been afforded as they traversed the snowy landscape to safety. Snowdrifts up to their knees were common and Roy had felt dead on his feet when they finally came to a stop inside this shelter.

That was one blessing of the day, at least. He’d simply laughed at their luck, shaking his head, now they were safe beneath shelter, dry, and out of the storm.

But if he’d felt tired down to his bones, then he couldn’t imagine how the Lieutenant must have felt upon their arrival.

Steadying his resolve, Roy determined there was no imminent danger. No bears coming through the night to get them. Now the storm had eased, looking through the shards of the window, Roy could see the gorgeous landscape splayed before him, illuminated by the moonlight, and enhanced by the heavy snow. It looked a lot more inviting than it had a few hours ago.

He wouldn’t, but he was tempted to wake up the Lieutenant to show her how beautiful it looked.

Roy smiled to himself, the thought dredging up an old memory from their past. He faintly recalled doing something similar when he’d experienced his first winter at the Hawkeye house. He’d ran to her room without a thought, excited and eager to show her how the dark forest outside had transformed into a silvery white and green wonderland.

It had been something he’d been desperate to share with her.

“Colonel?”

A tired voice called to him, and Roy immediately lost his interest in the world outside. He turned, seeing the Lieutenant blink tiredly at him.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted, an air of concern about him. He hadn’t expected her to wake so soon, and if she did, he knew she’d want to take over watch duties.

She shot him a small smile, placating his nerves somewhat. Pushing herself up into a seated position, the Lieutenant stretched her arms over her head.

“How’s the ankle?”

She grimaced, but only slightly. “Better now that I’ve taken my weight off it.”

That didn’t answer his question entirely. “Is there any pain?”

She was silent as she looked down at her legs. “It does throb every now and again. That’s what woke me up.”

Roy nodded, dismayed to hear she was in pain. If he could take it away, he would, but they didn’t have painkillers in their first aid kits. The only thing that would help was a support, which the Lieutenant had already put on after gently easing her boot off. She didn’t react to the angry red hue of her skin, but Roy felt his stomach tense. It hadn’t looked good. The compression support had been slipped on slowly, but Roy saw the way her eye twitched twice and how her jaw clenched while obviously trying to conceal any kind of pain.

“Why don’t you try and get a few hours sleep,” the Lieutenant offered. “I think I’ll be up for a while now.” She swung her legs around and to the floor, visibly wincing when her sore ankle contacted the floor. Another appeared when she tried to stand, but Roy quickly scrambled towards her.

“Please, stay seated,” he insisted. “You shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.”

The Lieutenant shot him a strained smile. “That doesn’t bode well for us for tomorrow,” she quipped.

Roy opened his mouth to reply, but she was right. Still, hewas right. She shouldn’t be walking on that ankle.

“Regardless,” he admonished, placing his hands on her shoulders as a gentle restraint to keep her in place. “All the more reason to remain seated and keep resting it then, right?” Triumph flashed through him, and he smirked when the Lieutenant’s lips pursed, because she knew he was right.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, though,” she warned.

His shoulders fell in defeat, glancing down at the bed. His mind rejoiced with the idea that sprung into it, however it was so far out the realm of what was appropriate that it was completely out of the question.

Roy retracted his hands as the Lieutenant placed both hands by her sides and effortlessly slid herself backwards, so her back came to rest upon the stone wall behind her. She made herself comfortable and looked at him expectantly, patting the space beside her to indicate he should join her and sit.

Even if it wasn’t appropriate to share a bed with his Lieutenant, Roy only needed to take one look around them both and remember where they were. This day was already bizarre enough. What was one more occurrence to add to that list?

He wouldn’t particularly class it as sharing a bed with her either. They would both be sitting upright, looking out at the room, with considerable distance in place between them.

“We can take turns with the blanket,” she smirked as she handed it over.

Roy snorted lightly and gratefully received her offering. The room was warm enough with the fire but the stone behind his back still stubbornly clung to the icy temperatures from outside, refusing to accept the warmth they’d provided the room. Wrapping it around his shoulders, Roy settled back in place and made himself comfortable.

He woke with a start a few hours later. His head jerked upright and swung left and right, unseeing as he still tried to shake the vision from his dreams.

“Colonel? Colonel!”

He paused for a second, recognising the voice. It was from someone he thought he’d lost in his dream.

“Roy,” the Lieutenant called to him.

It was enough to surprise him, that it brought him back to the present. Glancing to his right, he saw his Lieutenant still seated next to him, eyes wide and concerned.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes were searching his, moving back and forth frantically as she scanned his face with worry.

“Yes,” he breathed, trying to get a hold of his racing heart to slow it down. He was all right. She was all right. They were safe. He gulped down air, trying to get enough into his lungs and take away the fear that had both restricted them and wrapped tightly around his heart. “Just… A bad dream.”

The Lieutenant nodded in understanding and patted his forearm. That was when Roy realised she didn’t remove it, and that it had been there the entire time.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Roy shook his head. “It’s okay,” he breathed. “Thank you, though,” he quickly added. “It was just… the usual,” he offered. The usual nowadays was him losing someone dear to him. The Promised Day had not been kind on his mind. To this day he still suffered, and he didn’t particularly want to relive it after it was so fresh. His reply was code enough that the Lieutenant knew exactly what he was referring to. They’d already been open about what their ‘usual’ nightmares consisted of nowadays.

As suspected, realisation dawned upon her features, and she nodded in sympathy.

“I… I need some time before I can sleep again,” he admitted. There was no shame in his voice though, not with her. Never with her. They were both very well acquainted with the reasons the other struggled to sleep. “You should try for a while.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced. She gave his forearm a squeeze and again, she didn’t remove it. “Wake me if you need anything, all right?” She waited for him to verbally agree with her. Only once he did, did the Lieutenant’s eyes close.

Watching her do so caused Roy’s brow to furrow slightly in confusion.

She must have moved closer to him as he slept, because where there had been about two feet of distance between them before, there was now mere centimetres. Just enough distance for the Lieutenant’s head to loll and fall against his shoulder comfortably as she slept.

He’d been startled awake, so Roy hadn’t realised he’d initiated it. In sleep, his head had bowed and rolled to the side, seeking out her presence. After shifting closer, the Lieutenant had eased him from his uncomfortable position and lifted his head to lie upon her shoulder.

Now recovered from the turmoil of his dream, Roy smiled down at her and relished in the comfort her presence brought him. The weight of her head against him eased his mind and slowed his racing pulse. He could breathe easier with her lying against him. A peace washed over his body, relaxing his taught muscles, and soothing his very soul.

Despite their predicament, he was glad she was here with him.

The grip she had on his forearm loosened, so Roy snaked his hand over to it, hooking their fingers together and holding on tightly. The Lieutenant stirred next to him, disturbed from sleep.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “it’s okay. It’s just me.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

There was a brief pause with no reply, then the Lieutenant’s grip on him tightened and remained.

“Okay,” she exhaled peacefully. She moved next to him, shuffling closer, which Roy was more than happy to indulge in.

As she was lulled back to sleep, her grip on his hand slackened but Roy never let her go. He anchored himself to her.

They’d get through this and get home. Not that she’d allow it of course, but Roy would carry her through the snow with that ankle if need be to ensure their safety. It had been the day from hell professionally, however ending it with the two of them curled together on that uncomfortable bed, gripping onto one another, was not bad in the slightest. Roy thought that was the closest to heaven he was ever going to get.

* * * * * * * *

Their luck must have finally been turning for the better, as that morning a group of hikers entered the bothy loudly, laughing and joking with one another, while Roy helped the Lieutenant strap up her ankle. They were offered food and directions to the nearest town, which was only two miles away. The group set off with them, insistent on offering their help and support, and even assisted the Lieutenant with some painkillers as well.

After the day of travel they’d had before, it brightened up both soldier’s moods somewhat as they set off again through the snowy northern landscape with their new company.

Thankfully, they didn’t come across any bears.

They made it to the town in one peace and called North City Headquarters for assistance. And also requested back up for that assistance.

Just in case.

[binniesthighs]

[12:51]

minho + you + changbin, exhibitionism--public sex, dirty talk 

a/n: hope its okay that I added changbin too anon ;) based off of this ask 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Minho trickles his fingertips down your ribs and your body squirms with an anxious fire. Two sets of eyes take in the way that you thrash wildly with his arm twisted around you. 

“You look so pretty like that don’t you?” Changbin smirks out with a snide little scoff. He has sand tangled up in his dark, black locks, and droplets of salty sea water drip from his shoulders to the cement flooring of the shower. 

It’s cramped, horribly, and nearly all three of your bodies are flush against eachother. The air runs thick with the smell of the ocean, and the rusty hinges of bathroom stall doors creak every few seconds. To your right, the only thing separating you from the world is a thin, almost sheer yellow curtain stained with age and barely clinging to the rod. 

Minho’s hot breath tickles at the hairs on your neck where he bites into the skin. It’s impossibly hard to not take notice of his throbbing length against your back where he’s hiked you up to your tip-toes. 

 Whispering, he hisses, “Wouldn’t you like them to hear what a mess we make of you? How we can tear you apart right next to them?” 

“You would like that...” Changbin squeezes at his wetted trunks, now tented by the delicious girth that presses at your thigh. “...wouldn’t you?” 

“yes...” You squeak out. 

Two sets of hands run over every inch of your body and leave no where left to want after them. Fingernails up and down your arms, pointed fingers kneading into your ass, pinching at your nipples, digging into your hips, encircling around your neck. Your shaking arms: one on Minho’s thigh, the other clinging to Changbin’s shoulder seek some kind of balance that you can’t grasp. 

Under the edge of the curtain, feet shuffle past with the grit of sand under their steps. 

You stifle your pathetic whimpers into your lip. 

“Louder.” Minho urges you. 

Changbin palms at his dick while pressing hungry kisses into your neck, then pulls at the skin. 

“Louder.” He echoes.  

At first, you’re careful, eyes fluttering while you loose control over the way your body falls right into their arms. They work your swim bottoms down your legs and onto the floor with a watery splat. 

Two sets of hands trail around your arousal and between the curve of your legs. Your heat is met with greedy fingers curled into your entrance, and pressed up against you until you’re quivering against the length of their fingertips. 

“Oh, fuck--”  You moan out just for them, with a little crack to your voice, but its still strong and indistinguishable. 

Minho locks eyes with Changbin, who pulls you straight into his chest that is still wrapped in that unforgiving summer heat. Minho unties the drawstring to his shorts, then gives Changbin a chance to do the same. 

There’s hardly a moment in between until Changbin spins you around, aligning you over his leaking slit. Minho’s gaze drips with terrifying lust while he watches your face screw up over how fully the other stretches you out. 

“Look at me.” He demands once more. His veiny hand falls all the way down his body and to his own pink and twitching dick. You reach out for him, but he grabs your hand away, placing it on the tiled wall behind him. “You don’t understand what “look” means, do you? You don’t get to touch me.” 

“Mm-but--” 

Minho’s hand wraps around his length where he begins pumping and his little moans fill up the echo-y space of the stall to mingle with Changbin’s determined grunts. 

Your insides feel painfully tight, and your core even tighter from the display before you. 

Hinges creak, and that same hum of chatter surrounds you. Wet footsteps pass by that edge of yellow curtain. 

“You’re going to have to be louder than that.” 

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

An Accidental Series Of Fortunate Events - Kaminari Denki - Smut

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: NSFW 18+ Pairing: Kaminari Denki / F!Reader Words: 6,000 Warnings: Swearing, unprotected sex in an uncomfortable place (aka a vehicle), Denki is an idiot, I make a thinly veiled jab at The Walking Dead cause fuck that show, I was inspired after watching Zombieland, Kirishima with dark hair because who has time to bleach and dye when there are zombies running around?

AN: Another collab piece for the BNHarem server! This month’s theme is Apocalypse, and I got a chance to try my hand at Denki this time around. I think it came out pretty good! Shout outs to my pals @unbreakablekiribaku​ and @420bakubaby​ for your encouragement, and to all my loves over in WAP, you know who you are! <3

Check out the rest of the pieces in this collab HERE My Masterlist Buy me a Ko-Fi? ------

Denki sighed, adjusting his backpack as he trudged along the highway. It had been months since the disease had ravaged the country, a plague that no one had foreseen taking the lives of nearly every person in Japan.

He assumed he couldn’t be the only survivor, but he’d yet to see anything that told him otherwise. He didn’t even really understand how he could still be among the living if he was being honest. Denki’s life had always seemed like an accidental series of fortunate events. He got by on sheer luck. He couldn’t help but feel like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

He had tried to search for his friends with the panic hit. The chaos, the recently deceased coming back to life and hungry for humans, the whole thing seemed like something out of a terrible movie or a graphic novel turned TV show that was way too long and drawn out. The only person he’d managed to get a hold of was Sero, and their call had been cut short when the towers had gone down. And that had happened right after the entire city had lost power.

Being a pro hero, he went out into the streets to try and help, attempting to get people to safety and fighting those...things? Zombies? It felt so surreal to even say, even though he had experienced it first hand, watched as the man he saw at the convenience store around the corner from his apartment every morning full-on sprinted at the lady who always walked her Shiba Inu down to the park on Saturdays and ripped her throat out with his teeth.

Shuddering at the memory, he weaved around an abandoned car in the road, peering cautiously into the front seat to make sure that no one was hiding inside and hungry for flesh.

He kept a mental list now of things he had to do, rules he’d made for himself to keep surviving. Double-checking his surroundings was one of them. So when he heard the sound of tires on pavement, the revving of an engine from somewhere behind him, he was prepared, quick to run behind a car that was resting on its side, pressing himself against the undercarriage and listening closely.

Unless the walking dead was able to drive, he finally had an answer as to whether or not he was the last one alive. The question was, was this person going to be a friend or foe?

He heard the engine start to quiet, the sound of the vehicle slowing just beyond where he hid, and braced himself, his first unclenching as lightning coursed along his palms. He chanced a glance over the side of the car when he heard the transmission shift into park, and the sound of the truck door creaking open. What he saw nearly took his breath away.

You were standing on the road, a sawed-off shotgun in hand, your hair tied back and away from your face. Your tattered tank top was streaked in dirt and dried blood, your legs in dark jeans that were tucked into black combat boots. You were beautiful, and you were staring right at him, the gun pointed in his direction.

He ducked back down, his breathing ragged as he tried to figure out what to do now. Did he attack? Did he try to talk to you?

“Hey, Blondie! You gonna hide back there or come out and face me?”

He went rigid, eyes wide. Time to turn on the old Denki charm. He stood, breathing deeply and schooling his features, turning to face you. “Hey, sweet cheeks, what brings you to a place like this?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth in a straight line, and he felt his confidence waver. “What does it look like? Just trying to survive. Are you an idiot or something?”

“Hey, no reason to be so harsh, babe. I’m just doing the same as you.” He cocked his hip out and rested his hand on it, shooting you a wink. “I was beginning to think I was alone out here.”

Your eyes drifted away from him and scanned the road, the sound of birds in the distance the only other sign of life. “You’re alone?”

“Course I am. What about you?” He didn’t dare move, trying to keep from staring down the barrel pointed at him. You were just a few feet away, and one pull on the trigger would blow him to pieces.

“There are others. I’m just on a supply run.” You were studying him, looking thoughtful. “Why aren’t you armed?”

He raised a hand, letting the electricity flow down his arm so you could see. “I’m always armed, angel.”

Rolling your eyes, you nodded. “Nice quirk.” You looked impressed, and he couldn’t help but preen a little. Your gun lowered slightly and he felt himself start to relax. “You got a name, blonde?”

“You can call me Kaminari.” He let his hand fall, chancing a step forward. “I don’t mean any harm. Like you said, I’m just trying not to die. Could you maybe put the gun down?”

“Nervous?” Smirking, you lowered the weapon, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “Alright, Kaminari. Why don’t you come with me? You hungry?”

“Starving.” He slumped a bit, finally feeling like you weren’t going to kill him. “I had some jerky for breakfast this morning but it wasn’t great.”

“Tch.” God, you sounded like Bakugou when you made that noise, and it made him miss his explosive friend. “I’ll bring you back to meet the others. If they decide they like you, maybe you could stay with us. We might be able to use that quirk of yours.” You turned back towards the truck you’d arrived in, making to get inside. “No promises, though.”

Denki hesitated for half a second. What if the others you were with didn’t like him? He knew he could be a pain in the ass sometimes. Ultimately he decided to go with you. If your group didn’t like him he could just continue on by himself.

Hurrying around the car, he shrugged off his backpack, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat beside you. “Hey, you didn’t tell me your name, doll.”

He watched as you settled into the seat, pulling the seat belt across your chest and buckling it. Your eyes met his and you shot him a smile that made his chest tight. “It’s Y/N.”

--

The car ride back was mostly silent. He was itching to ask you things, the chatterbox in him just wanting to burst forth and talk at you for hours. It had been difficult, being alone, since he’d always been such a social butterfly. When all you had to talk to was yourself for months on end, things could get kind of boring.

However, he didn’t want to scare you off or make you think he was some kind of weirdo, so he stayed mostly silent. He did ask where you were from originally, and about the others you were with, but your answers were short and lacking in detail, and he didn’t want to pry.

“Didn’t you say you were on a supply run?” His eyes were trained on the road ahead, keeping a lookout for the lumbering undead.

“Yeah, I hit up a drug store in the next town over.” You gestured to the back seat. “Medicine and bandages, bottled water, and some canned food. We only take what we need at the moment. We never know how long we’re going to be in one place, so we try to keep it light.”

“That makes sense.” From what he gathered, your group wasn’t large. There were only about 5 of you, so he assumed it was easier for you not to have a large number of things to carry around with you.

“Yeah, we’ve found a house in an abandoned neighborhood to stay in for now. We spent a few days combing through the houses in it, and it looks like the area has been empty for a while.” Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel as you turned the car and took an exit ramp off the highway. “I’m kind of hoping we can stay for a while. It’s nice to sleep on a mattress, and it’s got running water.”

“Oh man, a shower sounds so freaking nice.” Leaning back against the seat, he glanced over at you. “It’s hard when you’re on your own, there’s no one to watch your back.” He shivered when he pictured trying to shower and being attacked by a zombie while he was butt ass naked. “Even going to the bathroom is a risk.”

Snorting, you made a right turn and scrunched your nose. “Imagine dying with your pants around your ankles?”

“My literal worst nightmare.” You both burst into a fit of giggles, and Denki felt the awkward tension in the car ease a bit.

You started pointing out landmarks and abandoned stores. “We’re thinking this was one of the first neighborhoods to evacuate when things got bad. The houses are upscale, so we think they might have been tipped off early. Kind of sucks that the rest of us weren’t prepared at all compared to them.”

Nodding, Denki agreed. “It was absolute chaos in Musutafu. I was on the streets trying to help and just watching people rip each other apart. I’ve never seen anything more terrifying in my life.”

“You’re from Musutafu? So are a few of the people in my group.”

Denki watched out the window as you turned down a side road, the remains of a gated communities’ security booth on your left. The door looked like it had been blown off its hinges, and the windows all around it had been smashed. “Did you check the whole neighborhood?”

“Yeah, we started at one end and searched through all the houses. We were mostly looking for survivors, but we didn’t find anyone.” 

You followed the main road as he gazed at the abandoned mini-mansions. Tall grass swayed on every lawn, an obvious tell that it had been some time since there had been any landscaping done. Denki tried to picture what this neighborhood would have looked like before disaster struck, picturesque, with luxury cars in the driveways and well-manicured lawns, kids playing in the street, housewives lounging by their in-ground pools. It was jarring to think it would probably never look that way again.

You pulled the truck into the driveway of a large house at the end of the road, stopping in front of a closed gate. The tall fence connected to it wrapped around the property as far as he could see, and he could just make out a low man-made rock wall just beyond it, like someone had busted up giant slabs of concrete and stacked them all the way around, just to reinforce the fence. He had a feeling that was something that your group had constructed.

“Before we go in, I just want you to know, our self-proclaimed leader can be kind of a dickhead.” You moved to take off your seat belt and shot him a look. “He’s smart as fuck though and he helps protect us, so he’s not all bad. Just keep your head down and don’t provoke him and you’ll be fine.”

“Sounds like someone I used to know. I can handle it, don’t worry.” He cracked his knuckles and grinned at you. “I’m a pro at dealing with dudes like that.”

Eyes rolling, you shook your head. “It’s your funeral.” You got out of the truck and moved to the fence, using a key from your back pocket on the padlock keeping it shut. Denki unbuckled his seat belt and slid into the driver’s seat, watching as you pushed on the gate and walked it forward, clearing the way. Denki drove the truck forward far enough so that you could close the lock the gate behind you. He made to move back over but was surprised when you climbed into the passenger seat. “Just keep going up, we’ll park in the garage.”

He followed your instructions, creeping up the driveway and towards the house, his foot pressing on the break when he noticed the pathway to the garage was blocked.

“Or not.” You sighed. “Just stop here.” 

Denki put the truck in park, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene before him. There was a car up on cinder blocks, blocking the entrance to the garage. Someone was lying underneath it, their jean-clad legs and black boots the only part of them he could see. He shut the car off and handed you the keys, sliding out of the car when you did.

“E, you’re blocking my spot.” You called, rounding the truck. “Come help me with this stuff and meet the new guy I found.”

“Sorry, Y/N. I’m trying to get this thing to run for us. I didn’t expect to still be working on it when you got back but I’m having trouble.” That voice was familiar, and Denki’s lungs seized in his chest. “Wait, did you say new guy?”

He watched as the man shuffled himself from under the car and stood, his hair long and dark, with red at the tips. Red eyes, pointy teeth. Eijirou Kirishima.

“Kiri?” Pain bloomed through his chest like his heart had stopped beating. He never thought he’d see any of his friends ever again, but here he was, one of his best bros in the entire world. 

Kirishima looked up at him, a million emotions flitting across his face before it split into the blinding smile he was used to seeing on his friend’s face. “Denki?”

Denki launched himself at his friend, throwing his arms around him, relief flooding through his entire body. Kirishima picked him up, laughing and hugging him tightly. “Holy shit.” They stayed that way longer than necessary, swaying back and forth and mumbling into each other’s shoulders.

“Thought you were dead, dude. What the fuck?” Red Riot finally put him down, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling,

“I’m a bad bitch, they can’t kill me.” Chuckling wetly, he slapped his friend on the shoulder. “What, you give up on the box dye now that the world is ending?”

“I missed you, dude.” Kiri sighed, choosing to ignore the jab and reaching up to muss Denki’s hair.

“So...do you guys know each other?” Your voice broke them from their reunion.

He had almost forgotten you were standing there. Kiri seemed to be in the same boat. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, Y/N. We’ve known each other since we were 15. Went to UA together.”

“Does that mean-” You started, but Kirishima cut you off.

“Oh my god.” He turned to look at Denki and grinned, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting towards the house. “HEY, SERO?!”

Denki knew he was going to cry for real now. His best friend was alive. The one person that he had been wishing to see this entire time was here, and Denki was going to get to see him again, all thanks to you. If he hadn’t run into you on the highway, this never would have happened. Swallowing thickly, trying to keep his emotions in check, he blinked up at Kirishima. “Sero is here?”

“Bakugou and Mina, too.” His formally red-haired friend turned towards the front door and threw an arm around Denki’s shoulders as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. “The Bakusquad is back together.”

--

It had been so long since Denki had felt this relaxed. He’d showered and had a hot meal, and now he was lounging on a couch pressed up against Hanta Sero, his best friend. Kirishima and Bakugou were on the opposite couch, leaning against each other. Even though Bakugou had his normal stoic expression on his face, Denki knew he was happy. 

Mina was at his feet, chattering on and telling you about UA, and how Denki used to go stupid when he used his quirk too much. Her story came complete with her shooting a thumbs up, crossing her eyes and crying WHEEEEYYY, which had Sero and Kirishima in tears of laughter. Bakugou even cracked a smile, and Denki kind of wanted the floor to swallow him up. 

“Hey, do you need to tell her that, Mina?” He kicked his foot out, toes connecting with her back.

“Aw, are you embarrassed, Kami?” Teasing him, she poked his shin, before turning her gaze back to you. “Last I remember, our little Chargebolt here was in the top 20, so I’d say he’s got a handle on his quirk now.”

Denki felt his ears get hot, and he chanced a glance over at you, blushing even harder when you smiled at him. He’d only known you for a few hours and he was already smitten. Sure, it had been a while since he’d had any human contact, and it was hard to jerk it when you were fearing for your life at every moment. So it was only natural that he wanted to catch the attention of the prettiest girl he’d laid eyes on in months, right?

Sero pulled him up not long after, pushing him from the room and out the back sliding door. He leaned against the railing on the wooden patio, his neck craned so he could look up at the sky, and Denki settled beside him, mirroring his posture.

“I can’t believe we found you, man.”

Huffing a breath, Denki nodded. “Yeah, I know. I thought everyone I knew was dead. When we got cut off, I went out to help and figured I’d run into you, but shit was so crazy and I just...I don’t know. I wasn’t ready for that, dude. I became a hero to help people, not kill zombies. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I had to take their lives, even though it was clear that their humanity was gone, you know?”

Humming, Sero bumped their shoulders. “I get you. It’s fine. We all had to wrestle with that. It was hard for all of us.” Sighing, he gripped the railing and hoisted himself up to sit on it, swinging his feet. “The four of us were together, so we decided to stick that way and headed out of the city. We tried to find you, and I was looking for Shinsou too but, we didn’t want to stick around too long.” 

A comfortable silence washed over the two of them before Sero continued.

“We found Y/N not long after that, holed up in a convenience store, wielding a shotgun like a champ. She’s badass.” Sero let out a low whistle. “Man, she gave Bakugou the business as soon as he opened his mouth to snark at her. I’ve never seen him shut up so fast. Even Kiri can’t get him to be quiet like that. That’s when we decided to join up with her.”

Denki snorted a laugh, leaning back on his elbows and looking at his friend. “She pointed that thing straight at me and I panicked and called her like 6 different pet names.”

“You’re lucky you’re alive, Kami. She must like you.” 

--

It had been two weeks since Denki had met you on that deserted highway, and you’d reunited him with his friends. Bakugou had been talking about moving on for a few days, but the rest of the group seemed to be comfortable and happy in the house, so he hadn’t been pressing the issue much.

There hadn’t been one attack since Denki had arrived, and from what Mina had told him, they’d only seen a few of the undead since they’d found the place, so no one seemed to be too bothered by it. It still left him feeling uneasy, so used to having to be on alert at all times. 

That was the least of his worries when he got to spend time with you, however.

He’d become your official partner when you went on your supply runs, under the guise of keeping you company in the truck when you ventured out into the world. He really just wanted to spend time with you and get to know you better. You had opened up to him more once you realized he was trustworthy, his friendship with the rest of the group enough to prove that to you. 

The crush that he had developed on you that first day just seemed to grow more as time went on. He was in too deep, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself. In any normal circumstances, you would be completely out of his league, so he knew he had to take this opportunity while it was in front of him. 

He really did like you, situation aside. If he wasn’t constantly holed up with you in that house, or that truck, watching your back as you raided abandoned pharmacies and big-box stores for food and clothing and medicine, spending most of his waking moments in your company, he still would have grown fond of you in the way he had. It might have taken longer, but when every day could possibly be your last, there was no reason to pussyfoot around.

Unless your name was Denki Kaminari and you were a goddamn coward.

He was tired of hearing Mina and Sero complain that he was being a pussy, and that he should just make a move. He knew they were right, but there was this little voice in the back of his head that kept repeating the “what if’s”. What if you didn’t like him and you left the group because things got too weird? What if you did like him and he got nervous and fucked shit up? He needed to get out of his own head and just...do something. 

He didn’t expect that you were going to beat him to it.

“So,” you said, one hand on the steering wheel and your other elbow leaning against the door as you drove, the window cracked enough to let the breeze blow your hair around. “Are you ever going to kiss me, or are we just going to play this waiting game forever?”

Denki choked on his own spit, sputtering and coughing. “I’m sorry, what?”

Shaking your head, you paused, and he assumed you were waiting for him to stop wheezing. “I mean, am I reading this wrong? You’re into me, right?”

Pushing his hair back from his forehead (which you had generously cut for him the day before), he chanced a glance over at you, steeling himself. ‘Well, yeah, ever since you pointed a gun at me and almost made me wet myself.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Don’t be a wuss, Denki.” 

“I love it when you insult me, baby.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he licked his lips. “So, what? You’ve been waiting for me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I didn’t want things to be weird, but I knew I couldn’t be wrong. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” Biting your lip, you turned to look at him for a moment. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you shot me finger guns and called me babe.”

Rubbing at the back of his neck nervously, he hummed. “Most of the time that scares women away. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong with you?”

“We’re all a little crazy, I guess. I think that’s why we’ve survived this long.” Your smile was contagious, and he couldn’t help but grin back, his arm moving across the center console, his hand open and palm up. 

You adjusted your grip on the wheel to the other hand, reaching out with your right and letting your fingers slot between his. He squeezed your hand, his eyes fixed out the windshield as you took the familiar highway back towards the house.

The ride back was comfortably silent, your fingers intertwined the whole way. Denki’s heart was pounding against his ribcage as he tried to think of what to do or say next. You, however, had other ideas. 

You turned onto the main road that led into the once gated community. He furrowed his brows, confused when you make a left down an unfamiliar street. The houses here were just as abandoned, all of their front doors marked with a spray painted red x.

“We marked them after we went through the houses, so we would remember where we’d already checked. It took us about a week to get through the entire neighborhood.” You explained, somehow knowing what he was thinking.

The road ended in a cul-de-sac, and you pulled the truck around in a circle until it was facing the exit, letting go of his hand so you could shift it into park and turn off the engine. He watched as you unbuckled your seat belt and shifted the seat back away from the steering wheel, his lungs seizing as you climbed over the center console and into his lap.

“Not that I’m complaining, but-” He hands moved to grip your waist and keep you steady as your straddled him, your knees on either side of his hips. 

“I’m going to get my kiss, and I’m not going to do it in that house with the rest of those idiots around.” Your hand moved to his hip, fingers pressing the release on his seat belt. He let go of you long enough to pull the offending nylon belt off of him, the sound of the metal slapping against the door as it sprung back into place nearly startling him out of his skin. 

“Yes ma’am.” Swallowing thickly, he pushed a piece of your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear. 

The next few moments were in slow motion, eyes fluttering shut, and chests pressing together as you moved closer. His palm slid to cup the side of your neck, your head tilting slightly as your lips finally met.

It took Denki every ounce of control he had not to let his quirk discharge when he finally got to taste your lips. It was everything he’d been hoping for and more. You tasted like the Dr.Pepper you’d gotten when you’d stopped at the pharmacy, and he could smell the scent of your shampoo now that he was close enough. He was addicted almost instantly.

Your lips were soft and pillowy, and he pressed you closer, wanting more. The feel of your hands on his shoulders, nails raking down the front of his t-shirt, and the quiet moan that left you when his right hand squeezed your hip was almost his undoing, but he held on. He would take this at whatever pace you wanted. You were in control.

You pulled away, gasping for air, your nose brushing against his and breath mingling. “You okay?” It was probably a stupid question, but he had to ask. If you felt anything like he did, then you were doing just fine.

“Mmm.” His sentiments exactly. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, a smile gracing them. “I kind of want more. Is it too soon? Maybe.”

“Well,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve been telling myself for weeks that we could all die tomorrow, and that I shouldn’t be scared and just go for it, so if that’s what you need to hear…”

“Yep, that’s what I needed.” Blinking at him and biting your lip, your hips ground down against his, the sound of his groan filling the truck. “Fuck it, right? You only live once, and all that shit.”

“Fuck, yes. Bless up, Drake.” He let his hands dip under the hem of your t-shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sliding over your soft skin. 

You sat back and ripped your shirt over your head so suddenly he wasn’t prepared for the movement, and he grabbed your waist again to steady you. “I’ve waited too damn long, Denki. Please, I need you, okay?”

Nodding, he swallowed down his nerves, wanting to show you how much he needed you, too. “You got it, princess. Whatever you want.”

“Shirt off. Pants, too.” 

As hot as the moment was, the next few minutes were filled with a lot of giggling and awkward movements as you both tried to undress in the passenger seat of the truck. Denki had the advantage because he was still sitting in the seat, and he just needed to pull his pants and boxers down around his thighs. 

You, on the other hand, had your ass pressed against the windshield as you pulled off your boots and tried to tug your skinny jeans down your legs. He tried to help as best he could, keeping you upright and tugging on the denim one-handed until you were able to step out of them. Black lace panties followed, and then you were back on his lap, your mouth pressed to his as your hand wrapped around his aching cock.

Breathless and still laughing, he moaned as your tongues battled for dominance, his hands roaming up and down your sides as you tugged on his hair. Warm fingers moved between the apex of your thighs, dipping through your folds, causing you to break the kiss, throwing your head back. Denki took the opportunity to mouth at your neck, teeth grazing along your skin, biting and sucking marks into your flesh. He inserted one finger inside of you, groaning as your body squeezed around the digit. You were warm and so wet, and he imagined what it would feel like, your muscles clenching down around his cock when he was buried inside of you.

He timed the thrusting of his fingers with the slow drag of your hand around his cock, your moans filling his ears as you rocked back against his hand. He inserted a second finger, scissoring them and stretching you out, taking his time to prepare you. He wanted this to be good, but with the way you felt around him, the way your body felt pressed against him, and the noises you were making, he wasn’t sure how long he was going to last.

Thumb rubbing against your clit, he added a third finger, the lewd squelching noises coming from your cunt enough to make his eyes roll back. You were chanting his name in his ear, your forehead pressed against his shoulder as your body rolled against him, your strokes losing momentum.  He couldn’t wait any longer.

Pulling his hand from you slowly, he lifted you to sit back a little, adjusting himself and guiding you back towards him. You raised up on your knees, hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful, and he thanked whoever it was that put him right here in this moment with you. 

You smiled at him, and he heard your shaky intake of breath as you lined yourself up and sunk down on his cock. You moaned in tandem, your nails biting into his skin as your grip tightened, hips stilling as he bottomed out inside of you. Denki was grateful for the cracked windows because the breeze that blew through the car felt nice against his burning skin, the beads of sweat dripping down his temple turning cold, and making him shiver. 

The realization that even though the windows were cracked open, there was no one around to hear the two of you. Grinning, he thought of all the ways he could make you scream once you were ready for him to move, and he couldn’t wait to hear you cry out his name.

You didn’t keep him waiting long, your cunt squeezing around him was all the indication he needed to start moving. Holding onto your hips tightly, he bucked up into you, reveling in the way you moaned, his toes curling as your hips ground down in sync with his. 

Your body welcomed him in with little resistance, gripping his cock, the warm and wet slide as he plunged in and out of you making him dizzy. He focused his attention on unclasping your bra with one hand, pulling it down your arms and letting your breasts spill free from their confines, his head ducking down and his mouth immediately latching onto your hardened nipple. 

Your moaning became louder, pussy clenching around him like a vice, unintelligible babbles spilling from your lips as he sucked, teeth grazing the hardened bud, his other hand massaging your other breast.

“Denki, Denki...please. Fuck, I need to come, please.”

Grunting in response, he let your nipple go with a pop, back straightening as he sat up. His fingers brushed along your cheek, turning you to face him properly, his thumb pulling on your bottom lip. “Need to come already, Y/N?”

“Yes, fuck, feels so good, Denki. Please.” Your tongue darted out to lick the pad of his thumb and he shivered again. He could feel the blood in his body traveling south, the wrecked look on your face as you bucked down against him driving him to the edge.

He used his now spit slicked thumb to rub against your clit in tight circles as he slammed into you, teeth nipping on your earlobe as he rasped in your ear. “God, fuck, come for me Y/N. Come on my cock, baby.”

Later on, he would tease you and tell you that even though you were a few blocks away, he wouldn’t be surprised if the rest of your group didn’t hear the noise you made when you reached your end. Your entire body locked up, trembling violently, the cry of his name that left your lips throwing him over the edge as well. He buried his face in your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you as his cock twitched, filling you with thick ropes of cum. It was so much that he felt it leaking out of you as you slumped together to catch your breath, even though he was still inside you. 

After a while you sat back a little, peering at him with your face still flushed, tears clinging to your lashes.

“You alright?” He brushed the wetness away with his thumb, biting his lip as he gazed at you fondly.

Nodding, you pushed your hair back from your face, a small smile on your lips. “I’m great. That was perfect. God, why did you wait so long, Denki?”

Rolling his eyes, he leaned forward to kiss you softly. “Good things come to those who wait and all that, you know?”

“Okay, but you were just scared I’d reject you, weren’t you?” You pinched his arm playfully, giggling at him when he winced and rubbed at the red mark you’d left.

“Maybe, but it was worth the wait, wasn’t it?” 

“You could say that.” Reaching up to pat down his mussed up hair, you fixed him with a serious look. “At least if I die tomorrow, I’ll know I was given the best dicking down I’ve ever received, and that it was from a top 20 pro hero to boot.”

“You just want me for my hero status, babe. Admit it.” He grinned, tickling your side.

“You caught me, Chargebolt. Now, let’s get cleaned up and get back before Bakugou comes looking for us and finds out we fucked in here. He’s going to be so pissed.”

“Let him be pissed.” Denki wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back to him, his lips finding yours again.

And for a few moments, he forgot that the world was ending and that the two of you could be ripped apart in seconds by hungry flesh-eating zombies

You were another accidental fortunate event that he’d stumbled into, and if that’s all that his life was meant to be full of, well, he didn’t mind it at all.