#(hi i am back. where the fuck is the rest of my zombies run tag)

[roseverdict]

girl help im going through apps i had on my old phone and rediscovered zombies run and now i want to try and listen to the previous missions i completed to refresh my memory but　 i can't find them on yt

#rosie babbles #zombies run #…ok quick sidenote why is the following a tag?: #should i just pull the pin song #…anyway. #should i just replay the missions on a time-based thing and make it really short? & then reset the time once i'm back in my 'present day?' #…haha now that im in the newest version of mobile tumblr my little coder heart can giggle at the fact that if the 141st character in a tag #is a comma or an enter then the tag won't finalize into a tag #'140 character limit' more like '139 character limit' (i have not actually counted the characters yet) #i. i should eat breakfast #(hi i am back. where the fuck is the rest of my zombies run tag) #zombies run! #zr #zr! #it got t hanosed apparently

[jasntodds]

Caving In [14]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,539

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, depression (canon, Jason), the roof scene is in this chapter and reader is the one who finds him so, the Titans being assholes, mentions of a burn

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: So, I finished writing the rest of this book and have started the next one which I also have had almost entirely plotted out this whole time and I’m excited lol I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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As the morning goes by, you and Gar spend most of it in the living room. You ate your breakfast together, far earlier than ever intended but it was kind of nice because it was just the two of you. The rest of the Titans were still asleep and Jason only came by to pluck a pancake off of your plate before going back to his room. You and Gar do spend enough time alone but not having anyone else up, besides Jason, is really nice. You just get to be around each other without knowing that someone is going to interrupt or you'll have some type of training session to get to. It's nice and comforting.

One by one, the Titans get up, Dick being the first one and he's surprised to see the two of you awake and in the living room so early, especially you. You’re not an early riser. He doesn't ask questions though and hopes it's because you had trouble sleeping and not because you and/or Jason were up to something that Gar had to talk you out of. He just lets you be while you and Gar have a rewatch of The Walking Dead.

"I'd totally survive the apocalypse." You let out a sigh as you turn on the fifth episode.

Gar lets out a laugh beside you. "You could survive anything at this point."

"Right? Probably don't even have to try." You turn to face Gar. "Okay, if the apocalypse happens," You start and Gar raises his brows at you, intrigued where this is going. "Do you think it'll be like Walking Dead, Zombieland, The Last Of Us, or Love and Monsters?"

Gar lets out a breath, looking to the ceiling before looking back to you. He's definitely thought about this. "Walking Dead or The Last Of Us, both of those seem realistic."

You let out a booming laugh. "True! That would be the most likely scenario, even in a world with metahumans."

"It's also better than Zombieland zombies that can run."

"I know! That makes the whole thing a bit more terrifying." You shake your head. "But, I hope we end up with Love and Monsters because I mean, giant animals."

"That would be ideal." Gar gestures towards himself.

"A green tiger would be very normal."

"Exactly!"

Your laughter subsides and you fall into a comfortable silence. Gar resituates and guilt eats away at your bones. He winces when he moves and you figure it's because his side hurts. You swear you'll be apologizing for it every single day until you both die. You’re very grateful for him though because he is very understanding of it. You think most people would have dropped you, wanted nothing to do with you, and wouldn't trust you anymore. But, not Gar. You’ve already apologized several times since it happened and Gar has been telling you that it's okay and he's okay with a kind smile. You’ve said it before and you'll probably always think it, Gar is unfathomably kind.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, guilt coating your words.

"I'm positive." Gar chuckles softly. "I'm fine."

You nod softly. "I'm still really fucking sorry."

"It's okay." Gar urges you before taking a drink of the Gatorade. "It was an accident."

"I know." You let out a sigh. "But, I'll probably be trying to make it up to you for...the rest of our lives." You laugh softly.

"You don't have to. Rachel nearly took my hand off and I'm fine."

"She...what?" You pause.

Rachel even accidentally attacking Jason makes sense. Jason pushes her buttons more than anyone so if she were going to snap, it would be on Jason. But Gar? What could Gar have possibly done?

"Yeah, I woke her up when you guys got kidnapped. Her cloud of razor blades attacked me."

"Okay, that's not fair. How are you the one getting hurt by us?" You groan. "I'm really sorry and I'm sorry I didn't know."

You were a little preoccupied with being kidnapped and tortured and then nearly dying and nearly losing Jason. You not noticing is excusable but that doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty about it. Gar was still hurt and you should have noticed. Gar would have noticed if the roles were reversed.

"You were kidnapped and then dropped from a skyscraper. I think not knowing is acceptable." Gar chuckles.

"Yeah, that's true." You shrug a shoulder. "Still, I'm sorry." You scrunch your nose. "So, whatever you need, let me know and I will get the thing." You declare, your voice confident.

"You're not gonna budge on that, are you?"

"Nope." You let out a laugh.

Your conversation gets interrupted by an alert coming from the intercom system. The two of you look at each other with confused expressions before getting up to see who's at the door. Everyone you both know is already at the tower, besides Dick, he left out of nowhere, but he doesn't need the intercom system to come up.

When Gar hits the button for the video and sound feeds on the intercom, you both see a woman with strawberry blonde hair looking a little panicked.

“My name is Eve Watson and I’m looking for someone who I think might be here.” She says, voice panicky and rushed.

You give Gar a shrug as he looks to you.

“Maybe you should go get Kory.” Gar whispers and you nod before running off to get Kory.

Someone showing up, in general, seems a little weird. You’ve been at the tower for three months and no one besides Uber Eats drivers ever show up at the tower. But, somehow this random woman knew you had weird flying guy? That seems a little off.

You find Kory in the room with the mystery guy, talking with him while he’s still unconscious.

“Uh…Kory?”

“Hmm?” Kory looks over to you. “What’s going on?”

“There’s some woman here?” You question. “Gar is talking to her through the intercom. She says her name is Eve Watson and she thinks she’s looking for someone here.” You look from Kory to the mystery guy before looking back to Kory.

“Okay.” Kory nods carefully as she gets up. “Let’s go then.”

Kory and you make your way back down the hall and back to Gar.

“Is there someone named Conner there?” You and Kory hear Eve say through the intercom just as you approach.

“Let her up.” Kory says and Gar takes a second look at Kory, almost to be unsure about it but he does as told.

The woman comes up through the elevator, Gar, you, and Kory waiting for her to come up. When she does, she has a white dog with pointy ears walking beside her. It’s in that moment, you trust her.

You’ve always wanted a dog but your mom would never let you get one. They’re a big responsibility and you didn’t have a lot of money. With your mom being a vet, it always seemed strange you didn’t have a pet. You understood the reasoning but it did not stop you from asking every birthday for a dog. But, now, there is a dog right in front of you and you haven’t been able to pet a dog since you were uprooted from Gotham. This is the best thing that’s happened in two weeks.

“She has a dog.” You whisper to Gar.

Gar chuckles softly. “She said the dog lead her here?”

“Oh, so a smart dog.” You smile almost visibility vibrating next to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Love dogs.”

“You think we have Conner?” Kory asks.

“It sounds crazy, but the dog led me here.” Eve explains. “Tall, dark hair, looks like Superman.” Even lets out a sigh.

“Come with me.” Kory jerks her head towards the hallway.

Your smile falls as you watch the dog follow the women down the hallway and Gar lets out a laugh.

“Why don’t you go with them? I was gonna take a nap anyway.” 

“Are you sure? We could finish--”

“Go see if you can pet the dog.” Gar continues to laugh. “I’ll catch up later, wake me up before they leave though. I also want to meet the dog.” Gar beams and you laughs, nodding quickly before darting down the hallway.

You follow the women to Conner’s room, Kory noticing you. Kory doesn’t say anything though, figuring maybe you want to offer some help. After what happened with Deathstroke, Kory is willing to let you hang around for right now if you want to help. While Kory agrees that allowing any of the new Titans to go after Dr. Light would have been a bad idea, you sympathizes with you and Jason.

You reach the room and Eve sits down on the bed beside the mystery guy who’s still unconscious. The dog sits on the floor beside Eve and while the women talk, you stick your hand out for the dog to sniff you. The dog doesn’t seem bothered so you sit on the floor and cautiously pet his head. A giant smile plasters itself across your face as you pet the dog, now listening to the women talk about how Eve created Conner and how he ended up here. She goes on about how he’s going to die unless they can bring the sun directly to Conner. But, this is Kory. So, she has an idea and goes off to grab Rachel.

“So, you like….created him?” You ask, still petting the dog.

“Yeah.” Eve lets out a sigh.

“That’s pretty cool.” You state.

“It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah,” You sigh. “Having powers in a world like this seems to be. But, like, he’s half Superman and Kory will fix him so…pretty cool.” You nod your head. “What’s his name?”

“The dog?” Eve asks and you nods excitedly. “Krypto.”

“Krypto.” You smile looking at the dog. “I love dogs. Is it okay that I’m petting him? He didn’t seem to mind and you were talking.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Eve laughs softly.

“Hey, uh, you know, Conner saved my best friend.” You explain.

“He did? How?”

You shrug. “Dunno, exactly, I was dangling for my life but from what I’ve heard firsthand and what everyone else said, my friend was falling from a fifteen-story skyscraper and Conner came out of nowhere, jumped on a car and caught him mid-air.” Eve watches you carefully. “Look, I’m just saying you feel guilty and shit but had you found him earlier, it’s possible my friend would have died so I don’t think you should feel guilty about it.”

“He could die and that’s my fault. I created him and didn’t help enough.”

“No, you said that you helped him escape. They were gonna use him as a weapon, probably. You helped him and Kory is gonna save him. She’s a badass, trust me. So, you did good.” You offer her a kind smile.

“Thank you.” Eve says softly before looking back to Conner.

After a few minutes, Kory comes back with Rachel and she directs you, Eve, and Krypto to wait outside of the room. You sit right back down with Krypto, petting him while Kory gets Conner out of the bed and holds him up. She warns you it might get a little bit warm before asking Rachel if she’s ready. Rachel is a little uncertain and so are you.

Rachel has a hard time controlling her powers and you don’t really know why Kory trusts her so much to keep them in check right now. But, you trust Kory so there has to be a reason. Rachel uses her powers and her black and purple smoke surrounds Kory and Conner while Kory turns into a ball of fire. Your jaw nearly hits the floor as you watch.

“What…the…fuck.” You mutter and Eve has the same expression. “Sick.” You’re awestruck look turns into one of amazement and a giant smile comes to your face.

When Rachel brings her power back in, Kory stops and Conner is awake again. This definitely goes down in one of the coolest things you’ve ever witnessed and you find yourself having a little more respect for Rachel. Rachel always spoke so highly of Kory and maybe this is one of the reasons. Kory believes in Rachel enough to trust her to use her powers and not kill her. Not that you think Rachel could but it’s the trust that’s there and maybe that’s the whole issue with the tower right now. You, Gar, and Jason trust each other. But, Jason and you don’t trust Dick very much. Rachel doesn’t trust Jason and you think she doesn’t trust you very much because of your close proximity to Jason. The only person everyone collectively trusts is Gar but that doesn’t make for a very good team and you wonders if the Titans will ever work because of that.

Kory, Rachel, and you leave Eve, Conner, and Krypto to themselves, going your separate ways so they can talk. You head towards Gar’s room to tell him what just happened but his door is still shut and you know if he were awake, the door would be open. After last night, you do not want to wake him up so, you head two doors down to Jason’s room. You knock but then open the door, finding Jason standing in front of his windows, just looking out.

“Jay?” You call but he doesn’t even move. You walk beside him, looking from his eyes to the windows and then back to him. “Jason?” You wave your hand in front of his face and that seems to break him out f his trance.

“Fuck, yeah?” Jason jumps, spinning to you.

“You alright?” You ask, brows furrowed and the excitement you just felt vanishes and you worry about your best friend again.

“Yeah, what?” Jason snips and you narrows your eyes.

“You were just standing here…looking at the window?”

“You got a problem with that or something?” Jason snips again.

“Oh, snippy today.” You roll your eyes and walk over to one of his chairs, Jason shaking his head in confusion.

“Sure, make yourself comfortable.”

“I usually do.” You chortle. “Wanna know what just happened?” You ask, dropping the conversation about him because he doesn’t want to talk about it and you’re not gonna push him. Not today because maybe you owe him that much for last night.

Jason sighs and turns to face you. “Sure?”

“So, some woman shows up because of the guy that saved you and turns out, dude is named Conner and he is half fucking Superman and Lex Luther.” Your eyes nearly bug out of your head and Jason’s eyes widen.

“You’re fucking lying.”

“I could not make this shit up!” You exclaim. “So, she shows up and she’s got this dog with her who’s really cute. I got to pet him.” You beam and Jason finds it cute that you got sidetracked by the dog not the whole Superman and Lex Luthor thing. “So, in order to wake up Conner, Kory grabbed Rachel and turned into a ball of fire while holding Conner and Rachel used her powers to like keep it contained.” You ramble. “I know you don’t like Rachel or her powers but dude, it was the coolest shit I have ever seen.” You beam. “And Conner’s awake. Like, it worked.”

“He’s awake? From that?”

“Yeah, I guess it was something with kryptonite, that’s what he was shot with.” You explain.

“That’s…”

“Sick, right?” You ask.

“Yeah, that’s fucking sick. So, a ball of fire just wakes him up from a coma?”

“Guess so.” You laugh. “And there’s a dog.”

“You said that.” Jason chortles. “Didn’t realize you were a dog person?”

“Do I seem like a cat person to you?” You quip.

Jason laughs. “You're into Gar who turns into a fucking tiger.”

You pause before narrowing your eyes. "Yeah, but that's different. Tigers are not house cats." You hold your up and Jason shake his head at you. “So, it was super cool and I had to tell someone about it.”

“Gar not wanting to listen?” Jason quips.

“He’s napping, after last night I figured I’d let him nap.” You explain.

Jason nods just once. “How’d it go? After I left my own fucking room for you guys.”

Jason mostly asks because he wants to know if you both actually talked about your feelings or if you backed out of it. He figured Gar wouldn’t but he thought maybe you would. You didn’t seem too confident in your answer to Jason last night. You back out of a lot of the games you two play so he thought maybe you’d back out of telling Gar. He doesn’t hope for that though.

“Uh..." You furrow your brows. "It went, I guess. He's not mad at me or anything. He's being understanding, ya know?” You smile shyly.

"Did you tell him?" Jason asks, more or less digging for answers.

You pause for just a second, thinking about playing the game. But, then you think about how that would be unfair. You both made your decisions.

"No..." You let out a scoff. "It did not seem like the right time and..." You shrug, hiding more of the reason because you’d not about to tell Jason the reason you didn't tell Gar is because you like him. "I don't want him to feel obligated to tell me the same thing because I said it. I'll tell him eventually." You shrug it off and turn the question back to him. “You’ve been hanging out with Rose a lot…?” You question.

Jason gains a goofy grin. “She kissed me last night.” Jason announces.

“She what?” You nearly yell and you can feel the burning start in the very pit of your stomach. Definitely not jealousy.

Jason shrugs. “Yeah,” He has this cocky smile as he licks his lips.

You don’t need to know that Rose kissed him and then Jason put a stop to it like how he did with you last week. You don’t need to know that little bit of information.

“You really like her?” You ask, the slightest bit of snark in your voice that Jason absolutely catches.

Jason shrugs again. “Think so.” Jason laughs softly because he can’t have you. But, he likes Rose enough. He could like her more if he gave her a fair shot. Rose is different. Jason can’t break or hurt her. Deathstroke took care of that. And Gar isn’t into Rose.

“Good, I hope she makes you happy. She’s pretty cool.” Your words taste sour on your tongue but you swallow your pride anyway. You do want him to be happy. Jason deserves to be happy.

“Yeah, thanks.” Jason chuckles softly. “She got mad though, like right after.”

“What, why? You’re not that bad of a kisser.” You tease him, trying your best to brush it off.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason groans, but there's still a hint of his cocky grin pulling at his lips. “I borrowed Dick’s records, he had one with her brother’s name on it. She freaked out on me.” The smirk falls as he shakes his head, brows knitted together.

“That’s weird.” Your brows furrow. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“Told her I didn’t know about it, think we’re alright now. But I didn’t even know she had a brother.”

“Seems getting information out of her is like getting information out you. Pulling teeth.” You chuckle softly. “I don’t know that is weird though.”

“Yeah.” Jason lets out a sigh but before either of you can continue the conversation, Rachel comes barging in.

Rachel storms right up to Jason and starts yelling. “How fucked up are you?” She yells, your eyes widen. “All you do is give people a reason to hate you!”

Jason just stares at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The crosses on my mirror!”

“Still don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Jason’s voice is flat but Rachel doesn’t believe him.

Her eyes turn red as she shoves his shoulder. “Don’t fucking lie to me!” Her voice is lower and freaky with the shove.

“What the fuck?” You jump up from your seat on his chair, moving to stand in between them. "Leave him alone." You grit your teeth and you don't want to do this today. Why is she even blaming Jason?

Jason pauses for a second. He's not going to stand here and be blamed for something he didn't even do. He's been in his room since he got done training two hours ago. “I’m sick of this shit.” Jason mutters, grabbing his jacket and storming out of the room.

“Literally, what the fuck, Rachel?” You stare at her, fists balled at your sides but just for a second before you follow Jason, Rachel right behind you.

You’re questioning the universe right about now. You desperately want to know why either of you can’t seem to catch a fucking break. Seriously, what could either of you have possibly done to piss the universe off so badly? Especially Jason. He actually hasn’t done a single thing and yet he keeps getting dealt these hands and now Rachel is jumping down his throat. It’s ridiculous.

You and Rachel follow Jason into the living area where Dawn, Hank, and Kory are.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me!” Rachel screams past you.

“SHUT UP!” You scream, trying to catch up to Jason.

“Woah, hey, what’s happening?” Dawn asks from her seat at the snack bar.

“Jason drew crucifixes all over my mirror!” Rachel points her finger at Jason standing ten feet away from him while you’re smack in the middle as you all come to a halt.

“Bullshit!” Jason looks at Rachel.

“Jason, it’s okay if you’re angry.” Dawn says as she approaches the three of you.

“I didn’t do shit, okay?” Jason’s voice sounds desperate this time. “Look, don’t blame me for her voodoo issues.” Jason says as Donna walks in from behind him.

“What’s up with all the drama?” Donna asks as she stands next to Dawn.

“Someone drew crosses on Rachel’s mirror and she thinks Jason did it.” Dawn explains keeping her voice kind and calm as usual.

“I know he did it.” Rachel declares.

“No, he didn’t, Rachel!” You interject. “You’ve just got fucking problems with him so you’re first fucking response is to blame him.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms.

“Cute idea with the Bourbon bottle.” Hank starts, making his way towards the older women. “Not my type though. I’m more of a Sour Mash guy.” Hanks says, this time Jason and you looking at him with confusion having no idea what he’s even talking about. “You ever go into my room and pull that shit again, I’ll forget what team you’re on.”

“Why Jason?” Donna asks.

You let out a huff. You can’t believe you’re listening to them blame him for absolutely no reason. And when you look to Jason, he looks completely heartbroken and devastated. He has no idea what they’re even talking about. You don't think you'll forgive any of them for the look on Jason's face right now. And the fact none of them even see it, makes the whole thing that much worse.

“I don’t know what happened, guys but I-I didn’t do it.” Jason says, his voice defeated. You’ve never heard him stutter before.

“What about the picture of Elis?” Dawn asks.

“The orange soda bottle?” Donna asks, everyone pointing fingers at Jason.

“He did it to you guys, too?” Rachel asks.

“Fuck this.” Jason huffs, ready to leave the conversation.

“Hey,” Hank yells. “We’re not done here, kid.”

“You people are insane!” Jason yells, his eyes turning glossy. “I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes.” Jason pauses and you can see his heart literally breaking. “You guys think everything is my fault.”

There it is. He can’t do it anymore. Even though he didn’t do anything, it’s still somehow his fault. He didn’t mean for the Deathstroke thing to happen. It was an accident and he’s the one that suffering the consequences but they’re all blaming him. They’re blaming him for this stuff he doesn’t even understand. What would an orange pop have to do with anything? The Titans have been on edge this whole time and Jason’s beginning to think it’s him. Maybe if he weren’t around, the Titans would be fine. Maybe they would all get along. They definitely would not be having this argument right now. All of this is his fault and he can’t do it anymore.

“Why is that?” You snap your attention to the older Titans and position yourself to be standing with your back towards Jason, drawing your own line in the sand. “He clearly didn’t fucking do it and none of you even suspected him until Rachel decided to fucking lose it.”

“Because I know he did it!” Rachel screams.

“Why would he do it, Rachel?” You screams over her. You’re going to lose your mind, you can feel it.

“He hates me, Y/n! Unless you’re too blind to see that!”

“You almost fucking killed him! Of course, he hates you!” You fight back, catching Rachel off guard. You will throw her under the bus. She’s gonna throw Jason under the bus, you’ll the same to her.

“You did what?” Kory asks.

“Yeah? In training, she lost fucking control and almost fucking killed him. Lifted him ten feet into the air, aimed a bunch of swords at him.”

“He hit me when I was down!”

“We were all blindfolded for fuck's sake! He didn't even hit you that hard!” It's in this moment, you’re positive Jason has always been right about Rachel because this is actual insanity.

Gar comes from one of the hallways looking exhausted. “Can’t a guy get some sleep?” His voice is drowsy and you glance to him.

“No, because everyone in the tower has literally lost their damn minds! They’re blaming Jason for some fucking bullshit!” You throw your arm out towards the older Titans.

“You’re always on his side!” Rachel screams.

“Someone has to be, Rachel! Clearly, none of you are gonna actually ask him if he did it. You’re all just pointing fucking fingers like a bunch of children.” You look at the supposed adults surrounding you. “Hey, uh, right, so how did Jason do it when I was like….with him? Do you think he ran out of his room the second Kory came to get you just do that? That's fucking stupid!"

“He's the only one that would have done it!" Rachel argues.

You laugh. How can anyone be taking this seriously right now? “But he wouldn't even do it! I know he didn't do it! He was barely fucking awake when I walked into his room! How would he have done it?!” You tell a little bit of lie. It's not that he was asleep but he was kind of in a trance when you walked in. Regardless, you know it wasn't Jason. He wouldn't mess with Rachel like that and the more you think about it, the more you’re realizing that almost every single one of their fights has been caused by Rachel.

“We aren’t pointing our fingers at him.” Dawn says calmly.

“Hank is! Rachel is! You asked him about the picture of Elis and you,” You face Donna. “Asked about a pop? How the fuck would he know any of that!? Jason’s right, you’re all fucking insane! You all take down these shitty fucking people with evidence but when it comes to your own, you don’t need evidence to point the finger! What the hell is that about!?”

“Jason is an asshole!” Rachel yells.

“He is! But he isn’t a mind games kind of asshole! And being an asshole doesn't justify being blamed for some bullshit he very clearly did not do! He’s got more of a fucking problem with Dick and Dick is the only one not experiencing this weird shit, isn’t that weird? What the hell is wrong with you guys?” You scoff.

The anger bubbles through your entire body. Every inch of you feels like it's on fire. It's disgusting and appalling that these supposed heroes can blame Jason for this. How do they not see that he's struggling? How have they not noticed he's all but sleeping in the training room and skipping dinner? You know you cannot be the only to have noticed. Gar has. They should notice. They're supposed to be looking out for you four, not making false accusations with no proof or even a motive. It's not right and it's not fair. Jason deserves better than all of them.

“Y/n.” Gar warns softly as your hands start to glow.

“No! Fuck that! Are you all fucking blind? Are Gar and me the only fucking people noticing that he is really fucking struggling right now? And all of you are going to be making it worse! He is practically living in the training room, he’s barely eating, and he’s not sleeping. I know you guys are self-absorbed and for heroes, that’s weird, too but you guys have had to have noticed right?”

The room goes silent. The only one who has noticed is Kory and she isn’t accusing Jason of anything. You can feel the burning start behind your eyes with the silence of the room. This is the most unbelievable thing you’ve ever witnessed and been a part of. How have they not noticed? It's so blatantly obvious and none of them even care. It's cruel.

“Wow.” You nod your head with a scoff. “Good work, team. Good work looking after your own.” You grit your teeth and you can’t believe these people consider themselves heroes. “You know, you get kidnapped, tortured, and then dropped from a skyscraper and let me know how that treats your psyche. He didn’t fucking do it and it’s disgusting you all even think he did.”

“Who else did it then, kid?” Hank questions, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know but it wasn’t him. I know him better than all of you. It wasn’t him, Hank.” You’re nearly whining, practically pleading with them to believe you.

“He drew the crosses on my mirror, no one else hats me.” Rachel declares.

“Okay, let me break this down because you're clearly not using your brain. Mental manipulation works best when the person doing it, lets you believe you’re on the same side. If you were on opposing sides, it’s easier to see through the bullshit. Jason and you are not on the same side, ever. So, why would it be him? Again, he isn’t the mental manipulation type. The closest he gets to it is just talking and talking and talking until you get annoyed.”

“We know it wasn’t Rachel.” Donna states. “Or Gar.”

“It wasn’t Dick.” Dawn chimes in.

“How do you know!? He’s been acting fucking weird as shit lately, too!”

Dick's been kind of down and out lately. He's been checking around the tower and you swear you overheard him talking to himself the other night. Dick seems like he's also losing it. But, again, apparently, the only people who notice are you and Gar. For people who are supposed to be observant, they all suck at it.

“Dick wouldn’t do that.” Hank defends.

“Right, so I should believe Dick wouldn’t do it because you say so but you won’t believe that Jason didn’t do it because I say so. Great reasoning there, Hank.” You gives Hank a sarcastic thumbs-up.

“Hey, watch who you’re talking to.”

“Yeah? The fuck you gonna do about it? I’ve been held captive twice and once was with Deathstroke, I’m not fucking afraid of you.” You scoff at him. “Gonna forget what team I’m on, too?”

“Y/n, come on.” Gar pleads with you.

“This is fucking bullshit and I know you know it.” You look over at him before looking back to the older Titans. “What did he do that is so bad that you guys hate him that much?” Your voice breaks with the question because you can’t imagine him doing anything. You can’t figure out why no one sees him the way you do. Or why none of them want to.

Just as Rachel is about to fight you, the elevator opens and all of you look over, seeing Dick look a little spazzed out.

“He’s here.” Dick whispers as if he’s just cracked some sort of code. “In the tower. Deathstroke’s here in the tower.” Dick explains. “He took pictures of all of us.”

You would very much, also, like to be back with Deathstroke. At least the guy was a little more straightforward than these people. Deathstroke had a reason for the madness. It wasn't a good reason but it was a reason. Meanwhile, the Titans have nothing and Dick had officially lost his mind.

“Dick…talk to me, what’s with the gun?” Hank asks, pulling everyone’s attention to the gun in Dick’s hand.

It’s this moment that confirms to you that everyone in the tower has lost their minds. Deathstroke is also completely insane but you and Jason were tortured by him and even you two aren’t that out of your minds. You aren’t sure what’s up with the Titans, but at this point, you don’t even wanna know. Instead, you figure you’ll use this time to grab Jason and try to avoid the other Titans. But, you look around and he’s gone.

“Fuck.” You let out an exasperated sigh, actively pulling attention back on you. “Shit.” Your eyes widen and the panic sets in. Jason isn’t doing well mentally and now you’re scared for what he’s going to do. Everyone blames him. Everyone hates him. He wants to be with Deathstroke over these people.

“Y/n?” Gar asks, seeing the panic written across your entire body as you approach him.

“Check the training room for Jason.” You rush as you dart the other way and everyone is left confused as to what you could be in a hurry for.

You head to his room first and he isn't there. You don't think he would go to the training room, it's too exposed. But, Jason keeps falling in his dreams and he has a thing for suffering. If it were you, you'd go to the roof so that's where you go. If Jason would rather be with Deathstroke, the answer would be the roof. He’s terrified and you can see it. He has nightmares about falling so of course, that would be his way out. To him, it’s going to be easy and accessible and no one even noticed he was gone.

You run towards the roof door, barging through it and the door flies open. Your heart sinks as you sees Jason standing on the ledge, looking straight ahead. Your feet come to a complete stop and you swear you never thought you’d have to talk someone down from this. And you hate that he even feels this way. He deserves so much better. But, you have to swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat and walk over to him.

“Jay?” You call quietly, walking carefully as if the roof is a lake covered in thin ice. Any wrong step would send you both into freezing waters.

“They all hate me.” Jason’s voice is so small and it breaks a part of you.

“They fucking suck, Jason.” You state, trying to make your voice sound like it’s not about to crack.

“It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.” You hold your voice steady as you close the distance toward the ledge. “None of this is your fault.” You state strongly. “Cam you please get down?”

“Rachel blamed me first. Maybe if I didn’t tell her to get checked by a priest.” Jason lets out a breath, ignoring the request. He swears everyone’s lives would be better if he wasn’t a part it anymore.

You take a step close to the ledge, looking over it and you feel yourself grow nauseous. You’re sick and tired of these heights but this is Jason. You look up to him and with shaky hands, you put your hands on the ledge and lift yourself up. You take a seat, letting your legs dangle as you have a death grip on the ledge. Jason glances to you with just his eyes, daring to not move his head. You’re never going to let Jason be alone in any of this. If he’s going to stand on the edge, you’re gonna be right there with him. He will never be alone if you have anything to say about it.

“Her dad possessed you, traumatized you. That wasn’t her fault, but it was her responsibility to apologize for it and listen to you about it. That’s not on you, Jay.”

“I just keep fucking up.” His voice quivers as he moves his foot forward and you nearly break.

“Jason,” You rush his name. “I am begging you not to walk off this roof.” You keep your attention on Jason and that’s all you can focus on. You can’t fucking lose him. “It’s not your fault. You’re not fucking it up. Okay? This is on them. You’re just trying to help.”

“I keep falling.” Jason’s voice quivers again. “It won’t stop.” Jason sucks in a breath and now you know why he keeps standing at his windows like that. He’s just reliving it over and over and over.

“Jason, it’s gonna be okay.” You keep your voice soft and gentle as you keep your stare forward.

Jason doesn’t know how you can even say that. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to be okay. It’s been a week and it feels like it happened yesterday. It still feels like he’s on the window washing crane. The Titans hate him for no reason. He’s never done anything to make them hate him. That’s not going to be okay and it’s not going to get better. They’re always going to hate and they’re always going to blame him for anything they can. And it’s his fault.

This always happens. Jason pushes and pushes until people break and pull away. He doesn’t even know exactly why he does it but he does. People try to help him and it all fails. He’s a mess and maybe he’s too big of a mess to ever be fixed. He’s tired of it and he’s tired of feeling like this.

“Bruce wasn’t the first one, ya know?” Jason states. “Who tried to help me. I can make a list. Relatives, teachers, cops, Dick. Nobody's been up to the task.”

You pause and you already knew that all Jason has ever wanted is feel good enough. He sabotages. You get it because you do it, too just in different ways. But, Jason is not all bad. Jason is hard-headed and stubborn and cocky. He can be a little shit and he’s a little too snippy and sarcastic sometimes. But, if anyone bothered to get to know him, they’d know him how you know him. Which is that he’s a good friend. He’ll sacrifice his own feelings for his friends, he’s self-sacrificing, and kind, and funny. He’s charming and a geek in his own way. He’s a nerd and he deserves to be cared for. Everyone gave up way too soon.

“I am.” Your voice is quiet and you peak up at him with just your eyes, keeping your head steady and your words catch Jason off-guard. “I mean it. You know I don’t lie to you. Put that shit on me, remember? You’re not a fuck up. You deserve for people not to give up on you.”

Jason lets out a scoff because he doesn’t want to believe you. “I’ve got a poison in me.” Jason lets out a huff. “Shit spreads. It can affect even the healthiest people.”

“You don’t have a poison, Jay.” You state. “You don’t.”

“Look at what happened to you!” Jason’s eyes water further, blurring his vision slightly as his voice cracks.

“What? Deathstroke?” You scoff. “I was fucked up long before Dick brought me here, alright? Gotham, death, torture, held captive, almost murdered. Almost murdered Jerry. That’s all me, that has nothing to do with you. Deathstroke was gonna happen. If it wasn’t you coming up with the idea, it would have been me, let’s be honest.” 

Jason bounces to something else. He’s finding every reason he can to keep standing here. He wants it all to be over, for the pain and the shame and the guilt to just stop. But, he doesn’t want to give up either. There are two sides of his brain playing tug of war. One of them is screaming and crying, pleading to hold a little longer while the other side is cackling and chanting to jump because everyone’s lives would be better without him in it. 

“It’s happened before.” Jason starts. “I once spent two nights in juvie and four fucking people died. It follows me like a curse.”

Your brows furrow and you hate that he feels this way about himself. No one should ever feel like that. You want to get off of this roof and hunt down every single person who’s ever made Jason Todd feel like he’s a poison and he’s not good enough. You’ll fight the entire world for him.

“Were you Robin?” You ask.

Jason pauses. “Yeah.”

“Then it’s not your fault.” You let out a scoff and you really do have something again Bruce and Dick. “That’s on Bruce. He’s been Batman our entire lives. He shouldn't need a Robin. He should have been a better Batman. It’s not your fault those people died, do you hear me?”

“I just want it to stop.” Jason’s voice finally breaks and you want to break with him but you can’t.

You want to drag him off of this roof and grab him by the face, scream at him that it’s all going to be okay and that he’s good enough. That he deserves everything good to happen because he is good. There is nothing wrong with him. He is worth the effort. But, you’re so scared that if you make any move towards him, he’ll lose it entirely. You would do anything to get his pain to stop.

“It’s not just you, Jay.” Your voice is soft. “Look, you know I have nightmares, too about all of it. It’s not just you and as long as I’m alive, it’ll never be just you. As long as I’m alive, you will never be alone in this shit.”

“What?”

“If I’m alive, you will never be alone. You won’t go through that shit alone because I’d follow you into the dark if you asked me to. You’re my best friend in the whole world and...I care more about you than I do about almost anyone I have ever met. I’d do anything in the world if you asked me to. You and me. Always.” You pause, looking behind you to see Dick standing a few feet away. “I mean it. You’re not a fuck up and you are not alone. Ever. Fuck, everyone else, okay? I am batshit terrified right now but I’m here with you because I care about you and I’d lose my fucking mind if I lost you. My life would be so much fucking worse without you in it.” Your words more intense and stern with every second. "Fuck them because you're not a fucking poison and you're not fucking cursed. And someone should have fucking been there for you. So, I will be. Now, get the fuck off this ledge.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Put it on me.” Your voice is so gentle, it nearly shatters Jason. "I will never give up on you. I will never let you do any of this alone, Jay. Please." You finally look at him with the final plea. Your eyes lock with Jason's and he make the decision. He takes a step back, stepping down from the ledge.

You follow his lead quickly, relieved over the whole situation and you feel like you can breathe again. You close the distance between you and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you. Jason buries his face into your shoulder, his arms hugging you tightly. Everything is so heavy for him. The weight of the world is drowning him and you are his life jacket.

And Dick sees the two of you and that’s when he gets it. When he gets what it means it has someone who is literally a ride or die. Dick worried about you together after Jerry. As friends, as more than friends, just being around each other. Something told Dick that would just be the beginning and the Deathstroke happened and Dick was certain he was right. But, now, he’s not sure if you’re the cause for each other’s destructive behavior.

You’re both just like that but you both get it. You understand exactly what the other is going through and how to handle it. It’s not about you causing each other to do something stupid, it’s that you both have someone who is there when you do it so you can pick up those pieces. He gets it now and he understands why he should have told the Titans about Jericho from the beginning. None of this would have happened. Jason would not have wanted to walk off this roof had he been honest. Maybe the Titans wouldn’t have disbanded. This is on him, not the two of you in front of him.

“This is my fault.” Dick speaks up, you and Jason pulling away from each other.

“Okay?” You question him, not even wanting to deal with him. This is also his fault, Jason and everything. This is on Dick. 

“Deathstroke, all of this is my fault.” Dick admits.

“Yeah, I said that.” You nod your head. You’re not dealing with this. You got Jason off the ledge and would like to bring him inside and shield him from the Titans. “I’ll get Rachel or Dawn or Donna to talk you down though if you need it.” Jason looks at you, a bit surprised by the venom in your voice.

“No,” Dick shakes his head. “I owe everyone an explanation.” Dick sucks in a breath, you and Jason waiting to hear where this could possibly be going right now, of all times. “I killed Deathstroke’s son.” Dick admits.

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[imaginationmess]

TAKE MY HAND (Zombie Apocalypse) [Bakugou Katsuki X Reader]; ONE

Bakugou Katsuki X Reader

AGED UP AU!

Summary: When you take on the burden to keep the ones living safe, which causes you to become a traitor, but you had to pick a decision, and it cost their trust in you. You reverted to your old violent self. Months later, you find yourself face to face with your old friends. They want you to help them because they know you can handle yourself in this current state of the world. They are still ignorant of the state the world is. They have no idea how more dangerous it has become.

"We are still fucking fighting and won't stop fighting. If you fucking give up, we lose!"

BEFORE READING! PLEASE READ DISCLAIMER!

Previously Chapter ZERO; Masterlist

Chapter One

Word Count: 1,500 

The intruders' hands were tied behind their backs. There is a young woman who sighs out of annoyance seeing them not awake yet from one of the children's quirks. They were doing what they were trained to do to protect their home.

"Why aren't we killing them, yet even torturing them for invading our territory? Miss Glitch." An older man with tattoos all over his body and many burn scars on his face from his old days of being an assassin.

"Daichi. I made a promise a long time ago to their teacher. He wouldn't lose another student. I will admit it was the stupidest bold thing they could ever do. I am not usually here on the main base and taking care of business on the other bases." The [hair color]ed young lady pulls a chair to sit down, knowing they are gonna be waking up soon enough.

"Was it that time? You decide to try to become a hero enrolling in that prestigious school. You were acting to be a normal teenager once in your life to blend in with the normal ones." Daichi recalls when you were 15 years old.

You left the mafia life, having no other choice because there would have been lethal consequences. If you didn't leave, you may have lost your life. He was more of a father than your biological one. He was the one who helped you get a new identity using your mother's last name and getting in contact with your biological mother who left your father to find out how abusive and dangerous he was. She lost the custody battle against your biological father due to him having the money to bribe the judge.

You thought back to a couple of years ago, where it felt like a good dream to be too good to be real. You had a normal teenage social life where you have friends around your age instead of being way older than you and weren't afraid of you. Those connections that you made were genuine, not faked despite everyone thinking it was.

You were just a child who wanted to be accepted and cared about.

There was a knock to reveal the 8-year-old girl that snaps out of your daydream state before ordering her to come inside.

"You can go ahead, wake them up, dear." You smiled at the young child who returned it, before running off to touching their skin.

"Wake up." Her command was crystal clear, causing all four of them to stir awake.

You stand up and reach into your pocket, your knife flicking it up with a snap. The sound of the knife opening cutting through the tense air.

"You can go back to playing with the kids. This is gonna be a conversation for the adults." Daichi walks the young child out of the room. Daichi hands her over a piece of candy that is technically like treasure due to the state of the world.

The four started jumping up and down on their wooden chairs to break them. They have the right to be scared. They realized who was standing in front of them. You had killed their friend in cold blood all those years ago at the beginning of the apocalypse. You were approaching them with the calm expression similar to their encounters with serial killers.

You walk around their chairs despite them moving around attempting to break free. You cut the restraints off of them swiftly. You didn't flinch when all of them turned around to try to land an attack on you.

You let your body become ghost-like letting their punches phase through you causing them to be surprised. You took your hands to make them solid again and grabbed the two colored-haired and the green-haired smash into each other heads harshly. You teleport out from the tight spot a few feet away from them.

Your body reverts to normal and takes a seat casually.

"Are we gonna throw punches at each other or we are going to talk about how stupid the four of you are for walking into mafia base? You only got lucky. I was even here because you would have met your end by my soldiers from the normal protocol when it comes to outsiders invading our base." You laid back on your chair and crossed your arms against your chest.

The green-haired male was hesitant and took a seat on the chair that he was originally tied to. This caused a domino effect among the group.

"We were sent by Pixie Bob and Eraserhead to recruit the leader, but... we didn't know it would be you." He lays out the facts.

"Midoriya, why would they even want to recruit m- Unless you guys are planning to travel in other territories that aren't in my restriction." You voiced your thoughts.

"We may have found a way to find a cure. The downside is we are lacking supplies to complete it." Midoriya stares into your eyes with confidence.

"If you know what you need, I may already have it. I can spare some of my laboratory materials." You crack your neck, relaxing your shoulders from the tension of thinking. You need to fight.

"Don't take us like dumbasses who can't use their brain. What's the price?" The sandy blond male standing up from his chair.

You smirk mischievously. "It's the simplest thing. You can easily provide. Bakugo."

Bakugou's face scrunches up in frustration. He can't read your body language like before. He can't tell if you are teasing or being serious.

"We aren't trading Bakugo. If that's what you are thinking." The two-colored male responds.

"Todoroki, the naive one as always. I don't want him per se. You can keep him. What I want is a gallon of his sweat, in exchange for the materials I have on hand." You say, before standing up.

The shock of all their faces hearing something they never have heard from negotiating with other survivors. Bakugou's sweat.

"Do you even have what we wan-" The black-haired man with the red tips says, sticking his hand into his pocket to find it empty?

You pull out the list of materials that you stole from his pockets. This automatically causes them to search on their person to find out they have been unarmed.

"You are insane if you think. I was gonna leave you guys armed with knives to small pistols and guns. To answer your question, Kirishima. I do have them and you will get your weapons back when you depart from the base. It's a primary rule that is in this haven. No weapons allowed if you aren't on duty." You casually say as you double-check upon the list of materials.

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard." Bakugou retorts.

"It's to prevent a tragedy if a minor doesn't know how to use a gun. This base is a primary home for families who have young children into orphans and create weapons. But do we have a deal or not?" You look up at them and fold the paper, slipping it back into your pocket.

"What are you gonna do with my sweat?" Bakugou asks.

"Make explosive bombs, of course. What do you think? What it takes to have the amount of territory I possess. I have to have an upper hand on handing the other mafia groups to keep everyone in my territory safe. I am gonna let you four think about it for the night." You turn around and walk to the door to open it. You wave your hand to signal someone to come over.

The same teenager who was in combination with the young child from earlier comes inside with two swords strapped on his back. You clap your hands on the young boy's shoulders.

"Speedy here, will give you guys a quick tour of the base and take you guys to take a quick shower because you four hella stink. Getting something to eat from the cafeteria and where you will be sleeping. He will be taking care of you while I am doing the rest of my business before you guys come interpreting it. He considers him as your watchdog. If you misbehave, he is allowed to knock the fuck out. He may be young, but he is deadly. See you boys later."

You walk away leaving your former classmates speechless. You are in a way welcoming them into your base knowing they don't trust you, which is why. You are using a young teenager to be their tour guide.

"I don't suggest acting out. We were ordered not to harm any of you, but we are still allowed to knock you out and kick you out without your weapons." Speed comments.

"We can take your punk ass down, easily."

"You hesitated because we are minors. We have been growing up in the apocalypse for a long time now. We aren't children anymore. We are survivors for a reason." 

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I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!

Any thoughts/Feelings/Predictions that you have while out reading this chapter.

I would love to hear them! <3

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[dabilove27]

How Far We've Come

Paring: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Smut (female-receiving oral), A Cocky Dabi, Cussing, A lot of Pet Names

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile Apocalypse Collab! If you have the time check out some of the other amazing pieces! Everyone has worked so hard to make some beautiful fics!

Thank you so much to my wife @lady-lunaaa for reading, encouraging, brainstorming, and helping me the whole way from start to finish. I have said it before but I will say it again. You are absolutely amazing and this fic wouldn't exist without you! 💜 Also thank you @/deathcab4daddy (not sure if you want to be tagged) for taking the time to read through and for your advice!

You've seen all those movies, the decaying zombie hoards, the massive explosions that wipe out nations, or an unexpected illness that mysteriously kills off the population. But you had never really expected for any of those apocalyptic things to become true in your own world.  They were just fiction, never something that could actually occur. Yet here you are faced with the reality of a hoard of rotting zombies. Like you have been thrown into one of the many movies or TV shows yourself.

People aren't even sure how it happened, especially in a world full of quirks where this should be somewhat controlled, right? Wrong, whatever caused this zombie apocalypse also seemed to nullify quirks over time. There was so much speculation whether it came into the water supply or passed through the air. But none of that really seems to matter anymore when you are fighting for your life every day.

And as the mass of decaying, walking corpses steps closer and closer to you, it seems like your end is near too. The smell of organs exposed to the air and sun stink up the room.  You can see the blank, milky white eyes of the undead that somehow can still find you even though they can't really see.  You've had a partner, at least—the man who has stood with you during this entire shit show.

He stands close to you, a single rusted knife covered in stagnant blood, not nearly enough even combined with whatever you could find for fighting off the seemingly endless mindless bodies coming your way. He's covered in burn scars and rusted staples that pull at his healthy skin. People used to jab at him for looking like the walking dead before all this went down.  His firepower from before would have solved this problem in an instant. This rotting mob wouldn't have stood a chance.

But instead, it looks like it's the conclusion for the two of you. Memories flash through your mind. A memory of escaping the daily struggle of your mundane life by sharing take-out on your old couch.  Or how his kisses always felt like burning flames against your lips.  Your regular life consisted of trying to numb the pain of the past with alcohol or working endless hours.  Even though you didn’t have a traditional relationship where you could go on public dates, being in a relationship with a well-known villain was worlds better than this. But if you were going to die, at least it was together. Solidarity in times like this seems to help the never-ending dread that the Reaper looming around every corner ready to take you.  Every moment in this new hell had you wished you had more time to develop your romance with him instead of the tragedy that was about to befall you. You wished you had more time with this romance and that it wouldn't end in tragedy. It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when you couldn't stand this man, but even now, that's a fond memory for you.  You would give anything to return to that old bar where the two of you met and relive all of these memories.

It really isn't a surprise that you met Dabi in a dark, run-down bar near Kamino.  No, not the "bar" run by Kurogiri; everyone who lived in this area knew that it was just a setup. This bar is a tiny little hole in the wall with paint chipping off the walls and where the seats were hardly held together anymore, but that didn't really matter to people who lived in this area. You didn't come to this bar for a luxury experience.

The main reason people came to this bar was its location.  It sat deep in a seedy area which meant no police patrolling nearby so you wouldn’t need to look over your shoulder constantly.  Plus, the cheap liquor was enticing enough.

Every Friday night, you were perched on one of the worn-out bar stools as you nursed your gin and tonic.  This was your place to unwind after another hellish week of your mundane job.  It was still early enough in the evening that the bar wasn't thoroughly packed with bodies trying to get their drink.  The music was still soft,  later it would blare whatever song was currently sitting at the top of the Billboard charts. You were able to turn your brain off and listen to other patrons' mindless chatter in the background.  You could just sip your drink, maybe take a shot or two if you felt like, and then head home to pass out.

You relished this little getaway, an oasis in the slums that made up your small world.  The bartender and regular patrons didn't bother you, so you could have your own peace.  But your Eden got interrupted by a cocky, fire-wielding asshole who had set his sights on you.

You didn't stir when said asshole plopped himself down in the barstool next to you with a thump.  It wasn't until the jerk actually spoke to you that you were brought out of your mindless daydreaming.

"Hey, pretty girl, what are you doing in a place like this?"  He said with a smooth tone.  You didn't even have to look at him to know he had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? The irritated thought instantly pops into your head.  Anyone who frequented this bar knew you were from around here.  You weren't some soft, delicate flower that wasn't supposed to be "on this side of town."  Preparing yourself by putting on your best "I'm not interested face," you maneuvered your body to face him, ready to tell him off.

Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met his two endless pools of cerulean.  Your gaze shifted to take in the burnt skin clinging onto the shining staples that were rooted in his healthy skin. A familiar black coat spread across his frame that was even more recognizable than those eyes, and the patronizing smile that you wanted to slap off his face. As much as you wanted to throw up your middle finger at him and tell him off, you knew who this was. Hell, everyone knew who this was.

The League of Villains didn't necessarily keep quiet around here. They didn't have to. This is the area where they recruited people to join them. You didn't just flick off and ignore a LOV member. Especially the infamous Dabi, who wasn't really known for his kindness or compassion. More for his ability to burn anyone who defied The League to a crumbling crisp.

But still, who did this asshole think he is? Waltzing in here like he owned it and saddling down into your escape from the world only to tell you that you don't look like you should be here?  Fuck that nonsense, League member or not.

You swallow down a bit of the initial anger as your eyes narrow into a glare at the cocky asshole.  "Thanks but no thanks, I'm not interested in being involved with the League. So if you don't mind going somewhere else to scout, that would be great." You try to say without a tremble in your voice as you wave your hand in a "shoo" motion.

You aren't sure what you expect Dabi to do next., burn down the whole bar you included? Tell you that you have no choice but to join, and you're coming with him? Rip you out of your seat and reprimand you for disrespecting The League? But instead, none of those things happen.  Instead, he does something you don't expect, and his grin grows a little wider as the staples begin to pull more at his healthy flesh.

You can feel your anxiety rising. Get out, get out, get out, this asshole will kill you, leave NOW, your mind is practically sending off every warning signal it can.

Your chest tightens when Dabi lets out a low chuckle. "Oh no, sweetheart, you've got it all wrong."  He says with a dark tone. "I'm not recruiting you for work. My interest in you is personal."  Dabi points at you and then at himself and finishes with an infuriating smirk that seems to be mocking you.  He's moved his hand and placed it on your forearm that was resting on the smooth bar top.

A shiver runs through you as the mismatched textures of his skin and the cool metal of the staples.  You feel your anger bubbling up again.  How dare this jerk think that you will just fall for him like a desperate fangirl.  You are livid at this point, frustration coursing through your veins, fuck the niceties and preservation. He needed to be put in his place.

"I know you think you are some big shot because The League is doing so well right now but fuck off asshole.  I'm not a League groupie that will just kneel down and suck your dick just because you want it." You spit out at him while shrugging off his hand and moving your body to face the way you were initially sitting. Grasping your drink and lifting it to your lips, you try and down what was left so you could leave immediately, any extra moment around Dabi was a moment you didn't want to have.

You were sure Dabi would have given up or at least killed you by now. You can't imagine that he is used to being rejected by women.  He's handsome in a way that doesn't fit with the norm.  He fills in that bad boy check-list like it's his job, which it practically is given his profession.  Again though, Dabi surprises you with his response. He doesn't yell, he doesn't use his quirk, and he doesn't kill you. He lets out another dark chuckle like he's enjoying this and continues the conversation you had tried to cut off.

"I didn't say anything about sucking dick, but if you're offering, who am I to turn down a gift?"  That smooth tone is back as he moves his hand to your hair and runs it through his fingers.

Bewilderment overcomes you, and you can't even stop yourself before you are turned towards him again, glass in your hand, ready to throw what's left of your drink on him.

As if he anticipated the response, Dabi moves quickly and grabs your wrist in a tight grip.  "Now, why would you want to waste what you have left, doll? That's not a very smart choice." His grip tightens a little more around your wrist, and you can feel the staples begin to dig into your skin as he lets out a deep chuckle. He moves your hand back down to the bar but doesn't let go even after your glass has left your hand.  "There we go, good girl.  Now let's talk just a bit." He says sweetly, loosening his grip just a bit, but not enough for you to move your hand.

If looks could kill, Dabi would have died a cruel death by now. You are seething at this point.  But instead, you're stuck there as he continues to do whatever it is that he’s trying to accomplish.  "What were you drinking?  I'll buy you another one and then leave, okay doll?"  He says playfully and with a cunning grin on his face as you mumble out your drink order.  You just want him to leave, and you really hope he plans on keeping his word.

Dabi motions for the bartender's attention, gives your drink order and plops a few bills on the bartop. He still hasn't let go of your wrist, and each and every moment he is even touching you, you can feel your annoyance continuing to build.  You want to ask him if he's done yet and will kindly get the fuck out, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes the cat and mouse game, which would just lengthen the amount of time he sticks around.

The bartender finally delivers your drink, and it takes everything in you not to rip your wrist out of his grasp and grab the new glass to pour over Dabi's head.  "Okay, one last question, and then I'll leave."  He drawls out as you put all your focus into the condensation forming on your glass.  You stay silent, waiting for his stupid question so you can move on and never see him again.  Dabi continues with that condesending tone that is starting to cause your head to ache, "How often do you come here? I'd love to see you again."

Your heartbeat picks up, and little shots of adrenaline start to flow through you as you contemplate how to respond. Of course, you don't want this asshole to know when you come here. This is your escape from the world. You never want to even see Dabi again,  but something from this interaction tells you Dabi isn't going to give up easily. So you tell him your regular time that you show up at the bar every Friday.

Dabi squeezes your wrist a little bit before letting out another "Good girl, sounds like a date.  I'll see you then." You never want him to know how those few words send a shiver down your spine. He saunters out of the bar without having a single drink himself. Patrons stare dumbfounded between you and the doorway that Dabi just exited, trying to comprehend what just happened.

You let out an exasperated sigh before leaning your head down into your folded arms.  The bar top isn't necessarily the cleanest of places to lay your head, but it’s pounding and racing with thoughts, and you can't really bring yourself to care right now.  You try to formulate a plan so you won't ever see him. You'll just move your regular day to Saturday instead of Fridays.  But then that stubborn anger flares inside of you again, and you sit up straight, glancing at your newly unwanted drink as the ice slowly melts, lifting the remaining liquid in the cup.  No, I'm not going to let that asshole ruin my spot for me.  He can come around here every Friday, but I'll turn that jerk down a million times. You think a little smugly to yourself.  We will see how the big bad Dabi feels being turned down over and over.  Maybe that will sting his ego.

And so you and Dabi play this game of cat and mouse. He comes every Friday when you are there without fail, buying you a drink, chatting to you with sentences filled with pet names, and planning another "date" each time.  And every time you tell him you aren't interested or to go away, or really anything to try and get that stupid fucking smirk off his face.  But it always remains cemented there as he watches you get fired up.  And what you don't realize is the two of you are getting to know each other.  Dabi adds in little questions, "what's your favorite food, least favorite, what do you do for work?"  And the questions go on and on.  You don't realize your walls coming down as the two of you find similarities in each other.  And if there is one thing anyone who sees these frequent interactions between the two of you can say, it is that Dabi is determined.

You are so used to Dabi's Friday visits that they don't bring headaches anymore, and you realize something more has developed when he doesn't show up one week.  A mixture of feelings rests in you, anxiety, confusion, anger.  You wonder if he's okay, or has he finally given up.  And then anger if he has.  You don't want to admit it, but you miss his company, and you don't even have a number to reach out to him.  You feel a sense of loss in your chest.  How could he just give up?  He's been trying for months!  You think as tears begin to sting for a moment in your eyes.

You leave the bar that night not feeling uplifted or relaxed but sad and angry.  And you aren't necessarily looking forward to returning the week after, but you do come back to your regular spot and hope Dabi will show.  Your heart almost stops in your chest when you see him walk through the entrance of the bar, and before you can contain the words, they tumble out in a frantic sound, "where were you last week?"  You are standing in front of him now, looking up at that little grin he always has on his face whenever you get annoyed with him.  You cross your arms over your chest and exclaim, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Aw, did you miss me, baby girl?"  His poker face never falls, but his grin grows a tiny bit wider as he stares into your fiery eyes.  And without warning, he wraps one of his long arms around you, pulling you into a tight side hug.

A small eep escapes you at the movement, and you move to push him off.  "What the hell are you doing? Answer my question, you jerk!" You practically yell as you push away from him.  He doesn't let go and just pulls you tighter to him, and you find yourself not struggling anymore as you take in the weathered texture of his coat pressed against your arm and the smell of cigarettes on him.  You feel your walls starting to fall entirely, "I was really concerned about you." You let out in a whisper, not really wanting to admit it to him, but you weren't sure how you would feel if something like this happened again.

"Aw, babe, you did miss me."  The delight in his voice makes you shiver a little.  He gestures you over to your regular spot at the bar, and the two of you sit down in the weathered chairs.  He puts a calloused finger under your chin to bring your gaze to his.  You stare into his cerulean depths that you used to hate and find yourself softening a bit.  "I had to do something for The League, but I don't have your number, love.  So I couldn't call and let you know I wouldn't make our date."  His face relaxes a bit as he watches your frown turn into a bit of pout.

"Okay, well fine, I'll give you my number.  But don't just text me randomly, okay?"  You huff as you lay your palm flat and motion for his phone.  Dabi chuckles and shakes his head before handing you the phone without another word.  Lifting the phone, you type your number into the cracked screen and hand it back to him.  "Okay, now text me, so I have yours. " You say, moving to grab your phone to wait for his upcoming text.

"Hmmm, I don't think so, doll,"  Dabi says, taking in your furrowed brow and then relishing in the way you roll your eyes at his taunting.

"Fine, whatever, Dabi.  Just text me next time you can't make it."  You say sourly while searching for the bartender to order your drink.  You don't want Dabi to see the slight sting of hurt in your eyes because he won't give you his.  The rest of the night goes as expected, drinking and talking, and you find yourself laughing more, not realizing how much you truly enjoyed this time with him.

The two of you depart with another hug, this one much shorter than the first, but you find yourself leaning into the warmth that radiates from him instead of wanting to push him off.  As you begin walking down the street home, you feel a buzz in your pocket.  Pulling out your phone, you unlock it to the message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey babe, see you same time next week - D

A small smile comes to your face as you type a response back.

The following year you grow in your relationship with Dabi.  There are never really any titles between the two of you.  Just that the two of you are together.  You never meet The League. Dabi is insistent you aren't involved with them in case things go awry.  But you spend a lot of time together when work or villain work doesn't take up the time.

Your relationship together comes to a head at the very start of the apocalypse.  The two of you sit snuggled together on your worn-out couch watching the news as a young reporter stands in front of a local research building in town and goes through the facts of citizens becoming "mindless and violent in a matter of hours."  And how they have people under lockdown who are experiencing symptoms of this "mysterious illness."

A slight shiver goes through you as the reporter goes on.  "That's really scary. No one knows what's causing it,"  you reflect aloud while you lean in closer into Dabi's outstretched arm that is resting around your shoulders.

"Aw, babe, don't be scared.  Those mindless fools wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to lay a hand on you while I'm there,"  Dabi says with a glint of amusement in his voice.  He always sounds so condescending, but you know it's the truth.  Remembering a time at the bar when a guy wouldn't take no for an answer-not that Dabi really followed that either- but Dabi didn't hesitate to let the guy know you were already taken.  He flirts and likes to jab a lot, but there’s a complete shift in the atmosphere when he's serious.

"Ugh, Dabi, you know I don't mean them attacking us. It's whatever is causing it that worries me. What happens if one of us gets it?  There's no cure right now,"  You say and worry your lower lip between your teeth.

Dabi picks up on your anxious state, and his cocky facade fades.  He pulls you on his lap so that you are fully facing him with legs pressed on either side of his.  Dabi holds one large hand on your waist, and the other he presses to your cheek.  Leaning your cheek further into his hand, Dabi moves his thumb to trace over the slight marks in your lip where your teeth were just placed.  "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen, okay?  I won't let any of these maniacs hurt you, and we won't catch whatever they have,"  Dabi says tenderly as he gives you a small smile.

It's nice to see him like this- when his mask of superiority disappears, and he's focused on encouraging you.  It doesn't happen often because you like to keep walls.  Comfort from Dabi doesn’t need to happen often but you can’t say you don’t like it when he does.  You enjoy these softer moments with him that only you get to see.

You pull Dabi into a light kiss.  The gentle pressure of his mismatched lips fit seamlessly against yours.  You pull away after a moment to look into his deep blue eyes that now captivate you.  Dabi has that coy smile still on his face, and as his eyes meet your in that moment, it's like the horrible events of the world aren't happening anymore.  All that seems to exist is the two of you, not the TV still prattling in the background or even the noises outside your city window.

Dabi lightly caresses your cheek down to the length of your neck and finally ending near where your collarbones sit.  Everywhere he touches leaves behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin.  Even with these simple touches, you can feel yourself starting moving against him, trying to create a bit of friction.  Dabi knew how easily he could rile you up with simple touches.  It was frustrating at times, and you wished you could have the same effect on him.

"I love you, babe.  And no matter what, I won't let anything hurt you,"  Dabi tells you, and you swear his voice seems to be cracking, but the moment is gone before you can think about it.  Dabi lives on being mysterious most of the time, and you rarely get to see this vulnerable side of him.  Even if he doesn't say it behind that mask of cockiness, you can feel that there is fear of what's happening right now.  Or at least that's what you think the fear is from, but Dabi will never admit the fear is from losing you to whatever this is.  He isn't sure he could survive this hell of a life he's been given without you.

Your heart aches at his sincere words from earlier, and you whisper back, "I love you too, Dabi."  Drawing him into a more intense kiss.  Dabi begins to run his fingers along the hem of your t-shirt and delicately brushes the skin right under with his fingertips.  You feel a moan bubble up inside of you, but his mouth moving against yours swallows the sound.

"I want you so bad, doll.  Let's just forget what's going on right now, let the world fall away,"  he says in a husky voice after breaking away from the kiss.

You nod to him before letting out a content sigh and letting your eyes fall shut while Dabi continues to trace his hands over your body.  Dabi trails his massive heated hands under the thin shirt you are wearing and down to your hips.  You can feel the bulge of his cock through his jeans as it begins to press against your clothed core.

Opening your eyes, you meet Dabi's half-lidded lustful eyes and bite your bottom lip and allow yourself to give into Dabi taking over you.

You can feel your heart beating a little faster, watching Dabi drink in every ounce of you.  Dabi is one of the only men you have ever trusted like this.  To have you so totally vulnerable.  It's strange how someone you didn't want anything to do with for months has become someone you rely on for everything- love, comfort, pleasure.

Dabi places open-mouthed kisses along your neck that leave you breathless.  "Fuck, I'm obsessed with every inch of you,"  Dabi growls out before returning to kissing and sucking your neck and exposed collar bone.

You grip Dabi's shoulder to ground you back from floating away into complete bliss and tip your head out to give him more access to your neck.  Dabi's mouth is like a flame that licks at your sensitive skin as he continues to trail his mouth all over.  You could be trapped in this pleasure forever.

Dabi grasps the back of your head and roughly brings your lips back to his.  With your mouths slotted against each other, you moan as Dabi finesses you to where you are lying on your back on the old couch, and he is hovering over you.

You break the kiss to quickly pull off his jacket and expose Dabi's scarred arms.  And just as you have only trusted Dabi fully with yourself, he has done the same.  Of course, the two of you have had sex with other people, mostly with lights off clothing still left on to hide the imperfections.  But with each other, there is no more hiding.

Heat begins to pool in your belly as you watch Dabi pull off your shorts and slide his warm hands all the way back up your leg and massage the plush skin of your thighs.  Once your shorts are removed, Dabi brings himself back to your face and, with a lustful sigh, traces kisses on your jaw and neck.

"Just relax and let me take you away from all of this, love.  I want to hear every sound you make." He growls as he moves down towards your pussy and lays himself between your spread legs.  Dabi lifts your thighs to rest on his shoulder as you let out a little gasp.  You can feel the excitement and heat rising in you.

Dabi kisses down the inside of your soft thighs and stops to suck at certain spots, leaving minor marks in their place.  He stops for a moment until you are looking directly into his captivating gaze, and then he licks a stripe up your pussy over the cotton of your underwear.  You let out a breathy moan at the sensation.   That jerk knows precisely what he's doing.

Dabi then grabs the thin material of your underwear and rips them away from your body with a tear. Groaning, you are about to curse at him for ruining another pair but are cut short when he sleekly licks up your folds. A delicate, playful moan leaves your separated lips.  Your eyes close, and you cling onto his white shirt to ground yourself.

"Baby girl, you're soaking wet," Dabi teases as if you weren't aware but cuts off any retort again with a quick suck to your aching clit. You can't hold back the loud moan that bubbles up in your throat.

Dabi smiles against your lower lips and continues his ministrations.   His mouth is open wide, so he can move back and forth from quickly licking up and down your sensitive pussy as well as suck softly on your clit.   You feel light-headed at the extended sensations, little whimpers and moans falling through your lips.  Dabi has always been able to leave you speechless with just his mouth.

"Dabi please," Your breathing hitches, and you moan out as he flicks his tongue repeatedly over your small bud. You can feel that hot pressure building in your stomach as Dabi continues. He laps at you like you are holding the only source of liquid left in this world, his tongue working wonders on your dripping hole.

Dabi pulls back and looks up at you as you eagerly meet his blue eyes, begging him to continue.  He smirks before lowering his mouth back down and laps at your sopping core teasingly.  Fucking bastard.  Always a tease from day one.

Dabi licks his lips before returning to eating you out even faster as a series of cries and obscenities continue to fall out of your mouth.  You can't hold them back.  His mouth is so hot and wet against your core.

With another curse, you tell him you are close. A sigh escapes your lips, and your head tosses back onto the cushy arm of the couch.  Dabi pulls away but inserts two fingers inside of you in place of his mouth.

"Fuck, sweetheart, as much as I want to hear you beg and plead for me,  I want to taste you right now."  Dabi lets out with a rough voice filled with desire.  You whimper as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.  He smirks at your blissed-out face and then returns his mouth to your pussy.  His tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly as whines and cries continue to be let out of your mouth.  Back arching, you bite at your lip, barely able to even process the words that came out of Dabi just a moment ago.

"Oh, fuck, Dabi, please. Please, I'm gonna cum soon." The words fall from your lips, and your mind feels numb to everything except the feeling of Dabi's tongue on your pussy.

Dabi grunts and gives another hard suck to your clit before pulling away just a bit.  "Hell yeah, babe, come all over my face."

Your eyes roll back, and your mouth opens with another cry as your legs begin to tremble as the tension starts to rise in your stomach. One more lick, and you know you'd come. Dabi's continued suckling of your clit sends you careening over the edge. Your cries fill the room, and your back arches as your legs try to squeeze around his head.  Dabi continues to suck and lick as you orgasm.  Panting and with your eyes twisted shut, you cling to his shirt as you start to come down.  A final curse gently leaves your mouth as you wait for your legs to stop shaking.  Dabi takes one last long slow lick before sitting back and wiping his face with the back of his hand.  You can't bring yourself to move from the couch, still panting and weak.

Your mind starts slowly coming back to you as the bliss begins to leave.  The realization of everything happening in the world washes over you.  But you were thankful Dabi took the time to distract you from the horrors of what's going on.  You move over so Dabi can cuddle with you on the couch.  It isn't much room, but it feels good to be this close with him, wrapped in each other's arms.  You both slowly start to drift off to sleep, but you don't miss Dabi's final words mumbled into your hair, "I'll never let anything happen to you."

Shortly after that, the world seems to descend into madness.  The illness grows more and more rampant.  People are getting infected every day.  Whether it's through the original source of contamination or by those contaminated biting or scratching someone.  Panic spreads throughout the country.  But through all of it, you and Dabi stick together.

From the moment it was declared an emergency Dabi was banging at your door, insisting the two of you find somewhere safer than your run-down apartment.  Because while the two of you needed sleep, whatever these things are could go non-stop, and your apartment was not fortified.

You and Dabi lost your quirks a month after the emergency declaration, along with the rest of the population. People couldn't fight these zombie-like creatures off anymore.  Like all the movies and TV shows, the bodies became more zombies than actual living people.

After a while of jumping around from a destroyed place to another, the two of you found yourself in an apartment building that had a sturdy enough entrance that the zombies couldn't break through.  The daily struggles were still hard, though. Finding food and water to survive became a daily task for the two of you.  Through all of this, he never left your side. He always insisted the two of you stay together.  And so you did.  Fighting the living dead, but sometimes the living too when things got even more terrible, and scavenging was your everyday routine now.

You lost track of time and could only follow when the seasons changed.  But Dabi was really the only thing getting you through this.  Seeing people destroy one another for food or shelter destroyed you inside.  Never knowing if these zombies you were killing were someone you had known at one point, or just another faceless dead person tore at every corner of your brain.  Dabi stayed strong for the two of you.  Holding you every night on the ripped blankets, you could gather for the strange bed the two of you slept in.  You would sob into his muscled chest about how you couldn't live in this world anymore, how you couldn't kill another person, alive or dead.

But Dabi would never let go.  He would hold you close and let your never-ending tears stain the only shirt he had now.  He would rub your back with his warm hands; even though his rusting staples would catch on your shirt and rip from his skin, he still did it.  He would hold you until you fell asleep, whispering how strong you were and how he could never do this without you.  And after all the tears, you were thankful too.  Because without him, you'd be dead or alone.  You knew that without Dabi, you would have never survived this long.

But you could see Dabi was hurting too.  You couldn't find supplies to treat his decaying skin.  He hid his daily pain from you, but when Dabi thought you weren't looking or listening, he would hiss at the pain of another staple pulling at his burnt skin or let out a huge sigh when he would try to put it back together, but it wouldn't cooperate.

The only hope the two of you held onto was each other and that possibly a cure would come soon.  Not that either you could really access that information with no electricity; there wasn't any way to get information other than hearsay.  You survived the best you could in this world.

And as much as this wasn't what you would have picked for either of you, at least you had each other.  You tried not to think of a time when you wouldn't be together, even though the chances of that happening were high- it hurt too much. To survive in this world without Dabi would be too fucking much.

It's almost as if fate chose to play a cruel game with the two of you.  It seemed like a "normal" trip out to scavenge for food and water.  The two of you had to expand your search area since places closer were mainly empty.

This time you found yourself outside of a convenience store, a reasonable distance away from your home.  It hadn't been completely destroyed by some miracle and was not overrun by the zombified people.  Still, in a state of decay, though, Dabi was quickly able to kick his heavy boots through the door and get the two of you in.

Sauntering through the gas station, you quickly begin to pick up canned food and stale bags of chips and shove them in your worn backpack.  Dabi is doing the same on other aisles until he lets out a chuckle.  "Hey babe, look what I found."  He says with a cocky voice holding up a few boxes of wrapped condoms above the aisle for you to see.

You roll your eyes.  "Thanks, Dabi. Is sex really what we want to be thinking about right now? Let's just get this shit and get out."  You let out with an annoyed huff and continue to push the limits of how much your bag can hold.

Dabi comes over to your aisle and snakes his arms around your waist with your back pressed to his chest.  He places his chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear.  "Yes, all I can think about is getting your beautiful body back home and finally being able to finish in you, and with these, I can."  He lets out a dark chuckle as he pulls you closer against him and bucks  his hips playfully.

"Okay, horn dog, let's get this shit done, and then we can do whatever you want back home."  You let out with an eye roll.  It's hard to stay mad at him. You know he's trying to keep things light for you, to keep you happy because he can see how hard this is.  And his regular teasing is one way he knows will bring a smile to your face.

As you are finishing up trying to take inventory of anything else in the store that you can take back, you spot the clear plastic that holds the cartons of cigarettes behind the cashier counter.  While you didn't necessarily want Dabi smoking, you knew he missed the vice. Cigarettes were just as hard to find as medicine in this new world.  Smiling to yourself, you move behind the counter and reach for the plastic flap to lift it up.

As you try to lift the latch, it doesn't budge. You look around for what might be blocking it before seeing the tiny silver keyhole to one side of the compartment.  Crap, of course, it's locked.    You really wanted to surprise Dabi with this.  Maybe you still could. The key had to be here somewhere, right? You think while scanning around the counter.  You try searching through the counters for a hidden key but no luck.  Letting out a heavy sigh, you call Dabi over.

Dabi wanders over to your annoyed face and can't help but smile at your slight pout.  "I wanted to surprise you! But I can't open it. Can you get it, please?"  It comes out almost like a whine as you gesture to the cigarettes.

Dabi's smirk turns into a genuine smile, and he pats the top of your head before saying, "My sweet doll.  Thank you for thinking of me. Let me help you out."  You could smack him, but instead, you watch as he hastily rips the plastic covering away and slips his hand below it to grab one of the wrapped cartons.

At that moment, everything changes.  The fun times the two of you were having shatters as a loud alarm rings through the store.  Panic floods your system as you stare at Dabi wide-eyed.  "There is no electricity. What's happening? There shouldn't be an alarm."  Horror is laced in your voice as words spill out of you.  Every walking corpse within miles will be here soon with the sound.

"Fuck, must have had a battery attachment. Come on, let's go."  Dabi's usual playfulness is gone as he abandons the cigarettes and grabs your hand.  He's grave now.  Getting the two of you out of here safely is his only goal.

You follow Dabi quickly, a hand grasped tightly in his as he runs towards the broken-down front door.   And that's when even more terror settles into you.  Zombies are pushing their way through the open door.  Their rotting bodies and white eyes focused on the area where the alarm is coming from.  There weren't many around when you broke in, but now it seems like they are multiplying by the moment.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Dabi curses under his breath, quickly turning around and pulling you towards the building's back exit.  You follow behind adrenaline surging through your veins fueled by your flight response.  Dabi grasps at the metal handle to the back door and shakes it only to find it locked.  "Damnit!"  he shouts before kicking the door violently.

Your heart is pounding, and you feel helpless as you stare at Dabi while he continues to slam himself at the door.  While the front door was glass and flimsier, this door was only budging slightly.  With all your focus on the door, you don't notice the continuously growing herd filtering into the gas station.  Not until you feel one brush against your shoulder.

Your eyes widen as you feel a scream bubbling in your throat.  This is it.   This is where the two of you die and either become fodder for a herd of living dead or turn into one yourself.   Your brain is pure panic as thoughts fly through faster than you can catch them.  You don't even realize you have screamed out Dabi's name until you see his face turn towards yours.

His typically blue eyes are almost entirely covered by his dark pupils as he takes in the monstrosities behind you.  But unlike you, he doesn't hesitate. He pulls out a knife he keeps in one of his pockets and slams it into the decaying skull of the zombie that is right behind you.  Splurts of dark blood hit your cheek as he pulls out the knife, and the creature behind you crumples to the floor.

"Keep trying the door! I'll keep them off you."  Dabi shouts, pulling you into the spot he previously stood.  Your heartbeat is so loud you can feel it in your head, and you can't even make a coherent response as you begin to slam your body against the solid surface.  You can feel it give a little more with each push of your body, and everything in you is screaming not to give up.  Doing your best not to glance at Dabi's grunting and movements as he continues to try and put down zombie after zombie.

You can't give up; this can't be the end . Desperately your brain is screaming as you continue to feel the door give more and more.  Your shoulder hurts from the continued impact, but you aren't letting it slow you down.  You can feel it; it's almost there.

Suddenly the door gives, and you can see the sun shining through on the other side.  You cry out in  relief and turn back to tell Dabi to come with you.  But as your eyes meet, fear fills every ounce of you.

He's still fighting them off, but there is a gaping bite wound on his right arm— rows of teeth marks embedded in his skin.  You feel like you're going to be sick. There is no coming back from this; there's no known cure.  At any point within the next twenty-four hours, he would be another one of the walking dead, no sense, no logic, and looking to consume others. This can't be happening, this can't be happening.  Your heart is sinking with every second that ticks by.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out! Get out!"  Dabi screams at you as he embeds his knife in another zombie.

"No, no, I can't leave without you!  I-we can find something.  I'll find something, please! Come on, Dabi, I can't do this without you!"  You are sobbing now, hot tears streaming through the dirt and blood mixed on your face.  An ache in your heart starts to form.  You know you don't know how to help him, but you'll do anything to not leave him behind.

Dabi lets out a grin despite the feral dead people closing in on him.  And gives you a wink before saying in a voice that seems too calm for the situation, "Come on, doll, you are the most intelligent person I know.  You have to go.  Live for us, babe.  Look at how far we've come.  Go show this world that it won't ever break you down. I love you, and I'll come to find you wherever you are in the afterlife and annoy the shit out of you.  Now go!"

It's like your heart is being ripped into a thousand pieces. Your breath comes out in short huffs, moving towards hyperventilating.  You want to go back to Dabi and cling on for dear life, but you won't let him die in vain.  Not after that speech.  That would be an insult to everything the two of you have overcome.  So with all your strength, you give your lover, the man who has come so far with you, the last look before letting out a final "I love you too" and burst out the door.

You don't look back, aching feet propelling you forward as tears continue to stream and fall off your face.  When you first met Dabi, you would have never thought you'd miss him.  But you will , you'll miss every snarky comment, every flirty glance, and the tender way only he has loved you.  The man that you were sure was just some asshole trying to get laid became the love of your life and sacrificed himself so you could live.  And you could never let that go to waste.

#smut pile collab #Dabi x reader #Dabi smut #tw: character death #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #Dabi fanfiction #my fic #how far we've come

[mrs-cavill-wife]

Safe And Happy (One Shot)

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Female Reader (Barbara)

Warning: Language. Fluff. Minor Injury. Zombie Apocalypse. Gun shot. Persecution. Please, say if I miss something.

Author's Note: My second fanfic, YAY! Henry is not a celebrity in this fanfic. Duh! It's a zombie apocalypse so it's kinda obvious but I wanted to say it anyway. Hope you guys enjoy it and reblog if you do. I'm all ears to feedback!

Tag List: @lexyvaldez26 @thereisa8ella @natura1phenomenon @mrsavery @number1chonie @themanfromu @littlefreya @legendarywizarddetective @lovingbearherringhairdo @zealoushound @deangal-101 @everydaymultifandom @summersong69 @jgtfvhsg @tellingyouastory @sillyrabbit81 @nuggsmum @pussyverson @oh-for-fic-sake @foodieforthoughts @fanficlover91 @r-t-doll @its--fandom--darling @poledancingdinos @hlkwrites @rmtndew

Summary: The world is a dangerous place now, but in the arms of the man she loves, she always finds security.

Barbara's P.O.V

Shit. I miss when the world used to be good. It was never perfect but no doubt it were way better than now.

An zombie apocalypse, who could have imagined that this could actually happen? Who knew that one day I would be armed, with a "beautiful" wound on my leg, hiding in an abandoned store, running away from a horde of about fifty zombies, crazy and thirsty for some human flesh.

I got hurt entering here, there was a piece of wood that grazed my leg, but luckily I had some bandage on the bag, I tied it to my leg to stop the blood. I looked at my leg and sighed, frustrated with myself.

"What the fuck dressing did you do, huh? My man is going to be pissed"

I live with my boyfriend, well husband, wasn't exactly official but we are together, he's amazing with dressings, but of course, I never pay attention when he tried to explain it to me. I'm hiding, trying to calm my breathing and think of a new plan, I don't know if I'll be able to run with my leg like that, but I think partially, it's really my fault. I'm often on those situations, I have my skills but I might not be the best, I still remember when I meet my boyfriend, on this type of shit cliche situation, today I don't complain for being dumb back there..

We met a year ago, I was running away.. again. I remember going into a dead end street, my gun had only two bullets left, I managed to kill some of those brain eaters, but I had about ten still behind me. I was already out of breath and couldn't think of anything else.

It was all very fast, suddenly my hero appeared, super skilled, I can't say where he came from but he managed to cut the heads of some of them, cut one in half, he stopped in front of me and fired with a super powerful machine gun, spilling a little blood and a disgusting substance on both of us.

"Hey are you alright, princess?"

He spoke to me after all those butchers fell dead. I was in shock but in seconds, I regained consciousness and was able to notice the man in front of me.

Broad back, fair skin, incredibly neat curly hair, a sharp jawline that could cut my soul, kissable lips.. a beautiful ax, a weapons in the waistband and at least two powerful shotguns in the back. The sun was setting and the light reflected in his eyes. The brightest blue eyes I had ever seen. There was a small brown part in one of them, I had heard about cases of heterochromia, but it was the first time that I saw it right in front of me.

"Your eyes are so beautiful.."

He laughed softly and a little shy. The sweetest laugh I've heard. Oh God, he's so wonderful, I think I died and went to heaven and that angel came to receive me. Maybe I'm not too unlucky after all.. wait, what did I just said? Oh fuck, what a good way of cause a first impression. First you almost die then act like a dumb ass needy teen. I rolled my eyes realizing what I done and he touched my arm.

"Thank you, you're beautiful too.. but are you hurt? What are you doing all by yourself?"

I nodded looking down and blushing red like a tomato.

"Huh I'm fine. I was searching for a place to stay. I heard on radio there was a small group of survivors around here. I'm always alone, so I decided to look for it but I obviously didn't payed attention on the munition I had before risking my butt."

He giggled and soft touched my cheek, wiping away some of the dirty. Gosh, I'm not going to handle and he's not making it easy..

"So it's your lucky day, pretty girl. I am from that group of survivors. They always told me to go round and look for possible new survivors."

I looked at him frowning.

"Now it's my time to ask. All by yourself? Why?"

And he smirked, looking like a made a silly question. Your hot bastard.

"I'm a prepared person. Not bragging but I always check my munition"

Touchee. I crossed my arms looking at him, trying to keep my posture but I was really melting inside.

We heard a loud noise, making us concerned. He grabbed my hand and started walking.

"It doesn't seem far, we must walk. Let's go"

"Where are you taking me? I.. I don't even know your name?"

I stopped moving and he stopped looking a little mad then he sighed.

"I will take you to our shelter. I saved you, you can trust me. We both need a bath and some rest.. and I'm Henry."

He said smiling and I nodded starting to walk by his side.

That day, he took me to the survivors. There were at least four people, some couples and children, all of whom welcomed me very well. But despite that, I thought about leaving the next day, I was always alone and until then, it was how I wanted to be and I would be like this today, if Henry hadn't insisted that I stay. I said I would stay for some days but during that, he convinced me to stay for more weeks and when I realized, we were closer than ever. Actually, those days made me found love. One of the guys of the shelter was a priest before the world was destroyed, Henry and I decided to get married and so it happened. Simple but a beautiful ceremony.

After a few years, we both decided to leave, maybe it was not a smart idea in the current situation, but we were certain of it, so we did. It was difficult, at first from hiding to hiding, sleeping on uncomfortable places, sometimes without enough food for both, we almost died a few times but together, yes, we were unbeatable. But finally, we got a place, safe enough to call home.

Henry's P.O.V

One hour left. I trust her, she's a little clumsy but my girl knows what to do, I taught her some tricks when we met but still, my heart is desperate. Today I received a radio message, it was Stuart, a partner, we have known each other since I was part of a group of survivors, he provided us with food, ammunition and weapons from time to time, even now that I am no longer part of the group, he's a great friend. I always went to get it, alone, I didn't want to risk seeing my Barbara hurt. But today, Stuart said he couldn't come, because of some injuries, so I would have to go, but Barbara decided that her chance to do it this time.

"Barbara.. baby, you don't have to.."

I remember I said trying don't sound like I was doubting her capacities.

"Well on my mind, I do need. You always do that, I feel useless, I'm no princess in danger, i can do that"

I got closer touching her back while she packed her bag with "travel" supplies. She looked at me, touched my face and smiled. I love this smile.

"I'll be alright, I know that area is dangerous but you know I know the way and I had a good survivor teacher"

She said and wrapped her arms around my neck and I hugged her feeling defeated. She never had to say much to convince me of anything. I know she was feeling bad about me doing the hard work and I think she deserves a chance. I need to show I really trust her.

"I will be counting the seconds.."

I sighed and she smiled widely packing my lips many times. She grabbed her bag, her gun and went through the door but before leaving she looked at me one last time.

"I love you"

We both said at same time, making our hearts beat at same rhythm.

She gonna be alright, I know.. at least I hope.

Barbara's P.O.V

I heard a small noise that made me wake up. I dozed off for a while when I expected the horde to calm down and preferably leave. I got up and checked outside by one of the windows. Empty. Thank God. My leg didn't hurt so much anymore, but the fact that the street was clean was a relief to m. I wouldn't have to run, just be careful.

I opened my bag and ate a chocolate bar. Stuart wasn't lying when he said that had good things this time, I got things I hadn't ete in years. I left the store quickly after eating and started walking my way back home.

I was almost closer, I smiled seeing my home. Finally, safe house. when I got on the home's street, had three zombies, between me and my house. Great.

I tried to carefully pass behind them, I was almost there, but again, I didn't pay enough attention, I tripped over something and fell to the floor, over my injured leg, I couldn't contain the scream. They heard and were already walking towards me. F U C K M E.

I looked at my house. It's not so far, I can do it. I ran, fast as I could, my leg was hurting a lot, the bandage already red with my blood but I did it. I could climb the special secret passage through the wall and done. I layed in the grass for a second trying to recover my breath, closing my eyes, finally feeling safe then something fell on top of me. I got scared until I could open my eyes. A beast. A fluffy beast.

"Hey Kal, you scared me baby"

I hugged the big black and white American Akita. It's mine and Henry's dog, our loyal companion, our dog son. We found him on our away to find a new safe place, he were a little injured on the front paws. Of course we felt in love with him and took care of him, we had to keep him and we did.

I petted him a little more before getting up.

"Alright, mommy needs a good break now. Promise to play later. Where's daddy? He had a heart attack?"

Oh he will when see my situation. I walked to inside our house and pulled the food supplies on the kitchen. I was focused until I hear the shower on bathroom upstairs. I smiled.

"What a good way of relax, huh?"

I walked upstairs, taking off my clothes though the way. When I opened the bathrooms door, I was fully naked. Oh that vision. My man, all naked.. that furry defined abs, those strong muscles.. that round booty.. and that big veiny dick, shit, even soft he's huge.. I'm so freaking lucky.

I licked my lips and tried to close the door softly but i ended up making noises.

"Thought I had told you need to be stealthy"

When I turned around, he was looking at me, with those gorgeous eyes that left me speachless since first time. Then he's face changed to worried and I realized he were looking at my wounded leg.

"Barbara, what the fuck just happened?"

I rolled my eyes then got into the shower with him. Before he could say something, I kissed him softly. He kissed me back of some type of way that I could feel how worried he were. Was a intense kiss, our tongues battling against each other, oxygen wasn't this necessary for us at this point. He quickly grabbed me tight and gave me a little boost then I had my legs wrapped around his waist. We ended our kisses with soft pecks and smiles. I looked at him. He had one hand around my back and another softly rubbing closer my wound.

"Hey are you alright, princess?"

I smiled way more with his soft voice and nodded.

"Yes, now I'm safe and happy"

#henry cavill one shot #henrycavill rp #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you

[gandrewheadcannons]

I wanted to share some writing I had done earlier this summer with you all! If you like it let me know if I should continue? It’s meant to be a story focusing around the beginning of their time in Washington and into the podcast. I’ve left it at a really weird stop but that’s all I had so far.

Title: Undetermined

Pairing: Garrett Watts/Andrew Siwicki

Tags: Mention of prescription medicine, mention of Jeffree/Shane/Ryland, unfinished

Evening is dimly creeping through the half-opened windowpane casting a glow across the built-in table connected to the cramped inner wall of Andrew's microscopic kitchenette. His studio apartment in LA sat cramped in-between Hollywood and Calabasas, a mediocre waypoint for his work for the last few years. He clicks the viewfinder and focuses on the bright oranges and yellows that dance teasingly across the glittering tabletop; catching flicks of sliver and reflecting them back to the lens. A mug of dark roast with just an edge of too much cream is left forgotten in the corner of the frame. It feels cinematic and lonely all at once. The cafe style booth he sits in causes his back to ache, the rest of the kitchen a sterile and unforgiving white, but he misses capturing the day to day beauty the world had to offer. He imagines the reel being played back with a layered sound of twinkling windchimes, quiet laughter and a piano reverb with cuts of the morning sunrise on a hike and steam off the top of a ceramic mug. A familiar face with flecks of blonde in the beard, strong jawed and a roguish smile weaving in and out of the frame, turning back to laugh at something the cameraman said.

“-with a mandate like this.” Garrett is brushing his teeth through Facetime. Andrew catches the corner of his bamboo toothbrush flashing in and out of the lens. He must have laid his Iphone flat on the countertop because when Andrew really looks he can see the bottom of the mirror and a bunch of bright light.

“I know. It sucks. Couldn’t get honey the other day, man. Fucking honey. It’s not like the bees are going anywhere.” He laughs but it doesn’t feel funny. The minimal supply he had was dwindling thin. He was beginning to ration his meals and he wasn’t sure how much toilet paper was left under the bathroom sink. It was all very apocalyptic without any of the zombies or scientists swooping in with immediate remedies.

“Ah dude.” Garrett spits and there’s a tapping sound like he’s hitting his toothbrush on the edge of the porcelain sink before he fully pops into frame. He looks relaxed, sandy hair flopped to one side and beard properly scruffy though they’d only been locked down about a week and a half now. “I know. I can’t handle it anymore. I miss people.” Andrew hums at that. He doesn’t really. He misses the occasional gathering, sure, but he hadn’t quite placed his anxiety surrounding the idea of seeing others since they’d released the Jeffree series. "What was it that bothered you most about taking part in this?" His therapist had asked him. "I missed the fun," he’d answered. "What was the fun?" She’d pressed deeper. "Garrett," Andrew had been quick to reply. "And like. Everyone else too." He'd added when she hadn't said anything. "I miss it not feeling work." She had let him talk about that instead.

"Some people." He tacks on to Garrett who hums easily. He doesn’t think he misses many of the people he’d spent most of 2019 with, his life a mixed cocktail of Ambien, Adderall and Lexapro without any feelings of relaxation manifesting. His psychiatrist had discouraged upping his doses anymore and by early January she began urging him to begin seeking new opportunities to “work on his environment”. He hadn’t quite figured out the avenue to take to do just that.

"Well, some people." Garrett agrees and he's already back out on his couch. "I don't know how many more times I can watch Winter Soldier before I freak out." Garrett sighs. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Same as you and every other person." He turns his camera off. He needs the break from the screen.

"I miss you." Garrett is easy like that. He isn't ashamed to tell people how he feels in every moment. It was something to be admired and yet Andrew just felt envy at it. When Garrett had begun to slip away from him, melting like honeydew sweet and sour into a depth of a place where Andrew couldn't quite find him, he'd only managed to grab him back out by Garrett's honesty. Doesn't know if they'd be having this conversation if Garrett hadn't used that honesty like an anchor and letting Andrew catch him last minute with it.

"I can come over." Andrew offers. He hates being confined in these walls anyways. It was hollow and dark. The email from Shane still sat open on his Mac across the room on his bed. Thinking of extending the break, can't really decide. Want to get quarantined together? I have a few video ideas we could maybe mess around with or just film some day to day footage until creativity strikes us it reads. His skin itches for the company but the image of their guest room makes him uneasy. Doesn't know if he could withstand being there with very little to fill his hands with, editing complete and no real ideas on the table for the time being.

"I can come to you." Garrett offers like he was inconveniencing Andrew who had offered anyways.

"If you touch your car right now I am going to freak out Garrett Watts." Andrew admonishes. "The second they open up the garages and mechanics again I'm making you take that thing there, burn it and we get a new one." He's opening a duffle now and throwing in his travel toiletries and a few pairs of underwear.

"Oh come on Andrew it's not so bad." Garrett laughs as if Andrew wasn't still reeling from the aftermath phone call of Garrett nearly wrecking on the 101 barreling top speeds until he reached a secluded patch of grass to slow his Pirus down onto. By the time Andrew heard the story Garrett was okay; Michael had gone to pick him up and Garrett was sending pictures of little Star Wars figurines that Michael kept mounted on his dashboard. His heart didn’t calm until he had managed to get his hands on Garrett in person though, sneaking out for an afternoon to grab some coffee with Garrett before heading back to Shane’s to finish editing. His shins still feel heavy with the weight of Garrett’s calf as he’d pressed their knees together until the table while they’d talked – the weight reminding him of how alive and okay Garrett really was.

"Oh yeah a car that dies out randomly is really great." Andrew throws in a box of protein bars and a Gatorade into his bag. He hesitates before grabbing a stitched bear made from gray yarn, green buttons for eyes luring him in. "I'll be over soon." He doesn't know how well the conversation will hold up over Facetime as he's moving.

"Okay cool Andrew." Garrett's eyes are soft. "See you soon. My dad is actually calling."

"Tell him I said hi. See you soon." He so easily could tack on endearment, babe at the tip of his tongue burning hot. Garrett's ending the call before Andrew even has the chance.

**

The half opened can of frosting is across from, the only lights on are the ones twinkling from some intricate set up Garrett had on a shelf. Garrett’s on the third loop of the home screen on Prime, humming thoughtfully whenever he pauses on a summary to read but then continuing to scroll before picking one. He’s slumped down low, long legs kicked out on the coffee table while Andrew is curled up in a ball against his side. Once, Caleb had pointed out that if people didn’t know them they’d get the impression that they were dating. Garrett and Andrew had awkwardly laughed at that comment, tinged with humiliation at how their relationship was being interpreted. They tried to be better then, not letting themselves fall so in sync when other people were around.

Andrew loved it like this though, when it was just him and Garrett, so he could press his cheek into Garrett’s bicep and not have to question why it felt so right. In his left hand his phone illuminated with another message from Shane. Opening it he read a message about how much they all missed him and wanted him there during this time. Apparently Ryland was looking for someone to help film a video he had planned. He quickly shut the screen off and pulled back from Garrett some, his stomach in a sudden tangle of knots.

“Good?” Garrett asked him looking down. His crew neck was for Spokane and looked a little like the Taco Bell logo from when they were younger. He’d paired it with a pair of sweat shorts for the night as they were both supposed to be going to bed soon. Andrew picked at his own Adidas track pants, imagining a loose thread to busy his hands.

“You ever just. Feel like you gotta get out?” He tilts his head to the side and watches Garrett pause what he’s doing with his Playstation controller and set it carefully on his coffee table.

“In what way?” He asks thoughtfully, turning so his chest was open to Andrew. Their knees bumped and Andrew felt like a little boy when he wished he could crawl and hide in the empty space of Garrett’s lap.

“Like okay. Say you just really loved what you used to do. You basically achieved your dream job. You have all these amazing people, you like your boss, things are going really great and you’re making a lot of money.”

“You buy yourself a really good vacuum.” Garrett plays along teasingly causing them both to laugh.

“You get yourself those stackable containers for your meal prepped lunches.” Andrew plays back. “But then…” He runs his tongue inside his teeth then outside methodically. He searches his brain to try to figure out what to say to Garrett to

“Then?” He drums his fingers on Andrew’s knees to get him back to the present.

#gandrew #gw #as #my writing

[amintyworld]

The Return - Dream SMP 12 Years AU

A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to another introduction to a AU idea I had with a lotta fluff and angst. May write more with this AU because I have a lot of ideas for it. Hope you enjoy and as always, if you have any questions about this AU at all, my ask box is always open, I'd love to talk about this.

By the way, for the enderman text I used this translator that my friend @griffintail uses in her work as well. It was really helpful and you guys should totally check out her work on her blog, she's awesome. - Minty

Summary: 12 years after the Bench Trio, Wilbur, Sam and Sapnap kill Dream for good and burn the revive book, the masked man returns on a plan for revenge.

TW: Blood/gore, kidnapping, torture, attempted murder, murder, implied character death, running away, denial, cursing, sympathetic dream? (He's a ghost). (Tell me if I need to tag anything else!) (Also, shippers get off my lawn please and thank you.)

----------------------------------------

Michael’s eyes narrowed as someone, a stranger he couldn’t recognize slowly approached the house. That bright green hoodie and weird mask made his instincts flare, sensing danger. He jumped down, getting out his sword as he slowly walked to greet the intruder. His Dads and Uncle Technoblade trained him well enough that a plan was already forming in his head, going over the stock he had on him in his mind, prepared for whatever the stranger was planning to do.

A golden ax hung from the masked man’s back, a smile peeking out from under that smooth porcelain-like surface that the zombie piglin couldn’t tell if it was friendly or sinister. Finally, they were about five feet apart, facing each other. Michael pulled the cloak around him slightly more as a cold wind blew through the field. “Who are you? What are you doing on Snowchester Property?”

The man just stared at him, looking at him up and down.

“Answer me, dammit!”

“Michael, right?” The masked man walked toward him casually. “I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

“Not another step!” Michael shouted, pointing his enchanted netherite sword threateningly at the stranger, who looked almost amused at this action, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “How do you know my name?!”

“Oh, your parents didn’t tell you? We’re family.”

“...family?”

“Not by blood, of course. I’m more like... a friend. A family friend. Your parents and I were very close back in the day, I just came by for a visit.”

“A visit…? If you’re so close with my parents how come you haven’t visited before?”

“You know how adventuring can be - it takes up a lot of time, you know.” The masked man smiled and made Michael’s gut churn uncomfortably. “I’ve heard so much about you, Michael.” The stranger kept walking towards the teenager, his hands up casually. “It’s been so long, we should really spend some time and catch up-”

“NO! No. Stay… stay right there. Don’t… don’t you dare fucking move, you got that?!” The man stopped around three feet away from him now. “Now you either tell me your name or I’m putting this blade through your teeth.”

The man sighed. “Pity. I was really hoping to get to talk with you peacefully, Michael. You seem like a nice kid.”

“What?”

Quickly and flawlessly, the masked intruder pulled out his ax and Michael quickly readied his sword, ready for a fight. What he didn’t expect was for the intruder to get some air and run up the wall of the mansion, landing down the blow with a lot more force than the zombie piglin expected, and he dug his hooves into the snow, somehow keeping himself from getting knocked over completely. Using all of his strength he pushed the intruder off, scrambling for a strength potion as the man tackled him to the ground. “Nuh-uh, that’s cheating.” Michael was quick to grab his sword and defend, moving to strike against his neck. The masked man moved to dodge, the black string of his mask getting nicked by Michael’s blade, making it begin to fall to start to reveal blonde hair and cold green eyes that were somewhat familiar to Michael, though he couldn’t figure out from where. As he hesitated, the man’s eyes flared with anger. Within seconds he’d pulled Michael’s arm against his back toward his shoulder blade, making the piglin feel like his arm was going to snap. He grunted in pain, reaching to grab his sword that got knocked into the snow when he felt the press of an ax against his neck, enough pressure to feel the sharpness of the blade. The zombie piglin could hear his heartbeat in his ears, swallowing his fear.

“I’m Dream, though I think you already know who I am.” Dream huffed against the piglin’s desperate struggle, the familiar adrenaline rushing through his veins from a victory. Of course, Michael knew the stories - his Dads and Uncle Tommy defeated that psychopath 12 years ago. They killed him, how the fuck was he alive?! The blade pressed harder against Michael’s neck as it began to draw a bit of blood. “Stop struggling.” Dream relished how much he’d missed all this, how much he’d missed being in control. “You and I are gonna have a little chat.”

----------------------------------------------

Ranboo hauled his basket of carrots and potatoes beside him as he reached down to grab some of the new harvests. A snowstorm was coming in soon, and they needed to stock up for the coming colder months. Their farms grew so big that a few of them set up shop in front of the old decommissioned prison, Pandora’s Box. Twelve years ago Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy had faced that prison head-on, fighting their old allies turned foes, death at nearly every turn they took. They succeeded with a little help, burying the body a little outside of the prison walls and never looking back. The three of them faced many more trials after that, growing close as years passed and the server became peaceful as it used to be back in the beginning. The children grew up, their parents giving them the world and more, protecting them from harm, and making sure they had better than their parents ever did. Now, throwing another bright orange carrot in his basket, Ranboo couldn’t help but smile across the way at his husband, teetering up the ladder in a straw sun hat, gathering honey from their bee farm. He’d gifted the ladder a few years prior - “A little short help for my shortie”. Tubbo threatened a villain arc at the note, making everyone around the table laugh as Ranboo walked over to embrace him, his chin resting on Tubbo’s head gently as the shorter had crossed his arms with a huff. Ranboo’s heart warmed at the fond memory.

He felt happy.

FoolishG whispered to you: Ranboo he’s back.

You whisper to FoolishG: What do you mean?

You whisper to FoolishG: Who?

FoolishG whispered to you: He’s going after you first.

FoolishG whispered to you: Is Michael with you?

You whisper to FoolishG: No.

You whisper to FoolishG: You didn’t answer my question, Foolish.

FoolishG whispered to you: Michael’s in danger, you need to get to him now.

FoolishG whispered to you: Dream’s alive, Ranboo.

You whisper to FoolishG: If this is some kind of joke this isn’t funny.

You whisper to FoolishG: This isn’t funny

You whisper to FoolishG: You know how he messed with me, stop it

You whisper to FoolishG: Don’t joke about that, Foolish.

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish answer me

You whisper to FoolishG: Foolish?

Ranboo dropped his messenger in fear as the reality of the situation began to set in, his breaths beginning to panic. No, no no no no… they killed him. They killed him, they got rid of him for good. He’s supposed to be dead, he’s supposed to be gone-!

“Ranboo?” Tubbo looked over at him with concern as he packed up the jars of honey from their bee farm. Ranboo’s silence did not help his unease. “Ranboo, what’s wrong?”

FoolishG whispered to you: Hurry, Ranboo. I don’t know how long he’ll last.

Tubbo was kneeling in front of him now, grounding him with his hands on his husband’s shoulders. “Breathe. Breathe, Ranboo. Deep breaths, you’ve got it…”

As Ranboo tried in vain to even his breaths, he held Tubbo’s hand in fear. “Dream’s back... He’s...he… he’s alive and he has Michael.”

“What?” Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed. “But… but we burned the revive book. We killed him, I saw his body-!”

“Michael… fuck, he has Michael…” Ranboo cursed on his breath. “This is all my fault, I should’ve known-!”

“No. None of that. You can’t blame yourself for this.” Tubbo dismissed, getting up and holding his hand out toward the enderman. “We’ve killed him before, we’ll just kill him again, right? We’ll save Michael and put a stop to this for good.” As Tubbo helped Ranboo back to his feet, he moved under a tree to place the purple glowing black box that greeted the two like an old friend. An enderchest. They hadn’t needed to use it for so long. They hadn’t needed what was inside. Tubbo pulled out a familiar enchanted sword that used to plague Ranboo’s dreams. His sword. The goat hybrid took off his straw hat and with one last glance placed it inside the enderchest, his eyes focused and thinking. He felt the new weight of the sword in his hand, getting used to the weapon again. “It’ll work this time. It has to.”

“It will.” Ranboo echoed.

Will it?

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, looking somber, numb. When they finally killed Dream they thought it would be the last time, the last war to fight. All three of them strived and hoped for peace, for all of it to be over, to get their own happy endings. He moved to the side, pulling out his communicator from his pocket. “Grab your stuff. I’ve got to warn Tommy.”

As Ranboo grabbed his own enchanted sword and his old armor from the chest, he couldn’t help but wonder, a single thought that nagged him and wouldn’t seem to leave his mind, making his stomach sink to the floor in dread…

...What if they never killed him in the first place?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Phil closed his eyes as he sat in his chair, feeling something wrong, off in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. The room around him is silent but Phil can feel the world yelling for him, screaming for him. It’s trying to tell him something. Phil’s been alive for a long time. He’s seen the earth burst with new life, and slaughtered bodies fall to the floor, smelling nothing but the cold press of death. He’s seen it, heard it, felt it so many times it was a familiar, somewhat comforting feeling for him. It was calming, it was constant, it was natural.

So why did it…?

Phil’s eyes opened slowly, looking out the window in thought as Technoblade walked in from the snowstorm outside, a chill running through the cabin. The piglin dropped his bag of loot on the floor and began to shoulder off his snow gear to hang by the fire to dry. As Techno walked past him, moving in front of the fire to undo his braids, damp from the snow.

“Techno, something’s happening.”

“Heh?” The piglin’s ears perked up from the break in the somewhat comfortable silence they usually shared. “What… what do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong. It feels… unnatural.” Phil said, closing his eyes briefly again to focus on the feeling. “Did you see anything off while you were out?”

“Not really, the snow’s coming down so hard you can barely see a thing out there.” The piglin shrugged, the concern on his friend’s face only making a pit form in his stomach he tried to ignore. “...what’s wrong?”

“Something’s moving… breathing… it shouldn’t be.”

“Zombies, maybe?” Techno suggested. “I did see a few while I was out.”

“Maybe.” Phil agreed. “Part of me feels like something’s off, something dangerous. Like when you… you were almost…” Phil sighed. “I guess I’m just worrying over nothing again.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing - you have good instincts, Phil.”

“Battle instincts. Instincts I don’t need anymore. And here I thought you’d have a harder time adjusting to all this.” Phil scoffed.

“A lot’s been changing. With everything that happened, I don’t blame you for being a little tense, Phil. I am too.” Technoblade admitted. “Just to be safe, we can double-check when the storm passes, that way we won’t get any interference with the communicators.”

“I’d like that.” Phil smiled, moving to sit next to his friend by the fireplace. “Thanks, Techno.”

Technoblade scoffed, his mouth breaking into a smile. “Hey, don’t mention it.” The piglin ran his hands through his hair, going through a few knots before grabbing a brush. Taking a deep breath to calm the knots in his stomach, Phil moved to set the kettle on the furnace, grabbing a match to light it.

Miles away from the icy tundra, Foolish walked through the Temple of the Undying, a small teenager in their arms. He was silent as he marched, tears going down his cheeks full of emotion the god held back. His arm gently cradled the child’s head close to his chest. His heart weighed heavy with guilt, words and memories echoing in his mind of failure, of how he failed his son.

Foolish could feel presences, he could feel others watching from the shadows and corners. Every single statue and totem memorial against the wall seemed to have their gazes fixed on him as if waiting for what the god would do next. For once, Foolish didn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t even told anyone the news yet. How could he? His son was dead and it was all his fault. All because he wasn’t careful. Dream was back, he was standing there next to his son and for once he couldn’t control his anger, his panic. He tried to strike him down, but…

He still remembered every detail, how Dream had just… smiled. He wasn’t afraid. He was staring down a god, and he wasn’t afraid. Somehow, he was always one step ahead.

Lightening still sparked and clung to Foolish Jr.’s body. Foolish couldn’t help but think about how much pain he must’ve been in, how much pain he must’ve put him through. He fell to his knees in the center of the temple, gently laying his son on the floor, the beacon lighting him in a bright glow. His hands shaking, Foolish brushed a bit of hair out of Junior’s eyes, bowing his head toward the ground.

“I’m sorry…” His soft whispers echoed through the temple. “I’m so so sorry, Ra forgive me for what I’ve done…” Tears dripped down to the floor. “My little totemling…” Foolish’s eyes snapped toward the walls as the totem statue’s eyes began to softly glow, bathing the two in green light. The totem god’s eyes still wet with tears as he looked into the green eyes, a silent question on his mind. Whispers filled his ears that he couldn’t quite decipher. Suddenly, he felt it.

A pinprick in the middle of his chest, expanding throughout his body, the pain pulsing like a heartbeat. His breath hitched as drowsiness overtook him, making him feel dizzy. An essence was being slowly pulled from his body, glowing like some kind of enchantment on a weapon. Sweat built on Foolish’s brow as he struggled to keep his breaths even. Then… a stinging slice across his middle left him in a silent scream. His hand slowly reached up toward his chest, his eyes widening when he found it covered in crimson. The pain was overwhelming - it felt as if his body was torn apart and stitched back together in a matter of seconds. He scrambled to grab a health potion, downing it all and wincing at the terrible aftertaste but thankfully finally getting some relief. His eyes focused on the essence as it hung up into the air above the two, and slowly was lowered, expanding around Foolish Junior’s body.

As the green light faded, Foolish heard faint chanting, looking around for where it was coming from, trying desperately to piece together what was happening. Before Foolish had time to figure out exactly what the chanting was saying, the body shooting upwards from the ground, gasping for breath quickly grabbed his attention.

----------------------------------------------------

Michael didn’t know how long it was. How many hours had passed since he’d been tied to the chair? He didn’t even know if it was night or day. He sat in the middle of his parent’s bedroom, feet and hands tied expertly - he was completely and utterly trapped. With every time he struggled and strained against the bonds they cut against his skin and irritated it enough to make them bleed, almost training the piglin to try to stay as still as possible, to avoid any pain.

Dream stalked around the bedroom like a thief, searching through the closet and drawers for something or other. He’d pick up a potion, a diamond, even an ingot or two, holding them up toward the light as if to inspect them before dropping them in his bag. His gaze fell upon a picture of the family from their beach vacation a few years ago - Ranboo fell asleep with a seagull perched on his stomach. Michael remembered how much he and his father had tried to hold back their laughter enough for a selfie, only for Ranboo to wake up and scare the seagull away halfway through taking the picture. They looked so happy together.

Dream seemed unfazed by the photo, almost studying it in a sense. The gaze seemed oddly calculated, making the teen feel uneasy.

“Michael you’re a good kid, you know.” Michael’s glare bore into Dream’s mask as sticky drips of crimson spilled over his hands. “You always want to do the right thing, want to protect everyone. You shouldn’t have to be the one to fight your parent’s battles, should you?”

Michael remained silent.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Michael. I really don’t. Despite what your parents might have told you, I’m not a monster. It brings me no satisfaction to bring you pain. After all, you’ve done nothing to me.”

“So?”

“So I’m giving you some free advice - take the easy way out, for both of us. All you need to do is tell me where that armor is hidden, and I’ll let you go.”

“Bullshit.” Michael spat. “I know that’s not what you want, my parents told me more than that you’re just some scary monster. You’re a power hungry lunatic.”

A smile spread across Dream’s face at Michael’s words. “A lunatic, huh?”

“You manipulated Uncle Wilbur, you tortured Uncle Tommy… you betrayed my father all because you want power! You want control over people, freeing me would have you lose the only shred of control you have left on this server, so why would you?”

“You’re a smart kid, you know that?” Dream said casually, rolling up his sleeves. “So smart…” He reached into his bag, grabbing a pair of shears that looked worn. There were initials on the leather cover that Michael couldn’t strain his eyes to see. Dream uncovered the shears, walking over toward the piglin and resting an arm on the teenager’s right side, trapping him.

Something churned in the piglin’s stomach. “What… what are you…?”

“Tell me, smart kid, do you know what it feels like to die? To feel nothing but neverending agony? To choke on your own blood as you beg for relief and warmth only to find yourself becoming colder and colder, not being able to move or even scream?”

Michael couldn’t help the fear that traveled up his spine. “I…I-”

“I wonder… would you like to find out?” The sharp end of the scissors was quickly set near the bottom of the piglin’s neck. It freaked Michael out - how calm Dream was about it all, how serious he sounded. Was he really going to kill him? The question sent his mind racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he felt like a trapped sheep in a wolf’s grasp. He wanted to run but he couldn’t.

“I...I just-”

“Do you know what canon lives are, Michael?” Dream asked smoothly, as if he was telling the teenager about the terrible weather. The words seemed familiar to the piglin but for some reason he was so stressed it was hard to remember anything specific. His parents never really talked about it much and usually tried to avoid the topic.

Michael thickly swallowed, acutely aware of the sharp blade against his skin. “No… no I don’t think-”

Of all the things he expected to happen in his situation, he certainly didn’t expect for the masked man to go into a small laughing fit over his answer. Michael struggled to find what exactly was funny, and a small pit of rage began to boil in his stomach, temporarily distracting the zombie piglin from the fear that the green blob seemed to pull out of him. So what if he didn’t know what those are?! Why does he care?! “Oh, I knew they couldn’t have told you everything…”

“What… what do you mean?”

“You see Michael, when someone dies they use up a canon life and respawn, until… well… they can’t anymore. Everyone has three, but a few have been used up over the years, at least when I was around.” Michael could see the beginnings of a smirk poke out from underneath Dream’s mask. “You’ve never respawned, have you?! All three lives, no deaths… oh, this could be fun…”

What… what the fuck was he suggesting?!

“Your choice - Tell me where the armor is now, or I’m going to kill you.”

The zombie piglin nervously looked around for any kind of out, something to stall. He couldn’t give up the location - Dad told him explicitly that he couldn’t reveal the location to anyone, no matter the circumstances.

Tubbo held Michael’s hands firmly in his own. “It’s evil, Michael. It used to belong to a very bad person, and he hurt a lot of people. We have to contain that evil here, for everyone’s sake. If this got into the wrong hands…” His father trailed off, not bothering to finish.

“I promise, Dad. I won’t let you down.”

Tubbo looked up at his son proudly, moving to cup his cheek with his hand fondly. “I know you won’t. You’re old enough and you’ve trained enough, you’ve earned my trust.”

He couldn’t let his father down, but…

“Five… four… three…” Dream huffed, getting impatient.

“You… you can’t just-!”

“Wrong answer.”

Michael’s memory was fuzzy after that - maybe it was because of the pain, or maybe it because he didn’t want to remember. He remembered… he remembered how his body trembled as Dream swiftly stabbed him in the chest with the shears, he remembered the tears going down his face as Dream tried to wedge the weapon deeper in the wound. And the pain… the pain was indescribable. Of course Michael had gotten hurt before - but arrows and zombie bites and broken bones could never compare to this, not by a long shot. Words left his lips so freely that he forgot exactly what he said, but when Dream twisted the scissors he whimpered.

He was mad at himself for crying and losing himself in front of his tormentor - he was giving him exactly what he wanted! Why did he just cry so easily?! Why was he being so… so weak?! He didn’t know exactly how or when the chair he was tied to flipped over, but he did remember shouting that seemed distant. He hit his head when he fell, adding to the throbbing dizziness in his skull. The pain hurt so much he wanted it to stop, please just let it stop...

He hadn’t even noticed the masked green blob left the room until a pair of dark purple eyes stared at him from the doorway. He felt himself tremble as the figure moved closer, and Michael squeezed his eyes shut, not willing to watch whatever that thing wanted to do to him next. After a tense moment of silence the piglin felt arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and his body relaxed into the touch, the familiar hum radiating throughout the stranger’s chest that always helped calm him. A hand reached up to scratch at his ears fondly, and Michael worked up the courage to open his eyes.

Two purple glowing eyes looked down at him, smiling and purring. The hair, the clothes… “Dad…?” Michael weakly croaked. The purple-eyed Ranboo smiled at him as he fondly patted his head. A loud noise erupted from his mouth, making Michael tense up in fear.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬.”

Upon seeing Michael’s distress, purple-eyed Ranboo quickly went back to sending calming purrs, holding his son’s head in his hands. Michael was so confused - what was that noise? More importantly, was his Dad okay? Ranboo’s hands drifted above the zombie piglin’s chest wound, a slight noise of discomfort coming from the back of his throat. He grit his teeth through the pain as he struggled to speak. “Dad, look, you… you gotta listen - Dream’s here, he’s gonna be back any second…”

The Ranboo-not-Ranboo’s head whipped toward the doorway at a loud crash, his grip increasing on the teenager slightly. Had his Dad even heard him? More strange noise erupted from his mouth, only increasing Michael’s concern. What was going on?

“⎅⏃⋏☌⟒⍀.”

Before Michael could ask what exactly that meant, with a ‘vwoop’ the purple-eyed Ranboo disappeared. Though Michael missed the warm comfort for his pulsing pain, part of him was glad. That means his Dad must’ve heard him, he was gonna warn the others and Dream wouldn’t hurt him, that was all that mattered. The other part felt like he was six years old again trapped in his own personal nightmare, begging for his father to come back and save him and hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. Static began to fill his ears as a slow deep sleepiness began to take over. Tears pricked at the edges of Michael’s eyes, the pulsing, burning pain becoming too much.

Just let me rest...

The door slammed open. A scream echoed.

“MICHAEL!”

-------------------------------------

Foolish had never seen his son so scared in his entire life. He shot up, grasping for some kind of lifeline, and Foolish didn’t hesitate to pull him close. “Dad…”

“Shh, it’s okay little totemling. Dad’s right here.” His heart felt full as he hugged his son tightly, afraid that if he let go it would all just be a dream. His son, his son was alive and breathing, his son was right here in his arms, he was okay, it was all okay-! Wet tears slipped down his face before he had the time to notice them. The totem god’s gaze shifted up towards the totem statue. The statue glared down at him, expressionless, as if nothing else needed to be said.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

“There was… there were shadows everywhere,” Junior sobbed. “It was cold and so, so scary and I didn’t know where you were, and-!”

“I’m right here, Foolish. I’m right here. It…” Foolish hesitated. How could he explain this to him? How could he tell his son that he failed him? How could he face his son and tell him the truth, that his own father had killed him? Maybe some things were better left unsaid, some truths untold. Foolish couldn’t tell you whether he avoided it to spare his son’s emotions or his own, simply that he found that he just couldn’t. “It was all just a bad dream, don’t worry. I was just waiting for you to respawn.”

Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he’d tell him the truth later, but he couldn’t face it right now. He just couldn’t. Either way, what did it matter? He got a second chance, and this time he wasn’t going to mess up. Not again.

“Wait, where’s Dream?”

Foolish couldn’t help but tense hearing those words. “...What?”

“Where’s Dream? He just came back, I can’t leave him. He’s probably somewhere scared and alone, he probably thinks I died! I’m his only friend, I gotta-!” Junior shifted, moving to get out of his father’s grip.

“Foolish. Foolish, no.” The totem god said firmly. “Dream’s dangerous. He’s done horrible things, he’s hurt so many people back when he was alive, and I won’t have you be next.” Not again.

“But… but it’s been so long, maybe he’s changed! Maybe…”

“Foolish.”

“When Wilbur came back he changed, he became a good guy again! Dream’s been dead longer than him, he’s my friend he can’t… he’s not…”

“Dream used you against me when you stepped in front to protect him. Maybe his ghost was different, but… but he’s not a ghost anymore.”

Junior pulled away from his father’s embrace. “No, no that’s not true! You were the first one to attack him, he was just standing there, Dad! He just came back, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you assumed he did. You attacked for no reason.”

“Foolish you don’t understand, the things Dream’s done-”

“He’s been dead for 12 years, Dad! 12 years, and you don’t think he’s changed?! I thought you always believed in second chances, that everyone deserves a chance to do the right thing.” Junior stated. “You didn’t even give him a chance.”

“He’s killed countless people in cold blood-”

“Haven’t you?!”

Foolish’s face fell as he looked over his hands. Static filled his ears as his mind remembered every single detail, and for a moment he swore he could feel the warm, thick blood coating his hands. No, no no no… not now… He quickly clenched his hands tightly into fists, closing his eyes, trying to block it out before it flooded back, before…

He felt arms around his neck, a warm embrace. “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-!”

As the feeling slowly faded, he opened his eyes, finding his son’s face red and puffy from crying. He mustered a small smile, both their anger long forgotten. “Hey, hey it’s okay… I told you I’m not going anywhere, right?”

“You were… you were turning into the… I’m so sorry…” Junior’s voice was soft and quiet.

“You don’t need to be, it’s not your fault…” Foolish reassured. “You’re right. You’re right, I’ve… I’ve done horrible things too. I just don’t want him to hurt you. I want to protect you, you know that right?”

“I know.”

Junior yawned, and Foolish smiled warmly.

“Come, my little totemling. You look tired.” Foolish said, scooping up the young teenager in his arms and walking toward his son’s room. Junior tiredly smiled.

“I love you, Dad.”

Foolish leaned down and gave his son a small forehead kiss. “I love you too, Foolish. No matter what.”

------------------------------------------

“Shit, shit shit shit shit…” Tubbo mumbled, his hands shaking as he rushed over to his son, noticing the large gash in his chest. He fumbled for his bag, desperately trying to find a potion of harming.

Regen, healing, strength, swiftness…

“Fuck.” Tubbo cursed under his breath, throwing aside his satchel and rushing over toward the drawers, pulling them open, throwing things to the ground in reckless abandon. What happened to the potions?! They always had extra, then extra for the extra! He and Ranboo were always prepared, they knew how hard harming potions were to make, so where was it?!

A loud crash ripped through the halls as Enderwalk Ranboo crashed through the wooden wall of the room, wooden splinters flying everywhere. Enderwalk huffed as he staggered trying to get to his feet, letting out a loud hiss as Dream walked through the new hole in the wall, his sword out, red staining his green hoodie. He looked over the scene, catching his breath.

“Oh, you guys wanted to pull one over on me, huh?! Throw the enderman freak on me, grab Michael and leave?”

Tubbo moved to be closer to Michael, pulling out his own sword protectively as Enderwalk moved in front of both, ignoring his own slashes and blood dripping to the floor. Enderwalk Ranboo screeched, almost daring the masked man to come toward his family. Tubbo’s gaze was focused on Dream, looking him over. “Yeah, something like that. Great plan, isn’t it?”

“Actually,” Dream let out a small cough, smirking. “Actually it’s pretty stupid.”

“I’d disagree, since we have Michael, and from the looks of it, you don’t have your precious armor.”

“Oh Tubbo, all these years and you’ve learned nothing… I always have other plans.”

Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “What do you-?”

“Looking for this?” Dream smiled, holding up a glimmering potion of harming. Enderwalk was ready to pounce, looking over at Tubbo who stood up, sword raised. “Nuh-uh-uh. Try to take it from me and I’ll smash it on the floor. All of them.” Dream moved to open the flap of his bag slightly to reveal more potions of harming. Tubbo’s face fell - all the extras, everything…

Enderwalk looked back at Tubbo, head tilted in confusion as Tubbo signaled for him to stand down. Tubbo took a deep breath - he hated this. He hated that once again, he hadn’t thought everything through, he hated that once again he failed, and most of all he hated that fact that as of this moment, his son’s life was in that green psycho's hands. Enderwalk turned to hold Michael close once again, nuzzling him and getting worried and sad when he didn’t respond. “What do you want for it?”

“You know what I want.” Dream said coldly. “I’d hurry if I were you, or it’ll be Michael’s first cannon life.”

Tubbo promised himself he wouldn’t ever subject his son to that kind of pain, that he’d protect him no matter what. He let out a defeated sigh. “Second portrait on the left in the entryway. It’s behind the painting.” Tubbo held out his hand. “Now give me the potion.”

“Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo… never change. Once an idiot, always an idiot, isn’t it?” Dream tossed the potion bottle over, which Tubbo quickly caught as the masked man turned and walked out of the room. Tubbo quickly rushed over toward his son, putting the potion bottle to his lips. They didn’t have much time.

Of course, it wouldn’t heal much, but it certainly was better than nothing. He looked over toward Enderwalk, gears turning in his head trying to make sure he spoke clearly enough to be understood. “⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀, ☌⟒⏁ ⏚⏃⋏⎅⏃☌⟒⌇.”

Enderwalk nodded, rushing over toward the drawers, grabbing some bandages and handing them over to Tubbo, who set down the empty potion bottle. Enderwalk looked down at Michael as Tubbo worked, focused. “⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⏃⌇⌰⟒⟒⌿. ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬?”

“⌿⏃⟟⋏ ⊑⎍⍀⏁ ⏁⍜⍜ ⋔⎍☊⊑. ⌿⍜⏁⟟⍜⋏ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⎅.”

Enderwalk reached to scratch and pat behind Michael’s ears. Tubbo tightened the bandages as Michael stirred. “...Dad…?”

“Michael, thank gods you’re alright!” Tubbo moved to hug his son, Enderwalk joining in, purring happily at the reunion.

“What… what happened? Where’s Dream?”

No time. “Busy. Michael, can you move..?”

Michael shifted to sit, feeling sore, tired. Small pulses of pain still wracked his body that he ignored. He moved his leg slightly, testing the waters. “I… I think so…?”

“Good. Okay.” Tubbo got up, holding out his hand and helping his son stand on shaky hooves. “I need you to run. Run toward Uncle Tommy’s.”

“Wait, what? N-no, I’m not leaving you!”

“This isn’t a choice, Michael. You have to go. Now. Before he comes back.”

“But-”

Tubbo’s hands gently squeezed his son’s. “No matter what you hear or what happens, don’t stop. Don’t stop until you’re at Uncle Tommy’s and you’re safe, okay?”

“But what about you and Dad? What about Dream?”

“Don’t worry, we’ve held our own this long. We’ll meet you at Uncle Tommy’s soon, but you have to get there and get safe, okay? Don’t look back, just get there. You can do that for me, right?” Tubbo’s forehead gently bonked Michael’s. “Remember the time we got caught in the forest just as the sun was coming down?”

“Yeah. I was so scared I couldn’t move. It was my first time out at night.”

“Remember, I took your hand like this…” Tubbo slowly rubbed circles into the back of Michael’s palm. “And told you that you didn’t have to be scared, that I was gonna be right there with you. All the scary monsters, you didn’t need to be afraid because as long as you kept running, nothing could get you.”

“Dad, I don’t know if I-”

“Yes you can. I know you can, Michael. Run as fast as your hooves can carry you, I know you can do it. I know you can be brave.” Tubbo encouraged. “Get there, your father and I will be right behind you. I promise.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Michael.”

“⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⍜☍⏃⊬! ⍙⊑⊬ ⏚⏃⏚⊬ ⌇⏃⎅?”

Enderwalk nuzzled with Michael as a few tears spilled down the piglin’s cheeks, and he laughed, smiling. “I love you too, Dad!”

Quickly, giving his parents one last look, Michael dashed into the hallway, heading toward the balcony and jumping down into the courtyard, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he ran through the trees toward the icy tundra. Tubbo wiped away his tears as he looked over toward his purple-eyed husband.

“⏚⏃⏚⊬...?”

Tubbo cupped Enderwalk’s cheek as the enderman snuggled into the embrace. “⋔⟟☊⊑⏃⟒⌰ ⋏⍜⏁ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒. ☌⍜⟟⋏☌ ⏁⍜ ⌇⏃⎎⟒ ⌿⌰⏃☊⟒.”

Enderwalk looked into Tubbo’s eyes and nodded in understanding. He moved to hold Tubbo’s face in his hands as Tubbo stilled, confused for a moment before Enderwalk pulled him down to the floor in a tight hug. Surprised at first, Tubbo returned the gesture. A loud crash erupted from below the two, followed by loud angry yells that sent shivers up Enderwalk’s spine and made him tense up.

“WHERE IS IT?!”

------------------------------------------------

“The flowers are really pretty today.” Ghostie smiled as he kneeled down in the daisy flower field, callused and rough hands moving to gently caress a flower.

“Yeah, spring’s coming.” Junior smiled, sitting down next to his friend.

“Spring…?”

“You… wait a minute, you’ve never seen spring before?!”

The ghost considered his friend's words for a moment, searching his own memory. “No, I… I don’t think I remember spring.” He smiled excitedly, a childlike curiosity in his eyes. “What’s it like?”

Junior settled down next to his friend, moving to pluck a flower. “Well, it’s warm, like… like hot chocolate, and flowers come back… it’s like the entire world comes alive again.” As Junior spoke, Ghostie pushed his green hood back and looked up towards the bright blue sky, noticing a small butterfly float past. His heart felt light, it was perfectly warm and bright, and something about everything around him made a smile appear on his face. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, by the way, I’ve got something for you.” Foolish Junior smiled, reaching into his bag and pulling out a small piece of different colors of braided thread - a lime green and two different shades of blue with a small white shell at the bottom. He held it out to Ghostie. “Now we’re officially best friends!”

“What is it…?” Ghostie asked, staring down at the foreign object laid in his palm.

“It’s a friendship bracelet!” Junior beamed, pulling out a similar yellow with the same two shades of blue. When his ghost friend didn’t respond or understand when he pointed it out, just staring up at him confused, he moved to explain. “You wear it on your wrist to show that we’re friends. See? It matches mine.” The twelve year old held up his own bracelet to show his ghost friend.

“Were… were we not friends before…?”

“Of course we were, Ghostie!” Foolish Junior exclaimed. “You’re my best ghost friend in the world, after all.” He reassured his friend. “I just wanted to make it for you because I thought you’d like it. Tubbo was telling me this story the other day about these special compasses, and… and I wanted to make sure that even if we’re not always together, we’ll still have a part of each other, you know?”

“It’s pretty. Like the flowers.” Ghostie smiled. “I love it.”

“Here, let me show you how to put it on…”

Foolish Junior heard talking just beyond his room as he packed, hearing his Uncle Eret downstairs. For a second, his mind wandered to what they could possibly be talking about. After all, it was just a simple respawn. He wasn’t that hurt, Ghostie got brought back… everything was perfect! Everything was supposed to be absolutely perfect.

So why wasn’t it? The whispers and hushed tones, the way his father looked at him, clung to him in a vice grip… it wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He knew his father wasn’t right about Ghostie, or… or was he Dream now…? Dream. It didn’t sound right, it didn’t fit him as well as ‘Ghostie’ did. The name felt so foreign on his tongue. But, if that’s what his friend wanted…

The teenager stilled as his gaze settled on the abandoned green and blue friendship bracelet left on his nightstand. He remembered how Ghostie held it with the utmost care when he handed it to him to take - “Make sure to give it back once the ritual’s all done. I don’t wanna get it dirty.” Junior remembered so clearly how Ghostie looked at him when he wasn’t transparent anymore.he called out for him with a smile, and his best friend simply turned around without saying a single word, looking around the forest.

After a moment of hesitation, he slid on Ghostie’s bracelet next to his own. He’ll give it back, he’ll reunite with Ghostie and introduce him to everyone and they’d understand. Then, they’d finally get to go swimming together like they always wanted to. They’d be together again.

All he had to do was find him.

You whisper to Dream: Meet me by the flower field tonight once the sun goes down. Be safe. We’ve gotta talk.

---------------------------------------------

As his husband held his head in agony, Tubbo was quick to steady him, resting his head against his shoulder. He gently held him, adapting as he shifted every now and then. Worried thoughts filled Tubbo's head as he couldn’t help but think of the worst - it had after all been years since Ranboo had forced himself to go into that state. He was the one who pushed him, all for his plan, his 'big' plan. Eventually, Tubbo found the voice to speak. “You there, Boo?”

“I... forgot how dizzying it is…” Ranboo let out a pained chuckle against his husband’s shoulder. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” Tubbo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. A few tears slid down his cheeks as he softly laughed. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Michael okay?”

“Dream roughed him up a little badly,” Tubbo sniffed, moving his hand up to wipe away his tears. “I patched him up, gave him a potion and sent him on his way toward Tommy’s.”

“That’s good.” Ranboo moved to sit up fully, holding Tubbo’s hand in his to comfort him. His smile never left his face. “So, what’s the plan now?”

“Well, Dream always told us what would happen if we crossed him.” Tubbo looked up at Ranboo. “Do you wanna come with me and find out?”

The enderman smirked playfully. “Aw, don’t tell me you tricked the poor thing…?”

“I do learn from the best.” Tubbo smiled. The door slammed open once more to reveal a very angry and pissed off Dream. Slowly, he walked over toward the couple, a golden axe drawn.

“Tubbo.” He growled.

"Dream." Tubbo smiled. "Did you find the armor?" A pair of netherite boots fell to the floor with a 'clang', the noise like thunder in the silent tense room.

“Where’s the rest of it?!”

“What, don't you like the boots?”

Dream pounced, tackling Tubbo to the ground and slowly pushing the axe blade up toward Tubbo’s neck. “Start talking you little shit.”

“Did you honestly think we’d hide all your precious armor and weapons in one spot?! Do you think after twelve years we’d still be that stupid?!” With Tubbo’s words, Dream looked like he was slapped, anger only building and rising the more he thought it over, the more he realized his mistake.

A mistake. He didn't make mistakes.

“We’ve buried them and hid the locations all around the SMP, just in case someone like you ever showed up again and tried to take us down.” Tubbo explained. “Good luck on finding the others, going through everyone on the SMP, digging through all that dirt… not to mention that as we speak Michael’s running to warn the others about you.” Tubbo’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trapped.”

He didn't make mistakes. He didn't get trapped. He was always smarter, always faster, always in control. Why wasn't he in control?!

“Checkmate, Dream.” Tubbo spat.

The words sparked a flame within Dream’s stomach, igniting his anger and destructive spirit. Choked breathing filled the room as Dream wrapped his hands around Tubbo’s throat and squeezed. How dare he… HOW DARE HE TRICK HIM?! He saw red as he slammed Tubbo’s head back down against the wooden floor, staining it crimson. Ranboo yelled and screamed in the background until Tubbo was still as a stone, unconscious.

“Get away from him!” Ranboo yelled, grabbing his sword and moving to strike. A quick slash of Dream’s yellow axe sent him to the floor as well. Struggling to keep awake, Ranboo crawled, each movement feeling like fire as it combined with his older injuries, his blood dripping to the floor. Dream watched Ranboo a moment, relishing in his struggle, the blood bringing him a deep satisfaction. Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins to walk over toward the enderman, his golden axe dripping with blood.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you guys to be so sharp after all these years… but you’re still making the same mistakes.” Dream said with an oddly calm and cold tone. “You three always underestimate me. You underestimated me then, and you’re still doing it now to make yourselves feel better, to feel like you’ve won. But you haven’t.” Dream kneeled down in front of the enderman, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his face to look at his. “I’m going to win eventually. After all, I waited a hundred and forty-four years to get out of that hell hole you three put me in. If you think a small slip up is all it takes to stop me and the plans I have…" The last thing that rang in Ranboo's head before he passed out was Dream's crazed laughter.

------------------------------------------

General Writing Taglist (Tell me if you'd like to be added or removed):

@bonesposts

(Also, I believe @yellowhearthero wanted some protective enderboo, so here you go! :D)

#dream smp #my writing #dream smp au #dsmpblr #12 years au #michael the zombie piglin #foolish junior #foolish gamers #foolishg #tubbolive #tubbo #ranboolive #ranboo #michael underscore beloved #tommyinnit #the bench trio #philza #ph1lza #technoblade #c!foolish #c!ranboo #c!tubbo #c!phil #c!techno #dreamwastaken #c!dream #villain dream #enderboo #enderwalk ranboo #dream smp fanfiction

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

��Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

#vm fanfic #lv fanfic #logan x veronica #veronica mars #logan echolls #still all the way out of my comfort zone! #but here we are! doing the damn thing anyway #never stories #otp: the one person #c: veronica mars #c: logan echolls #p: logan x veronica

[dabiboy]

Here is part 2! Tbh I want to see more about Natsu's and Rei's reaction, and of course what is going to happen with Dabi, so enjoy the cliffhanger 👀 let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Part 1

Rencounter [Part 2/?]

Two weeks ago

"Dabi?'' You said in surprise as you opened the door and he stepped into your apartment, ''I thought you were not coming until next week''

''We need to talk, y/n'' He said, not even looking at you. You walked towards him once the door was closed.

''Is everything all right?'' When you were facing him, you lifted a hand to caress his cheek but he abruptly pulled away.

''Stop that, for fuck's sake. Stop that.'' Your jaw dropped slightly, he was usually rough but that rough?

''Stop what?'' You asked in disbelief, moving your hand to its previous position.

''All of this, us'' You noticed how he clenched his jaw and then his blue eyes were right over yours ''This needs to be over, y'hear me?''

''What?'' You asked with a smile, a smile that was there because you thought he was joking, but when he didn't laugh you knew he was not faking it ''You're kidding, right?''

''I'm not kidding. This? You and I? Can't keep happening anymore. And thank me I came all the way here and not just fucking disappear from your life from one day to another.''

''I can't believe this, Dabi. Why? Yesterday you texted me, things were fine and I-'' He cut you off, not even paying attention to the tears in your eyes, or the confusion and pain in your voice.

''I was not made for this, I can't just be here and play the happy little couple with you. So fuck all of this.'' He turned over and started walking to the door again ''Sorry for making you waste your time'' And right then, getting out of the frozen state you grabbed his wrist, making him look at you over his shoulder.

''You're not leaving until you give me a reason,'' Holding back the tears, you spoke ''What the hell? Yesterday you sent me a text telling me that you loved me, that you cared about me and now this?''

''Can't you fucking see it, then?'' He scoffed, turning around again ''I care about you more than I should, y/n. And the only thing I'm doing is dragging you down with me, it is better if I leave.''

''We... We had this type of conversation before, and I already told you that-''

''Told me what? That you'll stay with me until the end? My end is near, and if I don't go to jail I'll die and drag everyone down with me.'' He raised his voice. ''Get away from me, move on. Get a fucking life, one that's better than the shit I give you''

''You don't give me shit, Dabi. I love you, everything about you and how you are when you're with me'' It was impossible to hold back the tears that were escaping from your eyes at that point.

''You think I haven't noticed? How you look at couples in the street? Or the way you smile at the screen when you see your friends sharing their damn life, getting engaged, having kids, moving together. I can't even take you out for a fucking coffee'' He snapped.

''I never asked you any of that! I smile because I'm happy for them, not because I want their lives!'' You snapped to. Why was it so hard for him to understand? ''I'm not planning getting married, either having kids. I don't want the world to know, I give a fuck about posting pictures and stories on Instagram, I just want to enjoy my time with you!''

''You're not enjoying it! You are worried all the fucking time, let me go! Forget about me, get you someone who gives you what you deserve!'' If he could cry, tears would be running down his cheeks as well. ''I'm broken, I'm cursed. I look like a fucking zombie, y/n. Get the fuck away from me before we both go down.'' Dabi said in between his teeth as he hit the table with his fist.

''Listen, I know you. I know you're not a role model, I know you've killed people and done even worse. I'm not romanticizing those actions, they're wrong as fuck but guess what, this society is wrong too. All that Enji did to you? How some actions are done by heroes are hidden? All the pain you went through? All of this is fucked up. But guess what, I fell for you, for the one I knew under all of that pain'' You almost yelled, feeling your eyes burning because of the tears and your heart racing.

''Oh you do? Sorry to break it up to you, but I'm nothing but a monster, a villain who doesn't regret his actions, and will not regret them.''

''The monster that tells me how much he loves me when he thinks I fell asleep? Or the one that plays with my hair when I'm sad?'' Dabi was silent ''Is that the monster you're talking about?''

''Y/n...'' Dabi denied ''You're not getting this. I might hurt you, and I don't want that.''

''You won't. I'm a grown woman, I know where I am standing, and I want to keep standing by your side. ''And I also know you might die soon, so please, don't push me away. Not now'' This time your voice was low, your chin trembling. You felt how his hand pulled you from your nape, making your forehead rest against his. It was his gesture, the one he used to do when he wanted to say he loved you but he couldn't, the one when thanked you for anything, or the one when he wanted just to be close to you but was too ashamed to ask.

''Are you sure about this?'' He whispered ''Are you sure you want to burn with me?'' Dabi's eyes were closed, clenching his teeth as he resisted the urge to kiss you and hold you in his arms.

''Today, tomorrow, and always'' You whispered back, caressing his cheek with your thumb as you sobbed.

............................................

Present time

Crickets and the sound of leaves against branches were the only sound filling the room, that and two lovers' breathing. You used one finger to trace Dabi's chest, drawing imaginary figures on his chest. The side of your body was holding your weight as you kept looking at him under the blueish light. Once you got tired, you pressed a soft kiss on his shoulder and lay down by his side, one hand on his abdomen and your face nuzzled against his neck.

''So you were really willing to burn with me'' He said suddenly, a raspy and tired voice.

''I told you I was'' You said, and then lifted your eyes at him ''How are you feeling?''

''Like shit'' He said, and then looked at the door ''y/n,'' he said in a low voice, still looking at the door ''Are they here?''

''Yes, they are.'' You said softly, having no idea how to approach that topic.

''What a lovely family meeting'' He chuckled and then coughed. ''This is so fucked up'' Dabi said again, moving his head to the side so it could rest on your temple.

''How can you still be an idiot even in this state?'' you said a little amused

''It is just who I am, doll. Can't help it y'know'' you felt a bit coldness in the hand that was on his abdomen, and it were the staples he had on his hand when he grabbed yours and squeezed it tightly.

Meanwhile, outside the room was someone watching every move. Her eyes were filled with tears, should she run over the man laying there or should she just wait? Rei thought that the second option suited best. His first son, the one who was wounded as much as physically and mentally looked in peace while laying next to the woman he loved. She had waited over years, a few hours more were fine. But what was Rei supposed to say to him? Was he going to hate her? Hate Natsu? Dabi was unpredictable, and his reaction had her worried. Maybe she was better at the hospital, isolated from all of that, but she already left her son on his own once, and now she had the chance to at least say sorry.

An hour passed, and you could tell Dabi was asleep again because of the rhythm of his chest, rising and falling slowly. His mouth was slightly open and his traits looked more relaxed. You left a kiss on his cheek before getting up, making your way towards the kitchen. Rei was standing in front of the window with a blanket over her shoulders, but she looked at you when your footsteps were louder.

''Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt'' You said with a small smile.

''You didn't'' She replied, looking calmer than you expected ''Is Tou-''She cut herself ''Is he okay?''  

''Yes, he's sleeping right now. But tomorrow he'll be better, I think'' You smiled at her. It was hard to find the words, but just when you were about to say something, a male voice interrupted.

''Mother?'' Natsu asked, rubbing his eye with the side of his hand. ''Is everything ok?''

''Yeah, we were just speaking'' Rei said.

''Oh, I'm y/n by the way.'' You said looking at the two of them ''It is not the best way to meet but, here we are'' you shrugged your shoulders. ''I... I need to go to the village tomorrow to get some things, so... You can stay with him in the morning and, you know. I don't want to interrupt you'' you knew his story, and they had a lot to talk about.

''Maybe it is better if you're here. I haven't seen much but you're important to him, so probably he'll feel better if you're here''

The truth behind his words and Rei's agreement on Natsu's statement was that they were not sure what to do or how to act with him on their own.  When Dabi was having hallucinations earlier, he recognized you. Rei saw you and him laying together, and she heard that tiny piece of conversation that told her you were important to him, someone he cared about. After saying that you were going to try and arrive earlier tomorrow so you can be there once Dabi's was awake, you gave them a smile so you could return to the room you were sharing with Dabi.

You lay back down, and you could felt how he moved and held you by the waist, pressing his chest against your torso, forehead against forehead as his hand was on your nape, using his thumb to caress the zone.

''Dabi! You're hurt, lay how you were'' You said worried, not even moving.

''I've been worse. Now shut up and just stay here'' Dabi mumbled, his scent and breathing close so close to you making you feel at home.

''Fine, you whining kid'' you laughed and heard him let out a low chuckle ''Do you need anything before I fall asleep?'' You asked, moving your fingers on his chest.

''A can of beer, maybe. Or you going down on me. Maybe you going down on my as I drink beer, that shit would be nice'' He said with a smile, making you laugh again.

''I'm serious, Dabi. Water? something for the pain?'' You asked again.

''I'm fine, dollface. Just keep your ass here by my side and don't go''

''Guess I could do that''

''You better''

You knew it. The way he held you, his snarky comments to avoid an answer, his hand on your nape, and silence. He was not Ok, he needed you there because he didn't know how to handle things at that point. His mother and brother were there, he saw them for brief seconds but it felt weird. His hate was against Endeavor, even against Shoto, but his mom? She was just another victim, and Natsu? He was there to hear him, to be a kind of support for him, how could he give them the same treatment as Endeavor? Those questions were screaming inside his head, and as they were becoming louder, the tighter he was holding you against his body.

Time kept moving, and before any of you could notice,

Morning came.

...................................

Tag list: @mikasackrmann @babayaga67 @sociallyanxiousmouse @peculiarinsomniac @makeusfreefromthisfandom

#bnha+dabi #dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #boku no hero academia #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #mha dabi #Spotify

[jeonggukingdom]

house of cards (m)

pairing  ⟶ jungkook x fem!Reader (feat. Namjoon & the rest of the boys)

synopsis  ⟶ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

genre  ⟶ smut, angst, apocalypse!AU, zombie!AU   

rating  ⟶  18+

word count  ⟶  17.453 words

warnings  ⟶ graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, hair pulling, marking each other with admittedly too many hickeys, teasing, couch sex, fingering, dirty talk, pounding, kind of soft sex but also rough sex?, multiple orgasms, a little tiny drop of chocking because why not, oral sex (receiving) because we all know I can’t resist and have to put this literally in every fic I write lol. Death, violence, blood, gunshot wounds: all of which include graphic descriptions. [I AM TERRIBLY SORRY].

author’s note ⟶ this fic has been written for the “Bulletproof Bingo” project created by @ficswithluv​! You can find the card I received here (click!) but to make things more fun and keep the surprise I blurred out all the songs except for the five songs in the same row that I’m going to write first ;)  A special thank you to @inkedxclouds​ for reading the opening scene and encouraging me to keep on writing it! Your words (and advice!) really helped me so really, thank you again ♥

song title ⟶ House Of Cards - BTS [ lyrics that inspired the story the most:  “A house made of cards, and us, inside / Even though the end is visible / Even if it’s going to collapse soon / A house made of cards, we’re like idiots / Even if it’s a vain dream, stay like this a little more /  As if there’s no such thing as tomorrow / As if there’s no such thing as a “next time” /  Right now, in front of my eyes, everything without you / Is a terribly pitch-black darkness” ]

tag list ⟶   @mrcleanheichou​​  • @ayujaded​​ • @vera6483​​ • @peterrogers15​  • @ggukkieland​

The city is on fire.

The flames dance in the air, tint everything black and red and menace to reach up the sky, bring that down as well so that truly nothing is left unscathed in the entire world. The heath burns his flesh, makes his eyes water, turns his throat dry and he doesn’t need to look behind his back to know you can feel it too, to know how fast your heart is beating inside your chest, thumping hard against your ribs like a trapped hummingbird inside a cage. He doesn’t have to look to know your chest is heaving, that fatigue and panic are taking over your entire system. He doesn’t need to, but he still tilts his head slightly to the side, fixes his gaze on your face for a whole second before turning back around to take in the destructive scenery all around you.

His legs move faster. They hit hard on the dirty and sleek bitumen, seemingly indefatigable, but the truth is that the only thing propelling him forward is self-preservation and the knowledge that if he stops, even for a second, he’ll be dead and you right along with him.

But Jeongguk is not stupid. He knows you’re both reaching your breaking point, that you won’t be able to keep on going much longer and that knowledge turns him desperate.

There has to be a way out. He refuses to believe this is the end. No, no, he will not allow it.

His fingers are wrapped tightly around yours and he tugs on them harder, pulls you closer to him so that he can feel the warmth of your body, your heavy breath hitting the back of his neck every now and then. Like this, he knows you’re alive, that you are both still here and most importantly, still human.

Neither of you dares to take a look behind your backs and truth is, you don’t even have to. All it takes is for you is to close your eyes—or even blink—to see them.

Skin of a sickly ashen grey. Eyes void like an abyss, black as coal. Mouths open wide in a perpetual silent scream that haunts both of your dreams every single night. Teeth ready to bite, rip the skin off and let the blood soil the bitumen and fill their monstrous mouths. Arms outstretched to grasp you, to pull you into them to scratch and rip the skin until nothing of you is left, not even your soul, and you are one of them. Another little piece in the ever-growing army of walking corpses.

All it took was two weeks.

Two weeks for the whole world to crumble down, splinter into tiny frail little pieces of glass and all by the hands of monsters that only used to live inside TV screens on Halloween: zombies.

Jeongguk curses under his breath, swiftly turns to the left in a vain attempt to confuse the brain-dead creatures right behind your backs but he knows it won’t work, not this time, not when there is so many of them.

He dares another look at your face and the utter terror he reads on your features turns his heart smaller inside his chest.

He swore to protect you.

One year ago, in front of your families and friends, he made his vows. What was it that he promised? To love you and cherish you until the end of his days, to protect you and grant you a happy life. And now what? What happened to all those pretty words that filled his mouth back then?

Lies. Lies. Lies.

Everyone you ever cared about and loved is gone. Everything you ever knew is gone. All in the blink of an eye. There were no goodbyes, no mourning, no nothing. And he can see the toll it has taken on you whenever he looks inside those beautiful eyes of yours. Once upon a time, they used to shine like stars in a night sky but not anymore—just another thing to add to the list of what those monsters have taken away from the both of you.

Your legs are tired. Your lungs are begging for air and all you can think about is just letting go, just let your body fall and claim the desperate rest it needs. When was the last time either of you had a proper night of sleep? When was the last time nightmares didn’t wake one of you in the middle of the night and successfully kept you awake through most of it until the sun was back up in the sky?

Jeongguk curses, his voice quivers around the edges alongside his limbs and he can hear your breath catch, get trapped inside your lungs.

Is this the end?

He gulps down heavily, bites on his bottom lip like he always does when he is focused on something, when he is so deep in thought the whole world disappears. But this time, the look on his face is one of panic and dread.

There is no way out.

Jeongguk curses under his breath again, forces you to take another swift turn to the left and you both know it’s futile and desperate but what else is left?

You don’t want to die like this, in a dark alley of a city you’ve never seen before, helplessly running away from the nightmares behind your backs. So you pray. You pray to all the deities known to mankind, even those you’ve never believed in because truthfully, this is all you have left, isn’t it? The hope for a miracle.

Jeongguk falters and you almost bump right into him. His name leaves your mouth like a shrill but it falls on deaf ears because right there, in the middle of the street, shining like a beacon, lies a car.

A car.

Amidst all the smoke and fire, standing amidst all of this wreckage with barely a single scratch on its surface, that car almost looks like a mirage, a freaking miracle. Or a curse. Too good to be true, too-fucking-good to be true. And yet, it is a chance. Perhaps your only chance. So he takes it. Because this is what your lives have been reduced to. A fucking gamble.

So he takes courage, treats this as a round at the Russian roulette where you don’t know whether you win or lose until you pull the bloody trigger and shoot yourself right on your temple. He takes courage and tugs on your arm, yanks it forward as he aims for the car ignoring both the yelp of pain and the shrill of panic that erupt from your mouth.

He ignores the way you call his name in question and horror as your eyes land on what to you looks like nothing but certain doom. He ignores the way you try to yank him in the opposite direction, the way your hand trembles in his grasp with nothing but fear, the way your breath catches as the creatures get closer and closer and closer.

You can almost feel their breath on your neck, you can almost feel their hands on your skin, their claws sinking inside the tender flesh to bring you down with them.

"Hurry!"

His shrill cuts through the air like a knife. Your heaving breaths fill the silence left in its wake and they mix with Jeongguk's and the monsters’ right behind your backs.

What happens next is nothing but a blur.

Curses and screams fill the air, your bodies pressed together inside the car as you pray to all the Gods somewhere up there in the sky to spare your life just this once, to not let the both of you die like this, in a city in ruin with not a single person you ever loved alive to mourn you.

You pray and maybe, maybe someone is really up there, listening and granting wishes because while the monsters surround you, while they shake the car and hit the glass with their fists and open mouths, Jeongguk turns the key and the engine roars to life.

An exhilarated laugh escapes his parted lips, shakes his thin body to the point he’s jolting on the seat whilst pushing with all his might on the pedal to propel the car forward.

Your hand searches his and finds it around the gearshift. Your fingers automatically lace together as if that is the very purpose they were created for and then, you close your eyes and the world turns black and subdues as you will it all away. The flames, the monsters surrounding you, the smell of fire and death that still fills your nose… they disappear just like magic as you push your thoughts far away from here.

You fill your head with images of your past life, one that almost looks like a dream now, something you’ve only seen while sleeping and not actually lived through. You fill it with laughter and kisses under the sunlight on that beach in Busan where you and Jeongguk finally confessed your feelings for each other. You fill it with the sensation of his warm hands against your naked flesh, you fill it with his beautiful, endearing smile. With the sound of his voice as he softly calls your name first thing in the morning or when he whispers it in your ears while you make love. You fill it all with him so that you can ignore the way the car shakes, the sounds of the monsters falling on the ground as the car drives into them, pushes them down on the bitumen and steps on them.

Slowly, silence envelops you whole and in return, your heart stops hammering against your chest like a caged bird and yet, it is still not enough to prompt your eyes to open because you know that the moment you do so, no matter how far away from the madness and horror you currently are, you’ll never be distant enough because this is your new life and all the happy images filling your head right now are nothing but long-gone memories.

Jeongguk’s eyes are trained on the empty street and yet he can almost see you sitting right next to him with your eyes closed and your cherry lips parted, breathing ever so softly and drifting inside your world of memories. He knows that world oh too well, being a frequent visitor himself. It’s easy to forget the nightmare when you close your eyes and just drown yourself in the past, push your entire body so down under the deep waters you can’t even hear a peep from the world raging outside. Easy and comforting.

It scares him. It scares him how effortless it is to just let go and pretend, to let your consciousness slip away long enough you could almost forget how to get back.

He calls your name ever so softly then, his voice sweet and rich just like your favourite filled chocolate doughnut—your usual breakfast on a weekend, when he’d purposefully get out of bed before you just to go buy some for the both of you to consume in the comfort and warmth of your bed.

The memory makes a small smile stretch on your lips but it quickly fades as stripes of bleeding red and violent pink start burning its edges, slowly reducing it to nothing at all.

The sun is setting in the sky, falling rapidly behind the hills ahead of you and bringing all the light right with it. An involuntary shiver runs down your spine for there is nothing you dread more than the night and the nightmares sleep always brings right along with it. Another day has passed and if only there were a set date, a fixed moment in time you know to mark the end of it all, maybe you’d be able to rejoice then but that is just another luxury you don’t have.

Jeongguk’s eyes move on your face then, just in time to catch the way your expression inevitably falls and your smile disappears as quickly as it had formed. The peaceful expression, the little glint inside your beautiful eyes still present a few seconds ago are once again broken by the cruel reality and Jeongguk hates himself a little for shattering the dream, for pulling you back inside this Hell right along with him but even that deep sense of guilt can’t overpower the relief of having you still right next to him, alive and well and… present.

So he offers you a little smile, a tug of his hand to prompt your eyes to shift away from the bleeding sky and rather fix them on him and the moment they do oh, how they make his heart beat loudly in his chest, how do they so easily bring warmth to his cheeks and limbs.

“We’ve made it, baby.”

Yes. You’re alive.

You laugh and nod your head a couple of times for him. And Jeongguk could swear you illuminate the entire car, hell, even the whole road ahead of you with that smile full of sunshine he fell in love with so many years ago, when you were still kids. And the more you look at him, at the way his eyes shine like stars and his nose scrunches up in that adorable bunny-like way of his, the bigger your smile gets and Jeongguk is certain that you, like this, are the most beautiful thing he has ever laid eyes on.

Deep down, you both know this is temporary, that this feeling of victory will be gone in a matter of a few hours when you’ll inevitably face another one of those monsters and yet, you allow yourselves to bask in the little joy you feel, in the glimpse of normalcy right within your grasp. For once, you decide not to care and rather live to the fullest inside this little bubble of happiness. A bubble so small and delicate even a breath could easily burst it.

“We did, didn’t we? Wow… I can’t believe it,” your voice is soft and filled with a little hint of the mirth that turned your lips upwards for the first time in days and Jeongguk can’t help but smile even further while focusing his eyes back on the road.

“Me neither,” he confesses, shaking his head a little for it does still feel absolutely incredible and so unbelievably lucky there must be a catch about the whole ordeal somewhere. He pushes those type of thoughts away with all his might, though, as he tries to enjoy the opportunity he was given to live another day right next to you because he hates this part of himself, the pessimistic side that everyday swallows a bit more of the person he used to be before this nightmare started.

It is the middle of the night when you finally come to a halt in what looks to be an abandoned city. One of many, you think to yourself as you scan your surroundings waiting for that telltale sign of danger that comes with the grunts of the famished walking corpses. The silence of the night welcomes the both of you, though, as you help yourselves out of the car and before you can even glance towards Jeongguk, he is standing right there, by your side, fingers laced around yours to keep you as close as possible. You smile at the tender gesture. It’s one of the few habits of his that hasn’t subdued just yet.

You know.

And even though most of the times you pretend you haven’t noticed the way he has changed—nor the way you have—you know he has and sometimes it is hard to ignore how empty his eyes look when they are not fixed on you, how thin his lips look now that they are always stretched into a harsh line and not pulled into a gentle smile and most importantly how often you catch his hands shaking and him balling them into fists to stop their incessant tremor.

You tug on his hand, offer him a gentle smile the second he looks at you and you imprint the sight of his smile in your memory, the way his eyes light up with a glimpse of the man you fell in love with. You map every single inch of his face just so you can remember him like this the most. Your Jeongguk, not the one the army of dead bodies has created.

You have never walked on a minefield before in your life but if you had to guess how it feels you’d bet he’d be a little like this as you walk through the empty streets in the middle of the night without having a single clue where to go, where to hide. Potentially, every turn could signify your demise. With every step you take, you feel like shrinking inside yourself, turning a little smaller inch after inch whilst your body quivers ever so slightly in fear and your heart aches as it pounds hard against your ribs.

It is Jeongguk that spots the abandoned building first.

The city has been turned to ashes, set on fire like your own and the one you saw after that, and the one after that too and so on into a trail of smoke, fire and destruction that has left barely anything unscathed. Yet this building looks somewhat decent, with the door still there—albeit swung open—and a few windows with the glass still intact to protect you from both the drop in temperatures and any unwanted guests.

A little winning smile forms on his lips then and he tugs a little on your arm so that you can hurry your steps, get to what promises to be your safe haven—at least for the night—as quickly as humanly possible without making a single sound so not to stir awake the creatures surely lurking in the dark.

Your steps are full of uncertainty and fear as you step into the abandoned building and walk on the broken tiled floor. With each step you take, you tug a little harder on Jeongguk’s hand in fear of what you might meet at the end of this long corridor and seemingly endless string of doors.

If it had been for you, you would have stopped at the first apartment with it being close enough to the exit to make a quick escape if needed. Instead, you keep walking and you only stop when there’s only a set of doors left and even though you know this is probably for the best, that it would be harder for anyone to find you here, that the brainless creatures are less likely to sense you so far away from the streets, you can’t shake the uneasiness prompted by the fear of getting trapped inside this place and not being able to leave it with your humanity still intact.

The door opens easily. Just a little tug from Jeongguk’s hand and it swings open to reveal a simple apartment with minimal and mostly-ruined furniture. The signs of struggle, of a hopeless fight, of the loss of other human lives, taint every inch and corner of this place that probably used to be filled with love and warmth once. You can almost sense the pain, the fear and horror. You can almost hear the screams as your fingers brush against the door, the walls, the little objects filled with memories on the furnishing. It’s just like echoes from ghosts that beg to be heard, to be remembered so that at least this little part of them can live on, forever human.

You gulp down heavily, force your eyes to tear away from the picture of a happy family still hanging on the wall and rather focus it on your boyfriend’s back as he walks inside the apartment just to make sure no surprises are waiting for you inside any of the empty rooms. You follow his every movement, you mirror every single step and fill your thoughts and sight with him so that it’s easier to bare everything, so that it’s easier to ignore and move on, to live and fight for your chance at survival.

His soft voice breaks the silence just to call your name and draw you next to him and you easily comply letting him lace your fingers together. He places a tender kiss on your forehead then before opening his arms to welcome you in his warm embrace. You feel your body relax into the familiar sensation of being completely engulfed by his strong arms, you feel your heart slowly melt as his scent fills your nose the instant you hide your face in his broad chest. He holds you like this for what feels like hours and he doesn’t have to utter a single word for you to know what fills his head and moves his heart. Fear, relief, love, guilt—you’ve felt them all, sometimes even all at once while looking towards him in the midst of one of your escapes and, inside this embrace, you can sense them all, hanging above your heads and weighing on his heart and shoulders.

Your arms wrap around him, tuck underneath the green jacket so that your fingers can fist the thin black shirt under it and pull him into you more so that not a single breath of air can come between your aching, broken bodies.

Jeongguk’s lips quiver, a trembling breath escapes his mouth as he lets himself break within your embrace knowing oh too well that you’ll help him put back together every single splinter of his being. He breaks without a single word or sound and yet you mend him over and over again until he’s whole once more and he can smile at you anew and mean it.

He doesn’t have to say anything. All it takes is one look from his glinting eyes and a nod of your head and in an instant, you’re sitting on the couch ignoring the ripped fabric and the dark stains on it in favour of the little food in your backpacks.

When you had it all, you had taken for granted many things: a roof on top of your head, an endless source of running water, good food on your table every single night. Now, you don’t even have half of that and yet, there’s a little smile on your face as you consume your dinner with your boyfriend sitting right next to you and that’s because even the stale bread in your hands tastes heavenly after days of pure starvation.

His mouth is still filled with bread to munch on when he fishes out the map from his backpack and his eyes start scanning the names of the cities you passed on your desperate run to safety. His eyes are eager and filled with hope and excitement and he looks so breathtakingly beautiful in this moment—even with dirt on his hands, dried blood on his clothes and dishevelled hair—that you can’t help but stare as you force down your throat the last bite of your meal.

You watch his eyes light up in recognition, you watch them scan the map again and again just to make sure and then you see his mouth open to form a little “o” of surprise and… excitement?

His beautiful eyes of coal fix on you then and the most dazzling smile twists his lips up to the side. An exhilarated laugh escapes his mouth, shakes his chest as he points at the map with the excitement of a little kid in a candy store.

“We’ve made it! Fuck, we’ve actually made it!”

You dart forward, steal the map from his hands to fix your gaze on it and see it for yourself. The safe haven, the refuge Yoongi and Hoseok had heard about and dreamed about every single night before they lost their fight is near, so fucking near you can almost see it now if you close your eyes and squeeze them hard enough.

The Refuge.

“How far is it from here?” Your voice trembles, coming out as soft as a whisper as you tilt your head a little to the side just to fix your gaze back on him.

A grin welcomes your words and you can swear stars are shining in his eyes as he bumps his shoulder into yours so that he can point at the map, show you the road you’ll have to walk on to get there.

“If we’re lucky and the car doesn’t run out of fuel we’ll be there by the end of tomorrow.”

Just a breath. That’s the fraction of a second it takes for you to lean forward and crush your lips on top of his, claim his mouth at the height of your euphoria. The colony of humans, the safe haven your friends talked about every waking hour you spent together is just miles away and the promise of safety and normalcy erases everything else in an instant.

In this moment, all that exists is you and him and the hope for a better, brighter future and with your heart beating so frantically in your chest, all you can do is get lost in him, in his sweet scent, in the heavenly sensation of his fingers wrapped around your frame and his lips roughly moving on top of yours.

You grab his face to pull him into you even more and Jeongguk gladly follows, moulds under your touch to fit on top of your body as you let yourself fall on the couch while still kissing his lovely lips. Your hands are eager, your tongue relentless as it seeks his own through his parted lips and the excitement and adrenaline mix together and build until what is driving your every movement is passion and desire and need.

A low grunt moves past his lips as you tug on the long strands of hair on the back of his head and he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know there’s a wicked smirk painted on your lips, a little knowing smile prompted by the fact that you know way too well how much he likes that, especially when he’s far deep inside of you, rocking his hips furiously to reach his high and bring you down with him.

Your fingers leave his curls in favour of his jacket to move it past his shoulders, let it fall along his arms until he’s unceremoniously throwing it away. But it is not enough to satisfy your desire of seeing him, touching him, claiming him. So your hands hook around the hem of his shirt to lift it off of his head and Jeongguk follows your desires, lets you guide him and take control over him with the barest touch of your fingers. A single brush of your digits on his feverish skin is enough to gather goosebumps on the flesh and blood deep down his crotch. His cheeks turn a lovely shade of coral under your gaze as you bite down your bottom lip while your eyes move up and down his half-naked body. It’s a sight you’ve seen countless of times before and yet, it still makes your mouth run dry and butterfly flutter in your stomach like the very first time.

A small smile spreads on your swollen lips the moment you catch sight of the necklace dangling from his neck. It glints under the artificial white lights of the streetlamps filtering through the windows, looking as if it were made of the purest glass on Earth. You reach out to touch the sharp point of the feather and then you take it within your grasp and tug on it until he’s falling back on top of you and your lips are tasting each other once more.

You drag your nails across his naked back ever so softly yet the sensation of the teasing touch makes him grunt and roll his hips into yours once in a form of retaliation that has you calling his name in a mix of a warning to stop and a plea to keep going. Jeongguk clearly decides it is the latter for he does it again, and again, and again until you’re fully whining his name inside the kiss and digging your nails harder into his naked flesh.

“You’re such a tease,” you whisper atop his mouth the instant his lips leave yours just so that he can look inside your eyes and oh, that little smirk on his lips is so enticing you have to fight against yourself not to kiss him senseless right then and there.

“Look who’s talking.” His voice is rough around the edges, laced with the desire coiling in his stomach that is making his blood boil and gather right between his legs.

You tilt your head a little to the side and let your fingers roam against his chest, stroke ever so softly the fine line of his abs just to watch them contract under your touch. You drag your hand further down his torso and you can hear the way his breath catches the moment your fingers are ghosting over his belt. Your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and Jeongguk curses under his breath as you let your hands move past that belt, get inside his jeans and palm his bottom cheeks through the fabric of his boxer briefs. You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down, his jaw slacks as you tug on his hips so that he can press his confined member against your aching core.

Your body seems to catch on fire, turn into liquid flames right underneath his intense gaze and it takes again all of your willpower to not strip him naked in a second and push him deep right inside of you. But no, you want to savour this moment, make it last throughout the whole night so that you can rekindle properly with each other’s bodies after spending so much time running for your lives, out in the streets, unable to let yourself go and touch each other like you used to every single day before all hell broke loose. It’s been too long. Too long without his fingers on you, without his lips on your neck, without his sex battering yours in ways bound to make you forget your own name. Too-fucking-long.

He calls your name, wets his lips and begs with his eyes to give him more, in whatever form you prefer and you grant his silent wishes with the slow drag of your hands as they inch back towards his belt in order to free him at least from the confinement of his jeans. He releases a soft breath as you unbuckle it for him and then slowly unfasten both the button and the zipper and that same breath seems to hang in the air as your fingers palm him for the first time in weeks. His eyes close in bliss, his head tilts a little back and you drink up the sight of him like this, already getting ruined before you can even touch him properly. Oh, the things you’d do to him and let him do to you all at once and until neither of you can keep on going any longer.

That’s when you attach your lips on his skin, suckle on the firm flesh of his abs until a purple rose blooms there to mark your passage, followed by another and then another until he is whining and growing stiffer under your digits.

Your hands leave his groin and far too quickly for his liking judging by the little grunt of frustration that leaves his parted mouth but that one is quickly replaced by another as you push on his chest until his back is hitting the couch instead of yours and you are the one towering over him, ready to take control.

Your mouth easily finds his weakest spot on the side of his neck and attaches right there just so you can bask in the way his body catches on fire underneath yours, in the way he can’t help but arch his back a little into you, call your name and dig his fingers on the supple curve of your ass. His skin is tender and sweet and it takes so little effort for you to mark it with your eager lips and teeth that you can’t help the deep desire of wanting to mark all of him and turning it into a painting of roses in the shape of your mouth. You close your eyes and let your lips trace every corner of his neck, his clavicles and shoulders and you almost turn deaf to his pleas and whines and sighs of ecstasy. You almost lose yourself completely in the effort of mapping every inch of his skin until nothing is left for you to claim any longer and you have no choice but start all over again.

It takes his hands tugging on your shirt to rip it off of you for you to stop and it takes his mouth on your neck, his hips twitching underneath yours, his voice calling your name, for you to subdue completely and let him strip you of all of your clothes once and for all.

Jeongguk’s fingers tremble with the excitement growing stronger and stronger in his system and they turn rough on your tender skin as they finally get the chance to stroke and pull and feel it under his digits. It’s your turn to close your eyes and tilt your head back, it’s your turn to surrender to his desire-driven touches and mould and melt underneath it. It is your turn to whine and sigh and call his name and Jeongguk drinks up every second of it just like you did and the more he watches you like this, the more he touches you like this, the drunker he feels and the drunker he wants to get because hell, he had almost forgotten how sweet you taste on his lips, how heavenly you feel tightly wrapped around him, how breathtakingly beautiful you are like this, towering over him with nothing but desire filling your gaze.

The bare thought of your walls squeezing him oh so blissfully is enough to make him groan and claim your lips once more while his hands start inching down to where you desire them the most. The touch is simple and slow and yet you arch your back for him, roll your hips on top of his just to feel his length brush against your sleek core. His teeth grasp your bottom lip, pull it down in a way that has you hissing in both pain and excitement and you can’t help but roll your hips once more, bask in the sensation of his turgid member right between your southern lips. You tilt your head back as his lips find your neck once more, attach to the soft spot underneath your jawline to leave his mark there—something he knows to be your utter weakness.

A breathy sigh of elation escapes from your lips and you feel him smile against your skin, you feel his teeth dragging across your neck just so he can playfully bite your jawline next and tease you further. You whisper his name and it sounds like a plea to his ears and one that he is more than glad to take on because damn, he has missed touching you like this more than he even realized. The more his mouth kisses you, the more his fingers brush against your delicate flesh, the more he feels compelled to. So he explores your body more, basks in the way you sigh for him, arch your back, roll your hips, call his name and abandon yourself to his every touch. It is at the apex of your arousal and frustration that his fingers finally find the treasure right between your legs, the sweet spot he had been craving all this time.

The pads of his fingers brush against the sleek skin to gather your juices and slowly bring them up to his mouth so that he can taste them and hum as he sucks his own digits like he would if they were covered with honey instead. The scene is so lewd it prompts a grunt to leave your parted lips while the arousal deepens right between your legs, coiling down to his own turgid member. You watch his eyes zone in onto your dripping sex, you watch them light up with wanton desire and it is then that you beg him, truthfully beg him to lay his hands on you.

“Touch me, please.”

The plea is nothing more than a pained whimper and yet it rings loud and clear into his ears and, oh God does it work because in a fraction of a second, those fingers that were inside his mouth find your core again and this time, they are there to stay. His digits press hard against your swollen clit and draw deep circles onto it while his eyes fix on your face to catch the way it morphs with pleasure.

He drinks up every little whine, every flutter of the eyes, every tilt of the head, every single bite of the lips, every little quiver of your body on top of his.

“Lift your hips, baby.” His voice is hoarse as he speaks those words, laced with all the arousal clouding all of his thoughts and the fire you can see in his eyes makes your head spin and your mouth run dry. The way he wants you, the way he plans to claim you over and over again on this ragged couch are so clear in his gaze you can’t help but whine in utter anticipation and follow his every instruction.

So you leave his neglected cock and lift your hips high enough for him to drag down his fingers and play with your folds instead. His touch is soft at first, tentative even, but all the more enticing. It makes your desire grow deeper, it makes your body quiver with impatience and expectancy and he loves every little second of it. To torture you like this, to slowly drive you insane before throwing you over the edge of utter bliss makes him feel absolutely dizzy and just like an addict, it keeps him wanting more of it.

“You’re so wet,” he mutters under his breath and you let out a strangled whine in response that has him chuckling lightly underneath you. The teasing glint in his eyes, that little smirk that pulls his lips slightly upwards to the side make you want to lean forward and kiss him until you run out of breath but oh, that thought gets swiped away in an instant by the sudden intrusion of two of his fingers right inside your sex.

Your head falls backwards, your muscles tense and your jaw slacks as your walls contract around his heavenly fingers, adjusting to the stretch so quickly he has another finger plunged deep inside of you in an instant. You call his name once more, let a trembling breath escape your parted lips and Jeongguk takes that as an encouragement to pump his fingers in and out of you. The pace is torturously slow and it has you wetting your lips over and over again whilst your arousal grows bigger and bigger, trailing down your thighs.

His fingers curl into you and you hiss, bite your bottom lip and go rigid on top of him and the sight is so beautiful he does it again and then once more just to see you crumble and tremble and give in into the impossible pleasure spreading through your limbs like liquid fire.

He lifts himself up enough to bring his mouth to your naked breasts and envelope one of your nipples with his soft rosy lips. You gulp down heavily and find purchase onto his raven locks with one of your hands while the other one ventures out between your lifted legs to seek his erection and brush your fingers against it.

The little grunt of appreciation that comes with the simple touch spreads a smile on your lips, encourages you to wrap your fingers around it to pump it a few times, spreading your juices all over his hard length.

“I want to feel you,” you mutter under your breath and Jeongguk’s teeth pull a little on your turgid bud making you hiss in both pleasure and pain.

When his eyes fix on you, a long shiver runs down your spine. Goosebumps gather on your flesh and your heart turns rampant in your chest, “Then ride me, baby.”

The pressure of his fingers inside your core disappears as quickly as it came and it leaves you startled, contracting around nothing but thin air and mourning the sudden loss. His invitation, though, hangs in the air heavy like stones and thick like fog. And it is that invitation, the temptation in taking the lead that prompts both of your hands to push on his chest until he’s flat on the couch once more, looking up to you with all the desire burning deep inside his stomach.

It is still him that guides you, though, encourages you to take command and make him yours. It’s his fingers that wrap around his length to align himself to your dripping sex. It’s his free arm that wraps around your stomach and pulls you down so that you can finally meet his member and it’s still him that pushes you down just enough for the tip of his cock to brush against your sleek folds.

Wetting your lips, with your eyes pointedly fixed on his, you sink onto him then, ever so slowly, just so you can bask in the sensation of being filled up to the brim for the first time in weeks and let it last for as long as possible. Jeongguk lets out a sigh underneath you, his eyes closing as he lets go to the blissful sensation that is your walls contracting around him, welcoming him back with a tight embrace that already menaces to cut his oxygen intake short.

His free hand finds the supple curve of your ass and wraps around it as you sink completely onto him and let out a pleased sigh at the sensation of him filling you whole. You find purchase on his chest as you lift your hips back up ever so slightly and when his eyes find yours once more and lock you there, you start moving on top of him.

The lewd sound of skin slapping on skin fills the empty apartment, quickly followed by your soft sighs, readily amplified by both of his hands squeezing your bottom cheeks.

Jeongguk’s mouth hangs open, his eyes fixed on your face as you quicken your pace on top of him, rolling your hips every now and then just to hear his grunts, just to feel his nails dig into your flesh more and in a way that is bound to leave half-moon shaped marks scattered across it.

You arch your back a little and lean back to rest your hands on his knees instead and roll into him faster, pushing him deeper until he’s brushing against your cervix in that delicious way that always brings you crumbling down in the span of a few minutes. The guttural sound that escapes from deep down your throat makes him desperate to hear more and to feel the delectable way your walls would squeeze him at the apex of your high. It is then that one of his hands leaves your bottom cheeks in favour of your swollen bud, the very trigger of your pleasure.

The way you call his name then drives him absolutely insane, convinces him that his name has never sounded so beautiful before and oh, it turns his fingers fervent, prompts his hips to roll up into you to meet you halfway, faster and deeper and that’s how you lose your battle for control, that is how you end up giving in to him and letting him claim you with everything he has to offer.

Jeongguk’s hips snap into yours in time with the furious pace of his digits atop your clit, drawing perfect circles on to it that turn you blind and deaf to your own screams and mewls of ecstasy. He calls your name with a deep grunt but you cannot hear it when your ears are ringing so loudly, when your heart is beating so fast inside your chest it might explode soon, when your vision completely disappears and your body starts to quiver on top of his as you lose control.

The pleasure hits you like an unexpected wave of cold water and it steals your breath and sanity away. You come all around him mewling out loud his name and in that moment it doesn’t matter that you might stir awake some monster, that you might reveal your location to the nightmares waiting for you, no, all that matters is the pleasure and how absolutely paradisaical this moment feels.

Jeongguk’s eyes of charcoal are the first thing you see when you finally open yours, when the pleasure subdues and you come back down on Earth, to the here and now. And it’s those eyes of fire that make you rock your hips into him, that make you lift your ass and slap it back onto his thighs hard and fast.

The sounds that erupt from his mouth are like music to your ears and they guide your every movement and oh, you’d bring him down with you like this over and over again but Jeongguk begs you to slow down, to let him enjoy this moment a little bit longer until he has no choice but to paint your walls white.

“Turn around, baby,” he instructs after wetting his lips, his voice deep and hoarse and filled with the passion and desire driving his every movement, his every word.

His legs spread to welcome your ass right between them and as you find purchase on the couch, you let your sex sink back onto him, rejoicing in the new stretch this position provides.

A string of curses escapes his mouth drawing a little wicked smirk on your lips and prompting your hips to snap into his harder. Your hands are both sprawled on the couch to keep yourself standing enough to keep this perfect angle that is bound to turn the both of you absolutely insane. Your body is still quivering with the aftermath of your first orgasm and the lightheaded sensation that still lingers in your system makes your hips move furiously on top of his, drawing all kind of beautiful sounds from his parted lips.

You turn your head back enough to fix your eyes on his face, watch the way it morphs with pleasure. You call his name once, twice in a row and Jeongguk grunts and snaps his hips back into you, hard and fast to the point he’s about to erupt deep inside of you. You can see it in his eyes: the desire, the wanton need, the desperate search for his own release and the more you look at him like this, the more he fucks into you like this, the faster your heart beats, the harder your blood flows in your veins.

Jeongguk’s hips slow down, his bottom lip trembles with the breath that escapes from his lungs and he doesn’t have enough time to utter his next words, to explicitly say what he so desperately desires from you because you push your hips back once more, roll them onto his turgid shaft and fuck yourself on him, impale yourself on his cock until you are crumbling, breaking to tiny pieces right within his grasp. Jeongguk can’t take his eyes off of your quivering limbs, off of your ass still bouncing up and down in front of him, off of his cock plunging deep in and out of you. It is then that he takes the lead once more, pushes you flat on the couch so that he can stand on his knees and pound deep inside of you.

His hips snap into yours so hard and fast you don’t have a spare second to catch your breath, to allow yourself to come down from this impossible high. You mewl his name as his hands find purchase on the small of your back and he roughens up his pace, grunts your name in a row, tells you how impossibly good you feel so tight around him, squeezing him to madness. And you drink up all those words, eat them up like a famished woman on a deserted island and oh, do you galvanize him even further with your sighs of ecstasy, with your pleas for him to fuck you harder, faster, stronger.

If you close your eyes you can almost see his luscious thighs, the way his ass snaps with his hips as he pushes deep inside of you, the way his back contracts with the effort of keeping himself standing right above you, the way sweat shines on his golden skin like fine pearls. You can almost see his raven hair getting wet and stick to his forehead and to his neck and oh, how you’d love to tug on those strands, elicit a hiss out of him and throw him over the edge just like that but instead, it’s Jeongguk that leans forward to grasp your hair, tug on it until you have no choice but arch your back and tilt your head back.

Your eyes open to bore into his as you bite your bottom lip for him, heave out a sigh of ecstasy that is quickly followed by a string of pleas for him to cum right inside of you like this, fill you up to the brim on this ragged couch inside an apartment that isn’t your own, in a city you have never seen before.

Jeongguk grasps your neck then, pushes his fingers on the soft skin deep enough to cut the oxygen intake in half and then he kisses you fully on the mouth, claims your lips with the same ferocity set right between your legs and just like that, you come once more and as your orgasm coils down your thighs and soils the couch further, he shoots his pleasure deep inside of you. You feel his hips snap and still as he lets out a deep grunt of liberation, you feel his hands quiver on your neck and on the small of your back, you hear the stream of little curses that leave his mouth as his orgasm just keeps on coming and coming and coming and you don’t have to look to know his eyes are trained on your sex, dripping with the mixture of both of your pleasures.

The sight of you like this leaves Jeongguk breathless, it leaves him wanting more of this, more of you, it leaves him wishing he could fuck you just like this for the rest of your lives without having to think about anything else outside those four walls. His fingers leave your neck then, allow you to breathe in freely as he slowly drags his cock out of you in favour of his mouth because hell, ever since you started undressing him, this is all he could think about. His tongue brushes against your sleek folds and a deep shiver runs down your spine, followed by a whimper. You call his name softly in question, you tilt your head a little to the side just so you can glimpse at his face but Jeongguk’s answer comes in the form of his tongue flattening completely atop your sex and in the deep grunt that erupts from deep within his throat. The taste of your pleasure mixed with his own is inebriating, quite potentially addicting and so very sweet he just can’t help but gather it all on the tip of his tongue, careful not to waste a single drop of it.

“You taste so good, baby,” he mutters under his breath and you shiver at the lewd words, at the way his eyes are still trained on your sex with all that passion burning deep inside of them. Your body falls completely on the couch then, your ass slightly tilted upwards to offer him the perfect view and angle to keep tasting you like this with his relentless tongue. He laps at your folds, lets his tongue move right between them to gather the nectar he so desperately craves right from the source, oh so delectably deep within you and when you start trembling slightly, when soft sighs start leaving your pretty and swollen lips, he decides to attack your clit too, suckle on the sensitive bud until you are fisting the couch beneath you and begging him to keep on going even though you know you cannot take much more, even though literally every single muscle in your body is aching right about now.

His hands grasp your hips, keep you perfectly still as he devours you whole and he doesn’t stop, not even to catch his breath, until you’re a quivering mess all over again, mewling his name and coming all over his face. And Jeongguk, oh, he loves every second of it and still makes sure to welcome every drop of your pleasure on his tongue to gulp it down and feed on its sweet and sour taste as if this were the very first time.

Your body gives out and you let yourself go completely, close your eyes while coming down from your high and every word that leaves his mouth is muffled by the loud ringing in your ears, by the heavy breaths that leave your heaving chest, by the loud drumming of your heart.

It’s the tenderness of his touch, the way his arms envelop you whole that bring you back to the present, to the empty apartment and it’s his lovely lips on your forehead as he pulls you up to welcome you in his tight embrace that keeps you from falling into a deep slumber.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he whispers, chuckling slightly at the way you hum while closing your eyes, genuinely fighting against the need to just shut down and recharge.

He hums then, places another soft kiss on your temple and tangles your limbs together while making himself comfortable on the raggedy couch.

“Sleep then, baby. We have a big day ahead of us and I want to leave as soon as we can after going out to find some food.”

A smile forms on your lips then and you nod your head a couple of times. Yes, for a second you almost forgot about your dream and how it’s about to become reality, how close you are, at last to the final destination.

So tonight, you fall asleep with no fear of tomorrow, you fall asleep in the blink of an eye without having to trick yourself into closing your eyes and shutting down all of your thoughts. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, you sleep peacefully in his arms without a single nightmare coming to haunt your dreams. Tonight, the happy memories running through your head behind those closed lids do not burn and turn to ashes, no, they shine brighter than a thousand suns because, for the first time in weeks, you actually believe they could turn into reality soon.

There are some things you can feel in your guts long before they happen. They just sit there, on the pit of your stomach, to make you nervous, nauseous and restless even though you don’t know what they are just yet.

When you wake up and lift your head from his naked chest just so you can stare at his beautiful, peaceful face, you instantly know it’s one of those days. The nervousness sips into your system all at once, cutting your breath short, turning your heart into a caged bird eager to escape. Yet, you don’t utter a single word because today it’s a big day. The day.

You don’t say a word when he kisses you as soon as he wakes up nor when he makes plans for your departure. You don’t even say anything when he puts his almost-empty bag behind his back and walks out the door to scout for some food to bring with you on your trip to salvation.

A lot of words are wasted and gulped down, trapped in the deepest recess of your being where no one can see them or hear them except yourself. And those words menace to choke you, to burn you and consume you until nothing but ashes are left as you wait for him sitting on that same couch you made love on top of last night.

You wait. And wait. And the seconds tick by turning into minutes that turn into hours and the longer you wait, the worse you feel and it’s when your head is starting to spin, when it becomes too hard for you to breathe, when it’s impossible for you to focus on anything else that isn’t the worst-case scenario that you finally get up from the damn couch, pull the backpack on your shoulders and leave the apartment.

Smoke welcomes you back into the real world outside your happy bubble. It stings your eyes, it makes them water and has you coughing out in desperate need of clean air and you know the wiser thing would be to run back to the relative safety of the apartment but the uneasiness in your stomach grows bigger and bigger, dilating like oil at sea, menacing to take over every single cell you’re made of. So, you walk. Walk away from your pretty perfect house, the one you built out of cards last night even though you knew it was going to inevitably collapse soon, the one where you sought peace and happiness and hope for a bright future. You leave it all behind because you have no other choice but to.

The eerie silence of the city is one you’ve experienced countless of times before and therefore you know it’s nothing but the quiet before the storm hits, a trap to make you lower your guard enough for the monsters to attack and take you down with them and as you walk through the deserted and unknown alleys, the feeling of being followed and watched takes over, prompts your legs to move faster just in case you need to start running for your life.

You’ve never been out on your own before. You always had Jeongguk to guide you, to protect you. It takes just a few minutes on your own out there to realise how much you depend on him, how bloody helpless you are on your own out here in the real world where nothing goes according to plan and you can’t count on anyone except for yourself. Again, you realise how lucky you had been all your life, how many little things you took for granted and it makes you wonder if this isn’t some sort of punishment or even a lesson being taught to whole humanity so that one day, the few survivors can learn from it and not repeat the same damn mistakes they’ve made before.

The sound of your name breaks the silence, cuts it in half, rips it to shreds. You whip your head around in the direction of the sound and it’s Jeongguk that you see right there, running through the wreckage the monsters have left behind in that unmistakable way that can only mean one thing: run or perish. So you outstretch your arm for him, lace your fingers together and start running right alongside him without asking a single question and without even looking behind your back.

Your heart soars with relief and gratitude for his salvation and that emotion slightly subdues the uneasiness in your stomach, slowly puts it to sleep as your feet hit hard on the bitumen while you trace your steps back to the apartment, its four safe walls and most importantly the car waiting for you there, that very car that promises to take you the hell away from all of this once and for all. Your grasp around his fingers tightens and as it does, his eyes land on you and that little smile of his twists his lips, at last, to bring warmth to your heart and body, to bring peace to the raging war inside your head.

The apartment’s door slams shut behind your backs and you both press your bodies on it to keep it firmly shut as you try and catch your breath. It is only when you feel his body relax against yours that the words come out.

“What happened?”

Jeongguk grimaces, shakes his head while closing his eyes while a little sigh escapes his lips, “I let my guard down. I was so sure those fuckers were far away deep down the city’s core I was surrounded in an instant. There were so fucking many…”

Your hand comes to his cheek and he leans into the touch immediately, without even noticing. The warmth of your touch placates his heart and brings his eyes on you. They are sweet and filled with love and you can’t help but lean in to kiss his lips.

“It’s ok. We’re alive and we’re about to get the hell away from here.”

Jeongguk smiles at you, nods his head a couple of times before pulling you fully into him, wrapping his loving arms around you and then resting his head in the crook of your neck. He insists that your perfume still lingers there up to this day and it doesn’t matter how much you tell him it is not possible, that any trace of your favourite perfume has long gone, he still claims that as his favourite spot that tastes and smells just like you.

Your fingers find purchase on his shirt, tug on it to bring him even closer, so close there is not a single inch of your bodies that is not touching and it’s right then that the bubble bursts, at last. It takes nothing more than a small touch, a little brush of your fingers against his skin.

Jeongguk hisses in pain and your heart stops.

Jeongguk releases you from his embrace and his eyes full of horror and dread fix on your face, cutting the air out of your lungs.

Jeongguk lifts his shirt up to reveal a red, bloodied mark on his left hip and your world crumbles for the second time in just two weeks.

Jeongguk takes in a sharp, trembling breath and tears start rolling down your cheeks as you furiously shake your head, frantically denying to yourself the truth laid out right before your eyes.

Jeongguk calls your name, puts both of his hands on your cheeks to brush the tears away but it’s a lost battle when they keep coming and coming like water pouring out of a splintered dike.

Tears fall from his eyes too. Thick as pearls, clear as glass, rare as diamonds. And you hate them because the more you look at them rolling down his cheeks, the more real it gets.

“N-no, no, Jeonggukie, no,” your bottom lip quivers, your voice breaks, your body trembles under his gaze as if an earthquake has been trapped right inside of you and it’s now breaking loose, erupting deep within you. You choke on your tears as you grab both of his arms with all the strength you have left in you, pull him into you as if that would stop the venom from spreading and taking his beautiful heart away, “Please.”

You don’t know if your plea is for him to tell you that it’s going to be ok, that this is just a nightmare, nothing to be scared of when you’ll soon open your eyes anyways and realise how stupid you were being or if it’s for some deity up there to help you, to grant you another miracle.

You don’t know but either way, it falls on deaf ears and it doesn’t matter how much you cry and scream and beg and pull him into you, nothing changes. You had your chance, didn’t you? You were granted a wish, a proper miracle back inside that car less than twenty-four hours ago. That was it, that was your first and final ticket and you carelessly used it, without even thinking, without even… You break. There are a million tiny pieces of yourself right there on the ground, sprawled across the dirty floor like an impossible puzzle to rearrange.

“Baby.” His voice is soft. No trace of the fear he feels right inside his heart, not a single trace of the anger and despair running through his veins. His last gift to you, the only thing he has to offer, it would seem, is his feigned peace of heart and mind, “Baby, listen to me.”

You don’t want to listen because deep down, you already know what he’s going to say and you do not want to hear those words, you don’t want to have to remember them ever leaving his mouth. So you fight him, yank away from his arms, try to run from him and the new reality that you’ve been thrown into but there is no hiding, no running this time. It’s game over, right there above your heads, written in crooked and red all caps.

“Listen to me!”

It would be easy to close your eyes and let yourself drift inside that happy land full of memories you retract to whenever things get too intense and heavy but his eyes are filled with raging fire, dancing flames of coal that hold your gaze on him, trap you there so that you can’t escape, not even for a second, not this time.

“There is a gun inside my bag, I want you to take it and—”

“NO!” The scream that erupts from your mouth scratches your throat, burns you from the inside out with the same force of those flames still trapping you there, within the tight grasp of his hands on your shoulders.

“Please, baby,” one of his hands moves to caress the top of your head and you close your eyes to relish into the touch knowing it will probably be your last. You lean into his hand as it reaches one of your cheeks once more and the softest sob escapes your parted lips as you try with all your might to deny the fact that it is over, that this is it and there is no going back.

“Please don’t make me do it,” your voice breaks, quivers helplessly as you open your eyes once more, fix them back into his beautiful, shining ones. You can see the pain there, the guilt and despair laced with the fear of doom but what you see is nowhere close what Jeongguk really feels.

He’s scared. Scared beyond belief and far more than he has ever been. He’s scared of the unknown, he’s scared of the pain, he’s scared of leaving you behind like this, of what will happen to you once he is gone and nobody is left to protect you. He is scared of what you’ll do to yourself after he… but he has no choice, he has no fucking say in all of this and he hates himself for everything. He hates himself for being weak in his final moments, for not having the courage to do it himself but most importantly for allowing this to be your last time together. It shouldn’t be like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But all these thoughts, all those words, they never leave his mouth. No. What comes out of his mouth is a reminder and a plea, all in one.

“You promised. We promised.”

It hits you just like a slap across the face, one so hard it would tilt your head to the side and turn the skin tender and boiling hot to the touch.

You remember that night. Sleeping under the stars in a dark alley trying to breathe as silently as possible to not gather the attention of the monsters roaming through the city, you laced your fingers together and promised with nothing but the night sky as your witness to never let yourselves become one of those soulless monsters. You promised while praying in your heart it’d never come the day either one of you would have to abide by it.

And now here you are.

“Don’t let me become one of them, baby, please. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Tears roll down his cheeks, harder and faster than ever before and each droplet breaks you a little more until truly, you feel like nothing of you is left. In this moment, you give up everything you’ve ever been. In this moment, you rip your soul to shreds and part ways with it knowing you’ll never be reunited with it in this life.

The sense of void engulfs you, swallows you whole and all you can hear are his words on repeat and oh, all you can see are those beautiful eyes of his pleading you to do it and you don’t know if it’s your hands that reach for his backpack to seize the gun nestled inside of it or if someone—or something—else is guiding your trembling fingers but, in an instant, the gun is there, right within your grasp and pointed straight to his head.

Jeongguk is looking at you and he tries to smile, tries to regard you with all the warmth filling his heart but he can’t hide the fear that is trapping him there, cutting the air out his lungs, turning his heart restless against his ribs. He fears everything but what he fears the most is what he’ll become if he doesn’t die right here, right now. So he forces himself to smile, he forces himself to nod, he forces his eyes to close and a sigh to move past his lips.

The bang echoes in your ears.

The bullet goes right through his head and yet you can fill it stuck right inside your heart instead, twisting into the flesh until you cannot breathe or think and all that is left is the pain and the scream of agony that leaves your trembling lips.

The gun slips from your quivering hands and hits the hard ground and your eyes fix on it long enough to notice the pool of red tinting the floor, soiling the carpet, slowly reaching for your shoes.

His blood.

You fall on the ground and break into tiny frail shreds of porcelain, so sharp they could cut deep into the skin, infiltrate under it and kill you from the inside out.

Your quivering hands are lost inside your hair, fisting them so hard you might pull them from your skull but you do not care nor feel any of the pain spreading through your body. No, not now when your eyes are fixed on what remains of his beautiful face. Those eyes that used to hold galaxies in them are void now, dark and lifeless like a night sky without a single star. Those pretty rosy lips you kissed until yours ached are now pale and turning cold, stuck in a perpetual “o” of utter shock. Those warm and delicate hands that used to hold you, caress you, explore you are now grasping nothing but the thin air and you open them to lace your fingers with them one last time.

One.

Last.

Time.

The desperate cries come then.

You are deaf to your own screams, blind to the tears coiling down your face, oblivious to the way your body shakes with each strangled breath, with each inconsolable sob. You throw yourself on his motionless body, rest your head atop his chest as if he were nothing more than asleep and you cling to his shirt begging him to hug you back just like he used to, reassure you that it’s all going to be ok, that this is just another one of your crazy nightmares, that none of this is real.

But when you open your eyes he’s still lying motionless on the ground, his eyes are still void and staring up at the ceiling and his arms are still sprawled on the floor and not tucked around your body to keep you safe. And the worst part of it is that this is all because of you. You did this to him.

The bang echoes in your ears again, louder and louder with each passing second and closing your eyes doesn’t work anymore because now, all you see behind those closed lids is his dead face and those bottomless black eyes.

Everything breaks inside of you, everything shatters and falls helplessly on the soiled floor to join him and fly away with him to a place far away from here. And oh, how much you wish you could join him, that you could pick up that damn gun, point it to your head and just let the last remnants of your soul go so that you won’t have to face this or live through this a second longer but you don’t and you try to tell yourself it’s because you are a coward, that it’s because deep down you want to survive no matter what because it would be easier to accept that, it would be easier to just loathe yourself and think the most despicable things about yourself but, alas, it wouldn’t be the truth. No, even now, even when his eyes cannot see you anymore, even when his voice cannot reach you, and his hands cannot hold you, you’re still doing everything for him.

If you close your eyes, if you focus on the silence surrounding you hard enough to tune out the loud bangs ricocheting through your consciousness, you can almost hear him begging you to keep on living, to keep on fighting for your dream so that his death is not in vain, so that not everything is lost. But even still, it is not enough for you to lift yourself up, for your legs to move and bring you out of this apartment, out if this forsaken town. It is not enough for you to actually stand up and fight for your life, for a chance at survival, for an actual future. So you stay there, on the floor, with your arms wrapped around him and your head resting on his immobile chest. And you remain there for hours, crying until there are no tears left to cry, until your eyes burn and your throat aches, until the sun goes down and you are enveloped in darkness.

You stay there, motionless just like him except for the steady rise and fall of your chest and not even the noises coming down the hallway, not even the sound of steps startle you, prompt you to leave him behind and run to safety.

Your eyes move to the door as it swings open and you’re almost ready to welcome your end without even trying to put up a fight but it is not a monster that stands right there, on the edge of this apartment door. No, it’s a human and that human is pointing a gun straight to your head.

“Fuck!”

The man curses, takes a step back and pulls his gun away from your face to point it on the floor instead.

“You’re human.” He says and you notice how deep his voice is, warm like honey and comforting like a lover’s hug, “I almost shoot you in the head.”

The man’s eyes look kind even though the shock is still written all over his face but that warmness disappears in an instant as he finally takes in the scenery before him: a pool of blood, a pair of void eyes staring straight up at the ceiling, a gun abandoned on the floor not too far away from your feet.

It is clear from the way he looks at you that he’s seen this before, probably even lived through it and the tenderness in his gaze, the way he takes careful steps towards you, the way he softly calls for you with a simple ‘hey’, oh, they all bring the tears and despair back and within seconds you are sobbing all over again and so hard your body shakes and menaces to actually splinter with the force of your pain. It is then that this stranger’s arms engulf you, surround you just like the tallest and safest towers ever created by mankind and you let him because you need this, you need someone to hold you together even for just a few seconds and even if you don’t know his name and he doesn’t know yours.

“Joon, the whole floor is clear, looks like we found somewhere for a good night’s sleep tonig—oh…”

There’s another man standing at the door now, his eyes big as saucers as he takes in the scene before his very eyes and you watch how his mouth opens and closes as he struggles to put together the whole thing and honestly, if this were a movie it would almost be amusing and comical but even the hope to wake up and discover it was all part of a nightmare, a recreation of your mind after watching a stupid horror movie alone in the middle of the night is now gone, completely erased.

“Yes, bring the others in, we’re going to stay.”

The other boy looks up at the stranger still holding you—Joon?—with questioning eyes but doesn’t dare to speak a single word and instead retreats to the end of the corridor in utter silence.

“It’s just four of us,” he says then, looking down at you with a tender smile, “We need somewhere to stay for the night and you probably shouldn’t be alone right now.”

He welcomes your silence with a slight nod of his head and then his arms are gone and you almost reach out for him to beg him to keep you in his embrace until you’re sure you’re not going to break apart into thousands of pieces but you don’t. Too afraid to ask, too scared to even dare to.

“We’re headed to the Refuge. Have you heard of it? It’s quite close at this point, if the rumours are true. It’s a community of humans that has successfully kept those fuckers out.”

“We…we were going there too.” Your voice is small and croaky, barely above a whisper but in the silence of the apartment, he hears your words loud and clear and responds to them with a hum.

“You could come with us.”

His words are simple yet they startle you, they prompt your eyes to fix back on Jeongguk’s lovely face and suddenly you are hyperventilating because no, you can’t leave him behind like this, you can’t leave his body here for those monsters to feed on. You just can’t.

The stranger’s arms are around you in an instant once more, his voice is soothing in your ears as he tries to calm you down, to stop the tears and the choking sobs but all his words fall on deaf ears as you start breaking apart all over again. You scream and cry your heart out and he lets you, he doesn’t leave your side again though, no, he keeps you right there within his embrace and he doesn’t give up and it does not make sense for someone you’ve barely even met to care so much about you, to have this much patience but maybe, maybe after seeing so much horror, after parting with so many different people just like you did he decided not to leave anyone else behind if he can, not even random girls met in an empty apartment in a forsaken, nameless city on a crumpled map.

“I know it’s hard but it’s going to be ok, I promise. You can’t give up now, ok? We’re so close, so freaking close and I didn’t know him but if he cared about you just as much as you evidently care about him, I’m sure he’d want you to move on, he’d want you to fight and win this battle and survive.” His words do come through this time and they should probably soothe your heart but they break it harder because no, he didn’t know Jeongguk but then why do his words match him so well he could have said them himself? You know he’d want you to follow them, to bring yourself to salvation and wasn’t that exactly what you told yourself while embracing his dead body all those hours ago?

The stranger breaks the embrace enough to look inside your eyes, to tentatively reach out to dry your tears and there is so much affection in his gaze, in the careful way he touches you, in the little dimpled smile he shows you and you already know, you’ll never be able to thank him enough for all of this.

“Who are you?” Your question comes out as a trembling whisper yet he catches on to it and smiles harder, pulls his gaze away from your face as his cheeks turn a lovely shade of coral. What you meant to ask was if he’s an angel, someone sent from up above to save you and guide you through this difficult path and maybe he gets what you mean or maybe he doesn’t but still, he replies and it’s the easiest answer he could ever give you, “I’m Namjoon.”

It is then, as you whisper his name and get acquainted with it that the other boy returns, followed by two more young men and their belongings which, just like yours, fit all inside a single bag.

“This is Jimin,” the boy next to you points to the shortest one of the bunch and you watch him blush as he slightly bows down while chewing on his bottom lip. He was the one that found you and Namjoon on the ground and his eyes still spark with curiosity but he doesn’t dare ask any questions and you are grateful for that.

“Taehyung,” Namjoon says, pointing towards the guy standing right next to Jimin, his fingers laced around the other boy’s in an unequivocal way that reminds you in an instant of the way Jeongguk always used to hold your hand any chance he got, especially the past few weeks.

“And that is Seokjin.” The last boy waves at you and the discomfort in his features is enough for you to pull your gaze away from him and fix it back on the ground.

No matter how much you try, you can’t shake the fact that this is wrong, that all of this is just wrong. You staying here, those boys standing here all around you, invading the privacy of this place and what it holds in it and you hate that this is somewhat normal to them—and to you—that it doesn’t shock humans anymore to find others with holes in their heads or even worse.

Silence envelops you and none of them breaks it and it stretches on and on until you can’t take it anymore, until it feels like you cannot breathe anymore.

“He was bitten,” you utter then, voice trembling and tears falling on your cheeks slowly like fat, translucent pearls. “He asked me to… I had no choice but… He—His name is-was Jeongguk.”

The boys bow their heads when you lift your head up and you can see the sadness in their eyes, the recognition and understanding that comes with experiencing all of this on your own skin, with your own eyes and maybe that’s why you don’t say anything when Namjoon slowly pulls Jeongguk away from your arms, maybe that’s why you let Seokjin lift you up from the ground in favour of the couch, maybe that’s why you let them touch him, close his eyes, pull him away and clean his blood off of the floor the best they can.

“We’ll bring him with us, we’ll bring him to the Refuge and spread his ashes there, away from all of this. What do you say?”

“Why are you doing this for me?” You look up to Namjoon while you hug your legs close to your chest and in that moment you don’t realise how ungrateful you must sound to him, questioning him and his motives over and over again instead of thanking him with all that you’ve got but he doesn’t comment on it, no, he offers you a gentle smile and a little sigh that holds all the exhaustion he must feel in it.

“Because there’s too little of us left to not care about each other at this point.”

Those words warm your heart, they warm your shivering body and move you in ways you didn’t think possible anymore. That little part left of your soul holds onto his words, onto the hope he provides and it hangs on to it with both nails and teeth refusing to let go and it’s that part of you that makes you open your mouth once more but this time, it is to offer some help and not just throw more burden to the mix.

“We found a car. It still has fuel in it and we planned to use it to reach the Refuge.”

Maybe this was all meant to be. Maybe, you were meant to meet and save those boys and they were meant to find you and pull you back together in the darkest hour of your life. Yes, maybe it was all written in the stars and it might not be fair because life, you’ve learned, hardly ever is but when your eyes land on the tall white walls of a city hidden in the mountains the following night, all the puzzle pieces fit together.

You watch the flames dance, feel the warmth of the fire on your hands, rising up to your arms and slowly reach your face like comforting hands tying to caress your body.

The heat makes your eyes water, makes your skin feel impossibly hot and yet you don’t move a single inch and find yourself almost wishing those flames would actually reach out and claim you right along with him, burn you until there’s nothing but ashes to remind the world that once, you existed. But it’s not you that burns, no, it’s Jeongguk. You watch his lovely body disappear inside those flames: his strong arms that used to hold you, his rosy lips that used to kiss you and call your name so sweetly whenever you were together, those beautiful eyes of coal you always got lost in, that luscious raven locks you loved to run your fingers through or tug on depending on the mood… you watch it all burn and disappear.

There is a comforting hand on your shoulder. The touch is delicate and sweet, enough to soothe your aching soul without it being too invasive and you are glad for it, for his presence by your side. Kim Namjoon saved you in more ways than meet the eyes. He saved you two nights ago when he found you holding Jeongguk’s lifeless body, he saved you when he put you inside that car with his friends, he saved you when he successfully brought you here, to the Refuge, where you can now freely mourn your loss and do it right. This is the first proper goodbye you were granted ever since it all started and in this moment you part ways with the love of your life but also with your family and friends, with everyone you’ve ever met that turned into an impossible monster or perished before the venom could turn them into one. And you allow yourself to break a little because it’s ok, you’re allowed this one moment of weakness now, you’re allowed to cry your heart out for all the things you’ve lost during this fight.

Your knuckles turn white against the necklace around your neck. The sharp ends of the feather dig into your skin and you let it, hell, you even grasp it tighter as if trying to merge your hand with it as if that could somehow bring him back or let him live right inside of you to his fullest. The tears run faster down your cheeks because this, right within your grasp, is all there’s left of him: a necklace and your memories. Nothing more.

All that Jeongguk was, his past and present and future, they were all swept away in an instant, like dust under the force of the wind and you are the only one that remains to remember him, to tell his story to the world, to let him live on so that he won’t ever be forgotten amongst the millions of lives that were lost.

Just you, a necklace and a fist of ashes.

It’s with trembling fingers that you release them all in the air, let his entire being be swept away by wind so that it can cover the land all around you and be reborn in this field in the form of beautiful flowers, majestic trees, droplets of water to fill the river running down the hills.

The breeze is warm against your skin and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine his fingers caressing your body just like the wind is, you can almost imagine him embracing you through this air surrounding you, playing with your hair and enveloping your body.

For the first time in days, you smile. You smile at the thought of him being finally free and at peace right where he wanted to be, you smile at the thought of him looking down at you with his beautiful eyes, with pride shining in them. You smile at the thought of him nodding his head while patting yours, you smile at the idea of his fingers lacing with yours one last time as he says his goodbye with the promise of always looking down on you, of always protecting you, even from up there where nothing goes unseen. You smile and you thank him for loving you so much, for saving you countless of times even before the zombies arrived, even before you realized you were being saved and that you even needed to.

You thank him and tell him how much you love him, how you will never forget him, how you’ll keep cherishing him and keeping him right inside your heart for every second of your life from here moving forward and you repeat those promises you shared one year ago, on that altar, so that he knows you are his forever and no matter what, you’ll always belong to him just like him belonged to you until his very last breath.

When the touch of a hand warms your shoulders and brings you back on Earth, for a second you startle and foolishly hope to turn around and see him standing right there, smiling at you with his head slightly tilted to the side. But when you turn it’s not Jeongguk that welcomes you, no, it’s Namjoon with his timid smile, with eyes full of wonders and understanding and this time, your smile, incredibly, does not falter nor disappear.

Namjoon doesn’t utter a single word and he doesn’t need to because you know, even though you’ve barely met him, that he is simply there for you, that he is offering you his support and friendship amidst those difficult times and you don’t tell him how grateful and touched you are but a part of you suspects he already knows.

Your eyes drift away from his face and it is then that you notice the other three boys standing a few steps back from the two of you, their eyes fixed on you and the deserted land right behind your back.

They came.

You don’t know when they arrived or if they’ve been there the whole time but either way, you are grateful for their presence too because at least, someone else besides you is here to say goodbye to the wonderful man that was Jeon Jeongguk and it does not matter that they never met him and that they never will, they are still here to accompany his soul somewhere far away from this nightmare and the smile on your lips spreads while tears run down your cheeks once more.

You thank them, your voice nothing more than a trembling breath and they smile back at you, nod their heads and join you right there, at the edge of this green cliff where it’s easy to imagine a new world full of peace and love.

You look up at the sky once more and as the silence envelops you and the boys once more, you whimper out your farewell.

“Goodbye, Jeongguk.”

The grass is soft and ticklish under your feet as you walk through the empty path that leads to your favourite spot: the edge of the hill.

A warm smile spreads on your lips and you unconsciously fasten your pace as your eyes land on the vast sea of green, the clear sky up ahead, the dozens of flowers scattered all over the valley.

“Hey there, handsome.”

Your voice breaks the silence of the heaven-like place, gets carried away by the gust of wind that welcomes you right there, in front of the marble stone where you are bound to be found every single day, right when the sun rises up in the sky and shines brightly on everything in sight.

Your fingers reach out to caress the marble, feel the crevices that make out his name right under your digits. You’ve done this countless of times before and yet you still hope one day they’d get engraved in your digits and stay there to accompany you every single hour for the rest of your life.

You heave out a little sigh as you let your body fall on the ground to hug your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them.

You know this is futile, you know that there is absolutely nothing of him right there, under the ground, that this is just a symbol of his existence, of the fact that once, a great man named Jeon Jeongguk walked the Earth and yet, you still come here every day to talk to him, to see him and remember him like he used to be before everything crumbled down and burned.

This time, it feels different though. Your smile falters a little, you divert your gaze and fix it on the ground to play with the grass, pluck with your fingers whilst you search for the right words to speak because you know, the moment they’ll hang up in the air they’ll become real and part of you is still not ready to face it all, to embrace the inevitable change coming your way.

“Today is the day,” you say then before biting down your bottom lip whilst lifting your gaze back up. In an instant, the tombstone disappears and sitting right across from you is Jeongguk. His eyes are sparkling, his lips are twisted a little to the side in a gentle smile and he is nodding his head in encouragement, urging you to speak up.

“We’re leaving in an hour.” Your voice is small and full with the uncertainty you feel blossoming right inside your heart.

Five years have passed since that night in that city in ruin. Five years spent in this Refuge trying to save and rebuild humankind. Five years of battles and uncertainties and pain, so much pain, but also joy and relief and victories and now, now the nightmare is over and what awaits for you outside this safe haven is a world similar to the one you left behind before the zombie appeared. A normal world rebuilt by those that were left behind, a world full of normalcy and opportunities and peace.

But you are scared. Scared of the future, scared of leaving this place that has kept you alive and safe for so long, scared of leaving him behind even though there is nothing of him left in this place anyways. But Jeongguk smiles at those words and it’s one of those dazzling smiles that used to make butterflies dance in your stomach, that used to turn your heart into a hummingbird, that used to make you feel as warm as the sun itself. You can almost hear his voice then, telling you how happy he is and that you should not be afraid, that he’ll still be right here for you, watching over you every step of the way.

It’s then that the tears come and fall down your cheeks. It’s then that you nod your head and promise him you’ll be back, one day, to sit just like this on this spot of grass in front of his tombstone. It is also then that a pair of small hands comes up your face, hides the sight of Jeongguk from you, throwing you into a pitch-black darkness that instead of fear brings nothing but laughter.

“My, my, who is this? Could it be my little monkey, by any chance?”

Yoona’s laugh fills the air as you turn around and welcome her in your embrace to tickle her to the point of tears. Her eyes shine as she looks up at you and you can see so much of him in there sometimes it’s almost painful to look at her but today, today it serves as a reminder that you’ll always have a part of him right beside you, no matter what.

“I’m sorry, _______. I tried to buy you a little more time but she just wouldn’t sit still.”

Namjoon’s voice reaches you then and as you lift your eyes you watch him stand there with his apologetic smile, dimples in full display as he shakes his head while watching your daughter struggling under the torture of your fingers on her belly.

“It’s ok, don’t worry. I was done anyways.”

You smile at your kid, bump your nose together with hers and hug her tight to your chest. She’s your little miracle, the very last gift he left behind before turning into ash and when you thought all of you was gone, when you thought you’ll never be able to love anyone else anymore, she came your way and filled your heart with all the love of the world.

You hear Namjoon’s steps as he walks away, allowing you one last moment with the love of your life and this is just one thing more to add to the list you are immensely grateful to him for. At this point, you are convinced not even an entire lifetime will be enough for you to be able to repay him or thank him enough for all that he has done for you all these years.

“Are you ready to leave, baby?”

Yoona nods her head in excitement. She’s the adventurous type, just like her dad used to be, and the thought of seeing the outside world thrills her so much she could barely sleep last night. This place is all she’s ever known, all she’s ever seen but you told her about the world outside those high walls made of stone, you told her stories about faraway places that look nothing like the Refuge, you told her fairytales from your childhood but also memories of yourself, her grandparents, her father and now that this world she’s been dreaming about is suddenly within her grasp all she wants to do is reach her little arm out and grasp it with all her might.

“Are you sad, mommy?” Her little palm rests on your cheek and it is then that you realise a few tears have escaped your control once more. You quickly brush them away but that is not enough to bring the smile back on her lovely face, to erase the worried expression twisting her features. “Is it because of daddy?”

She turns around towards the tombstone then before reaching out her little arm to feel the characters that make out his name under her digits, just like you always do. You know she is caressing his face now, that she’s making sure he knows how much she loves him even though she has never seen his face before, even though she has never heard his voice before and all she can do is imagine, fantasize and dream about him.

“Will daddy be sad if we leave?”

Her voice is small and your heart breaks a little and oh, it takes all your strength to keep the tears from falling now, to hold the pain deep inside of you where she can’t see it. You tighten your grasp around her, rest your chin on her tiny little shoulder so that you can place soft kisses on her cheek and reassure her that it’s ok, that you’re going to be ok and that no matter what, he’ll always be right beside her and all she’ll ever need to do is close her eyes to see him and feel him all around her.

“No, baby girl. Daddy will always be with us, no matter where we go and he’s happy, so so happy we’re going on a little adventure.”

She smiles a little, nods her head a couple of times before diverting her gaze to the necklace around her neck. She grasps the feather with her tiny fingers, brings it to her lips to kiss it lovingly and then she turns to you and the storm seems to have passed, just like that.

“Because he’s right here, right?”

She brings the necklace towards your face and you nod a couple of times before pointing right to her heart, “And right here.”

Yoona smiles her brightest smile and untangles from your embrace in favour of the tombstone. You watch her throw her arms around the marble stone and hug it tight to her chest and then you hear her whisper her farewell words—Goodbye, daddy. I love you.—and oh, your heart breaks all over again in an instant. And you would break too, right then and there, if it weren’t for her little smile and for Namjoon’s voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We have to leave soon.”

His voice is apologetic and full of understanding and you offer him and your daughter a gentle smile as you finally rise up from your spot. Your baby throws her arms around your neck as you lift her up and warmth spreads through your body as you hug her closer to remind yourself why you are doing this, why you are leaving all of this behind. For Yoona.

Namjoon’s hand finds your shoulder then as he throws one of his arms around you and even though he doesn’t speak a single word, you hear all of the things he wishes he could say to you and when you look at him, you silently thank him over and over again like you have been doing every single day of these past few years.

But your last words in this place are not reserved for him, no, they are for Jeongguk and only for him to hear.

Goodbye, my love. I will always love you.

A gust of wind caresses your cheeks then and you smile at the bright sky above your head because deep down, you know this is him touching you and when you close your eyes, just for a second, you can hear his voice through the gentle breeze, whispering right inside your ears.

Don’t fear, my love. I’ll always be by your side. I love you.

Copyright © 2020 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. Do not repost, do not steal, do not translate without consent.

#goldenclosetnet #fwlbingo #ficswithluv #jungkook smut #bangtanhq #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jeongguk angst #bts angts #bts ff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts react

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

vi: i hate you but tell the team (bucky barnes x reader)

i hate you but masterlist

summary: bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)

word count: 1692

warnings: swearing, arguing, death, and this is not proofread

taglist is CLOSED

A/N: if ur the anon who requested a part 2 to no way, this is me letting u know it’s in progress dw :))

       “Aren’t you going to go after the other one?” Bucky questioned, staring at the door of the room where Ethan rushed into. y/n gave him a look, as though she too were contemplating if she should talk to Ethan or not, before shaking her head hesitantly and returning to her task at hand; getting Allie to keep her food in her mouth and off her hands.

       “With all due respect, Mister—wait, what’s your name again?” Olivia raised a brow as she tried to recall the same words her baby sister was yelling out again, “Mister Bucky, Ethan’s taking the news pretty hard and he’s stubborn. I don’t think he’d talk to Aunt y/n if she tried to,” Olivia exclaimed, eating a forkful of pancakes.

       “Well, maybe I can talk to him. Man-to-man, you know?” Bucky suggested jokingly. y/n gave him a stern look before shaking her head.

       “I’m not letting you talk to my nephew. Knowing you, you’d eradicate any chances I have of getting him to warm up to me so there is no way in hell you’re talking to him before I get to,” y/n chuckled.

       “You’re my teammate, how could you not trust me?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.

       “Aren’t you the teammate who cracked an egg on my shoe right when I was about to leave for a mission?” y/n questioned, easily recalling the events of last month’s mission.

       That day, Bucky was I charge of making breakfast and when y/n tried moving past Bucky to grab a protein bar from a cabinet, but he wouldn’t let her pass through. Annoyed, she stomped on his toe so she could reach the cabinet. Bucky didn’t really appreciate having his toe stomped on so in retaliation, he tossed an egg onto y/n’s combat boots.

       “It was hilarious!” Bucky exclaimed in his defense.

       “The rookies were laughing at me!” y/n rolled her eyes before tossing a spoonful of Allie’s baby food at his hair.

       “You were their S.O! If they laughed at you, you probably didn’t lecture them well enough on the consequences of laughing at a superior officer,” Bucky pointed out, recalling the times when he had to train a few SHIELD agents who ended up laughing at his manbun. Can you believe the audacity of those rookies?

       “Oh, and you know how to handle a situation any better?” y/n scoffed.

       “As a matter of fact, yes. I made them run twenty laps around the compound,” Bucky smirked proudly.

       “Oh? What were they laughing at you for? Being older than the exhibits at the Smithsonian?” y/n giggled.

       “No. They made fun of my hair,” Bucky frowned, running a hand through his dark brown locks. It was then, y/n broke out it a fit of heavy laughter.

       “God, I forgot you were worse than Thor when it comes to your hair obsession!” she exclaimed, recalling that time he got mad at her for borrowing his conditioner without his permission.

       “At least my hair doesn’t eat the hands of HYDRA agents,” Bucky shook his head. On a mission, one of the HYDRA agents y/n fought made an attempt to drag her by her hair. It did not end well when he realized his gloved hand was stuck in the endless jungle of knots known as y/n’s hair. Not once has Bucky even seen her run a brush through her hair in the compound!

       “Man, that glove was worse than bubble gum,” y/ frowned. The agent’s hand was stuck in her hair so she had to sit next to him on the ride back long enough for Doctor Cho to come up with the best way to remove his hand from her hair. Even after then, y/n still didn’t brush her hair before or after missions.

       “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you around,” Bucky waved off, grabbing his keys from the countertop before walking out the door.

       “I don’t think you will!” y/n joked out half-heartedly. God, taking care of four kids was more exhausting than taking down a whole HYDRA base. At least villains didn’t make a mess at her apartment like Allie and Jackson did.

       “Oh, so you’re a house aunt now?” Bucky stopped in his steps, leaning against the doorway.

       “I guess. Tell Sam not to call me onto missions if it’s not an emergency, please? Also, if you could explain this clusterf—” y/n stopped herself before she could swear in front of the kids, “—mess to the rest of the team, that would be great,” y/n smiled before feeding Allie her last spoon of baby food.

       “I can’t promise I won’t tell him you kidnapped the kids, though,” Bucky grinned before shutting the door and running down the hall, probably disrupting the residents. Everybody working and living on the compound knew y/n and Bucky would chase each other around the compound when one said something the other didn’t exactly appreciate.

       Which is why it shocked him when she never chased after him that day. Well, she was a busy woman, he shrugged it off and headed down the elevator.

       He drove his motorcycle to where the van was, adjusted the van seats, and slowly lifted his motorcycle in the van. It probably would have been more convenient for him if he’d just asked y/n to drive the van back to the compound rather than him having to haul his motorcycle into the van.

       When he was sure his motorcycle was safely placed in the van, Bucky got in the driver’s seat and drove to the compound; ready to tell Sam about his discovery.

       He parked the van, pulled his motorcycle out, parked that too, and headed into the main lounging area of the compound where he found Sam, Wanda, Clint, Rhodey, and Peter gathered around the TV. The moment the elevator dinged, letting his presence be known, all heads turned to him as though to ask where he’d been…or why he had baby food in his hair.

       “y/n has kids,” Bucky explained quickly, plopping down on the couch between Peter and Sam.

       “y/n? Kids? That’s funny, tell another one,” Wanda chuckled, popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth as her gaze was still fixated on the screen. At this point, she was used to having Bucky and y/n make up rumors about each other and she could not trust a word one would say about the other.

       “Wait, let me rephrase that. Sam, y/n told you she was taking a break because of a family emergency, right?” Bucky questioned, looking expectantly at Sam.

       “Well, yes, but I don’t see how that means y/n has ki—” Sam shook his head only to get interrupted by Bucky shushing him.

       “That family emergency was her sister died a few days ago and y/n got custody of four kids! Look, I know this isn’t easy to believe and shit, but y/n’s the legal guardian of two teenagers and two kids!” Bucky exclaimed, as if he himself could not believe what he’d just witnessed half an hour prior to that.

       “I’m pretty sure y/n didn’t take a break just so you could make up a rumor about her,” Wanda chuckled, shaking her head.

       “That’s the thing! They had a fight over breakfast and y/n was trying to make the little boy stop crying and then the baby started crying so I went over there to pick her up and god, I thought I killed the kid, but I didn’t. Then, she looked up at me with those big e/c eyes while screaming my name. God, that kid was adorable,” Bucky rambled on as though falling into a trance as he remembered the feeling of having someone so innocent look up at him with an emotion that wasn’t fear for once.

       “Assuming this actually happened, how the fuck did you find y/n? Didn’t she block any location tracking on her when we found her at that cooking class?” Clint questioned, raising a brow in disbelief.

       “I made FRIDAY look for my van and it was at y/n’s apartment place. She only let me in because she thought I was the gelato guy,” Bucky chuckled, shaking his head, “God, she looked so tired.”

       “Is there anything else y/n wanted to let us know? She promised we were going to watch all the Star Wars movies next week,” Peter frowned, hitching his feet up onto the table.

       “I’m pretty sure y/n has better things to worry about than a Star Wars marathon,” Sam shook his head in dismissal.

       “She did mention the fact that she’s still willing to go on missions as long as they’re important ones. Like some really ‘life-threatening where a lot of people could die’ type of shit,” Bucky explained with a shrug.

        “I still had no idea y/n had an apartment. I thought she lived on-base when I first met her,” Clint chuckled, shaking his head.

       “Am I the only other one here who’s been to her place?” Wanda’s brows furrowed in confusion.

       “Wait, you’ve been to her place? She told me she had some underground bunker she lives in because she was preparing for the zombie apocalypse and I kind of assumed that was a joke and she just lived here,” Peter shot up from his seat, staring at Wanda in disbelief.

       “Oh yeah, that too. I’ve been to both places. I even have a room in the bunker,” Wanda winked as Peter’s jaw dropped. He thought y/n was joking when she mentioned the underground bunker. I mean seriously, would you take someone seriously if they told you they had an underground bunker beneath central park?

       “Well, I guess if the compound gets compromised during an apocalypse, we know who to follow,” Clint broke out in a fit of laughter. After that, Bucky kind of just blanked out, not really knowing what else to say. It wasn’t as if he knew much about y/n besides the basics and what he’d discovered earlier.

       He leaned back into his chair before stealing Peter’s bucket of popcorn and watching whatever the Avengers decided they wanted to watch that afternoon, ignoring all the teenager’s complaints.

i hate you but taglist: @sarcastic-britt / @kmuir1 / @shower-me-with-roses / @justab-eautifulmess / @thomasthetankson / @x-abi-sharp-x / @intovert-gone-wild / @brittanymcsharry / @leaving-the-past-behind / @xoxabs88xox / @mylifeiscrazy0423 / @howliebucky / @i-cry-so-much​ / @witchything​ /   @naimalove143​ / @simplybarnes​ / @kseniiafirebrace​ / @buckybarnesishot310​ / @witchymarvelspacecase​ /

Forever tags: @spatium-viatorem​​​​ / @sxphiiwrld​​​​ / @strangersstranger​​​​ / @nerdy-bookworm-1998​​​ / @cutie1365​​​ / @valeriiaaass​​ / @adorkably​​ / @whatinthyworld​​ /

MARVEL TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae​​​

BUCKY TAGLIST: @missmidnightxo​​​ / @tinymalscoffee​​ / @howliebucky​​ /

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x teammate! reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #winter solider imagine #winter solider x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine

[a-wild-person]

I'm running out of fanfics to read and I am going to rant about it for way too long and probably recommending fics as I talk. (links on words)

That's it.

I've read so much fluff scrolling through the Tubbo & Ranboo tag AND the Tubbo / Ranboo tag (bless my soul as this tag is also home for smut, but really good fanfics hidden in the middle so yeah), like, so much of it.

And I grew bored of it. Yep. After 3 months, I'm starting to get bored. I can't handle Major Character Death and big big Angst, because at the very moment a character dies, it's all about grief and everything. I'm not solid enough for that. Like when Tubbo or Ranboo dies and the whole fanfic is after that? I read one where everything was going alright and awesome fanfic and then TUBBO DIED, I didn't notice the warning in the tags and I dropped the fic.

I read a fanfic yesterday about them coming back to the past and must I say it is very enjoyable. The thing with fluffy stories is you never get to see Tubbo act like his character, an ex-president, a soldier, someone quite powerful if I may say so. And this fic just does that. They give Tubbo charisma that I barely ever see anywhere else and now that I got it, I miss it. Or maybe I didn't really search it up enough but. Anyway. I have only praises for this fic, it's just, great, and I'll be waiting for it to update.

I didn't get into the Zombie Apocalsype AUs yet, maybe I should, but I'm really scared my favorite character end up dying because that would be ah. No. I'm dropping every fanfic where Ranboo dies.

The Vigilant AUs are very cool too, a bunch of them are too simple and the writing lacks some poetry to it and the story some passing for me to actually follow through it. I'd say most fanfics are too simple for my taste, the writing too blunt and too quick. "He does that. Then says that. Then does that." It doesn't have flavor, you know? I've read dozens of the same fanfic, I pretty much know what's going to happen.

That's why original ideas are something that I really enjoy. A piece of new, something fresh, a new concept.

The series where Ranboo is a ghost may be the one I am really intrigued into. I didn't think it would be that much Angst, but the fact that we're following Ranboo's ghost point of view help me stomach the fact that he's dead. It's just so, so, so intriguing. I really wish to see the rest of the story. I need to know what happened to Ranboo. I read it twice and it messed me up a little for a whole day.

Vigilant AU's as I say, are very similar to each other and quite enjoyable. I read too many to recommend any in particular, but I love when there is a twist and the passing is quite slow. In this particular AU the BenchTrio oftentimes gets adopted/outed way too quickly to my liking or are way too Tommy-centric to my liking. Dirty Crime Boys is a really good exemple, and that was the first one I read back in early July and one of the few I actually remember and do not confuse with others. Didn't feel too rushed. In a similar vein, this fic is a goldmine. It is painfully slow, the passing is incredibly slow and it is awesome. Everything is described to T but isn't useless either. You feel connected to the character and everything is clear and I need more.

And they are Human Experimentations. I have a thing for this trope, I don't know why, like I have a thing for the SCP AUs. I don't know, I've talked about it before, but Ranboo being an experimentation out of a lab? Hell yeah I'm reading. This one is one of my favorite. Ranboo is clueless, he's kinda there and confused as hell. He's able to teleport and it's a very rare thing, maybe unique and has been kidnapped and now is bonding with Tommy and Tubbo in incredible circumstances. he was in Tubbo's locker because he teleported there to hide. Best thing ever.

That leads me to my newt favorite trope, the Ranboo Monster/Criptid/SCP trope. He's tall, he's powerful, probably drops on all four to run, way too powerful, and clueless because he's been either A. not human and hasn't really interacted with them or B. has grown in fucked up situations. Like, a fighting ring. I think this is my favorite, from like, all of the fanfictions. With EnderSmile, as a treat.

Unfortunately, I cannot go fetch the ones I am not subcribed to, like one-shots, or completed fanfics, but do know that there exist a long one-shot around 14 000 words where Ranboo is an escaped SCP that just hung out by Tuboo and it's awesome.

As we are with the Endersmile subject (Dream and Ranboo if you don't know) Path of a Golden Green, which just is newly completed and I followed the story almost from the start, it's incredible. Dream hung up his mask after escaping prison and Ranboo stumbles on him not knowing it's Dream and they bond. Recommend 100%. Beautiful writing.

There's a couple fanfics that sound incredible but that I deem not enough developped for me to actually recommend, like the Beeduo being two married villains doing crime but it only has like one actual chapter about them so. But the promise is really big.

Oh! (I say, scrolling through my subcriptions looking for which ones I actually really love). This is great. Centered around enderwalking Ranboo that is quite like a clueless kitten with a really well-done development around his pearl, and very beautiful writing and descriptions of how his pearl buzz. A pearl of a fanfic, if I may say so. Plus, Beeduo. I love Beeduo. I read way too many fluffy one-shots about them to actually remember any in particular. Way too many.

I read some Ranboo adoption arc by Philza and Technoblade and this one is my favorite, because it's slow and it is really well written and described and it really feels like Ranboo is an ex-slave. It's also fluffy, and I think you're starting to understand as you read through this terrible post that I like fluff.

A little.

Maybe?

I also read a couple Techno & Dream fanfics, but I don't really remember any in particular.

So I'm starting to think I should start reading actual Angst, because I'd really like to see charismatic characters doing cool things now. Like murder. I need to find a fanfic where Techno goes on a rampage. Just for the sake of it.

There was this one-shot where Ranboo was enderwalking (somewhere in the enderwalking ranboo tag before June, maybe May or April) and crept on Tubbo around all the mansion and ended up killing Micheal then him, and that was a blast. Terrifying, but absolutely awesome.

I think I love reading a tad too much. Man, I really wish every fanfic was as well-written as the ones I'm recommending. Too many have a cruel lack a passing, everything goes too fast, it lacks emotions, it lacks poetry. I'm never going to blame writers for writing because it's super cool, experienced or not, but man. Good writing is a real treat when you come across one.

Alright. Angst it is now, I guess. I will try. No fluff. Charismatic characters, please.

#ranboo fanfic #dream smp fanfiction #fanfic rec #anyway #random rant #this is a way too long post

[cranehusbands]

null and voided

Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Wraith | Renee Blasey; voidwalker timeline; hurt/comfort; voidwalker/whitelisted; apex rarepair week; 1563 words

a/n: and here’s where i show you just how unhinged i am.

SO. FOR CONTEXT. me and a friend (it’s mr tumblr user the-goolings, nate) have an au/plotline for the voidwalker timeline seen in wraith’s original story short, with voidwalker being... voidwalker, and her guy in the chair helping her out is crypto, who is originally in his hired gun skin variant before being captured by the syndicate and like... half-cyborged? before he escaped to wait for her while she went about with her revenge. it’s fucked! but anyways they make me feel and they’re in LOVE. please ask me more about this au if you’re so inclined i have. a lot

a very late day 6 for @apex-rarepairweek, hurt/comfort! 

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: Renee pushed away some of the schematics for the parts in his chest cavity, folding her arms across the dining table and resting her head on top of him, turning to keep an eye on him as he was sleeping… no, as he was shut off. He was hardly human, he’d said so himself, he didn’t sleep. ...But that wasn’t right, was it. He still lived, and felt, just as she did, and although he didn’t breathe and eat he still existed by her side like he always did, and that was as human as it got, right? [...] “God, Tae, how did this happen?” 

The only sounds echoing through the apartment were the loud contact of metal on metal, small curses and larger ones, and electricity crackling between two loose wires with a frustrated grumble. Old Chinese food boxes laid strewn around the apartment, old clothes discarded without a second thought, a blanket thrown over the couch like a makeshift bed, and the dining table taken over with tools and schematics, first person pronouns littering the notes of parts and functions. The radio at one end of the table quietly played the news, news of wars and violence that was just white noise against the gentle scraping of metal.

 Renee cursed to herself again, slamming the screwdriver back down on the table as she sat up and rolled her shoulder, scowling a little. She was learning this as she was going along, which was hard when the handwriting on your only guide was illegible most of the time. Running a hand down her face, her fingers parted for a moment, and she dared to steal a glance down at the body resting on the sofa that she’d dragged into the dining room, at the way the metal reflected the synthetic lights, how peaceful he looked, like a… fucked up, cyborg sleeping beauty, eyes closed and chest wide open, exposing the wires and components that kept him alive. How her friend, her partner, her lover, Taejoon Park, was sitting there, half human and half machine, and how she was repairing him for the third time that week.

 Getting back to their timeline had been a mess. She’d done what they’d been fighting for all this time, saving herself from another dimension in her place, barely surviving by the skin of her teeth. Sometimes she could still feel the blood of the man who had ruined her life splashing onto her face, remembering the feeling of his skull as it marbled in her grip with every bash against the wall, and she couldn’t tell if that felt good or not. But what didn’t feel good was stumbling back into their own quiet, secluded apartment, practically tripping through a portal, delirious from blood loss, leaning a shoulder up against the wall as she shook off the heavy gear and dragged her blood along the paint, and seeing a man who seemed so familiar but still so strange rushing to meet her, staring at her as if he was an illusion. She wondered if that was just what he was - he looked like Taejoon, looked at her like he used to, lips parting in the same way as he brought a hand up to her face to hold her, but his touch was cold, metallic and unwelcoming, but all the same, it was him, surely?

 The way his nightmares haunted him, and the way he gripped for her in his sleep as if she would leave him, all but confirmed it.

 It was the Syndicate, he’d said. Got to him when he was gone. Tortured him, barely kept him alive, involuntarily entered him into a simulacrum program, where he escaped with the last of his humanity and had been living in isolation for months before she’d gotten home. He didn’t sleep, or eat - he didn’t need to, not anymore. He just listened to the sounds of his own parts functioning, and wondered what it would be like to hear them stop. He’d taken down all the mirrors, covered the windows and any other reflections, making sure that he didn’t have to see himself, and what he was forced to become. Tried to find Mila by himself, he’d said, but he kept flipping between hopelessness and sheer mania, trashing the apartment before fixing it again to trash it again. All while she was dimensions away, totally unaware that the man who helped her get this far was barely hanging on, waiting for her to come home.

 It wasn’t her fault. Not by any means, and Taejoon had told her as much. But now that what she’d made her life’s purpose was just another page in the book of her personal history, it was all she could think about. Renee pushed away some of the schematics for the parts in his chest cavity, folding her arms across the dining table and resting her head on top of him, turning to keep an eye on him as he was sleeping… no, as he was shut off. He was hardly human, he’d said so himself, he didn’t sleep. ...But that wasn’t right, was it. He still lived, and felt, just as she did, and although he didn’t breathe and eat he still existed by her side like he always did, and that was as human as it got, right? She let out a sigh, shaking as she did so, biting her lip as her eyes started to well with tears, continuing to watch him and remembering the times he’d fall asleep, just like this, at his desk, working for hours for her sake and his own, as she’d wrap a blanket over his shoulder and ruffle his hair with a gentle kiss to the temple-

“God, Tae, how did this happen?” She whispered to herself, breaking down and turning her head away to sob against her forearm, unable to stop herself, her whole body shaking with the force of it, bottled up day in and day out of repairs. Had she let him down? What had they become? Zombies, searching for truth and revenge, the syndicate one step in front with a knife behind their back. She’d gotten revenge in one dimension, but what about the countless others she saw in her sleep, the voices that followed her everywhere and the void that beckoned for soulless company-

 She held in a breath at the familiar whining sound of servo’s releasing locked up air, fans kicking in as a single robotic eye looked around, making noise with every movement. Renee rubbed her eyes against her arm before she sat up, forcing a light smirk. “Hey. I’m not finished, why’d you-”

“Forced startup. Syndicate slave code.” Even now, it was hard to get used to the slight crackle in his voice as he spoke, as he moved his hand to point to the back of his neck.

“We gotta get that fixed.”

“...Have you been crying?”

She froze. “I- no, it’s nothing-”

“Renee…”

“Don’t ‘Renee’ me, Tae.” She almost snapped, not wanting the pity, before she felt herself deflate. “I said it’s nothing, OK?”

She listened to the way his cybernetic eye moved to look her up and down, moving his hands to support himself as he slowly sat up. “Wait, no, I’m not-”

“Quiet.”

“What- no, let me finish my work first.”

He closed up his ribcage with a light click, looking up to her as she rolled her eyes. “There. No more work.”

“That’s only going to wreck itself later, and you’re going to complain, you know that, right?”

“I don’t matter right now. All that matters is you.”

Though she slightly softened, Renee opened her mouth to speak again, only cutting herself off as he put a hand against her cheek - it was cold, but still so warm, and full of love, as he ran a hand across her cheek.

Taejoon moved his hand up to across her freshly shaven (another bad episode with the void, instinctive) head - the metal was cold against her skin, enough to make her flinch a little, but she stayed, almost leaning into it like a cat would, as he gave her a tired smile, moving his hand to hold her face, fingers still stroking what little hair was above her ears. “Kiwi…”

Renee paused, opening her eyes and cocking an eyebrow as she held onto his wrist. “Did… you just call me a kiwi?”

“Mhm… you’re soft and fuzzy.”

She looked at him, chuckling and scoffing a little, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you. Remind me never to cry about you again.”

“Noted. I would never want you to, regardless.”

“But you know I will. We’re just made that way.”

Taejoon hummed, looking down, almost defeated. 

She sighed and pressed her forehead against his, touching what little of his skin was left, listening to the way his eyes closed and gears kicked into overdrive at the soft physical contact, chuckling to herself. “I love you, Tae.”

“Yeah… yeah. I love you too.”.

 “We’re gonna be OK, I promise.” Her voice was quieter now, only for her entire world, as she opened her eyes to look at him, almost blinded by his as he looked back at her.

“As long as we’re together, I don’t think we’ll ever be OK.” Despite himself, Taejoon laughed, her voice gaining that familiar crackle to it as he moved his hand down from her head to her shoulder. “But I suppose… that’s just fine with me.”

Renee moved herself back a little to go in again, moving in to plant a kiss against his lips, slow and deliberate. He was cold to the touch but warm with the love and care for her he felt with every fiber of his being, both what little of him remained and everything that had been replaced, as he returned the kiss, the bells and whistles all going off in harmony as she chuckled into the kiss they shared, feeling a gentle slap against her arm.

#apex legends #apex rarepair week #cryptwraith #crypto #wraith #apex legends tag #dahl.doc

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Beautiful In Your Skin

Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader, the other members of the BAU

Word Count: 1,406

Warnings: fluff, hating the way you look angst

request by @reminiscing-writer​: Could you maybe do one where the readers eyes are like really (really) bad, but she only plucked up the courage to get them checked after she got w Spence, and because of her bad eyes, she has to wear glasses, but she only does so when she’s not around Reid. Cuz she’s like super self conscious about them and thinks she looks nerdy or old. (I got my glasses in today and I am no excited to wear them :/ need some courage lol)

Summary: You hate your new glasses, but Spencer makes you comfortable in your skin.

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

Spencer is already at work which calms your nerves when you wake up. Living with him has been a nightmare for reasons not that common. He is such a great boyfriend, and you couldn’t have asked for a better person to live with. He is always so thoughtful not to wake you when he gets up to go to work (he likes to go in extra early to get more stuff done). He makes you laugh, and you’re always excited to go home with him after every day. The reason it’s a nightmare is because you can’t fucking see.

You’ve always had bad eyesight, but you’ve ignored it until recently when things started getting more blurrier and less focused. Without him knowing, you got contacts to use, and they work like a goddess… until you ran out. Your eyesight must have gotten worse with your corrected lenses which is why you have to wear the glasses that came in last night. It sucks not being able to see, but it sucks even more to wear glasses.

They make you look so dorky, and you’re afraid once Spencer gets a look at you with them on, he’ll no longer see you as attractive and kick you out of the apartment and his life. Now, the rational side of your brain tells you that he would never behave that way, and you know it’s right. However, your anxiety is telling you a completely different story, and you’re more inclined to listen to that side.

Everything around you is blurry, and you squint to try and see what is in front of you to prevent tripping and breaking something. Your hands were out in front of you like a zombie, desperate to cling onto something solid that won’t move or take you down with it. It’s a struggle to get dressed, but you manage to make it to the bus stop on time. There is no way you were going to drive with vision like yours. You took your glasses just in case, but you don’t plan on wearing them at all. Just pretend like everything is fine, and no one will suspect a thing.

Getting to work was a bit of a struggle, but you make it into the office with five minutes to spare. Spencer is already at his desk, and his face brightens when he sees you. He gets up and greets you, expecting a kiss from you. Thinking he was more to the right than he actually is, you miss his lips and end up planting on at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asks and pulls away.

“Yeah, fine,” you chuckle.

You reach up and grab his cheeks to make sure you know where he is and run your thumb over his bottom lip. Now that you have more confidence in yourself, you plant one on his lips and grin at yourself for getting it right.

“I love you,” you smile.

“I love you too,” he says with a bit of confusion.

You head over to your desk since there is a mountain of paperwork ahead of you. There is no case today, or at least, you hope not so you can put all of your energy into this one thing. Being out in the field with your vision is a bad thing, and then surely everyone will know you wear glasses. Instead, you’re glad that paperwork is calling your name.

The entire morning is spent filling out paperwork and placing them to the side for Hotch to review later. Spencer’s desk is right next to yours, so he has a good view of everything that you’re doing. When one file is done (not so neatly), you grab the stapler and puncture the edge. Since your vision is corrupted, you couldn’t see exactly where the staple ended up. Sometimes, half of the metal is sticking out of the side of the papers.

Spencer watches in confusion. You’ve never acted this way before, so why were you doing it now? When your pile of files got too big, you took the stack and headed over to Hotch’s office to drop them off. As you went to turn, you trip over the wheels of your chair, knocking it into your bag which exposes the contents. Not knowing your glasses were in full view of anyone who looks at it, you walk to the stairs. You actually miss the first step, and Spencer watches the entire ordeal. He is so confused until he looked at your bag. A lightbulb goes off in his head as he puts the pieces together.

Why weren't you wearing your glasses? When did you get glasses? Were you always wearing contacts? How come he didn't know this about you? Why were you trying to hide it? The straw that broke his back is when you bump into a concrete post and say, “excuse me”. When you enter Hotch’s office, he quickly snatches your glasses from your purse to bring it up later. He is going to get to the bottom of this mystery.

Turns out there is a case, but it came late due to poor judgment of Atlanta PD. They didn’t think they were dealing with a serial killer until more bodies started popping up, they finally requested the help of the BAU when they couldn't figure out who was doing it and why. As a favor to everyone else, you were cleaning up the briefing room to get it ready.

Spencer walks in the room just as you laid out the last file. JJ is out of the office because she’s sick, so you are going to present the case this time.

“Hey,” Spencer says softly.

“Hey,” you smile.

“I don’t know about you, but I think you need to wear these,” he states and holds up your glasses case.

You look up, but he’s too far away for you to see what’s in his hands. You don’t want to squint because then he’ll know you have terrible eyesight. He understands what you might be thinking, so he takes your glasses out of the case and places them on your face. Almost immediately, you turn away from him in embarrassment.

“What the hell are you going through my bag for?” you ask angrily and take off the glasses.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I noticed you stapling papers wrong and bumping into concrete posts and saying, ‘excuse me’. Y/N, why didn’t you tell me you needed glasses to see?”

“It’s none of your business,” you say with your back still turned to him.

“Please look at me,” he sighs. You comply and do as he asks but keep the glasses off. “Put on the glasses.”

“No,” you whisper.

“Why not?”

“I’m afraid you’ll leave me when you see how ugly I look with them on.”

“Do you really think that low of me? That I’ll do something like that?” he asks, clearly offended.

“No,” you sag your shoulders in defeat, “but my anxiety seems to think so. Spencer, I look dorky with these glasses on. I had contacts, but they ran out. I have to wear these until I get new ones.”

“I bet you look beautiful with them on.”

“Clearly you haven’t seen them on me.”

“Can I? It’s just the two of us here.”

“And what about when the rest of the team comes in? Derek always teases you based on how you look. Why wouldn’t he do the same to me?”

“Derek doesn’t mean any harm by it. And, if he does, I’ll tell him to stop. Please, Y/N. You can’t go on without your sight. It’s dangerous.”

“I know,” you sighed. Because there is no one else in the room, you decide to show him what you look like with them on. He’ll see it eventually, and you’d rather get it over with now. You put the glasses on, but you couldn’t look at him in fear of what might lie in his eyes.

“Oh wow,” he breathes softly.

“What?” you ask, deciding that it’s better to rip the band-aid off.

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to get more beautiful.”

It’s safe to say you never went back to contacts because Spencer made you feel beautiful in your own skin. You still think you look like a dork, but you’re Spencer’s dork which is all that matters.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fiction #reid x reader #reid fanfic #reid fanfiction #reid fan fiction #reid fic #reid fiction #reid fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fiction #cm #cm fic #cm fiction #cm fanfiction #cm fan fiction #cm fanfic #cm fan fic

[let-it-raines]

Storybrooke Haunted Farms

“Want to be chased through a corn maze? Take a ride in a trailer full of hay in the middle of the woods? Play paintball with zombies? Explore a haunted ghost ship? If this sounds like fun to you, come to Storybrooke Haunted Farms where the fun is cheap and the thrills are terrifying. Open from October 1st - October 31st.”

Emma Swan has been working at Storybrooke Haunted Farms for the past four years, and she’s done everything from work the haunted hayride to chasing paying customers through a corn maze with a fake chainsaw. It’s always been a good way for her to make a little extra cash for the holidays for her son, and it’s most likely the best time she’s ever had working.

That is until her assignment changes and she’s made to work on the pirate ship exhibit with Killian Jones, quite possibly the most obnoxious man alive.

Rating: Teen-ish

A/n: I told myself that I didn't have time to write a Halloween story, but then my brain was like “what if” and I figured I’d do something for @cshalloweek​ even if this doesn’t really fit a theme. So here we are! I hope you have a spook-tacular time reading 🎃

Found on AO3 | HERE |

Tagging: @captainsjedi @wellhellotragic @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods@idristardis @karenfrommisthaven  @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81

-/-

Laces tighten around Emma’s back, and her breath hitches as her lungs are very literally constricted from the corset that’s being tightened to cinch her waist and push her breasts up several inches higher than they should ever be.

The money may not be worth this.

There’s another tug, and Emma gasps as she leans forward to curl her fingers around the edge of the antique vanity in front of her, her eyes squeezing shut as she imagines herself to be literally anywhere else.

Anywhere.

And she hasn’t even had to put on the skirts or the top or had her hair pinned back so that bobby pins are sticking into the back of her neck to give her a headache.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps before clenching her teeth as yet another lace is tightened, “it’s too tight. I’m not going to be able to breathe.”

“You’ll become accustomed to it. I promise. It’s really not that bad.”

“You only say that because you’re not wearing one, which is complete and utter bullshit by the way.”

Mary Margaret sighs behind Emma as she tugs again, and Emma’s eyes fly open so that she can see her face in the mirror. And her boobs. And an unnaturally tiny waist. This is not normal, and there’s no way that she’s going to become accustomed to it.

“You know I don’t make the decisions on the costumes. That is completely and totally out of my hands.”

“Your mother owns the place.”

“Step,” Mary Margaret corrects. “Step-mother. She owns it.”

“Yeah, but your mom owned it first. It was her brain child, and I feel like you should get some say in what costumes and attractions people get to work in. I wore jeans and a plaid shirt last year, Marg. I’m having to wear a full-on corset and medieval dress this year. How the hell am I supposed to run?”

There’s a final tug, and Emma almost pops out of the corset. “I don’t think you are. I mean, the haunted ship is our newest attraction, and it’s not going to be like the hayride or the corn maze. There’s not a lot of running after people. It’s more like jump scares.”

“But I hate jump scares.”

“You like the money, and you fit into the costumes we ordered. If you really hate it, I’ll see if you can get put on the rotation for the zombie paintball.”

“I would rather walk around this place in nothing but my underwear than be a team member for zombie paintball.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It takes another fifteen minutes for Emma to fully get into the costume. There are layers to it, far too many skirts than should ever be necessary, but it’s apparently some kind of authentic costume for a bar wench that would serve pirates in whatever century is being depicted on the ship. Emma doesn’t know, and she doesn’t really care about historical accuracy. All she cares about is the fact that every night for all of October, she’s going to be putting on fifteen layers of a dress and a corset and having her hair teased to look like it hasn’t been brushed in days. At least her makeup is relatively normal.

If smearing mascara down her cheeks and powdering her face to make her look paler than usual is normal.

At least they’re not doing her hair or her makeup today. Just this dumb costume.

Leaving the trailer where the costumes are kept, Emma makes her way outside as a gust of chilled air moves over her, causing goosebumps to immediately rise on the exposed parts of her skin. At least her legs won’t be cold with all of their layers. The rest of her might just freeze to death, however.

It’s only September right now, but from experience Emma knows just how miserable October nights are when not wrapped up in coats and scarves and the warmest knit cap that Emma owns. With how things are now, she knows that this year is going to be even more miserable.

Sucking it up, Emma kicks her leg forward to give herself more space to move, and she follows the pathway in the woods down to get down to the pier. The leaves have already started to change colors, most of them beginning to fall to the ground, and they crunch underneath her feet as she follows the familiar path. There are men up in the trees setting up rigging and hanging props, and she spots Jeff hooking up the speaker system that plays throughout the grounds for music and in rare cases, emergency announcements. Emma has only heard of children getting separated from their parents in her time here, but she does know that there was once an issue with a chainsaw and someone’s foot.

That’s why everyone has to sign waivers now – employees and customers alike.

Welcome to Storybrooke Haunted Farms: The Scariest Place in Maine.

Emma’s been working here for the past four years. It’s a seasonal job, only half of September for training and costume fittings and the month of October for actual work, but it pays better than being a waitress at Granny’s does all year. It’s a great atmosphere working there, but the tips are not great unless she gets one of the good shifts. She needs more money than she’s getting, and scaring the shit out of people isn’t a bad gig.

Well, it wasn’t when she was hopping up onto a moving trailer full of hay and people and frightening the people who were screaming the loudest as well as those who were quietly shaking in fear. The haunted hayride through the woods is by far the least terrifying attraction that they have here, but it’s definitely the most fun for employees to work. Then again, Emma loved working in the corn mazes where people paid her to chase after them with a chainsaw (fake) or in the set that was made to look like an abandoned hospital wing. Though, in that last one she had to wear one of those awful slutty nurse’s costumes, and heels, and that was difficult to move around in as well.

Not like this costume though.

She keeps having to kick her legs to not trip over the stone pathway as the thatch of trees thins out and the ocean comes into view, salt thickening in the air and the sun shining a little brighter down onto her skin. And there, in all of its glory, is a massive ship with tall white sails that are currently being sliced up and painted to look battered as fake moss is added to the sides of the dark wood. None of this will be noticed in the dark, of course, but Regina is nothing if not excessive in her decorations. Anything to make more money when she doesn’t exactly need it.

At least she never shows up to the actual site. That would be more of a nightmare than any of the attractions.

(It’s also how she’s going to get out of having to wear this costume every day.)

“Emma,” a voice calls out, and she twists around to look at Graham Humbert standing with several planks of wood over his shoulder like that’s not big deal.

“Hey,” she greets, not really stepping closer for fear of getting accidentally knocked out. “What do they have you building today?”

“The bridge to the ship. She’s a beauty, don’t you think? Are you working on her this year?”

“What gave it away?” Emma reaches down to grab at the sides of her skirts, picking them up before letting them fall down with enough power that leaves scatter beneath her. “I don’t exactly know my role yet, but they’ve got me in this costume for it. I wish we could do dress rehearsals in normal clothes.”

His eyes flicker up and down her body, and instinctively, she wants to reach up to cover her chest. However, she knows that will just make her boobs looks bigger, and as nice as Graham is, she’s simply not as interested in dating him as he is with her. He’s more of a friend to her than anything, and he’s a really good influence in Henry’s life. If she were to date him, she’d just fuck things up and make him no longer want to spend time with Henry. That’s what happens every time she gets involved with anyone.

“Authenticity, I believe,” Graham finally says back, his eyes landing on her face. “I think it’ll be a fun attraction to work. I’ll have to come by and check it out once you guys open.”

“Is the Sheriff really supposed to pay to be scared by other people?”

“It’s a fun time. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t come here at least once a year.”

“Well,” Emma starts, already the slightest bit uncomfortable with the way that Graham is swaying closer to her with the wood, “thank you for your contribution that goes toward my son’s Christmas gifts. I’ve got to go to rehearsals now. Make sure that this bridge is steady so I’m not falling into the ocean, okay?”

Graham salutes her before she’s stepping away from him and heading down to the docks, nearly tripping over her dress and the uneven ground. If this continues, she’s going to the costume department and getting a pair of pants to work in. Pants would definitely be better than this.

People are already milling around down here, most of them in tattered pirate costumes with cups of Starbucks in their hand, and while she recognizes a few of them, most are new to her and must not frequent Granny’s too often or only come during Ruby’s shifts at night so that Emma would have never run into them. She recognizes Will Scarlet, though, and she waves to him before turning to take a shaky step up onto the ship where she comes face to face with a man dressed in all black leather with a red vest that’s nearly unbuttoned all the way to his navel.

What in the world?

Emma trips again on a piece of loose board before catching herself and looking up past the dark chest hair and skull and bones silver charms only to a stubble-covered jaw that belongs to a man with some of the bluest eyes that she’s ever seen. He must have gone through makeup today because his eyes are lined with black eyeliner and his hair is messily coiffed, and Emma feels the slightest bit of fire stir in her belly that she immediately tampers down.

Who the hell is that?

“You okay there, lass?”

Emma almost stumbles again at the deep timber of his voice, and she is definitely asking if she can get an alternate costume that includes pants. This is ridiculous.

“I’m fine,” she huffs, brushing her hands against her skirts and turning away from him. “It’s this damn costume. I’m so uncomfortable.”

“Your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear”

“Ha,” Emma scoffs as her eyes roll and her mind immediately decides that she hates this guy. Who is he to try to joke around and compliment her? She doesn’t even know him. “You’re hysterical. Is the abundant amount of cleavage you have showing your choice or the company’s?”

“A combination of both.” He uncrosses his arms and his legs and steps forward so that he’s back in her space. A chill runs down her spine as the ship rocks beneath them. “I’m not particularly modest.”

“I assumed.” “What about you, love?”

“Not your love, and what about me?”

“Is the amount of cleavage your choice?”

Emma curls her hands into fists and turns to look at this obnoxious man who is way too comfortable with her, and the smirk on his lips does nothing to lessen the hatred that’s simmering beneath her skin. “It is obviously not my choice.”

“It’s a pity nothing can be done about that.” He sticks his hand out in front of her, and she almost laughs before she realizes that he’s serious. Begrudgingly, she reaches forward and takes his hand in hers. “Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

“Swan,” he repeats back, his tongue visibly running behind the back of his teeth. Is it possible to hate someone so much within one-hundred and twenty seconds of meeting them? “I like it.”

“Oh, well, if you like it, I guess I’ll have to keep it forever, won’t I?”

Killian winks, and she imagines him having to wear a corset so tight that he can’t breathe too. It’s a weird form of torture, but it’s all she can focus on right now. Obviously the blood can’t reach her brain right now, and there’s only so long she can live like this.

She’s got at least six weeks.

Shit.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, most likely to tell him to go screw himself but in less friendly terms, but then there’s a loud clap from across the deck where David is standing on top of a barrel with a clipboard in hand. He was made to be a detective and a cruise director all at once. Emma doesn’t think that he married Mary Margaret simply so that he could be a part of the Blanchard-Mills Storybrooke Haunted Farms legacy, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was part of the initial appeal.

Holidays are kind of a big deal in this town, and being in love with them is pretty much a requirement for living here. If they (whoever they are) find out that you don’t buy flowers for Valentine’s Day or candy for Halloween, they have the power to kick you out.

Probably not, but Emma has heard rumors. This is the best place she’s ever lived, and she’s not really a big fan of the thought of having to leave. Henry wouldn’t be either. He’s too in love with Ruby for him to want to leave.

“Okay,” David starts, his voice louder than the sound of a hammer hitting against wood and a saw cutting down the beams for the bridge between the docks and the ship. “So welcome aboard the Storybrooke Haunted Farms team. We’re excited to have you here, whether or not you’re new or have worked for us before, and my wife and I want you all to remember that while we want you to scare the ever-loving shit out of people, we also want you to have fun. But also to be safe. If you haven’t signed a waiver, please see Belle to my right to sign your forms.”

People shuffle across the dock over to Belle, and she begins handing out papers as Emma shifts her weight to one side, trying to put as much distance between she and Killian Jones as possible. He’s got to be one of those obnoxious people who thinks his looks can excuse his actions, and she is not here for that. But she’s also not here for causing issues at work before it even really starts, so she doesn’t want to make it too obvious that she’s moving away from him.

“So, this our newest attraction,” David continues with his arm outstretched to show off the ship, “and you guys are going to be our guinea pigs, so please bear with us on any issues or problems running it. We’re counting on you guys to notice problems and report them, so if you see a way we need to improve, don’t be scared to ask. Only our customers are supposed to be scared around here.”

There’s an awkward laugh that emits from everyone. It’s really a shame that David isn’t a dad yet because he’s already got the jokes down.

“Now, after all of our waivers are signed, Belle and I are going to hand out your roles before we start practice out here. We’ve got two weeks before opening, and while that’s not a lot of time, I know that you’ll all get the hang of things.”

“The Nolans are quite the optimistic bunch, aren’t they?” Killian questions, his breath hot as he leans into her ear. She jumps away, this time visibly putting space between them, and if someone doesn’t smack the smirk off his face before the end of October, Emma is doing it the day she gets her final paycheck.

“How do you know the Nolans?”

“Dave went to the Police Academy with my older brother.”

Great. That means Killian is here as some kind of friend to David, and Emma is going to have to be nice to him. This feels a hell of a lot like when she tells Henry to be nice to his classmates even when half of them are six-year-old devils.

She’s a really good mom, obviously.

“How do you know them, love?”

“Not your love,” Emma repeats as she steps away from him and moves to where Belle and David are handing out paperwork. “And they’re pretty popular in the town. Everyone knows them.”

“Well, I’m new to town, so I guess I’ll have to get used everyone who is popular  in town.”

“Okay.”

At that, she tries to dodge out of his way, but that’s a bit difficult when it’s a small area crowded with dozens of people all headed into the same direction, so he’s constantly at her heels. At least he’s not talking any longer, but it’s almost like there’s this overwhelming presence following her around, like he’s peering over her shoulder and waiting for her to slip up or fall into the charms that he very obviously thinks that he has.

“Emma,” David smiles when she walks up to him. The annoyance she’s felt from Killian fades away, if only for fifteen seconds, at the sound of a familiar voice who isn’t going to annoy her or try to flirt with her. “Your costume looks fantastic.”

“You know, that’s what I said, mate, but she didn’t seem to like my compliment too much.”

David’s eyes glance at her before fliting behind her to look at Killian, and from the smile that’s still on his face, Emma can tell that he does, indeed, know Killian Jones.

Of course.

“Do you two know each other?” David asks.

“No,” Emma blurts out.

“We just met a few minutes ago,” Killian explains as he bumps his shoulder into hers like they’re old pals. “I think we might be fast friends, me and Swan.”

Emma can’t hold back her scoff, even when David’s eyes slant at her. “Yeah,” Emma sighs as her hand moves behind her to slap Killian’s back, “fast friends. That’s exactly how I would describe the two of us.”

Her stomach drops, which really doesn’t help anything when the corners of David’s lips turn up and stretch all the way up to his eyes.

“That’s actually perfect.”

“And why’s that?”

-/-

“He has me playing some kind of damsel in distress,” Emma huffs out as she paces back and forth in the kitchen of her apartment, a glass of wine in her hand that she really wishes had more alcohol in it. “I mean, it’s not technically a damsel in distress, but it pretty much is. I have to work with this jackass who thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips with his pirate costume and deep accent and the way that he swaggers across the deck, and the two of us have to act like some kind of old-timey couple on the bow of the ship pretending that we’re in love and having a fight to distract everyone from the people sneaking up behind them before he’s pushing me off the side of the boat.”

“What’s a jackass?” Henry asks her from his seat on the couch in the living room, and Emma immediately reaches her free hand up to cover her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have said that, kid,” Emma apologizes, flashing him a smile as Ruby snickers from her spot sitting on the counter. “That’s not a word we use. I’m sorry.”

Henry shrugs his shoulders and goes back to watching his Ninja Turtles Show. There’s no reason she should have such a good kid, but the universe obviously decided that she needed some kind of good luck.

By far the best thing ever to happen to her even if the circumstances of her pregnancy sucked.

“Is it really that bad, though?” Emma’s head snaps back over to Ruby to see her tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, I saw this guy when he got into town. He’s apparently moving here and staying at Granny’s until he gets an apartment. He’s not a bad looking guy, Ems. In fact, I would say that he’s attractive. How bad can it be to be paid to flirt with him while he’s wearing all kinds of leather and eyeliner and looking sinful?”

“I am hooked up to a rigging system and get thrown off the side of the boat.”

“Okay, granted, that part is bad, but it’s not all bad. You literally used to have to run for hours a night with a chainsaw to scare people. This is much better.”

“I don’t think you understand how bad this guy is.”

Ruby arches a perfectly manicured brow and tilts her wine glass to her lips. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“I usually don’t.”

Ruby’s eyes look over to Henry, and that’s when Emma knows that she really  doesn’t want to hear what Ruby is going to say. “Henry is how old? Six?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re twenty-four, correct?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve had one boyfriend since he was born, right?”

“It’s been more than one.”

Ruby holds up her hand and bends one finger back before pointing that one finger at her chin. “Walsh Osbourne is the only one I can think of. Would you like to enlighten me as to who the others are?”

“I have been on dates with men other than,” Emma makes sure to lower her voice so that Henry can’t hear, “Walsh, but I haven’t introduced any of them to Henry after him. I can’t take the risk that Henry is going to get attached.”

“Which is exactly why you won’t date Graham.”

Emma’s cheeks flame up. She really needs more wine, but she’s working the early shift at Granny’s tomorrow and still has to go to practice tomorrow night. “I don’t want to date Graham. He’s a nice guy, but I’m just not in the mood for dating. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I literally spend most of my day working multiple jobs. When I’m not working, I’m taking care of my kid. That’s what happens when you get knocked up at seventeen and have literally no resources.”

Ruby raises her hands in the air, an apology already on her lips, but then the volume mutes on the television and Henry is moving over to them in the kitchen, his mop of brown hair messily situated on top of his head as he opens up the fridge.

“What are you looking for, kid? I’m pretty sure you ate dinner at Granny’s with Ruby.”

“Yeah, but I’m thirsty, and water just isn’t cutting it.” He turns to smile at her then, and Emma’s heart aches over how much he looks like Neal. Couldn’t he at least have gotten a little bit of her in him? Would that have been too much to ask? “Can I have orange juice?”

“No,” Emma says as she steps over him and grabs the gallon of milk from the shelf and turns around to place it on the kitchen countertop while Ruby hands her a glass from the cabinet. “There’s too much sugar in orange juice for you to have it this late at night.”

“But it’s Friday, Mom.” “And?”

“I don’t have school in the morning.”

“Yeah,” she smiles as she pours him a small glass of milk, “I know. You’re spending the day with Mary Margaret and David tomorrow while I’m at work, and I can almost guarantee that one of them will give you all kinds of sugar so that you never go to bed ever again.”

His lips stretch into a smile so large that Emma can see them under the clear plastic glass. “That would be the coolest thing ever. Can I wear my Ninja Turtles costume tomorrow?”

“Now, that, is something I can agree to.”

Henry nods his head and walks back to the couch, and Emma smiles to herself before turning back to look at Ruby who is sipping her wine. Emma wonders if maybe just maybe she’ll have forgotten the conversation they were having, but that’s unlikely.

“Hot pirate dude makes you all tingly inside, and you’re nervous that you’re going to act on it.”

Yep. Ruby isn’t going to let this go.

“That is not true. I am not going to sleep with him.”

“Whatever you say. I think he’d be a good one to bang one out with so you can release some of the tension in your shoulders.”

“I’m going to kick you out.”

“No, you’re not,” Ruby sighs as she gets down from the counter. “You and Henry love me too much to do that. Isn’t that right, kid?”

Henry doesn’t say anything, too furiously blushing at having Ruby talk to him to form words. Poor kid has it bad.

-/-

The morning shift at Granny’s on Saturday is as hectic as ever, none of the tables ever emptying out and nearly every single person being annoyed until they get their coffee, and if Emma didn’t like the tips that came with working one of the busiest times of the week, she’d request another time. One day she’s going to have to find another job, garner some skill set that will actually give her normal pay and normal hours, but she hasn’t exactly figured that out yet.

Thankfully, cost of living in Storybrooke is not high.

Being a waitress still sucks sometimes, though. She has enough of cleaning up after other people at home, and if one more person tells her to smile when she’s cleaning a table where their kid spilled syrup, she will lose it.

And then probably lose her job.

But she does finish work around two with a little bit more cash in her pocket, and that’s all that really matters. That’s also all that matters as she drives her yellow bug across town to Storybrooke Haunted Farms so that she can get into costume and go to practice.

(Mary Margaret agreed to letting Emma buy a costume with pants for some of the nights, and she’s never been so excited over such a little thing.)

The grounds are pretty much empty when she gets there, and it’s weirdly peaceful that way. It’s a beautiful place, almost completely out in nature, and if it wasn’t for the fact that someone is driving around in a golf cart with a pile of fake dead bodied behind them, Emma could forget that this is all one big Halloween event.

Mary Margaret said that she was down by the docks with Henry supervising the continuing construction on their pirate ship, so Emma heads down that way, not bothering to change out of her uniform quite yet. She just tugs her red leather jacket a little more tightly around her as the air gets a little bit cooler the closer she gets to the ocean.

Emma sees Mary Margaret first. She’s sitting in a golf cart, the red one she always drives, but there’s no Henry. If Emma didn’t know that Mary Margaret was one of the most responsible people on the planet, she’d take off running looking for her kid, but there’s no way that Mary Margaret has lost him.

“Hey,” Emma greets as she slides into the seat next to her and catches a glimpse of Mary Margaret’s text to David, “where’s my kid?”

“Killian is giving him a tour of the ship.”

Emma blanches, and it takes everything in her not to run down to the docks and pull Henry out of there. Why the hell would Mary Margaret pass him off to a stranger?

“You just let my son go hang out with a stranger? That seems safe.”

Mary Margaret looks over to her with a shake of a head. “Killian is not a stranger, Emma. We’ve known him for years. Plus, you know him. He’s your scene partner.”

“I’ve known him for less than a week. I don’t send my six-year-old off with people I’ve known for a week.”

Mary Margaret clicks her tongue, and Emma scoffs before crossing her arms over her chest. What is this guy’s deal?

“Killian is a nice guy, maybe a little rough around the edges, but Henry saw him walking around in his pirate costume and lost his mind and begged to go talk to him. Killian played along with it, acting like he really was a pirate, and Henry asked him if he could show him the ship. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“The big deal is that the guy is a flirtatious ass, and he didn’t need to know that I had a kid.”

Mary Margaret’s lips part, but she never gets to say anything. “Mom,” Henry yells out as he runs toward the two of them at what she knows is his fastest speed, “Mom, Mom, Mom.”

“What?” Emma laughs, willing away all of her negative emotions to put a smile on her face as Henry gets closer to her, Killian unfortunately following right behind him. “You’re going to be out of breath if you keep running that fast.”

Henry keeps running until he comes to a skidding stop right in front of the golf cart. His cheeks are red and his chest is heaving, but there’s an undeniable joy in those brown eyes of his. As annoyed as she is that Mary Margaret sent him off with a guy who she doesn’t like, at least he’s happy.

“Mom, I have had the best day. I got to eat pancakes with David and then they let me go up into the treehouse and then I met Killian and he gave me a tour of the pirate ship. Is it true that you get to work with him on it? Really? Do you get to be a pirate? I want to be a pirate! Can I be a pirate for Halloween?”

“Woah,” Emma laughs as she pulls Henry up onto the cart so that he can sit in her lap as she pushes some of his hair back, “slow down and take a deep breath. Not even the Flash goes this fast.”

“I want to be a pirate for Halloween,” Henry says a bit more slowly, his words still coming out the slightest bit stilted, “because pirates wear cool clothes and have swords and get to talk all funny sometimes. And they hunt for buried treasure. Do you think there’s buried treasure here?”

“I – ”

“There might be,” Killian adds in, and Emma is going to bite off her tongue and fill her entire mouth with blood to keep from spewing every word she’s told Henry that he can’t say out at Killian. “I think we’d have to find a treasure map to know for sure.”

Mary Margaret gasps next to Emma, and she quickly turns to the side to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously. What? You don’t get to just gasp like that and then not tell me what’s going on.”

“I will tell you later when we aren’t around so many people, but I have an idea for an activity.”

Emma narrows her eyes, but Mary Margaret doesn’t pay any attention to her, immediately pulling her phone back out and typing something in that Emma can’t see because Mary Margaret turned the brightness down.

“Or,” Henry suggests to Killian, obviously still stuck on this whole treasure map thing, “we could use those things that old men use on the beach to find money.”

“We could, lad, but do you know where we’d get one?”

“Probably from an old man.”

Emma squeezes Henry a little tighter and buries her face in his hair to try to stop laughing. He needs a shower, but that’s going to have to wait until after her practice.

“Henry,” she begins, “why don’t you and Mary Margaret go check out what else is going on around here while I go to practice? I’ll come get you when I’m finished, and then we’ll go to dinner, yeah? I’m thinking grilled cheese.”

His eyes light up with his smile, and Emma’s heart pangs the slightest bit. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She leans down to kiss his cheek over and over again until he’s a giggling mess. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It takes a few minutes before Mary Margaret and Henry drive off, and then she’s left alone with Killian as he kicks his heel into the ground and digs up a bit of dirt and sand. He’s in his costume today, the same one as before, but this time a long black duster has been added. If it’s anything like her dress, Emma knows that it has to be heavy, but he doesn’t seem to have any problem moving around in it. And she swears that even more buttons are undone on his shirt so that she can see more of his stomach and the hair that seems to go all the way down.

Who even is this guy?

“That’s a nice kid you’ve got there, Swan,” he tells her. She nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, and Emma realizes that she let her defenses down, if only for a moment.

She shouldn’t have.

“I tend to think so, and no, I’m not biased at all.”

Killian flashes a smile, and her stomach flips without her permission. “I think so without any bias. He was so curious about everything. It was great. I think I’ve turned him into a pirate yet.”

Emma’s lips curve up before she remembers who she’s talking to. It’s so easy for her to forget things when someone is gushing about Henry – she likes to think she isn’t a total screw-up when it comes to him – and she doesn’t need to be doing that, especially not around this guy.

“Look,” Emma starts as she crosses her arms over her chest, “thank you for spending time with Henry today. That was really nice of you, but I’m not going to suddenly fall into your arms because you know how to charm a kid. And I don’t want you thinking that I’ll date you if you’re nice to Henry. That’s not how this works, so if you’re using him to get to me, you can stop.”

His brows furrow together, two dark black patches of hair nearly forming into one, and the smile that was on his lips curves downward into a scowl as his shoulders straighten up to make him taller than she knows that he is. “You may not believe me, love, but I had no intention of using your kid to get in your pants. Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

And at that, he turns around and walks away, his coat swirling behind him, while Emma is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

-/-

For the next two weeks, Emma splits her time between waitressing, spending time with Henry, doing final run-throughs for Storybrooke Haunted Farms, and very occasionally sleeping. It’s hectic. Honestly, she might be delusional and imagining some of the things that have happened, but she’s going to chalk that up to lack of sleep and extreme physical activity. Her feet probably don’t fit in anything other than her sneakers because they’re so swollen from her standing for about eighteen hours a day.

It’s a lot.

But it’s also her favorite time of the year.

The temperatures have officially dipped to the point where she can wear jeans and a thick sweater every day while sipping on hot chocolate, and all of the leaves have changed colors so that everything just feels like fall. It’s the best time of the year, and Emma will not change her position on that.

Except, well, the fact that working at the Haunted Farm is an actual nightmare for her this year.

(They do, however, have a new kid’s attraction that’s a treasure hunt and not at all scary, and Emma is thankful that Mary Margaret got the idea and executed it so that Henry has somewhere to stay for a little while before Granny picks him up and takes him home to go to sleep.)

It’s going smoothly, relatively speaking. She’s got her routine down, even the part where she falls off the ship and suspends in the air while a speaker plays a splashing sound as fake thunder roars above them, and she’s got all of her scenes with Killian memorized to the point where she doesn’t jump when someone screams anymore….but it’s all like torture.

Emma has always prided herself over not caring too much about people she’s not close to so that she can save that emotional energy for something more important, but something about Killian Jones makes her feel horrible for pretty much being a bitch to him all the time. He is most definitely still this conceited, self-centered, far too flirtatious guy, but he is also the first person to help someone out when they get too freaked out by the jump scares, the guy who will bring people coffee (even her), and he never fails to make Henry smile even though Emma’s pretty sure that she scared Killian more than she has scared any of the people who pay to come to the Haunted Farms.

She hates it.

She hates that he’s probably a good person who wasn’t actually using Henry to get into her pants. That’s not something she’s totally decided on, but she feels a little more guilt every single time he opens his mouth to say something, takes one look at her, and then either turns away or makes some kind of innuendo that causes her cheeks to flame up.

Nothing about Killian Jones makes any sense, and for some reason her mind wants her to care about him.

It’s the law of proximity or something. That has to be it. They’re spending over half of their day together, every day, and it’s some kind of biological reaction to be tricked into wanting to know the other person so that things aren’t awkward.

Emma would honestly rather things just be awkward.

At least right now they’re in the middle of a shift, and there’s not exactly time to make awkward small talk. Instead, she’s sitting on a wooden barrel in the corner waiting for a new set of customers to walk across the bridge so that they can get this show on the road.

Or on the sea. It’s whatever.

The music starts playing over the speakers that are attached to the ship, and Emma slowly stands from the barrel, smoothing out her skirt and rubbing her hands over her arms to try to get the chill bumps to go away. It’s a little past ten o’clock, the sun having set several hours ago, and the only real light is coming from the way that the moon reflects off of the ocean. They’ve got these smoke machines out here to make everything look a little hazier, but it’s really not needed. It’s already hard to see a damn thing.

Killian follows right behind her, his duster hitting against her back, and she’s the slightest bit jealous that he gets to wear a coat. It’s under forty degrees out here right now, the ocean not helping that at all, and Emma is never going to be warm again.

“You ready to do this again?” she asks Killian.

“Aye,” he whispers back. “You know, I don’t mean to upset you Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

A chuckle escapes from her without her permission, but she quickly corrects it and gets into position so that she and Killian can begin their fake fight.

Getting paid to fight with an (kind of) asshole? Quite possibly the greatest job she’s ever had.

They start their back and forth as people move closer to them, their eyes wide as they take in the ship from a new perspective, but Emma makes sure that her eyes only stay focused on Killian as he glowers above her with his hands resting on the buckle of his belt.

“But you said you loved me,” Emma screams out, pushing her hands against Killian’s chest.

“I’m a pirate, darling,” he seethes, stepping into her space and dipping his head down so that they are eye-to-eye. “I don’t love, especially when it comes to a bar wench like you. You’re more entertainment than anything else.”

Emma pushes back at him as she steps backward, moving closer and closer to the edge of the ship while Killian crowds her in, still spitting words at her to keep everyone entertained. Emma feels her harness tighten, the technician obviously preparing to fling her off of the ship now, and Emma sucks in a deep breath in preparation.

She is not working this attraction next year.

“It’s a pity that you thought I loved you, truly. I think you would have been nice to keep around.”

Her heart quickens at the sound of Killian’s words, the ones that are the final warning sound before she’s flung off of the ship, and then she’s being pulled back and suspended into the air, the harness tightening around her chest as the fake thunder rolls over the speakers and the audience gasps. They’re about to be scared shitless too. They just don’t know that part yet.

And then there’s a snap.

And Emma’s falling.

It’s quick, really. She doesn’t have time to think or do anything, not that there would be anything for her to do, before every last breath is being shocked out of her as sharp icicles poke around her and everything goes black.

The water is freezing around her, and her lungs are like bricks inside of her, the heaviness of her dress weighing her down, and even though Emma knows that she needs to swim to the surface, the shock of it all is making it a little difficult. She can’t see or breathe or even think, and her legs are simply kicking while her arms are flailing in search of something, anything.

She is not going to drown in the ocean wearing some kind of medieval dress.

She is not going to leave Henry this way.

Henry.

Oh shit. That seems to knock a bit more sense into her, or at least some kind of panic, and her arms are even more frantic as she’s moves through the icy water, just trying to find air.

She needs air.

Suddenly, Emma feels hands on her arms, and there’s actual movement happening, her body feeling it as she moves in what direction she thinks is up, and then for the first time in what feels like hours, she can breathe.

And she can see.

“Swan,” a voice gasps out, and she blinks away the salty water to see Killian’s face directly in front of hers, his hair matted down against his forehead. “Swan? Are you okay? Emma? Emma, are you alright, love?”

“Cold,” she manages to gasp out, and he nods his head in response before they’re moving again.

Emma’s senses are beginning to come back, but her head is still foggy. One moment she’s drowning in the darkness and the next she’s being pulled onto soft sand, her clothes feeling too heavy for her body to hold up. There are so many noises, voices and screams and the damn music still playing over the speakers, and Emma can’t focus on any of it. It’s too much stimuli, too many distractions, and she barely even notices the fact that Killian rips off a few layers of her dress before hoisting her into his arms while murmuring words she can’t quite pick up or understand.

What is happening?

“Emma,” Killian repeats, and all the sudden she looks around and she’s inside of one of the offices near the front of the farms. “Emma, I really need you to look at me, okay?”

She blinks a few more times before turning away from looking at the office to looking at Killian. His eyes are so blue. How is that possible?

“Do you think you can strip out of these clothes yourself? Or do you need help? I can do it or we can wait for Mary Margaret to get here. She’s on her way.”

Those words snap Emma back into reality, and she can feel absolutely…everything. Her lungs are burning, her skin is like ice, and it hurts to breathe right now. She probably hasn’t stopped shivering in hours.

“I need…you’ve got to undo the corset, and then I can do it.”

Killian nods his head before walking around her, his fingers quickly undoing the corset until it’s no longer constricting her chest, and that makes her breathe the slightest bit more easily. When he’s finished, he tells her to undress and change into the clothes that are sitting on the chair in front of her while telling her that he’s going to step into the other room to do the same.

Why does Killian have to do the same?

Oh, right, because he was in the water with her. He pulled her out of it.

Laughter bubbles up within her belly, warming her, while she sheds the last of the wet clothes and picks up a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have Storybrooke Haunted Farms written across them in this awful orange color. But it’s either freeze to death naked or put them on, so she puts them on with still shivering limbs and laughter still escaping her lips.

Her harness broke, and she fell into the freezing cold ocean.

Holy shit.

“Swan?” Killian asks as he steps back into the room wearing the same awful clothing that she’s wearing. “Why are you laughing?”

“Did I,” she starts, unable to finish. “Did I…did I…did I fall into the fucking ocean and have to be rescued while working at a fake haunted ship? Is that a real thing that just happened to me?”

“Aye,” he says a bit hesitantly before picking up a blanket and wrapping it around her while his hands rub up and down her shoulders. Holy shit that feels good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Emma laughs, leaning forward to bury her face in Killian’s shoulder. He’s warm. How is he warm? He was in the water too. She knows that she didn’t hallucinate that. It was real. “No, I’m not okay. What even is happening? This is ridiculous, and I’m still not convinced that I’m not going to roll over in bed and wake up to find Henry having poured a bucket of ice down my back or something like that.”

Killian’s chest moves beneath hers, and she feels his hand shift from her arm to her back, quickly moving up and down over the blanket. It feels so good and warm, and she might stay like this forever.

“Is that something the lad would do?”

“No, not at all. He’s too good for that. It’s something I did as a kid, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I hated my foster dad one time, and he refused to turn the heat up to make it warmer in the rest of the house, so I poured a bucket of ice on his bed. I got reassigned to a different house two days later, but let me tell you, it was worth it.”

Killian laughs again, and she feels it underneath her cheek. “That sounds exactly like something you would do. My brother used to pull shit like that, too, to our dad. He was always getting onto me for misbehaving, but then he’d cut holes in the crotch of Dad’s trousers.”

“This the brother that went to the Police Academy with David?”

“One and the same.”

“Where does he live now? Is he moving here too?”

Killian’s hand stills against her back, just for a brief moment, before starting up again as Emma nuzzles her nose a little further into his t-shirt that smells like detergent. Later, Emma knows that she’ll regret holding onto him like this, but right now, all she cares about is the fact that she’s finally starting to feel warm.

“Liam was killed in the line of duty two years ago, so I don’t think he’ll be moving from his plot in Boston.”

Emotion burns in Emma’s throat, weighed down by everything else that’s happened tonight, and someone should probably take her to the hospital for lack of airflow. This can’t be healthy. “I’m sorry, Killian.”

“Don’t be. ‘Tis not your fault. It is why I moved here, though. Believe it or not, it wasn’t to push you off of a ship while people are chased around by zombies wielding paintball guns. It was somewhere with a familiar face without having to move back to England, where I haven’t actually lived since I was a teenager.”

Emma huffs into Killian’s neck before wrapping her arms around his waist and rubbing up and down his back in the same way that he’s doing now. She doesn’t like to think that she needs saving, and she usually doesn’t…but tonight she did, and the least she can do is help to warm him up in the same way that he’s doing to her.

“I moved from Boston too, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “That’s where…I met Henry’s dad the summer before my senior year of high school. He was older, cooler, you know? And I found out I was pregnant halfway through that year. It was…” She stops, not really wanting to get into all of it with this man she doesn’t really know as well as not wanting to relieve it for herself. “It wasn’t a good time, pretty much, and I needed someplace new. This town has pretty much been the only thing that’s kept me on my feet.”

“Technically, it knocked you right off of them tonight.”

It’s the perfect time to make a joke. Honestly and truly it is because Emma could already feel herself pulling away and becoming uncomfortable with where this conversation was heading. She doesn’t just tell people about Neal or being in foster homes or any of it, and here she is letting it all out to a man she told herself not to get close to.

It’s also the exact moment that Mary Margaret walks in followed by David, and she and Killian spring apart so that they’re no longer standing together. Mary Margaret worries over the two of them, talking far faster than usual and giving them both jackets and more blankets along with socks, all of them from the merchandising table, before David hands them cups of hot chocolate, which may be the best hot chocolate that Emma has ever had.

That’s saying a lot considering how Emma is with her hot chocolate.

Things are overwhelming and wild as David explains the mechanics behind her harness snapping, and as quickly as David and Mary Margaret come in to check on the two of them, they’re having to leave to go check on the crises that are happening around town, and she’s left sitting in an office, still shivering the slightest bit, wondering where the hell does she go from here.

The answer to that question is apparently nowhere. She and Killian get sent home that night with instructions to come back in the morning for new assignments and to fill out some paperwork over the incident. They’re having to alter the performance that happens down at the ship, apparently, and while Emma expects to simply have her role slightly change, she ends up getting assigned to the hayride path with Killian. It’s a little sad to have to do this halfway through the month, but at least now she can wear jeans and flannel and hide her hair under a terrifying mask instead of having to have it teased every day.

And she won’t be falling into icy cold waters either. That’s definitely a plus.

Killian takes to scaring people on the hayride like a champ. He easily manages to jump up onto the trailer, oftentimes without anyone noticing, before screaming bloody murder and making everyone else do the same. One time, he manages to sit down between two couples without them noticing because they’re too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats, and the way they jump when Killian claps his hands together makes Emma jump off of the trailer and stumble back into the woods so that she can laugh without breaking character.

What she would give to have their faces on camera.

Things…shift in a way once they start working on the hayride instead of the ship. Emma had seen Killian’s good side before, had acknowledged it if even only to herself, but she still rejected it in a way. She didn’t want to see him as anything other than a cocky asshole who was using being nice to Henry to get into her pants, so Emma didn’t let her perception of him change.

Not until now.

Killian’s still a cocky asshole, but Emma’s starting to understand that the innuendos and his flirting might be a defense system. There’s something underneath the smirks and moving eyebrows, and while Emma doesn’t necessarily want to find out what it all is, she wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.

And he really is good with Henry, which Emma actually appreciates.

Apparently, when Killian isn’t scaring people for money, he works at Henry’s school as a receptionist for the front office as some kind of temp job, something no one seemed to deem important enough to tell her. Emma only found out when she called up to check Henry out to take him to a dentist appointment and she heard a familiar voice on the phone.

And now, somehow, he’s sitting across from her on a park picnic table as Henry climbs up and down the playground, his movement only slightly stilted by the giant puffer jacket that Emma has on him. She has no idea how Killian was out here running with only a thin pullover on.

“So, is he still going to be a pirate for Halloween tomorrow, or has that changed now that his mum has gotten pushed off a pirate ship and shunned to the hayride? I guess he could be a scarecrow, but I’m pretty sure six-year-olds aren’t into that.”

“No,” Emma sighs as Killian moves across the monkey bars and Emma braces herself for disaster, “I don’t think he would be. He’s got the pirate costume and still wants to do that. I’ve had to keep him from wearing it around the house so that he doesn’t mess it up before tomorrow.”

Killian raises his brow. “How exactly are you going to take him trick or treating when we have work? Isn’t that something that happens once the sun has set?”

“He’s six. we go in the middle of the afternoon, and then I drop him off to stay with Granny for the night. It’s not the best situation, but it’s what works for us.”

“You’re a good mum, Swan.” Emma feels hear rise in her cheeks, and she reaches up to brush her hair behind her ears. “With a good kid.”

“Yeah, he is pretty great, isn’t he?”

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he jumps down from the playground and runs toward the two of them, his cheeks flushed and hair pushed back off of his forehead, “I have an idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods his head, bright smile on his face, before stepping closer to her and cupping his hands around his mouth up against her ears. “Killian should come trick or treating with us tomorrow, and you can give him some candy to tell him that you like him.”

Emma nearly falls off the bench, and her heart takes off like a freaking rocket. For one, Henry just said that loud enough for everyone in Storybrooke to hear, but mostly, he just said that so that Killian could hear.

But also, why in the world does Henry think that she likes Killian? Where the hell did he get that idea.

Hesitantly, Emma looks over to Killian to see that he’s on his phone, very obviously faking texting someone, and as much as she appreciates it, there’s no getting around the fact that he heard Henry say that she likes him.

Which she doesn’t.

Not at all.

That would be ridiculous. And dumb. And a horrible, horrible idea.

But he is a very pretty man on, like, a vain level, and Emma will admit that she can sometimes be a little bit into vanity. And he is good at banter and flirting and making her laugh and causing a smile to curl onto her lips. Maybe, just maybe, there might be butterflies the flutter around in her stomach, but Emma has very adamantly been chalking that up to the fact that her eating hasn’t been the most healthy lately.

No, she doesn’t like him. That’s not a thing that happens.

Except maybe it is because she does get excited to go to work, possibly a little bit more than usual, and there are times when she purposefully makes sure that she inches a little bit closer to him so that they have to talk.

Oh shit, her six-year-old just had an emotional revelation for her, and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Feelings are not her strong suit.

And neither is dating a man who her son is attached to. That’s just…what happens when he leaves? They always leave, and while Henry hasn’t known Killian for that long, she just knows him not showing up anymore would upset him.

But Killian wouldn’t do that, right?

“You know what, Henry,” Emma starts slowly, her voice cracking a little bit, “you have to ask Killian if he wants to come with us, okay? He might be busy.”

“Okay,” Henry whisper-shouts back at her before walking across the table and whisper-shouting into Killian’s ear as well. “Will you come trick or treating with us tomorrow and let my mom give you candy because she likes you?”

Emma groans and lets her head fall to the picnic bench, not caring about the weird stickiness that’s left there. Anything could be better than this.

“Yeah, lad,” Killian chuckles, and Emma peeks up to see Killian winking at her, “I think I can do both of those things.”

Killian shows up at her apartment the next day wearing his full-pirate garb, eyeliner and fake jewelry included, and it goes along perfectly with Henry’s costume as well as the costume she’s wearing. It’s not the bar wench one because that is in a trashcan somewhere, but it is the one that includes pants and these really cool boots and a vest that she’d probably like to wear on days that it’s not Halloween. Emma ignores the fact that they look like a family, especially when at least ten different people comment about how cute they all are, because this is about Henry and his happiness. This isn’t about the battle that’s been happening in her mind for the last thirty-six hours.

There is absolutely no reason for her to be able to have good things like this. She’s a screw up foster kid who has never had anyone love her the way that she thinks she’s supposed to be love, but she has this kid who, even on his worst days, she would do absolutely anything for. He came from such a dark place in her life, one that she didn’t think she could get out of, but here she is in a town that supports the both of them.

With someone who has spent the past hour talking in a strange accent to indulge Henry and make him laugh while they stuff their face with more candy than Emma would usually allow.

Today is a good day.

And it continues that way when she drops Henry off with Granny so that she and Killian can go to work, the two of them changing out of their pirate garb and back into comfortable jeans and flannel with the ridiculous masks that they’ve been changing up every day. It’s one last day, one last night, and Emma can’t wait to share the shit out of some people.

-/-

“Did you see her face?” Killian chuckles as they walk through the woods back to the clearing behind the front office building. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be so terrified by a clown mask.”

“Clowns are creepy. That’s why they make horror films about them.”

“Aye, I know, but you have to admit that the woman’s face was priceless.”

Emma bumps her shoulder into Killian’s, and he looks down at her to smile, the moon reflecting off of half of his face. Those damn butterflies are not moving around in her stomach at the sight of his smile. Nope. Not at all.

“It was,” she admits as a few hundred people come into view, all of the employees over the past month gathering together for the wrap party that Mary Margaret and David throw for everyone full of drinks and junk food and all of the Halloween candy in the world. “That’s what will have to carry me over until next year.”

“Good. You want to grab some pizza and a few beers and go hit the hay?”

“You want to go to sleep?”

“No, Swan,” he laughs as his hand comes up to wrap around her shoulder, “not quite yet. I meant we can go sit in the trailer of the hayride. No one seems to have occupied it.”

Emma’s eyes glance over to where the trailer is parked, and it is, indeed, empty. “Yeah, I think that would be okay.”

They load up on food and drinks, carefully balancing them in their hands, before walking over to the trailer and easily climbing up onto the trailer, settling down into the middle and placing their plates of food up onto the haybales. She’s probably going to have hay stuck in her clothes and her hair for the next week and a half, but it might almost be worth it.

The pizza and beer are cheap, but after hours of running around, that doesn’t matter to Emma at all. Besides, the conversation is good, Killian telling her about his adventures in interviewing with Leroy to see if he can get a job on his construction crew since that’s apparently what he did back in Boston after he left the Navy earlier than planned due to Liam’s death.

There’s so much that she doesn’t know about him, that she can’t know after only knowing him for a month and a half and only tolerating him for a little less than that, but maybe Henry was right in his assumption that she might just like the guy who pushed her off a ship and almost caused her to accidentally drown.

Something she likes to remind him quite frequently only for him to remind her that it wasn’t his fault and that he did save her.

They can agree to disagree.

(They’re both technically right.)

A sharp wind comes moves through the woods, and a shiver runs down Emma’s spine so that she has to tighten her coat around her a little bit more. She needs a beanie, pretty much desperately, but there’s not a lot she can do about any of that right now. She’s been colder than this before. She’ll last.

And it’s such a nice night with the stars up in the sky and the moon shining overhead, no deadlines or schedules looming over her for at least a few days, and all Emma can do is relax in it, leaning back into Killian’s shoulder and sighing in relief.

He taps his foot against hers then, and Emma ignores it. But then he does it again and again and again until she looks over at him to see him holding a Kit Kar bar in between his fingers.

“What?” Emma groans. “Why are you being so annoying?”

His eyelashes flutter down then, just for a moment, before he’s looking up at her with a soft smile that she’s only seen from him a few times before. “I want to give you this piece of candy.”

“Um, why?”

His eyes roll, and Emma doesn’t know what to think of it because there’s really no reason for him to be so exasperated. “Your son, brilliant lad that he is, told me that if I like you, I should give you some candy. This is me giving you candy.”

Oh.

Emma’s heart stutters. Actually, it probably completely stops. She’s having a hard time knowing exactly what’s going on when her head is a mess, a mix of alcohol and confusing feelings and a little bit of being terrified of making the wrong mood, but Killian most definitely just took dating advice from a six-year-old and told her that he has feelings for her.

She’s really not ready for Henry to start dating if he’s going to be able to do things like this.

With a small, trembling smile on her face, Emma turns around and finds a red Starburst on her plate and reaches over to hand it to Killian, whose smile stretches up to his eyes now. “Okay, but just so you know, this candy is going to come with some stipulations, okay?”

“Like what, Swan?” Killian asks even as the rough pads of his fingers come to cup her cheek, pulling her closer to him so that their mouths are so close that she can’t tell whose breath is whose as it comes out in white puffs of air. “Because if it’s about Henry, he’s already given me a stern talking to about how I’m only allowed to make you happy and not sad like his dad did.”

“Did he really?”

“Aye, love, he did. And I understand that there will be boundaries and limitations and that Henry comes first. I want him to come first, always. I just – ”

Emma doesn’t let him finish before she’s pressing forward and gliding her lips over his and wrapping her arms around his neck in one swift moment. They’re both still at first, and Emma takes in the fact that his cold lips taste like pizza, beer, and chocolate. It’s not the best combination in the world taste-wise, but it is pretty good in general. So is the kiss when Killian starts moving his lips against hers, tugging her closer with his hand and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss, mouths quickly opening and tongues lightly swirling together in a slick, wet slide.

She’s had first kisses before, more than she’d care to admit, and as absolutely magnificent as a lot of them were, Emma doesn’t think her heart has ever felt quite this way – like a mix of happiness and magic and a little bit of Halloween spirit.

It is the best holiday of the year, after all. She can be whoever she wants.

Right now, though, she doesn’t want to be anyone other than Emma Swan or be anywhere other than in this moment.

-/-

They don’t tell Henry that they’re dating for four more months. It’s hard to keep from him, honestly, but Emma knows that it’s for the best. Things could still go wrong, her fears are still valid, and Henry is easy to accept the fact that Killian sometimes spends a little bit more time with them than usual. But still as his mom’s friend.

It’s pretty easy for Henry to accept when Killian makes the transition from friend to boyfriend.

Even easier when he goes from his mom’s boyfriend to his step-father. It makes picking out family costumes for Halloween even easier.

(Emma is ignoring that Henry will eventually grow out of liking doing that.)

Killian gives her a piece of candy every day to make sure that Emma knows that he has feelings for her.

She’s got a pretty good idea.

#Storybrooke haunted farms #cs hallloweek #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #Captain Swan #captain cobra

[schrijverr]

School at Work

A classic field trip to Stark Tower, where Peter already works and they find out fic. 

Here Peter is already in the building when he stumbles upon his classmates on a field trip, they are a bit surprised to see him there.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I need to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the other class who got to go on the field trip in the end, it was on the day the rest of the school was free and Peter didn’t mind not going all that much if he was being honest. He and field trips didn’t have the best of history. Besides he would get to spend an extra day at the Stark Tower on his “internship”, even though it wasn’t really an internship anymore.

It had all happened when Pepper and Tony wanted to go on a vacation and Peter had wholeheartedly encouraged them, but they didn’t have anyone to watch over all the projects. Peter really wanted them to go, because they deserved it, so he had offered to do it as a joke. And Pepper and Tony had taken it completely seriously. So a week later he found himself in charge of the biggest company in the world.

When Pepper and Tony came back everyone had been very enthusiastic about Peter, who had enjoyed being in charge a lot, minus the sleep deprivation, but he was used to that. After that he helped much more in the Tower itself. He oversaw the other interns and checked projects in all the departments before they went into production. He practically worked full time and he earned money.

The money he earned he saved for college so that May could use the money she had been saving for him to go to school and go up in the hospital. This was also why he lived in the Tower with Tony and Pepper. Life was great, it was amazing even. He had everything going for him, outside of school that is. No one believed him there, but he didn’t mind MJ and Ned believed him and that was what was important for him. He had wanted to invite them to hang out today, but they were going on that field trip to, uh..., Peter had forgotten where to, but they were both going, he knew that.

He got out of bed at 8:00 and put on Tonys too big for him Stark Industries sweater and some jeans. He ate some breakfast and decided to chill on the Intern Levels today as he reviewed some of the stuff there and went through the projects he was sent.

~

The Midtown Tech class was standing in front of Stark Tower with wonder in their eyes. It was an impressive building and only MJ wasn’t looking up. Ned leaned over to her and said: “I wonder if we bump into Peter today.”

MJ shrugged, but didn’t get to respond because Flash pushed through them while loudly exclaiming: “It so sad that you two believe Penises lies.”

MJ rolled her eyes and said: “Just because you are too dumb to get a spot doesn’t mean Peter is, alternative.”

Flash huffed, but left them alone in favor of getting in front of the group as they started to walk inside. Their teacher got to the desk and the woman behind them pointed them in the right direction where a thirty-year-old woman was waiting on them with a basket of badges. She smiled: “Hello everyone, I’m Mira and I’ll be your tour guide today. I will give you a badge, which you need to pin on your clothes. Do not take this off, because you will be escorted out of the building. At the end of the tour you will have to give them back.”

Then she went down the line handing them out and the tour began. Mira talked about the history of the building while they went through a small museum, the Arc-Reactor and the current projects.

They got into the elevator and the tour guide said: “We’re going to the Intern Levels, there our 50 interns work on their own projects next to the work they do for the employee they follow. I have ask you to be respectful and leave them to do their work. There will be a few who we can ask questions about their internship. You are talking to the bright minds of the future, so be polite.”

After that the elevator doors opened and they were in a gigantic space. There were work stations everywhere and it was one big hive of production. People were walking in and out, packages were bing delivered and from time to time lights flashed. The group moved slowly as they tried to take everything in, when they were distracted by a loud cackle and a loud yell.

“NO!”

Then an explosion. They whipped their heads towards the sound and saw no one other than Peter in a SI sweater laughing while standing next to a table while brushing a bit of dust out of his hair. Next to him stood a college aged guy with big shocked eyes. Peter put a hand on his shoulder and said: “I told you it would be fine.”

“It exploded.” the guy said back.

“Yeah, that was the point. We put it in danger of being captured by someone unknown, so it self destructed. We can employ these safely to distribute information without risking enemy capture.” Peter was still grinning manically.

From a station over someone arrived with a fire extinguisher. She put out the small burning robot and said: “Really Peter, you need to stop testing explosive stuff here when it’s not from here. You’re scaring people.”

“If they want to work on the higher levels they need to get used to sudden explosions, I’m doing them a favor.” Peter shot back with a smile, then he added: “Besides, who doesn’t love a good explosion.”

The girl only rolled her eyes and pushed Peter. Then she waved and said: “I have a tour to go to, see ya.”

“No, wait. I’ll come with.” Peter ran after her, “I’ll green light this for production and then I need a break I’ve been busy since 8:30. And I’ve promised to help on Level 80 when I wasn’t busy and I don’t want to go without taking a break, so I need to be busy.”

“Only you, Peter, only you. What were you going to help with?” the girl said, they were pretty close now.

“Just the alien tech stuff. We’re trying to figure out if it can give us clues for better and cleaner energy or if it’s harmful to the environment as well.” Peter said.

They were next to the group now and the girl said: “Hello everyone. I’m Kyra and I’m an intern here. I’ll be answering your questions about the internships at Stark Industries and if I don’t know it Peter here can answer you.”

She pointed at Peter who looked up from his hologram tablet and promptly dropped it. The small rectangle device hit the ground and the hologram disappeared. He quickly picked it up, straightened himself and said: “Uhm, hi guys. Fun to see you here.”

“What the hell are you doing here!”  and Flash had found his words again.

Kyra raised his eyebrow at Peter who rolled his eyes back at her and said: “These people are from my school, I forgot they had a field trip here today. So, I think I’m just going to bail on you and help upstairs.”

He started to walk away, but Kyra got a evil glint in her eyes and she grabbed his collar. He chocked on it and shot a glare back. “Let me go!”

“Nope,” Kyra replied, “This is way too funny and you still owe me for hiding you form Clint last week.”

“That’s no fair.” Peter whined, “You said I didn’t owe you because no one should be tester for punch-arrows, and I got you that material you asked for, I even rushed it.”

Kyra gave zero fucks about his complaints: “I retract that statement. You owe me, now stay and answer this nice boys question.”

She pointed at Flash and Peters face turned sour. “He’s not a nice boy.” he whispered, then he said: “Well, Flash, since I am free from school today, I’m using my extra time to work. I thought I told you about working here.”

“Yeah, but you were lying. You have to be. They don’t take High-schoolers as interns I called and asked.” Flash was frowning.

Kyra said: “They don’t, but Peter isn’t an intern. Seriously, did no one believe you?”

Peter shrugged: “Ned and MJ do, right?”

Ned nodded excitedly and gave him two thumbs up and MJ also nodded, but more subtle. Kyra smiled at them, meanwhile Flash was having some sort of meltdown. He said: “If Peter isn’t an intern, what is he doing here. He doesn’t even have a badge, so shouldn’t he be escorted out of the building?”

Kyra started laughing now and Flash was getting mad. He was demanding an explanation and Kyra managed to wheeze: “Peter is a full time employee, he is so high up he doesn’t even need a badge and you, you all just didn’t believe him. That’s really fucking funny.”

Kyra dissolved back into giggles and Peter just rolled his eyes at her antics. The teacher broke the shocked silence with: “Uhm, can you tell about your position in the company.”

He too was trying to wrap his head around the fact that Peter had a full time job at he company they first didn’t even believe him to have an internship at. He needed someone to talk so that he could regroup himself.

Peter was also taken aback by the question, but soon answered: “I’m a bit of the last stop before things go into production. Everything that this Stark Industries building makes goes through me or Mr. Stark, but I’m also a helper. I go around and help where extra hands are needed.”

His watch bleeped and he said: “Speaking of that, they really need me now, so I have to go, but enjoy your tour! I hope you enjoy the robot exercise I designed at the end.”

And then he was running away while putting an ear piece in. Before the elevator closed behind them they could hear him say: “Do not touch a thing. Try to stay still the particles are-”

Kyra had now sobered up some more and she said: “Peter is one of our best, but he is very humble. There is no one in this building who doesn’t like Peter. There are rumors that he was in charge for a week and is the heir of the company, but those are just rumors, for now.”

The whole group was silent. Their brain was overflowing with information and no one knew what to make of all of this. This wasn’t Peter, it couldn’t be. The tour guide seemed to sense this, because she clapped in her hands and said: “Well, why don’t we take a break. It’s lunch time, follow me.”

As a horde of zombies they followed her.

Peter avoided school for the next two days, but after that he never got called Penis or a liar ever again.

#RR writing #marvel #peter parker #ned leeds #mj #michelle jones #field trip #MCU #mcu peter parker #Flash Thompson