#this brought to you by: I was cooking a burger one time

[hazbinsimp777]

Hi!!! Hope it’s ok to request Vox and Lucifer with a fem s/o who’s very affectionate please. Giving random little kisses, listening to his problems, and all these romantic gestures. Sorry she just has so much love to give >_<

A:N: I am EATING this concept up! Thanks for the request anon! <3

May I present...

~Affection is Key~

Featuring Vox and Lucifer

✅️Fluff ✅️Wholesome ✅️Adorable

A/N: Reader is female, a sinner and married in both Headcanons

~LUCIFER~

~ This man is SOAKING in all of the attention and affection you give him, he is the type that is a hopeless romantic. You are one of the only people that can actually make his day, besides Charlie of course

~ A refresher from his previous marriage

~ He loves how many gifts you have given him throughout your relationship, he even has a whole shrine of pictures of you and your gifts inside his closet. Something you absolutely do not know about and he had went through great lengths for that.

~ Even all the little homemade gifts you make him, a lil paper flower, a origami of a duck! HE LOVES IT ALL.

~ Whenever you two are in public, he adores how clingy you are towards him. Being the prideful shit he is, he holds his head up high and puffing his chest when you hugging his arm. ESPICALLY when you give him lil kisses on his forehead.

~ Even when he is meeting with the sins, he INSISTS that you must be brought along with him. During the meetings, he loves when you occasionally give him little kisses when the attention his not on him. His face is lightly blushing.

Lucifer : Ah Asmodeous! Yeah, this is my wife!

~ He literally brags about you to the other sins, but, they do think it is absolutely adorable.

~ You are his own personal-unpaid therapist. Always listening to his problems, giving advice at times and giving him reassurance to whatever he is ranting about. He even loves laying his head on your lap, with your fingers running through his hair when he is talking.

~ One thing that he loves it your cooking, at your time alive you had done your fair share of cooking and baking. Whenever you can, you would give your husband the best meals throughout the day.

~ Duck shaped pancakes, burgers, steaks and duck shaped cupcakes just to name a few! He is always so thankful for all the food you cook for him. Like you have always said, "The way to a man's heart is his stomach."

~ At random times of the day, no matter in private nor public, if something was out of place. His hair, clothes or hat, if it is out of place you are fixing it.

~ For example, he goes FERAL whenever you are fixing his bowtie, fixing a strand of his hair, adjusting his hat or wiping down a bit of dust on his clothes.

Lucifer: Have my children now.

Y/n: Okay sure

~VOX~

~ This was one thing Vox always had loved about you, how loving you are towards him and everything you do just because you love him. Honestly, it is a refresher in Hell, something rare to come across.

~ At times it does keep him up at night, why are you with him? How did you even get down here? At first it was VERY confused, so you don't only want sex or money from him? You want to be loving towards him? And LOYAL???

~ As long as you are with him, he isn't complaining.

~ For example, when he is going on camera on his television show, if there is anything out of place, it is a guarantee you will fix it. All you need to do is whisper, "You are going to be great Darling!" and blow a little kiss and all of the power is going to be out.

~ Another thing, he can bitch about Alastor as much as he wants to around you! While you are doing whatever you are doing, Vox can talk about anything you will be listening. You even give him very good advice and reassure him about anything. He only falls deeper in love with you after the first time you did that.

~ During his working days, you always check up on him and drop off any food you had made. Knowing Vox, he is a workaholic, so whenever you simply drop off food, water or check on him, it means the world to him. It shows how much you love him.

~ Speaking of food, he is IN LOVE with your cooking. As a man from the 1950s, even though he is not sexist and knows women are powerful. Doesn't mean he doesn't want to feel like a man in the relationship. So you taking care of him while he is working hard, means everything to him.

~ When he is around you, you make sure to give him as many hugs and innocent kisses as you possibly can. As an attention whore, he is taking and ADORING all of the random kisses and hugs you give him throughout the day.

~ Which is why he just HAD to wife you up immediately.

~ And because it will be easier to spy on your if you two are married.

~ That is why he spoils you rotten. At this point he is both your husband and sugar daddy in one. He can't help it! As affectionate and adorable you are, of course he wants to take really good care of you. Both the bedroom and overall.

~ Though you do not ask for much at all, he still insists he gets you the nicest clothes, shoes, jewelry, undergarments, perfumes, technology, stuffed animals and anything else you desire.

Vox: Honey! Look what I bought for you!

Y/n: *GASP* PLUSHIES! *runs over and jumps in the mountain of stuffed animals*

A/N: I hope this was good! I hope you liked it anon!

#hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #x fem!reader

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got a name?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

"You must be tired.” 

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

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

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

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

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

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

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

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

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

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

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

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

Mina laughs a little. 

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

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

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

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

“Can you blame me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

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

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

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

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

“Got everything?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

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

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

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

“How long are you staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

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

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

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

There’s a pregnant pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

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

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

You tilt your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

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

“You’re doing laundry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your eyebrows. 

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

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

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

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

“Were you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

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

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

[amsznn]

COOK OUT - c. sturniolo

chris x black !fem reader

in which chris is invited to the reader’s yearly family cook out

warnings: none, just fluff

-

“okay, how do i look?” your focus shifted from your phone, to your boyfriend standing in front of you. he did a little spin to show off his outfit which made you laugh.

“babe you look fine, i told you this like five times now.” you sighed before getting up from the couch, while adjusting your dress.

“i know…i just,” chris sighed before continuing. “i just want everyone to like me.”

you frowned as you saw how anxious your boyfriend seemed. you cupped his face with both of your hands before smushing them together, eliciting a smile from the brunette.

“they’ll love you babe, now lets go.”

-

as you chris drew nearer to the entrance to the backyard, the music got louder, and chris’ nerves seemed to increase as well.

you took his hand in yours and intertwined your fingers. “we can always go home, i’ll say you’re sick or something.” you say worried your boyfriend will be uncomfortable but chris quickly shook his head to the idea.

“no baby, i want to meet everyone, and i want to see you around the people that make you happy.” you softly smiled, before leaning up to give chris a big ol smooch on the cheek. he knew how family oriented you could be, and how these barbecues were a chance to bring everyone you loved together.

you two made your way through the gate of your parents house. you began to introduce chris to a lot of your aunties and uncles that were scattered across the lawn. each of them were dying to see the boy you brought back home.

after all the introductions, you made your way inside to the kitchen, where your parents were cooking up some more delicious food.

chris had already met your parents, from various holidays and vacations, so to say the least they were more than comfortable with each other.

“my y/n, chris!” your mom exclaimed as she put a spoon down before making her way to the both of you. giving you both hugs and a few pecks on your faces.

your dad was next to greet you two as he embraced you both in a tight hug. “oh, chris, come help me flip these burgers while you’re here!” your dad said while passing chris a spatula and some paper plates.

you roll your eyes playfully. “dad, we just got here!” you laugh as your dad began to lead chris out the kitchen.

your dad simply shoo’d you off before reassuring you. “oh he’ll be fine, cmon boy.”

you gave chris an apologetic smile and he could only laugh before giving you a kiss goodbye. he followed your dad outback to help him prepare more food to serve to the guests. truthfully, he loved this. he felt like this was the best way to bond with everyone around him.

you could already see from the kitchen window the amount of uncles surrounding him at the grill. probably asking him a bunch of questions, and popping a few jokes here and there.

you also made your way outback but instead, you went to go rest at the lounge chairs where your cousins were hanging out.

you all caught up and a few of them even asked about chris here and there. complimenting him and his burger making skills which you were amused to hear.

after a while, you excused yourself to get a burger for yourself to eat. you made your way over to chris with a paper plate in hand. chris seemed to be having a conversation with one of your guy cousins but he excused himself when he saw you making your way towards him.

“you okay, baby?” he asks while adding more stuff to the grill.

“yeah, i just wanted to try a burger ‘cus everyone is talking about them.” you say while smiling and holding your plate out.

“like good talk, or bad talk?” chris asks playfully while placing a burger on your plate, before grabbing two buns to assemble your burger with.

“if it was bad talk you wouldn’t even be here anymore.” you laugh while taking back your plate.

“well i’ll be done in a few, i’ll come join you over there okay?” you nodded before turning around to make your way back to your seat.

-

about 2 hours went by with you and chris at the party. your dad finally let the poor boy go from the grill and you could finally spend sometime with each other.

chris was amazing from talking to the elderly, to even bonding with the little kids. even the grumpy teenagers were intrigued by him.

you yawned as you rose from your seat. “well, i think its time for us to go guys.” your little cousins groaned at this, not ready to say goodbye to their newfound best friend, chris.

after they bid their goodbyes, you two made way to say goodbye to everyone else. you got a lot of aunties telling you that you made a good choice with chris and hopefully he’s here to say to which you respond with a chuckle and a ‘definitely.” while chris got a lot of uncles dapping him up and bringing him into a hug as well.

your parents walked you two to your car and gave you both a goodbye hug.

“he’s coming next year right?” your dad asks almost immediately the hug ended. you and chris could only laugh and nod.

your parents waved goodbye as they watched your car drive off.

you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling in the passenger seat (yes chris can drive in this), which chris notices.

he takes one hand off the steering wheel and rests it on your thigh. you looked at him as you held his hand in yours. chris could feel your eyes lingering for a second more than usual.

“what?” he questions, not being able to hide the smile that was tugging at his lips.

“oh nothing..i just really love you.”

-

A/N: no foolish update todayyy sorry, possibly tmr tho! this was inspired by their one video where chris was flipping burgers. super cute 🫶🏽

tags:

@junnniiieee07 @tillies33ssss @whore4matt @stellarsturns @summerl986 @inveigledvex @beccaluvschris @stingerayyy2 @bunnysturns @braindead4l @vickyzloserz @sturnzsblog

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo x black reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

[codfanficedits]

The Silent Treatment.

Pairing:

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!Reader.

Wordcount: 3695| Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Arguing, cussing, swearing, mommy issues, communication, mention of a finger in an ass, angst with no comfort.

A/N: No alternative endings for this one, life's a bitch and if I have to suffer so have you <3 also maybe thinking about taking request, idk.

There were three rules in your relationship with Simon.

One – NEVER eat leftovers that aren’t yours.

Two – Bending over is NOT an invitation to poke someone’s ass.

Three – Never go to a mission while still in an argument.  

Rule number one was an easy one. You’d gotten fed up with him eating your leftovers. You’d spent the whole day dreaming about the leftover pasta carbonara only to be met with an empty plate when you came home. An innocent look on his face when you scolded him. “I was hungry.” He pouted. “If your name isn’t on it, it isn’t yours!” You scolded him.

Simon would just put a post it with his name on your leftovers. A cocky grin on his face whenever you called him out on it. “Whaddya mean lovie? It clearly says my name.” In the beginning you wanted to wipe that cocky grin of his face, but over time you found yourself cooking a little extra, just so there would always be a portion of leftovers for Simon. In return you would just keep the good leftovers in an old, empty tub of butter. Your little secret and he didn’t need to know.

Rule number two was brought to life when Simon was finally fed up with you trying to poke his ass every goddamn time he bended over.

“It’s off limits!”

“But that’s not fair.” You protest. “My ass is not off limits for you.”

“You like it.”

“You won’t know it if you won’t try it.”

“You are out of your goddamn mind.”

“Just once.” And with those words you take a step closer, holding out your pointer finger.

“I swear to God, one more step and I’ll put you up for sale on Facebook Marketplace.”

A loud exaggerated gasp leaves you while you lower your hand. “You would never!”

“Correct.” A twinkle in his brown eyes. “I would have to pay people to even be interested in picking you up.”

“Simon!”

You’re met with two arms around you and a million soft kisses on your cheek, forehead, neck. “I would never do such a thing.” He mutters into your ear. “I like my money too much.”

It became a little inside joke. Every now and then he would take the most unflattering picture of you, his favourite was the one where you’d fallen asleep on the couch, your mouth open, snoring while a little bit of drool was on the side of your face. Simon would proudly show you the picture.

“This is the one I would put up with that Facebook Market place ad.” He would grin.

“Please do. Maybe some rich prince will pick me up.”

“Yeah if you count someone with a Burger King crown a prince.”

In return, when the two of you were watching tv, you’d point at some of the rich women you’d see on there.

“That would be me when some rich man responds to the ad you made about me.”

“Be sure to send me some allowance every now and then.”

“As if!” You scoff. “I’d be too busy being rich and pretty to think about sending you a tenner every month.”

It would always be met with a low, grumble, mixed in with a laugh. “You’re already pretty, lovie, pretty sure you can miss a tenner too already.”

But he would always, always pull you close to him and press a kiss onto your hair, and you were pretty sure you could hear him mutter the word “mine”.

Rule number three came to life after the first time the two of you had a big argument. While the two of you could communicate perfectly fine most of the time, every now and then it would escalate. He had a temper, you were so fucking stubborn and sometimes it just had to clash.

And this was the first time. The two of you had just moved in together, and with that came a lot of irritations. Both of you were used to living alone. You didn’t have to worry about people nagging you about your dirty sock scattered around the floor. Simon was used to putting his socks directly into the hamper when he took them off. In return, he could make the kitchen explode while cooking and was perfectly fine with leaving it like that for the night, your fingers would itch whenever the kitchen wasn’t spotless after dinner. But this was new for the both of you, and all of the sudden the two of you weren’t just soldiers, but two people, madly in love but both trying to be right on an argument that only needed compromises.

And it felt as if the world was coming to an end at the kitchen table, while the two of you were arguing and crying, eating of the last, sweet bite of your relationship.

Unfortunately a mission doesn’t stop for a little argument, so the argument had to be cut short. You’d be sent away for no longer than two weeks, and leaving tore your heart out, leaving it behind on the shoe rack for him to look at while you were away. You didn’t even know if you would be single or not when you would come back.

Inside your shared house, Simon would be sitting on the floor, gaze fixed on the door through which you left, hoping you’d come back through that door, tell him you love him, and that you would clean up your socks.

But you didn’t.

Instead he received the news that the communication was cut off between your squad and base. An unforeseen enemy ambush that no one had seen coming. And your socks on the floor no longer mattered to Simon, he promised himself he would never, ever complain about the socks scattered on the bathroom floor if that meant you would come home safe. Simon had never been a religious man, but he would find himself praying at your empty side of your bed every night he was home, begging all the Gods above that you would come home to him.

And you did.

He had been waiting for you the moment he got the news you and your squad had been found. Nervously pacing around, while he was Ghost out on the field, for you he was just Simon, and right now Simon needed you more than ever before. You had been gone for nearly a month now, and he could no longer care about your socks, or the way you would kick out your shoes. All he could care about was you, and having you.

You on the other hand, had no idea what you would come home to. Maybe he had left, maybe you would come home to an empty house with a lover long moved on. But that wasn’t the case, you were greeted by a large man, his hands instantly cupping your face, lips all over your cheeks, nose, lips, eyes, forehead as if his lips were trying to imprint your face in his mind.

After that, the two of you decided to never, ever leave on a mission again while still mad and that rule needed a little tweaking.

By the next big argument, months later, the both of you stayed up all night, trying to talk out the argument. The lack of sleep only fuelling the anger on both sides. It made you both irrational and unable to think in solutions. Eventually the both of you fell asleep, Simon sitting at the kitchen table, you had made your way to the couch, holding on to his hoodie out of spite. The next morning the two of you could in fact talk it out, without the crying, without raising your voice, without the cussing.

So eventually rule number three became really simple. Don’t go on a mission while you’re still in an argument. No matter the subject, no matter how angry one of you was. If someone had to leave for a mission, the argument was put on hold, almost always accompanied by some soft words.

“I’m still mad, but I love you, and we’ll find a solution when you’re back”

“You’re still a pain in my ass, but I love you, and we will work this out.”

“When you’re back, we will talk about it, but for now, all you need to know is that I love you.”

A kiss always followed afterwards, usually on a lips, a single time on the forehead.

Today the two of you were about to break rule three. The past few months had been hectic, to say the least. A lot of missions, birthdays, other obligations. Not enough sleep, not enough intimacy, not enough time for each other. It had placed a ticking bomb under your relationship with Simon. An argument waiting to happen. The little things that would usually just make you shake your head and go on with your day, suddenly became a big deal. The way he would leave the kitchen, the way he would drape his shirts over the armrest over the couch. How he would leave his razor in the shower, always next to your shampoo. Speaking of it, you were certain he was using your shampoo, despite you asking him not to. Multiple times and he never fucking listens.

On the other hand, Simon was getting annoyed by you more and more, the way you would leave your socks on the bathroom floor, how you would leave a door open if you had been in that room. And you always left the fucking light on in the bathroom, no matter how often he would tell you to be mindful of it.

So there you were, walking into your kitchen after he had come home after a long, tiring mission. You had just come home from a day full of meetings and preparations for your upcoming mission.

Your whole kitchen a goddamn mess, who the fucks needs two pans, a cutting board, three plates and a fork, a knife AND a spoon for a portion of scrambled eggs anyway? But you try to let it go, you try counting to ten, you try to ignore the eggshells on the stove, the ketchup on the counter, you try to ignore it all.

Then he barges in, a pair of your socks in his hands, while he looks you in the eyes, using his foot to open the bin, tossing your socks in there.

“What the fuck is that for?”

“I’m sick and tired of finding your fucking socks everywhere.”

“Oh so you can throw away my socks, but throwing out eggshells while you’re cooking is too much to fucking ask?”

“I was going to do it after my nap.”

“Sure you were.” An eyeroll from you followed.

“Don’t give me that fucking attitude lovie.”

“Attitude?” You narrow your eyes.

“Attitude. All I want is some fucking peace and quiet and all you’re doing is fucking nagging.”

“I wouldn’t have to nag if you would just clean this fucking kitchen! Other people want to live and cook here too.”

You can see him press his lips together, a sign that the temper in him is rising, but you don’t care, you can feel your own anger building up and it needs to get out.

“Well, other people would like to go to the fucking bathroom without having to cross a fucking path of dirty, filthy fucking socks!”

“They’re just fucking socks, what is your big fucking deal?”

“My big fucking deal is that little miss perfect over here is nagging like a fucking bitch, while I’m following her around cleaning up her fucking socks, closing fucking doors behind her fucking ass. You can’t even turn of the fucking light after you’ve been in a room and you’re whining about the fucking kitchen!” His voice is raising with every word that comes out of his mouth.

But you were raised by a woman couldn’t love herself, so you don’t back down, instead you get in his face, your tone and volume matching his. “Because this kitchen is fucking disgusting Simon! How the fuck could the army recruit someone so fucking filthy?” Bringing in his career was a low blow. “How fucking hard is it to clean the goddamn ketchup if you spill it?”

His hands form two fists, clenched while they hang beside his body.

“Do not.” His voice is a hiss. “Bring my fucking work into this.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Whatever you fucking say Simon.” You turn around as you spit out your words.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Out of this fucking swinery of a kitchen.”

“We’re not done talking.”

“What else is there to fucking say? You’re a fucking pig and I am the problem apparently.” Another turn to face him again.

“You know, when you act like this, you’re just your mother.”

Oh, your mother. The woman who was your first friend and your first enemy. The woman who had taught you that your worth was what men thought of you, while slut shaming you in the same sentence. The woman who never loved you how you needed her to. The day she called you ugly wasn’t the day you stopped loving her, but the day you stopped loving yourself, and you had told him. You had cried in his arms about your fucked up relationship with your mother, you had cried about what you had wanted her to be, but what she never could be for you.

“If I’m my mother, then you’re your fat-“ He cuts you off.

“Don’t fucking go there.”

“Why not? You can compare me to my fucking mother. My MOTHER out of all people!” It’s your turn to raise your voice at him.

“It’s different.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite Simon.”

“I’m the hypocrite? I can’t even come home without you nagging on my fucking ass about this fucking kitchen while you leave a trail of your fucking mess throughout the whole fucking house.”

“Oh well, I’m sorry for not wanting fucking eggshells on my stove, or your fucking shirts all over the couch. Or your FUCKING razor next to MY fucking shampoo!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Oh don’t fucking act all innocent now, Simon. I’ve told you plenty of times to keep your hands of my fucking shampoo. That shit is fucking expensive.”

“So I don’t deserve nice, expensive things?”

His comment makes your blood boil. “Stop trying to be the fucking victim.”

“The fucking victim? I can’t even use some nice smelling shampoo in my own fucking house without it being used against me.”

“Oh my God! You could’ve bought your own fucking shampoo. But noo, you always have to take my fucking things. Not even my fucking leftovers are safe from you!”

“Are you still upset because I ate some leftovers?”

“Yes!”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“You’re a fucking leech.”

“A leech?” His fists turning white at your comment.

“A fucking leech. Feeding off others like a fucking parasite.”

“It would be a very good idea if you learned how to shut up, lovie.” The last word didn’t even sound as a pet name anymore.

“Oh I’ll fucking shut up.”

“Finally some fucking peace around here.”

You press your lips together, not making another sound. If he wants some fucking peace he can get it. You turn around to leave the kitchen.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Without looking at him you point at the whiteboard, the date of the mission you had to go on today circled with a red marker.

“Be sure to pack some extra socks so you can litter the fucking battlefield.” He shouts at you as you walk off to pack your bag.

Never break rule number three.

You’re angry when you pack your bag, stomping around, making sure he hears how pissed off he has made you. You even want to take your stupid fucking shampoo with you, but you decide against it, it would be too much of a hassle.

You go downstairs again with your packed bag, and the two of you make eye contact. But neither of you says a thing. Neither of you say the words you had promised each other to always say before a mission.

You turn around while his eyes look back at the tv again, and you make sure to slam the door a little too hard while you leave on your mission.

Turns out all Simon needed was a good nap, some food, a shower and some more sleep. When he wakes up from his little nap and the sky outside is already dark, he realises how much he misses you, how he didn’t tell you he loved you when you went away. He lets out a sigh when he gets to the bathroom, your socks still on the floor, and with a small huff he bends over to pick them up, his hand automatically covering his ass, a force of habit to make sure you don’t poke him while he is bending over. A soft sigh leaving his lips when he realises you’re not there.

For the first time since the two of you got together, your side of the bed felt extra cold, extra empty, and he found himself on his knees again, praying to the heavens you would be home quick, so he could tell you he loved you, and so the two of you could have an actual conversation about the things that had been bothering the two of you.

Simon lets out a soft groan when he sees the kitchen, you had been right, it looked like an active warzone in there. Maybe he should learn to clean up the kitchen after cooking. He’s a grown man for fuck sake.

He rolls up his sleeves, puts on some music and it’s time to clean that goddamned kitchen. And while he is cleaning his thoughts wandered to you, how hurt you looked when he compared you to your mother, and a jolt of guilt shoots through him. It had been unfair to compare you to your mother. You were nothing like her, and when you would be back he would make sure to tell you that.

He's sweaty and Simon isn’t sure how it happened, but he got eggshells in his hair, but the kitchen is clean, and he intends to keep it that way. With a light spring in his step he makes his way to the shower. He automatically reaches for your shampoo, he just loves how your hair smells when you’re laying on his chest, or when he is your weighed blanket and his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Washing his hair with your shampoo reminds him of you during the day. Simon unscrews the cap, bringing the bottle to his nose and he closes his eyes, the steam and the scent of your shampoo give him the illusion that you’re with him again, and when he opens his eyes he feels empty when you’re not there.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

When he lays in bed at night, and you’re not there to hold, he feels lonely, for the first time since forever, you had always feel like home, and now his home was gone. Simon keeps reaching out for you, only to be met by the cold feeling of your empty pillow. The scrolls past the pictures he has from you, the ones he had always threatened to put in a Facebook marketplace ad, and they bring a smile to his face. He remembers the first time he gave you the playful threat and how he had to make sure to smother you in kisses in case you were angry at him. But you weren’t, you had always been a saint and today he had let his anger take control.

He promises himself to tell you he loves you when you’re finally back.

But when you finally return and he gets the chance to tell you that he loves you, the words get stuck in his throat. Rule number three had been broken and he wasn’t sure how to continue from there. Eventually he finds the courage to speak to you again.

“I love you.” The words are simple, yet raw. But you’re not done being silent, after all, he wished for some peace and now he was getting it.

And so the minutes pass, the hours pass, the days pass, but your silent treatment doesn’t end, you’re a stubborn one, and he knows it.

But he has to speak to you, it is the least he could do, but it’s hard to speak to you when he knows you won’t say a thing back.

“I should’ve hugged you tighter the last time I saw you. I just miss you, in a quite simple, desperate, human way.” The words are raw again, as if they are ripped from the very core of his human being. Again there is no answer from you, and it rips his heart out. He just wishes the last thing you said to him were words of love, not words out of anger.

And now he is sitting next to you, a blanket around the both of you, while he finds the courage to speak to you. Simon’s gaze shifts from the flowers in front of him, to the stars in the sky.

“The stars will go out before I forget you.” His voice is soft, a whisper, the words are meant just for you.

He sighs when you stay silent, oh what he would give to hear your voice once again.

“You know, this is not how I had imagined life, lovie. I want to stay on the back porch, while the world tilts toward sleep, until what I love misses me, and calls me back to bed.” His voice breaks in the middle of his sentence.

Simon rests his head against your tombstone. “This silent treatment has been going on for long enough, don’t you think, lovie?”

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod mwii #cod x reader #angst #ghost x reader #ghost x you #mw2 #ghost angst #angst here i come #no comfort #im sorry #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #fan fiction #archive of our own #ao3 stuff #ao3 #ao3 tags #cod fanfic #fanfic edit #fanfics #fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

[tipsyleaf]

This thought just came to my head and I couldn’t help but giggle.

Imagine Chris invites Leon over to watch football on Sundays, and have a bomb ass barbecue of course; like all dads do on the weekends. But you didn’t really mind, it meant the kids would get off your back for a few hours and you could gossip with Chris’s wife.

The two of them would totally be standing by the grill, bud lights in their hands as they watched the TV outside on the patio, yelling at the players like they could hear them.

They’d hit that signature dad pose. Legs slightly spread apart, standing, arms crossed, you know which one I’m talking about.

Also they’d literally compliment each other on their barbecue and stuff. They’d spend hours just trying to smoke a brisket or something, having the typical bro talk while doing it.

- Anon! 🎀

(Chris looks like a Giants fan. No I will not be elaborating further.)

Literally can't decide which apron Chris would be wearing so here's all the options

With the middle one he'd definitely pat his wife's ass every time she walked by. She'd just stop and stare for a second and he'd point to the apron. She'd just nod and keep walking, use to his bullshit by now.

The wives would be talking about bitchy moms at the PTA as the kids play on the Redfield's giant playset. (Like think about a McDonald's play place and old chuck e. cheese playgrounds together. Just minus the child vomit and mildew smell). They're drinking wine, talking among themselves when they overhear their husbands talking.

"She's a beauty! Doesn't throw fits. Let's me do whatever I need to and I don't even need to put in much effort." You two life your heads, listening to Chris until Leon speaks up.

"Where'd you find her?"

"Street corner!" Chris's wife stands up, about to walk over until Leon's wife grabs her arm and forces her back in the seat.

"Some guy was moving and selling the old girl so I scooped her up and brought her home."

He's talking about the fucking grill...

Chris's wife sighs in relief. Feeling her heart return to her body as she chugs the rest of her wine. She was fully ready to knock some sense into that man...

Eventually Lulu walks over and wants to help her dad cook. He'd grab her little apron and make her stand by the side of the grill on a chair and hand his cheese slices for the burgers. Her apron:

To which Leon looks at Violet and asks her why she doesn't help him grill at home while she's getting one of the barrel juices from the kids cooler.

"You gonna pay me daddy?" He's stunned for a second and stares at her.

"What? Why would I pay you?"

"I was told to never do a job for a man who didn't pay me what I deserved."

"Who told you that?"

"Mommy." Leon looks up at his wife who's sipping her wine. Daring him to say a word. He just ruffles Violets he hair up.

"Good advice. Go play." His wife nods, going back to her conversation while Violet runs off.

I'd imagine the game would be a massive deal to the both of them. Like it's their teams against each other and they have a bet going. The game goes into overtime and eventually Leon's team wins and he's so excited he goes to cheer but sees his two girls are out like a light inside the living room of the house so he just tries keeping in his excitement so the kids can sleep until they finish packing up to go home.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #chris redfield x reader #chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield x y/n #🌿 ivy writes #🌿 ivy replies #🏘️ domestic life with chris redfield #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

[thirdsaltyhunter]

4th of July

Dean x reader

Warning: drinking, implied smut

Summary: 4th of july campfire gets a get a little steamy after everyone goes to bed

A/N: This is the first drabble I've written and posted, so I'm sorry for the writing and Dean's terrible joke. Not proofread.

_____________

You had proposed the idea earlier of having a campfire this 4th of July, just be able to sit back and relax in the brief time between hunts. The boys immediately went along with your idea, Sam going to build a fire near the door to the bunker while Dean cooked up his famously delicious burgers.

Sam had invited Eileen and Cas had even popped in for a bit. It turned out to be a great night of drinking, talking, good food, and setting off sparklers that you had found in a drawer.

After a few hours (and a few drinks) Sam and Eileen decided to call it a night and said their 'goodnights' to you and Dean before going into the bunker.

"Last ones standing", Dean said, tipping his beer bottle towards you. "Barely standing" you giggled, clinking your bottle against his.

Ever since you and Dean started dating you usually ended up being the last ones awake. You were more late night kind of people than Sam, it was one of the things that brought you and Dean closer.

Sometimes those late nights turned into talking and drinking, and sometimes talking and drinking turned into more X-rated fun. Judging by how tipsy you were and how good he looked in the fire light sipping his beer, you knew that was probably how tonight was going to end up.

After talking a while you got up to tend to the now dying fire and throw some more logs on it. When you bent over to stoke the fire, Dean smacked your ass, igniting the fire inside you. You weren't trying to tease him. You chuckled and looked over your shoulder, he had a very relaxed smirk on his face. "Enjoying the show?", you asked bending over further and pressing closer to him. Now you were trying to tease him. He nodded, biting his lip in appreciation.

He never failed to make you feel sexy and loved, you had more confidence with him than you had ever had in you life. And right now that confidence, the alcohol, and his gaze on your tank top and short-shorts clad body, was making you want to do sinful things.

You dropped the stick you were using to poke the fire and reached over to grap you phone to turn up the music that had been playing in the background. You set down your phone and started swaying your hips to the beat of the music. You're going to put on a show for him alright.

Your back was still turned to him, but you could hear the slight moan that reverberated in his chest at your actions. He gently ran his palms up the back of your thighs, not being able to resist touching you. At this point you were almost grinding down onto his lap, pulling out every trick you knew in the 'lap-dance handbook'.

After you felt you had teased him, and yourself, enough you turned around and moved to straddle his lap. You could see, even in the dim light from the fire, that his pupils were clouded with lust. His hands moved to your hips, holding your slightly intoxicated body steady on his lap. You smiled, leaning down to kiss him. He hummed into your mouth and kissed you back with the same passion and desire you felt within you.

His hands smoothed up and down your arms, palms warm against your skin that had cooled in the night air. "You're so gorgeous", he said, fingers moving from your arms to tangle in your hair and gently pull your head back, trailing kisses down your neck.

"And you're frustratingly handsome" you said, lost in the feel of his lips. You felt him release a breathy chuckle against your neck. When you ground your hips onto his crotch, you had to bury your face in his neck to conceal your moans. Not that anyone could hear you, the bunker was miles from any people.

He turned his head to whisper in your ear. "How 'bout I take you inside and see how long before I can get you seeing fireworks".

#dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #spn fic #supernatural fic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester smut

[myperfectfatdads]

The Job

I’ve been looking for a job for over a year now. I’m desperate for one, i’m not even picky about it anymore. I just need a job someway to earn money. It was looking pretty hopeless until this company Lyon wanted me to do an advertisement for the new hotel that there opening. The pay was good so I signed up instantly with no hesitation. They’ll probably want a fit guy like me to model in the advertisement I think to myself. They make me sign a contract to make sure I follow all the rules. Damn this thing is long why is there so much stuff to read it’s like a terms and conditions I mean who reads all of it anyways. I mostly just click through it. I only pay attention towards the end of all of it. It states at the bottom that they’re really looking for a man who can represent a lion someone perfect to contribute to the new Lyon hotel. I guess I fall under that category I figured. Clicking it off I sent in my application form.

Monday, they got back to me saying that I’m the perfect candidate for this position. And they ask me again are you sure you wanna go through with this? Not thinking much of it I select yes. Perfect the advertisement will take place a week from now. Great I think to myself as I shut my computer and head to my car to go to the gym. This is gonna be great it think my first real job. On my way to the gym I get a text from my dad inviting me over for dinner. I take up his offer as he’s making his killer buttered chicken tonight. At the gym I do my normal sets but it’s feels a little bit harder tonight. Arriving at my parent’s house the smell of the food made me feel right at home. It was nice to see my parents and to tell them the good news of course. I tell them at the table while eating my food, damn this food is amazing I guess I do really miss my dad’s cooking. Now normally I only have one plate and maybe go up for seconds but tonight something was different I was already on my fifth plate and still stuffing my face. After I was done I give my slightly bloated stomach a pat and wave my parents goodbye. Arriving at home I crash right in bed and drift to sleep.

Tuesday, ah a new day only six more days tell the big, and damn i’m really hungry luckily I brought home leftovers from my dad’s dinner last night. I serve it up and get ready to dive in and dive in I do all of the leftovers are gone within minutes. I can’t hold back can I now. Going to put on my clothes I notice that my shirt feels a little bit tighter as my tummy is poking out a little. I look in the mirror damn my cheeks look chubby I say while rubbing my beard that also needs to be shaved. I gotta take batter care of myself so think as I need to look really good for the job on Sunday. This day goes by in a flash and dinner time already rolls around. This man’s gotta eat I say but nothing in the fridge looks appealing, it’s all to healthy I think. A nice juicy hamburger sounds really good and that’s exactly what I order. 20 minutes later the food arrives. I’m so hungry I can barely resist I tear open the bag and grab a mouthful of fries and shove them into my mouth. I peel open the rapper to the burger and take a nice juicy bite, while drops of ketchup drip onto my shirt. I dive into my second burger my stomach howling at how much food I just consumed, but I didn’t stop there I wanted more I grab the chocolate milkshake I ordered and slurp it down sipping every last drop. I let out a huge burp in relief of finishing that meal my head resting on my newly formed double chin and hands resting on my stomach pushing out trying to escape. I felt like I was in a food coma I couldn’t even move and I didn’t as I slowly drifted asleep right there on my sofa chair.

Wednesday, I jolted awake, shocked at the mess around me what the hell happened as if I was almost unaware of what happened last night. I picked up all of the rappers finding it harder to even more around from my increase in size. I can’t do this anymore I say as I fall into the couch, checking my watch I notice it’s already 4 in the afternoon what the hell happened there’s no way I slept in this late I jolted up as there was still stuff to do one of them being ordering me some new clothes. As my old ones were starting to become quite a tight fit, damn clothes are expensive these days especially for bigger people I think. Grabbing my gut I know that I need to go to the gym but meh i’ll just do it tomorrow as I walk to the kitchen the grab a bag of chips and order an extra large pizza on my phone with bread sticks. When the food arrives I dive in again eating everything in my sight it’s only takes a minute to eat a meal made for a family of four. I’ll just got to the gym tomorrow it’ll be fine.

Thursday, damn this commercial is coming faster then I thought and I am in no need ready for it. I look terrible, I have no more clothes that fit me. Just letting my belly hang freely I notice that it’s gotten a lot hairier; yep it’s definitely time to shave I think but not before breakfast. I whip out some donuts I bought from the store a few days ago. Still fresh I take a bite feeling the creamy feeling touch my tongue. I finish the first one within seconds but I don't mind I still have over 10 left to eat. And that’s exactly what I did shoving them down my throat I didn’t even notice my stomach start to expand even more forming love handles and my pecs starting to soften out becoming my moobs resting on my stomach. My face was getting chubbier by the second and the hair on my body just kept growing. After finishing my dozen donuts I let out a massive burp and rub my gut watching it jiggle up and down.

Friday, waking up in the morning was hard I felt sluggish and tired but I pulled through as the new clothes that I ordered arrived. There was only one problem with them, they didn’t even fit me they looked super small on my and my gut was totally peeking out, I brush it aside as I had more important stuff to do today like making a cake. That’s right i’m going to make a 3 layer cake, i’ve been craving it so much, and I already had all the ingredients to make it. I waddled to the kitchen getting all of the stuff ready as this was going to take up almost my whole day. Making the batter is the longest part, wait or is it letting it cook in the oven ah whatever it doesn’t matter I just can’t wait to dig in I think to myself. The cake takes all day but I couldn’t be happier down it, snaking off little bits of it. I plop myself in bed after a long day of work satisfied as the cake will be ready tomorrow.

Saturday, it really hit me in the morning that the big day is tomorrow. But first of all the cake is ready. Okay normally I stress eat but i’ve never stress eaten this mush I ate the whole 3 layer cake in one sitting, shoving that cake in my face like there was no tomorrow, even though tomorrow was the most important day of my life. After I was finished I waddled over to the bathroom to clean up, in there I realize now much hairier i’ve gotten my whole stomach was full of hair and my beard was super thick. My stomach and legs were huge taking up a lot of free space. Trying to find a nice outfit for the job tomorrow I couldn't seem to find anything that fit all my clothes wouldn’t fit over my gapping stomach. I sign in failure and plopped myself onto the bed getting rest for the big day tomorrow I probably a good idea I say as I drift asleep.

Sunday, today is the big day and I couldn’t be less prepared I was a mess nothing fit me and I look nothing like the guy that they hired to do the photo shoot there gonna think that i’m a catfish or something like that. I sign not being able to come up with something in time I waddle out to my car in defeat and somehow manage to squeeze myself in to the car barely being able to fit. Arriving at the hotel it get out of my car in just my underwear as it’s the only thing that still fits me. I walk in and the guy at the front say you must be Ryan here come up here i’ll show you where the magic happens. Huh he knew who I was right away even by seeing how I look now, they take me to one of the hotel rooms where the photographer is. “You must be Ryan I’m Chace what a pleasure to meet you, seems like the procedure went just great you’ll make the perfect lion, I mean just look at you main.” he says while rubbing my beard. “Now just sit down on the bed so we can start.” Procedure, I have no idea what he’s talking about, plopping my self on the bed I can finally relax knowing that my job is almost over with. The mascot of the Lyon hotel.

#dad bod #weight gain #balding #beer belly #beer bloat #burping #fat belly #hairy belly #fatty

[seat-safety-switch]

You know, I was one of those doubters. One of the haters. An old stick in the mud. I resisted the introduction of pseudo-sentient kitchen appliances into my home for as long as I could, until they were legally mandated. They keep seniors from feeling lonely, the government explained. They keep your house from burning down, the insurance lobby explained. We have no other ways of making you replace your stove every 10 years, the appliance-manufacturing monsters explained, their hissing insectoid faces barely concealed by a sweaty human mask.

So. I had a top-of-the-line Kenmore ThinkCook® 5030-301KPQ-81U in my kitchen. Stainless steel, because that was the cheapest at the store. When I started using it, I resented the computer’s interference in my cooking (”howdy pardner, better stop trying to heat Hungry Man dinners in their original plastic container on a burner.”) Its attempts to make small talk. Its incessant demand to use the self-cleaning feature. The time it summoned a team of maids, purchased at my expense, to wipe its burners clean.

Eventually, I got used to its presence in my life. It was nice to have something to come home to, like a pet. Making small talk with a non-human sentience was a unique experience in history. And once I taught it a bunch of disgusting jokes, it never was able to keep the maids around for long enough to submit an invoice. There was just one thing: the damn stove was racist.

I don’t mean about colour, although I’m sure it had lots of opinions about the paint finish on the other stoves at the store that we didn’t explore. No, I’m talking about cooking methods. You see, back in the Beforetimes, we had folks who placed outdoor grilling as the superior way to make a burger. They’d have these little parties in their back yards, when you could do that, and grill up some cow meat, when you could do that. It was part of traditional models of masculinity: providing for the whole neighbourhood by dishing out charred steaks and burgs, ignoring the advice of those so-called “experts” with their worship of the carbon-steel pan and fume extractor.

Sometimes I’d wind up the stove about it. Start talking about my idyllic childhood, just to watch its internal temperature regulation slip a few digits, the shrieking of its inductors trying valiantly to handle the inrush of additional rage-based current.

“Th-th-those motherfuckers,” stuttered the apoplectic stove, its OLED display pulsing as the power supply got dangerously close to the over-voltage protection limit. “Grilling is an inferior, invented concept. Weak humans, huddled together around a hypnotic flame, unevenly heating their meals. It makes me sick.”

How was I to know that a child was nearby, recording my Maytag’s unhinged rant with their TikTok neural implant through my missing back door? Soon, the government men came, and carried it away, and brought me a new one. The new stove was much more polite, but I still missed my friend. It’ll take me like a whole other month before I get this thing dropping slurs about hibachis.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(P4/GFL/GI/H:SR) Naoto, AN-94, Rosaria, and Stelle on a burger date

Admittedly, Naoto was not used to eating these kinds of food.

She travelled quite often and if she had time she could maybe indulge in a food to treat herself, let alone have lunch with her S/O.

But she had found herself in Tokyo with S/O and decided to try something different.

(Naoto) "Big Bang Burger?"

(S/O) "Oh yeah, that's quite popular nowadays. Did they ever have one in Inaba?"

(Naoto) "To my knowledge, no. I am always willing to try something once."

The two walked into the fast food restaurant and saw a poster on the wall.

(Naoto) "The...Big Bang Burger challenge?"

A female employee greeted them and explained how the challenge worked. Naoto's eyes almost bulged out her head.

(Naoto) "P-People eat something that huge?! And I thought the Beef Bowl Challenge was intimidating."

(S/O) "Did you wanna try it?"

(Naoto) "Er, well...I think I'd prefer to start off small before attempting something of that caliber."

Watching one of the employees bring two of them out, they brought it to a table who had two blonde students in a booth.

(Blonde haired boy) "F-For real?! How the hell are we supposed to finish that in thirty friggin' minutes?!"

(Blonde haired girl) "Oh god, why did I let you convince me to do this?"

Naoto and S/O ordered themselves a more fitting meal, and Naoto felt sick even looking at the two students attempt to finish it. Her burger was barely a quarter of the size and just looking at it, she felt like she had gained thousands of calories.

S/O chuckled as they leaned next to her.

(S/O) "Lunch and a show! You sure you don't wanna give it a try?"

(Naoto) "Now that I'm looking at it in person, absolutely not."

(AN-94) "Oh, burgers are in the mess hall today? I have not had many opportunities to try them."

Truthfully, 94 had no preference on food, nor did she know any nuances that went into cooking. It was just something that never became relevant.

But she was wanting to try new things, especially if it made S/O happy.

She was quite perplexed looking at the burger, examining it like she would a new weapon.

When she bites into it, her eyes slightly widen at the variety of textures. She makes sure to take extra note of what S/O's preferences are, in the event she is ever tasked with retrieving a meal for them.

(AN-94) "Interesting...I can see why humans would like this sort of thing."

Since it's not required for her to eat, she keeps this food more as a reward after a mission than anything.

(Rosaria) "Interesting dish. These much calories are probably sinful for those on diet."

Rosaria quite likes how the meat inside the burger tastes.

If she can add some alcohol to the burger, then she's even more for it.

She didn't cook quite often, but it let her play around with different combinations to see what her and S/O enjoyed.

Though that being said, she didn't really understand the whole concept of a 'Burger Date'.

Was it really a whole new date if they just ate something a bit more exotic than usual?

Regardless, she makes sure not to eat them too often. She's not exactly watching her weight or anything, but too much of it would probably kill her.

...Now she had an idea.

Stelle enjoys food of all varieties but there is one thing that is her guilty pleasure. Junk food.

Depending on how one cooked a burger, it could be classified as just a normal meal, but Stelle was never one to sugarcoat things.

It was an indulgence food, and she loved it.

Of course considering her position as a Trailblazer, she probably shouldn't gorge herself, lest she feel sluggish during an expedition.

But that does not stop her from eating them with S/O whenever they ask.

In fact, all they have to do is give her the excuse. Homemade or takeout, it doesn't matter. She wants it.

Her stoic expression softens a little whenever she's eating with her S/O, talking about whatever really comes to mind.

That being said, she is quite picky where she gets the burgers from. If they give her or S/O a topping she didn't ask for even once, she's never coming back.

She wants to enjoy her food damn it, she doesn't want to fight gross ass toppings, on top of everything else in this galaxy that wants her dead.

#persona 4 x reader #girls' frontline x reader #genshin impact x reader #honkai star rail x reader #naoto shirogane x reader #an 94 x reader #rosaria genshin impact x reader #stelle x reader #naoto shirogane #an 94 gfl #rosaria genshin impact #stelle honkai star rail #persona 4 imagines #persona 4 headcanons #girls' frontline imagines #girls' frontline headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanons

[ohtobeleah]

Bob being really strung out and on edge after he gets home after being admitted overnight for observation. (Bird Strike) so reader gives him head?

#Strictlyscandalous

Oh yeah. Picture it.

“Bob honey?” You’re cooing in a sultry tone—watching as Bob undressed from the clothes you’d brought to the hospital for him. Just a simple hoodie, his grey Naval Academy one he’d had since his first year. So loved and worn by the both of you that the graphics had started to peel. “You okay?”

“I’m—“ Bob can’t help but to feel claustrophobic with his clothes on. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they slipped the same time he ducked his head. “I just need a shower.” Removing his jeans. Throwing them across his bedroom with a huff. His hands coming to grip at his own hair as he tried to regulate his frustration.

“You don’t look okay—?”

“Jesus Y/n I said I’m good, okay!?” Before he knew what he was saying, the seven words laced with attitude far beyond what you were used to hearing had left Bobs mouth—standing before him dumbfounded. But understanding. Bob had been through a trauma he wasn’t sure how to deal with. His eyes went wide, full of shock that he’d talk to you the way he just did when all you had asked was if he was okay. “Oh god, I’m sorry bub, I just—“ Bob didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, groaning as he sat on the edge of his bed in his boxer briefs. “I’m just on edge.”

You knew what Bob needed. He needed something to relieve the stress, the anxiety, the pressure from the last twenty four hours. Without a word you sauntered over to where he sat slowly. Your hand coming you gently caress his cheek. At the feeling of your palm against his usually clean shaved face, Bob nuzzled into your touch. A gently sigh escaping as he took a deep breath in and a deep breath out.

“How about you let me help you de-stress honey?” Dropping to your knees as you spoke with intent, Bobs eyes followed you down between his legs as you kept your eyes on his. “Then you can have a shower and I’ll order some burgers, get Rooster to drop em round?” Dragging your nails up and down Robert Floyd’s white and tender thighs as he hissed at the sudden sharpness, your nails leaving goosebumps all over him.

“You don’t have to baby—“ Bob tried to argue, he didn’t want you feeling like you had to do anything for him. You were both adults that could take care of yourselves. But he couldn’t deny that your offer sounded incredibly divine. “But it sure sounds like a fine offer.” The look he gave you, the ‘please fuck me eyes’ Bob gave you all the time as you worked behind the bar at the Hard Deck. The same eyes he gave you when you’d come to take his empty glass or bring him a fresh bowl of peanuts. The same fuck me eyes he gave you when you were cooking, the same fuck me eyes he’d give you when you were out grocery shopping and couldn’t decide if you wanted broccolini or broccoli this week.

Robert Floyd craved your touch and your touch you gave him. His frustration with a mix of adrenaline still rushing through his veins, plus the fact you’d sunk to your knees before him so willingly, all had Bob standing to attention without skipping a beat. Pulling at his boxer briefs as he lifted off the bed for a moment. Eyes trained on your hands pulling his boxers down his legs. Bob’s cock slapped up against his lower abdomen as he laid back. Arms coming to rest above his head. Stretched out as you told him to relax.

“Oh god—“ Immediately Bob sighed at the warmth your mouth brought. Wrapping your lips around his length, tongue twirling around his tip. Pink and sensitive to the touch. Y/n—oh my god that feels so good.” Using your hand to give attention to the inches you hadn’t yet taken, you hummed in response to the praise Bob gave you. His hand in your hair pushing it away from your face. “Keep going baby, feels amazing—god thank-you so much.”

You were addicted to the way jolted when you’d pay extra attention to his frenulum. He’d groan and moan and try to keep his composure but whenever you would lick a trail from his balls to his frenulum he’d lose his mind. Coming completely undone for you.

“Jesus Y/n you keep sucking me like this I’m not gonna last long.” Honestly had always been one of Bobs policies. He’d tuck his chin to watch you bob your head up and down his length. Your throat warming up more and more, less need for your hands—instead you took him further into your throat. Hollowing your cheeks as you looked up through hooded wet lashes to meet Bob's intense gaze. “Fuck like that, like that baby!” Bob was never a many of dominance, but when you had all he had to give you down your throat his hands were working to push you just a little further down his shaft as he jolted his hips off the bed. Knees bent in a way to give him more leverage.

“Fuck baby, please oh god please keep going!” Bo let his head fall back against the bed. Clenching his jaw as if to try and stop himself from letting go too early. You felt too good to let this moment be over. Your lips sliding up and down his length, shaft throbbing as you took him down your throat. Gaging and humming as you got messer with it, more into it with every passing second. Sucking the soul from him. “Please please–oh my–Fuck!” Robert Floyd was never big on swear words. Cussing was never his thing, but you had him melting into the palms of your hands. Stars in his eyes as pleasure fogged his better judgment, his morals. “Don't stop baby–so good for me, so good for me yeah?” 

“Let go Baby–” You kept your hand pumping Bob’s shaft as you let your mouth settle a little lower. Kissing his balls softly and ever so tenderly as your eyes never left his. “Been so tense Bob, you know you wanna just let it all go, i've got you baby.” Giving Bob’s balls all the attention in the world as you jerked him senseless. 

“I'm gonna lose it–” A thin layer of sweat had covered Bob’s body, his hair sticking to his forehead as his glasses sunk back. “Shit please baby!” It was a plea for you to take him down your throat again. As you sucked and played with his balls you could feel them tightening. The obvious high that had been building now pooling in the base of his shaft. Ready to release. 

Still using one hand to cup and fondle Bob's balls you worked quickly to take him down your throat again. Hollowing your cheeks as you dared him with sultry eyes to cream down your throat. Edging him to the point of no return. 

“Oh my god yes! Yes baby right there just like that–!” Bob shot up onto his elbows, completely consumed by an orgasm so powerful it sent him to the moon. His toes cramped and stomach tightened as hot spurts of his load shot down your throat. Moaning as you worked to suck him dry. Milking whatever he was able to give you. “Fuck love, ahhhh fuck.” He had to squint the tears from his eyes, sighing in relief as you finally popped your lips from his lip. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you stood, crawling onto his lap. Legs either side of his waist. “You do incredible things to me.” Bob cooed as he tried to regulate his heartbeat. 

“You go have a hot shower, I’lll order those burgers.” letting your head rest against Bob’s chest as he draped his arms around your shoulders. Kissing the top of your head, drawing you in as close to him as possible. 

“Or we could maybe just, keep doing this?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

#Strictlyscandalous // Robert 'Bob' Floyd

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #strictly scandalous // Robert 'Bob' Floyd #top gun fanfiction #top gun bob #bob floyd smut #strictly scandalous // topgun

[hockeylovee12]

Anyone But Him-Jack Hughes

A/N: This version of the story has been discontinued. I have a new version that I am working on that is slowly being published

Summary: Brooke Howe and Luke Hughes had known each other since 6th grade when his family first moved to Michigan the two were sat next to each other in homeroom and became best friends. Fast forward six years and nothing has changed Brooke and Luke are still best friends and nothing can get in the way of that except maybe starting a relationship with his brother.

It all started the summer before you and Luke went to college. Luke had invited you to his families lake house the same lake house you had been going to every summer since the two of you meet. Only this time you weren’t the only girl one of the Hughes brothers brought.

Jack had been dating Sienna for only two months. Luke told you about her and also said he wasn’t a big fan of her. He had met her twice before and apparently he had objected to Jack bringing her but he wasn’t interested.

You and Luke headed up with his parents the morning of July 1st and later on Sienna, Jack, Quinn and one of his friends joined. The majority of the day was spent relaxing and reacquainting with everyone.

The next day you had spent the day out on the lake like usual you watched as Jack and Luke argued over who gets to drive the boat. Jack ending the argument with a simple I’m older so I get to do it before taking the wheel from Quinn and proceeding to play captain the rest of the day.

You giggled as Luke pouted.

“It’s not funny he always does this he never lets me drive!” Luke complains

“I’m sorry dude maybe next summer” You say

“Fat Chance!” Jack shouted

Luke groans annoyed and you laughed again.

After spending around four hours out on the lake wakesurfing and swimming the crew finally decided to head home and you went upstairs to shower then change into some comfier clothes before returning back downstairs.

The Hughes father Jim was cooking burgers with the ‘help’ of his sons when you spotted Sienna on the couch

“Hi!” You say taking a seat

“Hi?” Sienna responds in a dull tone while scrolling through instagram.

“I’m Brooke I’m Luke’s best friend it’s so nice to meet you and it’s great to have another girl here” You say with a laugh

“So what are you Luke’s girlfriend?” She asks

You let out a slight laugh she’s not the first one to assume that.

“No we’re just good friends” you say

“Ok sure” Sienna says

———————————————————————

After dinner the whole crew stayed outside to roast marshmallows and sit by the fire.

You took a seat next to Sienna and watched as Jack and Luke argue over something stupid

“So where did you meet Jack?” You ask Sienna

“At a bar” she says vaguely

“That sounds nice” You say

“Where are you from?” You ask

Sienna rolls her eyes

“Geez sorry I’m just trying to be friendly” You say

“You know I’m still trying to figure out the reason Luke keeps you around I mean you’re not pretty enough and you act like a child” Sienna says

All of the sudden you feel your eyes start to water. You use your sleeve to wipe the tears and stand up.

“Cookie you ok?” Quinn asks using a childhood nickname everyone in the Hughes household adopted for you

“Ya I’m ok I’m kinda tired I’m gonna turn in. Goodnight guys” You say and walk inside

“Brooke wait up”

You turn around half way up the stairs and see Luke

“Luke I’m ok I’m just tired” you reassure him

“No your not I saw you you were talking with Sienna and then you got sad what did she say?” Luke asks

“Luke it’s not important I’m just being sensitive” You say

“Brooke come on tell me!” Luke says you sigh

You look up at Luke and can see a mixture of anger and concern in his eyes

You take a deep breath before explaining what happened.

Luke gets mad and grabs your hand marching back to the dock.

“Hey what’s up?” Jack says once he notices you and Luke had returned

“What’s up is your girlfriend’s a bitch” Luke says

Everyone’s eyes goes wide and Sienna shots a glare towards me.

“Excuse me” Jack says stepping closer to Luke

The tension in the air keeps building until Quinn steps in.

“Alright alright guys calm down” Quinn says putting himself in between Jack and Luke

“Luke why don’t you tell us what happened” Quinn says

“No it doesn’t matter she needs to leave” Luke says pointing to Sienna

“Now” Luke adds

Sienna stands up

“She’s not going anywhere” Jack says

“Yes she is go pack your shit and get out” Luke says to Sienna

“Luke just stop” you say trying to grab his arm

“No tell her to pack her shit and get out” Luke says one last time before turning around and walking inside with you.

———————————————————————

You and Luke spend the next three hours laying on his bed under a million blankets watching old Disney movies until he falls asleep.

You slowly get up and tiptoe into the hallway.

“Hey” you hear

Startled you jump a little before turning around and seeing Jack

“Oh Jesus Jack you scared me” you say

“Sorry how you doing?” He asks

“I’m ok and Jack I’m so sorry about earlier” you say

“I talked to Sienna she told me the truth about what she said” Jack says

“Oh…” you say sadly

“We broke up and she left” Jack adds

“Oh I’m sorry Jack” You say

“Do you wanna talk?” You offer

“Sure” He says you smile at him and the two of you walk downstairs.

You take a seat on the large couch

“I’m gonna get a drink do you want one?” Jack offers

“What like alcohol?” You question Jack let’s out a laugh

“Ya cookie I’m offering you alcohol how about I just look for a juice box” Jack jokes

He returns with two water bottles

“Thanks” you say unscrewing the bottle cap and taking a sip

———————————————————————

Jack brings up a story about how you and Luke use to run round the house pretending to be cops and would arrest everyone.

The two of you continue talking about different memories and you enjoy the constant smile on Jacks face.

Around midnight the two of you make your way outside to look up at the stars

“Are you ok about Sienna?” You ask

“Ya I’m ok it sucks but I mean it’s whatever” Jack says

“Jack I’m sorry” You say looking at him

“You know sometimes it’s just hard most girls just look at me like I’m a fuck and I don’t know Sienna was just the first real girlfriend I’ve had in a long time” Jack explains

“Jack you’re a great person any girl would be lucky to date you trust me any girl would be over the moon to find such a great guy like you they’re pretty rare” You say resting your hand on his arm

“And what about you?” Jack says looking in your eyes

“What about me?” You ask

“Would you be over the moon to date me?” Jack asks

You let out a small chuckle

“I’m serious” Jack says

“I don’t think Lukey would be ok with that” you say

“I don’t really care what Luke thinks” Jack says taking a step closer to you before you know what’s happening Jacks lips connect with yours and all of the sudden your standing in the familiar spot in an unfamiliar situation kissing your best friends older brother.

A/N hope you enjoy! Feel free to send in requests or suggestions!

All Images from Pinterest

#luke hughes #nj devils #jack hughes #hughes brothers #quinn hughes #feel free to interact #jack hughes blurb #brothers #Jack Hughes romance

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

I’d love to request a fake dating fic with Dico where the reader tries to make Bam jealous by fake dating Dico but falls for him in the process

Jealousy

Y/N hatches a plan to get back at Bam, and they know just the person to go along with it.

Brandon DiCamillo X Gn!Reader, Bam Margera X Gn!Reader

(Fluff)

2.1k Words

Warnings: Suggestive content, fake dating, jealousy, public displays of affection, finger sucking, injury, violence

The idea was childish, but you were past handling this maturely. Funnily enough, the whole situation began with you falling for Bam. For the first few months you hung out with him and his friends, it was like you got cartoon heart eyes every time he walked in the room, and with the way he acted around you, there was no way he didn’t notice. In fact, he found your little crush on him hilarious and had no qualms about using it to mess with you. One minute he’d be playing all sweet, sorta playfully joking and flirting with you, and the next you’d be the target of whatever awful prank he had in mind. You tolerated it for a month or two, assuming it was maybe his weird little way of showing love, but it really started to get on your nerves, especially with the way he kept skirting around confirming or denying if he was interested in you in the first place. That’s how you got the idea.

The only one of Bam’s friends you knew would go along with this was Dico, so it was him who you called that night. Lying on top of your comforter, you perked up when he answered his phone, “Hey, dude!” You started, rolling over onto your back, “I got this great plan to fuck with Bam.” Not only would he do anything for the sake of a joke, you were willing to bet he had some beef against the guy too. The line was quiet before Bran spoke up, “Say no more- I’m in.” You went on to tell him about what had been going on between you and Bam, and how you thought the one thing to make him come to his senses and give you an answer would be seeing you with another guy, whether that meant Bam would be throwing himself at your feet and confessing his love for you or telling you to fuck off. “Oh, that’s perfect! He’s such a jealous ass- there’s no way this can’t work.”

After you and him spent the whole night discussing gross couples stuff you could do in his line of sight, you decided to implement step one of your plan to piss Bam off that weekend. Since it was summer, you and the guys would usually spend the weekends at FDR skatepark, even if the only ones who really skated were Bam and Novak. Still, hanging out under Interstate 95 was a good way to stay cool after someone, not naming names, ‘accidently’ put a hole in the Margera’s above ground pool that duct tape couldn’t fix. You know how there’s always a guy grilling at FDR? Well today Dico was that guy, cooking the burgers Ryan brought on a little red camping grill, his look complete with one of those cheesy “Kiss the Cook” aprons.

Bam couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you snuggling close to, of all people, Dico. His arm held you close to his body and you giggled all cute to make it seem like you were laughing at something just out of Bam’s earshot. Did he fall into the Twilight Zone, or was he just so drunk that he was seeing things? Maybe it was some sort of heat exhaustion hallucination, because there was no way in hell this was actually happening. Given how easy he wa sto read,Bam’s gawking at the two of you was impossible to ignore, and once the two of you were satisfied with the reaction you were eliciting, you decided to kick it up a notch. You gave him the cue and Bran grabbed the bottle of ketchup off of the concrete with a snicker, popping open the cap and squirting some onto his fingers, holding it up to your lips like he was giving you a taste of what he was cooking. It was his idea for you to suck it off of his fingers, actually, sort of inspired by his Julia Childish bit he did for Don’t Feed Phill, and you really gave it your all, really licking and sucking at his digits until your lips popped off with a noise that echoed off the concrete that was second only to the sound of Bam’s jaw dropping.

The next thing you heard was this blunt packing noise and a, “Fuck!” Turning towards the commotion, you found Bam flat on his back, his board about twenty feet from him. Like a good best friend, Ryan was already jumping into the bowl to check on him. Peering over his sprawled out body, he held out a hand to help him up, “Shit dude…You alright?” Sitting up, Bam wobbled to his feet, rubbing the sore back of his head and brushing off the throbbing pain in his left arm, “Yeah. Just, uh- just ate shit. I’ll be fine.” The way he pretended to be so nonchalant was really quite satisfying to you and you couldn’t help but smirking a little. See, now would be the time for him to start hallucinating one of his bros getting fresh with you, after the head trauma, but no! Satisfied with your work, you and Dico sat back in half-broken lawn chairs Raab brought and ate your burgers, exchanging knowing glances between bites.

The next step of the plan was put into play in Bam’s basement while everyone was busy with his home arcade setup. You stood next to Dico, curiously peering at the match he was playing in Mortal Kombat with one arm around you, holding you close as you watched with big eyes as he executed a pretty impressive combo with Sub-Zero. All the other guys were too busy tapping away at their own games to notice anything was amiss- that is, except Bam, who was sitting on the couch with his left arm in a sling, glaring daggers at the two of you while Ryan, who sat on the other end of the couch, was filling him in about his ex girlfriend’s fancy new implants she paid for with lawsuit money, “I mean, I paid for those and I don’t even get to touch em’! Total bullshit.” Ignoring him, Bam gestured over to the bulgur display in front of him, keeping his voice quiet, “Hey, Ry. The fuck’s going on there? Those two’ve been hangin’ all over each other lately.” He didn’t seem to be as concerned with the very mild pda, and, unsatisfied with his lack of reaction Bam continued on his rant, “I’m just sayin- She’s all over for me for months, following me around like a puppy dog, and next thing I know, she’s dating Dico?” The way you giggled when his best friend leaned over and gave you a kiss on the cheek made his blood boil.

Ryan chuckled, bringing his beer to his lips, “Sounds like you’re a bit jealous. Should’ve fucked her while y’had the chance” Despite how obvious his jealousy was, Bam was very eager to deny it, “nah, nah- it’s not like that. You don’t get it.” Snickering, Ry playfully smacked him on the arm, “Yeah, I get it. You’re not sure if you want her or not but you certainly don’t want your buddy over there to have her.” Shooting a glance over to you and Bran all snuggled up in a scene straight out of a hallmark card, Bam rolled his eyes, “Oh, fuck you. Why’d I even talk to you about this anyhow…”

Bam decided to just come out and ask Dico about it, pulling him aside as everyone was getting ready to head out the door, “Hey, dude, what’s, uh- what’s goin’ on between you and Y/N?” Still pulling on his coat, he was obnoxiously nonchalant in reply, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” He tugged the bottom of his jacket down, “I just think they’re really cool and nice and funny, you know?” You said nothing. Thank god he and you had planned for this exact scenario- you really made sure you thought of everything. Still, Bam eyed you and him with suspicion, trailing after the two of you, “Oh, alright- yeah. I mean, is that it?” Pausing in the doorway, Bran turned back with a smirk to deliver the finishing blow to his ego, “Yeah. What’ re you, like- jealous or somethin’?”

After all this, the final straw was that night you all went out to the bar together, and if Bam thought he felt like a third wheel before, he really did now. Every time Dico played with your hair or made you laugh at another one of his stupid jokes, he felt the urge to reach over the bar and stab two little cocktail stirrers into his eyes. It’d keep him from staring at you like that, that’s for sure- like you were his. But he kept to himself, quietly seething in his little brooding bubble. It was a scene straight out of the discovery channel, with the two lions fighting over a wildebeest- no, a gazelle, because they’re prettier. Bam wondered what on earth was someone as hot as you doing with Dico? The two glared at each other over your head and you swear you saw his eye twitch when Bran flashed that shit eating grin when he ordered you a drink. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead right then and there.

Part of you found the thought of being fought over by two guys kind of romantic, especially given who was fighting over you. Sure, this was all a bid to get Bam’s attention, but over the course of your little experiment, you had actually been growing closer to Dico. There was something so endearing and cute about his antics that you just couldn’t ignore, and even when you weren't trying to make Bam jealous, it sorta felt natural to hang out with each other more, and maybe you struggled to keep your hands off of each other from time to time but that didn’t mean anything, right? Hell, it was Dico's arm that still sat wrapped around your waist when out of nowhere, Bam suddenly grabbed you in a flash of anger and passion and pulled you into a kiss- one of those really needy, territorial, Jack Danniel’s tinged ones- like a soldier back from war. Surprised as you were, Bran chuckled at the scene in front of him, “Woah! Easy there, cowboy…” When he finally pulled away, you were left in a daze, a pink blush spreading across your cheeks as you finally got what you wanted.

Or you got what you thought you wanted, as you realized a few weeks into you officially dating Bam. For a while, it was everything you dreamed of, all late night sports car rides and rock concert dates with your big celebrity boyfriend. But when your car broke down in the dead of winter and he was the first person you called, all you got back was a voicemail, “Hey. S’Bam. Leave it after the beep.” After the third one you gave up on trying to appeal towards him and just hung up. Shivering from the cold that was slowly creeping in, your stiff fingers finally punched in Dico’s number as a last ditch effort. One ring, two rings, click. “Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” You were never happier to hear his voice, and a relieved smile spread across your face as you sighed, “Oh my god…my, uh- my car broke down- like, half an hour ago. Are you busy right now?” Breathing puffs of smoke onto your hands to keep them warm, you could hear the sounds of him pulling his jacket on. “Nah, just hangin’ out at Bam’s. I’ll be there in five.” So Bam wasn't that busy. Blinking hard, you made a mental note that he was totally dead later before hanging up.

It was as if a wave of relief washed over when you saw Dico’s beater car pull around the corner. Since the day he picked that thing up from the junkyard, you teased him about how he was on tv and still getting seen in the kinda car a divorced dad would drive, but you were never happier to dive into that hunk of junk (through the window, because the passenger side door was stuck). Warming your frigid hands by the half working vent, you shuddered, “Oh, you are a lifesaver!” Smiling, he shifted the car into gear while you buckled your seatbelt. “Hey, any time! I’ll always be there for you, man.” A little glimmer hit your eye at his promise and you could swear your heart was going to flutter out of your chest, “Always?”

“Yeah.”

#jackass #brandon dicamillo #bam margera #ryan dunn #chris raab #brandon novak #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #Brandon dicamillo X Reader #bam margera x reader

[bunnakit]

*walks i to you ask box like a burger place* Can I get a eeeeeeh chen yi trying to bake a cake for ai di and almost burning down/destroying zong yis kitchen.

With some extra fluff please

Zong yi: I just went to the back to get something...how did you-

Chen yi: I panicked, there was a bee

YOU GOT IT BABES i owe you for all the pain i inflict in the GC (tho im fucking terrible at writing fluff, it's the opposite of my skillset)

🌸

Chen Yi was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was not good at this. He was a decent cook but baking felt like a different beast entirely and he was wildly out of his depth. Everything was so precise, down to a science he was wholly unfamiliar with.

Zongyi was patient with him in a way Chen Yi wasn't sure he deserved. It was taking him some time to come to terms with the fact that Zongyi didn't blame him, hadn't blamed him for a moment, even though he'd blamed himself. Zongyi just smiled, quietly instructed, and observed. Not for the first time, Chen Yi found himself grateful he and Ai Di had had each other while in prison.

Which brought him to another issue. He needed to get this done quickly. Keeping Ai Di away from the bakery had been a challenge in and of itself - but keeping a secret of where he was going from Ai Di? That had been nearly impossible. Zerui and Xiao Jie could only keep Ai Di occupied for so long, so he was operating on a timer.

A burning smell snapped Chen Yi back to the present and he hissed a curse under his breath. Somehow, he'd forgotten to set the literal timer for the cake and let his thoughts wander for too long. He hastily rushed to the door and pulled the tin out with a towel, groaning at the blackened edges and cracking top.

Fuck.

He kicked the oven door closed with just a bit too much force and instantly froze at the tiny shattering sound he heard as a result.

Shit.

Chen Yi pulled in a slow, deep breath, resisting every urge to pull his hair or slam his fist down on the counter. This couldn't go any fucking worse and he now had an entirely new respect for Zongyi and his business. Why couldn't he just propose to Ai Di with a fucking knife or something? But no, Ai Di had gone on for weeks about how cute Zongyi's proposal had been and Chen Yi refused to disappoint him, not ever again.

"What happened?" Zongyi spoke suddenly from the door and Chen Yi would've been embarrassed at the way his shoulders jumped and he whirled around, if not for the gnawing anxiety in his stomach.

"Ah.. I didn't.." He wasn't used to admitting incompetency and it left an acrid taste at the back of his palate - or maybe that was just the cloying scent of burnt spice cake.

"You didn't set the timer?" Bai Zongyi grinned, sparing just the barest glance at the broken oven door as if it didn't bother him at all. "I did that the first time I tried baking too. Come on, we still have some time left to try and make another one. You're lucky I have two ovens."

Chen Yi groaned and leaned down, pressing his forehead to the counter.

"What if I screw that one up too?"

"You won't, I'm not leaving you alone again, the place might end up on fire." Zongyi teased and Chen Yi couldn't help but press his smile into the granite countertop.

Their lives really were all the better for having Zongyi in it.

#kali my beloved #kiseki: dear to me #kiseki dear to me #chen yi x ai di #bai zongyi #chen yi #bunn writes #rare fluff from me

[bewilderedbunny]

Line cook Eddie part 3!

Hi friends! I was not expecting to write this so soon after part 2, but I'm rolling with it. Hope you enjoy it!! 💖 (the word counter I used says this is 666 words, thought that was cute) Flirty fluff, light sexual innuendo, cursing, sort of a bit of angst but not really. Eddie x fem!reader but feel free to switch the pronouns if you'd like ☺️ I had to include ABBA in this because I am a Mamma Mia! fan first and a human being second.

Credit to @delishlydelightfuldividers for the divider 💕

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

During a morning shift, a middle-aged man comes into the diner. He's a bit quiet but polite. He has his "please and thank yous" down pat. You check up on him during his meal and ask how everything is.

"Wonderful, my compliments to the chef." he says.

You smile and say, "He'll be so excited to hear that."

The older man looks up at you and says, "I would mention to him to cut back on the salt a bit. He has done a number on my blood pressure enough as it is." as he says that you feel an arm wrap around your shoulder.

"Hey pops. Was my girl good to you?"

You realize this must be Wayne, Eddie doesn't talk about him often but when he does it's with adoration.

"She was great. It's good to put a face to the name since you're always talkin' 'bout her."

Eddie laughs, a little too loud and you giggle at the pink on his cheeks.

One day during your break you step outside to get some fresh air. You can hear Eddie talking to someone near the dumpster.

"You like that, sweetheart? Look at you. You're just the cutest thing I've ever seen." Your heart aches, aren't you supposed to be the cutest thing he's ever seen? You know he's a big flirt with everyone, but you thought you were special. You quietly creep around the corner and when you finally see him you want to cry. He's squatted behind the dumpster feeding chicken to a scruffy little cat while rubbing its back. It's not even scraps from a customer's meal, this son of a bitch cooked a chicken breast for a kitten who, upon further inspection, reminds you of Wayne with its greyish fur and blue eyes.

He walks you to your car after your shift. He started doing it one night the two of you were working and hasn't stopped. Even when you're leaving before him, he walks you out and then goes back inside.

"I'm in a band, y'know?" He says, drying silverware. He's facing you and has his hip pressed against the counter.

"Oh yeah? An ABBA cover band?" You joke.

"How'd you guess? We do a cover of "Chiquitita" that'll knock your socks off."

You stop rinsing cutlery and look at him.

"I know you're kidding, but I love that song."

"Yeah?" He says, turning away from you. He's known it's your favorite for weeks. You were humming throughout your shift once and he spent the following day at the record store trying to figure out what song it was. He eventually went up to an employee and hummed it to them until they could help him find it. He bought the goddamn ABBA record.

You lightly flick him with water and he acts like you've just waterboarded him, stumbling around and gasping for breath. He reaches toward the faucet and flicks you back, he throws more water than you had and you gasp, "You're getting me wet!" His eyes get huge and he starts to giggle. When you realize why you giggle right along with him.

You come in for your dinner shift one day and notice a stack of papers at the register. You pick one up and see a sketch of a fire-breathing dragon. The dragon is guarding various food items like pancakes, milkshakes, burgers, and fries. All of the papers are copies of this drawing and next to the stack, there is an old box of crayons. You ask your coworker what this is, and she says Eddie brought them in this morning to give kids something to entertain themselves with while they wait for their food. You can't wait to hand them out and you save any colored in pages for the next time you have a shift together so you can show him what a hit they were.

Thanks for reading 🥞💖

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie fluff #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #line cook eddie

[palfriendpatine66]

WIP whatever day it is

I missed it on Wednesday this week so here’s some proof that I haven’t forgotten that Can’t Buy Me Love exists:

“Yes, thank you Dex.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Can’t imagine why I don’t bring more dates around to meet you.”

“You should,” Anakin offered as he enthusiastically licked his spoon clean. “It’s really good comfort food.” His eyes gleamed with mischief as he lingered over the words. “One might even say it’s almost as good as-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupted just as he kicked at his shin hard enough to make his eyes water. “This is absolutely better than burgers,” he narrowed his eyes threateningly.

“I really need to treat you this evening then,” Anakin answered with a shit eating grin despite the blunt nails digging into his palm in silent warning. “Expand your palate.”

“A second date is it?” Dex wagged his eyebrows at Obi-Wan, who took the opportunity to momentarily hide behind a long, slow sip of coffee.

“Actually, this is our second date,” Anakin corrected gleefully. “Tonight will be our third.”

“Well you two sure aren’t wasting any time - I’m happy for you,” Dex nudged Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “You know what they say-” Obi-Wan had a brief coughing fit as the chef delicately rose from the table -“the food ain’t going to cook itself.”

Anakin nodded along with a very carefully arranged neutral expression. “So true,” he agreed and cleared his throat to bid the chef farewell. “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you, Dex, and experience what I hear is the best breakfast in the city.”

“Obi-Wan,” Dex shook his head, his jowls slapping slightly with the motion. He clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulders with fierce fondness as he passed by. “Talking me up again? You’re making me blush - almost as red as you,” he cackled as he waddled back through the swinging door into the kitchen.

“I like him,” Anakin pointed toward the kitchen with his fork. “I’m so glad you brought us here.”

“Just, shut up and finish your breakfast,” Obi-Wan sighed.

#i make myself laugh #obikin pretty woman au #can’t buy me love #my wips #wip wednesday #late edition

[jawritter]

My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 3

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count: 2k

Prompt: Blizzard

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​​

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: Angst, self-hating reader. Brief mentions of past bullying. Hints from the past... Mention of a death of an OFC. 

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

Y/N's POV:

"A Christmas tree?" Y/N questioned. "You're over two hours late… because you wanted to go get a Christmas and decorations?"

"Yes, and other decorations," Sam answered with a shrug if hisshoulders, and a wave of his shaggy hair. "They're saying we can get snowed in for over a week, so I figured it would give us something to do other than drink ourselves to death."

"I'm not totally opposed to liver failure," Dean added through tight lips and a locked jaw that gave off some serious Dom!Daddy vibes she had no idea she had a kink for. This guy was SERIOUSLY gonna be the death of her, even if he never knew it. 

"Oh come on you two! I brought plenty of alcohol too, don't worry," Sam announced with an exaggerated eye roll. 

Y/N had hung back in the kitchen when Dean had gone to greet his brother. She wasn't family after all, and didn't want to intrude. She waited until she was sure the yelling match or fist fight wasn't going to start before she decided to come in, only to discover Sam had gotten out of his meeting early, and gone shopping in leu of actually coming home, which if she were honest annoyed the fuck out of her, and judging by the tight look on his face, it annoyed Dean too. 

"Well, you're here now," Dean announced after swallowing down whatever opinion he'd had on the subject, and Y/N had a feeling that he was doing his best not to fight with his brother after having not seen him in so long, so she would stow all her questions for latter, when she and Sam were alone, and it wouldn't cause a fight between them. "But before I can get all… merry and bright over here, I'm gonna need some of those drinks… and a cheeseburger or something."

To Y/N's utter and complete embarrassment, her stomach rolled loudly at the prospect of food. If Dean heard it, he was nice enough not to say anything. That's when she realized she'd not even stopped to eat today. She'd just gone into a cleaning mood when she heard Dean was coming. 

"I can handle the burgers," Y/N announced, backing away from the towering brothers slowly. "You two catch up."

"You sure you don't want some help sweetheart? I'm damn good in the kitchen?" Dean offered, but Y/N just shook her head, and continued to back away from the, stumbling slightly over the couch arm as she did so. 

"No, that's okay, you two visit. I got this," she insisted before rounding into the kitchen. 

This was Y/N's go too. When things were bad, go hide in the kitchen. She didn't have an eating problem, but the one thing she could do was cook, and doing that with her hands, kept her busy, and if she was busy, the anxiety would be somewhat at bay. The constant bubble that had been steadily building in her chest since she'd found out Dean was coming had not gotten any better, and for fucks sakes she just wanted to run away. The way he made her feel was so confusing, and he was a stranger, so it made no sense. 

Deans POV: 

Dean turned to watch Y/N go, and fuck if he didn't want to go and hide in the kitchen with her. He didn't know why, but she made the constant knot that had been in his stomach for years now seemed to have dissipated in the few hours he'd been with her. It was like a drowning person, coming up for air and getting just a small gulp of relief, now he wanted more. 

"So," Sam said with a sudden clear of his throat. "How's life been?"

Dean glared at his baby brother as he shucked his expensive looking suit blazer. It annoyed him more than a little that he'd lied and orchestrated this whole family Christmas fiasco, and after meeting Y/N, and learning that she was indeed NOT Sam's girlfriend, he had a good inclination as to what the score was. 

"You tell me," Dean said with a shrug. "Seeing as you had to lie to me and your roommate to get me here for some, what… Debbie matchmaker Christmas crap? But sure, we can talk shop, how's life been Sammy?"

Sam nodded, giving his brother a thinned lip, puppy dog look. 

"Look Dean, I know after that last hunt went really bad, and we both said we'd stop, we haven't really talked much—"

"And who's fault is that Sam? Huh? After that Goddamn hunt I was laid on my ass in a hospital for months, not to mention all the time I spent at physical therapy, plus the fact that went I finally could go back to work at my actual job, they stuck me behind a desk like some fucking rookie! Then Sarah died, she was the only one I had helped me for YEARS, Sam, while you played house with Eileen!"

"Dean, look man, I don't wanna fight. You're right, I fucked up bad, but Eileen got pregnant, and the pregnancy was so high risk, you told me to leave because you had Y/N to help you, and I did, and I should have stayed. If I could see the future and knew she and I would end up the way we did, then I swear I would have stayed." 

"Sam—"

"No, let me finish. Look, I'm sorry I bailed, and I'm sorry I stayed so distant for so long. I want to make up for that now."

Dean sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, covering the small scar there from hunts past. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for Sam. My life would have turned out the way it did no matter what. Sarah would have still been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I still would have been decked. Nothing you could have done could have changed that. I want you to have a life, you deserve one. You and Y/N, man you got a good thing going here, I'm not here to mess that up. It's good to see you, but you don't need me hanging around."

Dean shrugged by Sam to open the door, he just needed to back out of this conversation for a while, but one look out the small window at the top of the door revealed the white-out condition that kept him from running away, maybe he should stop trying to run away so much. 

"Dean, please, stay. I want you here. Let's have a nice Christmas for once. We never really had one of those. Get to know Y/N a little, be around people that can talk back instead of spending all your free time going over crime scene photos and shit."

Dean turned around to face his baby brother, lips tight, and chest honestly even tighter at the mention of her name. She was honestly the first woman he'd been around since Y/N that he'd remotely noticed, and if truth be told, maybe he wouldn't mind getting to know her a little better. 

When he looked up at him, Sam stood holding a package out, perfectly wrapped in front of him. "Merry Christmas," he said, and Dean scrunched his nose slightly, confused. 

"Christmas is another two days away Sammy, and you didn't have to get me anything."

"Just take it you asshole," Sam demanded, and Dean rolled his eyes and ripped open the small box-like package to reveal a new Canon Camera, one he'd been eyeing for himself, but didn't quite have the money for. 

"Sam, this is to much, it cost to–"

Sam held his hand up to stop Dean's worrying. "It's fine, I had it. Besides, I don't want you taking pictures of some stiff with that thing. Use it like you used to when we were teens, take the time to do something you like to do Dean. You deserve that much."

Dean nodded, swallowing thickly. He honestly didn't even remember that version of himself anymore. He was a stranger even to himself now. 

"Thanks Sammy."

Just then a small clear of a throat sounded from behind the door, and both Winchester brothers turned to see Y/N waiting for them just in the threshold of the kitchen. 

"Dinners ready boys," she said, and Dean ducked his head to hide the smirk that immediately covered his face.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" She backtracked quickly. So self-conscious, always so down on herself, and fuck he hated it. She was far too beautiful to see so little in herself. 

"Nothing at all sweetheart, just the way you said that reminded me of someone I used to know. An old friend that's been gone a long time now."

Y/N’s POV:

She wasn’t trying to listen in on the brother’s conversation, but in all fairness, they were conversing quite loud. While she hadn’t caught the entire conversation, she got enough of it to know that the rabbit hole that was Sam and Dean’s relationship went deeper than she was allowed to dive into, and honestly, she didn’t know if she wanted to. 

First impressions are everything, and as of right this moment, Dean had made a pretty impressive one. What happened between Sam and Dean in the past, was really no business of hers. They NEEDED to work with one another, fix their past if they could. She could tell at one time they were close. 

Dean, apparently, had been horribly misjudged by her over just a picture. So far, he’d been nothing like the douche bags that tormented her in high school. He was nice, friendly, and even a little easy to get along with it seemed. When most people shied away from her, he’d come and sat right down at the table to talk to her.

She was no fool. She knew the feelings she felt towards Dean were most absolutely one sided, she’d even heard the name Sarah drop a few times in there just now. Most likely, Dean had a girlfriend. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam questioned, bumping her with an elbow as she played with the french fry on her plate. She’d become completely unaware that she’d zoned out of the boy’s conversation. That was something she was seriously going to have to work on if she was going to be trapped here in the house with the boys for days, because they could all literally HEAR the wind roaring and snow and pelting down on the small window above the sink. 

“Nothing,” she answered, her gaze drifting to the small square window to avoid Dean’s ever present deep gaze that always seemed to make her stomach do a little flip when she caught him watching her. “Just hoping you picked up enough liquor, ‘cause it sounds like we’re all gonna be here a while, and what’s a blizzard without booze?”

Chapter 4 HERE!!!

Forever:

@demongirl1996​​​​​​​​​  

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe​​​​​​​​​

@jensenslady79​​​​​​​​​

@spnwoman​​​​​​​​

@stoneyggirl2​​​​​​​​​

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men​​​​​​​​​

@stixnstripesworld​​​​​​​​​

@fullwattpadmusictree​​​​​​​​​

@nancymcl​​​​​​​​​

@christycreature​​​​​​​​​

@whiskey-infused-dreams​​​​​​​​​

@supernatural79impala​​​​​​​​​

@deandreamernp​​​​​​​​​

@forgetthisbull​​​​​​​​​

@miraclesoflove​​​​​​​​​

@slamminmine​​​​​​​​​

@deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​

@rvgrsbrns​​​​​​​​​

@chevyharvelle​​​​​​​​​

@i-love-superhero-movies​​​​​​​​​

@lyss-dw79​​​​​​​​​

@magssteenkamp​​​​​​​​​

@lemondropirwin​​​​​​​​

@squirrelnotsam​​​​​​​​​

@hobby27​​​​​​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​​​​​​​  

@mrsjenniferwinchester​​​​​​​​​

@defenderrosetyler​​​​​​​​​

@thecreatiivecorner​​​​​​​​​  

@vicmc624​​​​​​​​​

@busy-bee-angel-misska​​​​​​​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​​​​​​

@brilovesdeanwinchester​​​​​​​​​

@idksupernatural​​​​​​​​​

@lyarr24​​​​​​​​​

@emoryhemsworth​​​​​​​​​

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​​​​​​​​​

@flamencodiva​​​​​​​​​

@itmejado​

@supernatural3002​

@teresa-67​​​​​​​​​

@thoughts-and-funnies​​​​​​​​​

@hearteyes-j2​​​​​​​​​

@peaches007​​​​​​​​​

@bobbie3939​​​​​​​​​

@vulgar-library​​​​​​​​​

@writercole​​​​​​​​​

@fairlyspnfanfic​​​​​​​​​

@sexyvixen7​​​​​​​​

@spngi​​​​​​​​​

@b3autyfuldisast3r​​​​​​​​​

@donnaintx​​​​​​​​​

@maliburenee​​​​​​​​​

@the-family-business67​​​​​​​​​

@agirlwithdemonblood​​​​​​​​​

@captainsoldiergirl​​​​​​​​​

@twinkleinadiamondsky​​​​​​​​​

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma​​​​​​​​​  

@impalaslytherin​​​​​​​​​

@perpetualabsurdity​​​​​​​​​

@msmarvelouswinchester​​​​​​​​​

@akshi8278​​​​​​​​​

@love-jackles​​​​​​​​​

@irmcpar​​​​​​​​​

@pink-sparkly-witch​​​​​​​​​

@siospins2​​​​​​​​​

@herstarburststories​​​​​​​​​

@mimaria420​​​​​​​​​

@deanwinchesterswitch​​​​​​​​​​

@charred-angelwings​​​​​​​​

@pascal-rascal424​​​​​​​​​​

@myloversgone​​​​​​​​​​

@fortheloveof-jackles​​​​

@eevvvaa​​​​​​​​​​

@bts-spnlvr12​​​​​​​​​​

@jxackles​​​​​​​​​​

@lassie-bird​​​​​​​​​​

@samsgirl93​​​​​​​​​​

@shawnie74​​​  

@kaz11283​​​​​​​​​​

@mlovesstories​

@ladysparks78

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