#Probably gets up in the middle of the night - carefully - to lay a trap that Chekov Gun-style foils him or Hater by the end lol

[mvltisstuff]

meet me at our spot - c.f

summary: after a text from conrad asking y/n to come over, she could never say no.

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: soooo i’m like a year late to the tsitp game… but i just finished it and i cried like a baby omfg and conrad’s #1 protector!!

conrad (10:45 PM)

come over, i’m on the dock

the second the notification popped up on her screen, she was out of bed. she was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, laying in bed but not being able to sleep. she’d been the one to paint a smile on conrad’s face this summer, and susannah knew that. she was happy to have y/n over whenever she could, noticing oldest son’s face light up when she walked in.

y/n was conrad’s soldier. she fought battles for him when he felt like he was too weak to do it himself. he cried on her and his best days were spent with her. the second they kissed last summer, he knew they were in it for the long run. no one could point out a cause for conrad’s recent misery. all they wanted to do was find a light for him in this tunnel. y/n was well aware that he had been struggling. he wasn’t opening up, but she knew that just being there next to him in bed was enough for him. no one has ever gone through the trouble of loving him so much, instead of just reaching over for a condom. he felt trapped everywhere he went, and the dock is where he decompressed. y/n always found him there, the only person he really wanted there. belly and jeremiah had come out there, but something about y/n’s hand in his made his heart balance.

as much as he wishes to forget all his thoughts, he was so happy with her all the time. she was like an eraser to the spelling mistakes and a bandaid on the cuts. she was more than just a girlfriend to him, she was a lifesaver.

y/n decided to just walk over to the fisher’s beach house. she hadn’t driven, knowing he’d probably want her to stay the night as well. despite the sun being out of the sky, the air was still warm and wrapped you in like a hug. you could smell the salt of the ocean and the damp grass in their yard. the sky was clear, just the high crescent of the moon reflecting on the water. something about it was therapeutic, reminder her of the boy waiting for her in the backyard.

she shuffled through a few patches a grass before carefully making her way down the dock to meet conrad. she greeted him as he had a joint in between his lips, lighting it up before releasing the smoke. “hey,” y/n says, sitting down next to him.

“you came,” he replies, almost sounding surprised.

“of course i did,” she grins. she takes the joint and places it between her own lips, inhaling and then blowing out a puff. the dock smelt like weed, but it was no secret that they’d been smoking. besides, susannah did it with laurel all the time. “you ok?”

“yeah, just wanted to see you,” he looks into her eyes and smiles. “i couldn’t sleep.”

“explains the pot we’re smoking. i couldn’t sleep either.” she hands it back to conrad. “even if i was sleeping, you know i’d come to you whenever.”

“i know. i’m always just eager to see you in person.”

“why?” she questions, teasingly. she knows the answer, but wants him to do it for himself. he leans in, pulling the joint back and landing a passionate kiss on her lips.

“because i can’t kiss you like that over the phone.”

she blushes like a middle schooler when her crush just looks at her once. like they haven’t been seeing each other since last summer and like she isn’t the only thing getting him out of bed in the morning. she looks deep into his red eyes, admiring every thought and feeling inside his beautiful head. “i’m always here for you, conrad. winter, spring, summer, and fall, i’ll be there.”

his lips curl into another thrilling smile, wrapping his arm around her as they pass the joint around a few times. they sit there for a while, glaring at the calm ripples in the water. it was just before midnight when they checked his phone again, seeing the bright numbers illuminate their faces. he gives y/n a mischievous look. “are you hungry?”

she directs another look of confusion to him, “what are you saying, fisher?”

the two stumble inside, stoned as they walk into the kitchen to take out a box of mac & cheese from the cabinet. they look over to jeremiah and steven, both slumped on the couch with their controllers on their stomach and the TV on a screensaver. “don’t wake them up, they’re gonna want some!” conrad attempts a whisper, but his small giggles pass through instead.

“shut the fuck up, we’re trying to be quiet,” y/n replies. as soon as she opens the drawer to get out a pot, a few of them clatter around and steven shuffles in his sleep. they both crouch down on the floor in hysterics until they hear the light snores from steven again.

“don’t worry about jeremiah, he’s slept on the bench at six flags once,” conrad says, peeking over to the two sleeping teens on the couch. they slowly fill the pot up with water and wait for it to boil. they don’t turn the timer on, just calculate the times on their phone as the water almost boils over to edge.

“shit, i told you to watch the water,” conrad says, turning the burner down.

“no, we both agreed i was gonna look at the phone.”

“it’s whatever, baby, just pour that cheese in here,” conrad requests after straining the flavorless pasta out of the water. they both pour each others bowls before running upstairs to conrad’s room. “we fucking did it!”

“finally, oh my god,” y/n speaks, sitting down on his bed as she places her bowl on his nightstand. “wanna watch shitty reality tv?”

“what type of question is that? of course, i want to,” he says sarcastically, throwing his hands up in the air before laying down on his bed and pulling y/n into him. her head was on his chest as his arm wrapped around her. they watched some old reruns of the kardashians before they were both eventually knocked out on his bed.

the sun had finally risen, and everyone else was up and ready for the day. they’d been eating their breakfast, and the kids were asking where conrad was.

“i’ll go check on connie, i’ll be right back,” susannah says, sweetly as she walks up the stairs she walks in to conrad and y/n on the bed, their bowls abandoned on the floor as her head is on chest, and his arms were around her. susannah laughs and debates whether or not to shake them awake, but she just nudges conrad a bit as he stretches and opens his eyes. “hey, we’re making breakfast if you want to join us?”

“oh, yeah. i’ll be down in a minute. she was tired, i might let her sleep for a little longer,” he says, looking at y/n.

“of course, she’s always welcome, connie,” susannah leaves the door open a crack and goes back downstairs. if y/n made conrad happy, then y/n made susannah happy.

#the summer i turned pretty #belly x conrad #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fic #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher smut #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher oneshot #jeremiah x reader #belly x jeremiah #steven conklin #belly conklin #susannah fisher #laurel conklin #jeremiah fisher #cam cameron

[soap-ify]

Ghost x reader with really bad nightmares like so bad that ghost has to find em somewhere and then has to calm em and sometimes it's so bad they just throw up

SIMON WOULD BE SO CARING AA :( especially since he out of everyone knows how awful nightmares can be.

cw nightmares, brief mentions of throwing up, anxiety.

your nightmares have been getting severe lately, leaving you flinching awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air while you were drenched in sweat, feeling suffocated and trapped in your own sheets.

today was a similar night, your eyes staring at the ceiling in daze while your heartbeat was loud and rapid since you had just woken up from another nightmare. with a shaky hand, you’d grab your phone and search for someone’s contact number — simon. he had told, no, ordered you to call him as soon as you’d get another nightmare ever since you vented to him about how you’ve been struggling lately. you were surprised by his sudden determination that day, but you felt warm too knowing that someone was willing to provide you some sort of comfort.

“what?” his gruff voice said in the call once he picked his phone up, his tone evidently showing how he wasn’t sleeping at all, probably just passing some time around or doing some paperwork.

“i-i…” your voice cracked, quivering while your hand shakily held onto your phone. “i had a nightmare, si. s-sorry if i’m disturbing you…” you whispered into your phone, feeling unsure if he would be willing to come this late at night despite his own words the other day.

a few seconds of silence passed by before simon finally answered.

“i’m comin’, love. hang in there.”

and with that, he hung the call.

it didn’t take long for him to arrive at your place, unlocking the door with a spare key he had. he didn’t want to waste time knocking on the door and wait for you to open it, especially since you were all drained out of energy and badly shaken up.

he carefully made his way inside and locked the door securely again before entering your bedroom, finding you laying on your bed, struggling to properly focus on regulating your breathing.

“love…” his warm, husky voice called out, causing you to snap out of your overwhelming thoughts and tilt your head up to look over at him.

“s-simon…” you sniffled, teary eyes filling up with even more tears before some begin to slide down your cheeks, an achy relief taking over your heart. you were about to say something, though a nauseous was quick to interrupt your voice, your hand quick to cover your mouth.

simon wasted no time in walking over to your, callused hands gently grabbing your sides to help you off the bed before you clumsily made your way over to your bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet.

he stood against the doorframe while you gagged and threw up, tears running down your cheeks while you were visibly struggling, causing him to slowly kneel beside you and move your hair out of your face, helping you.

once he had gotten you all cleaned up, his strong arms pulled you in a tight embrace, gently moving you back into the bedroom and setting you down on your bed. he even got you a glass of cold water, watching you hold it with trembling hands while you managed to chug it down.

“s’getting too bad, si… don’t wanna deal with ‘em anymore…” you weakly mumbled after putting the glass on your nightstand, looking up at him with exhausted eyes.

simon sighed softly and nodded, understanding your pain all too well. of anything, he was the one who could relate to you — nights full of nightmares and nausea, anxious thoughts that kept scratching onto one’s skin.

“i’m here now.” he whispered softly and got on the bed besides you, slowly pulling you towards him, your head resting on his broad chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing your nerves while his other hand yanked his mask off his face, tossing it aside. “you’re safe, love. i promise.” his usually cold, emotionless voice was now laced with warmth that could only be directed at you, reserved only for you. one hand of his gently caressed your lower back while his other gave the back of your head gentle pats, coaxing you back into sleep.

your cries had subsided by now, reduced to soft sniffles as your body curled up into his as exhaustion took over you once more, clinging onto him tight — as if wanting to hide away from the world and just stay in his arms forever, and he’d let you if he could.

#ruru mail #sobs i need him #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

[nyrasbloodyclover]

ghost stories (tate langdon x reader)

a/n: FIRST OCTOBER FIC LET'S GOOO

It was the beginning of October when my family decided to move into our new house. I was already in love with it, even though my mom said it made her feel depressed by just looking at it.

It was much bigger than our previous home, so the exploring part made me excited. We dropped our bags and I immediately went to see each room.

It was getting pretty dark but I didn't bother turning on the lights. The air smelled of rain as I entered one of the rooms. It looked like it belonged to a boy, probably around my age. There were a lot of records of many different artists, some books and even an empty hamster cage.

"What are you doing in my room?" I turned and almost screamed when a boy appeared behind me. He looked young, with blond curls and pretty brown eyes.

"What are you talking about?" I finally asked when I gathered myself.

"This is my room." He was still not answering my question.

"We just moved in, and I don't know what are you talking about or how you even managed to get in without us noticing but if you plan on staying, I suggest you explain that to me."

And he did explain. But how was I supposed to believe him that he was a ghost who died in this house and is trapped in here forever?

"Prove it." I crossed my arms.

"Fine," he almost rolled his eyes. Then he disappeared. Like literally. From thin air.

"What the fu—" But then he appeared. I shook my head in disbelief and started to laugh. "Oh my god, that's so fucking cool."

"You think so? I'm Tate, by the way." He looked genuinely happy to introduce himself to me.

And so I became friends with one of the ghosts that lived in our house. We talked most of the time, he made fun of my music taste and made me listen to Nirvana (which I surprisingly liked). I read to him sometimes and he listened. He was an amazing listener.

But my parents didn't know about him and I meant to keep it that way.

He was okay with that and it was pretty easy to hide him. I mean whenever we were in my room and someone tried to come in, Tate just had to disappear.

The more we hung out, the closer we became. Sitting beside each other on my bed turned into him laying between my legs while I did my homework and he listened to his music. But we never tried to point that out. At least I haven't.

I pretended not to notice him drawing circles on my skin or playing with my hair, his hands wandering carefully, trying not to be too obvious. That made me feel...something. Something towards him. I hated it because we had such great friendship and admitting my feelings would just ruin it.

Until one night I was pissed about my school and I was just rambling to him, saying the worst stuff I could about everything and I had a feeling that he was trying not to laugh at me, but I didn't care.

He called me to join him on my bed and take a break from studying because it was getting late. For the first time, I listened to him.

And at some point, both of us fell asleep. I was exhausted and my body was screaming thank you when I finally closed my eyes.

But in the middle of the night, I woke up in panic because I never planned to fall asleep. I didn't even finish all my work!

In all my distress, I woke up Tate and he looked at me with his adorable sleepy eyes while I ran around the room and gathered all my books. He realized what I was doing and immediately stood up with intention to drag me back to bed.

"No, Tate, I have to finish this!"

"Relax. You need sleep. It's three in the morning."

"Yes, but how will I sleep when I know I left half of my assignments unfinished?"

He smiled innocently at me while I looked at him, not understanding his sudden mood change.

"I can help you fall asleep. If you want to." I looked at him, then at my books.

I was still confused. "I do, but...You have sleeping pills or something?"

At that he grinned at the floor and my chest fluttered.

"Let's just get to bed. I'll show you, but you have to relax." I couldn't hear a thing in that moment, not even the rain, not the pounding in my chest. I wasn't oblivious anymore. I knew what he meant and I still let him do whatever he pleased.

In seconds I was on bed with Tate slowly climbing on top of me. My face was burning and I couldn't see straight, but I didn't move.

He slowly put his hand on my pants, tucking his fingers beneath the waistband. "May I?"

I just nodded, not being able to form a proper sentence, but it was enough for him to take both, my pants and my underwear down.

His dark eyes were literally glowing while his mouth watered at the sight of me. Tate spread my legs and lowered himself enough to reach my aching cunt.

He looked up, smiling innocently before he went to work. His tongue licked me, up and down and I immediately grabbed his blond locks for support. He repeated the movement and it made me want to let out ungodly sounds, but I remembered we weren't alone and my parents were probably sleeping. If they found us like this, with Tate's head between my legs and my fingers in his hair...I would be joining Tate at being dead.

He put one finger in while his tongue circled my swollen clit and I accidentally pulled his hair. He let out a soft groan and I almost smirked for myself. I did it again and Tate groaned into me.

He didn't plan on stopping, apparently. Tate wanted me to see stars. I just wasn't sure how was this going to help with my sleep. I felt like I wasn't going to be able to close an eye for the rest of the night.

Tate decided to add another finger and I almost lost it there, but I couldn't let myself ruin this perfect moment. Not yet.

"If I add one more will you stop being to stubborn?"

"Let's find out." And he wasn't kidding. He stretched me put enough to put his third finger in and I moaned into my hand, not being able to control myself anymore.

He continued working with his tongue and it didn't take me long after that to lift my hips as I came on his mouth. He pressed his hand over my stomach to pin me back on bed as I clenched around his fingers.

He got up, licking his fingers and cleaning up his swollen mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. He took it off and did the same with my mess.

My legs were weak, I could barely change, but he helped me and got under the covers.

I joined him and realized that I haven't once thought about my assignments.

"Tate?"

"Yes?"

"Are we still friends?"

"Of course. Especially when you're in the need of sleeping pills."

I fell asleep with the weight of his hand on me while rain pounded on my window.

#evan peters #american horror story #ahs #evan peters fanfic #tate langdon fic #tate ahs #tate #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon #american horror murder house #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story fanfic

[d1xonss]

Desert Rose

Chapter 14 ~ Thank you

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Word Count : 3.7k

In this chapter ~ Rose's boredom grows to be unbearable as she is advised to lay in bed and rest by the older man Hershel. However, it doesn't last as long as she assumes when she receives quite the unexpected present, and from the quiet archer no less.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ROSE POV *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I woke up the next morning with a lingering sting still present near my stomach, sore to the touch. But I quickly reminded myself that I had dealt with much worse in the past. This surely wasn't the first time I've been shot; being a cop clearly had its ups and downs. But all I wanted was to finally get up and out of this bed to help look for Sophia, however the pain in my side was surely preventing that much to my dismay.

Rick kept the promise he made and came in early this morning to check on me, and after reassuring him about fifty times that I was okay, he left to plan another search for Sophia. I knew in the back of my mind that he probably felt that he was to blame for what happened to me, so now he was trying to make up for it in every possible way. But in all honesty, it was just my dumbass standing too close to the animal. Still, I would much rather be in here rather than Carl who only stood inches away from the whole scene.

A sudden knock came from the other side of the door, snapping me out of my thoughts once it reached my ears.

"Come in." I called out softly.

The door opened, seeing Hershel pop his head in with a small smile, "Good morning. I just wanted to check a few things and give you these." he said holding up what looked like painkillers.

I smiled gratefully and took them, "Thank you."

He nodded before moving around to the other side of the bed, checking everything under the sun. My middle that was still bandaged up, my pulse to see if it was getting stronger, my head to see if I had a fever, and about five other things I didn't understand. He worked thoroughly and quietly, making sure everything was feeling okay by me before nodding silently to himself.

"Well, it seems like you are doing a lot better. I can go ahead and take this IV out of you now." he said as he carefully moved towards my arm.

"Thank God. Can I finally get out of this bed?" I asked him.

He chuckled a little to himself, "You act as if you've been in this bed for weeks."

I scoffed a little, "Yeah, well that's what it feels like. I am not the type of person to sit still." I replied.

"Well, let's just wait until the painkillers kick in. Your body went through a lot the past few days and you need time to heal. But later in the day if you're feeling up to it you can go outside, but don't do anything too active." he advised, removing the small needle from my arm.

I tried not to uncomfortably squirm as I looked away from the area, "I'm telling you right now, being in this bed all day hurts worse than the actual shot."

I felt him place a small bandage over the spot where it started to bleed, looking back up at him in time to see a thin lipped smile cross his face, "Rick mentioned you were stubborn."

My mouth dropped slightly. What an asshole. But the older man didn't say anything else as he quietly left the room. So, Rick was talking some shit about me behind my back to people that I hardly knew. Awesome.

I sighed and leaned my head back to stare at the ceiling, counting the small specks of paint that made little patterns in different places. This felt like torture. I hated feeling trapped and I was itching to go outside and feel the sun on my skin. Getting some fresh air would be nice and it would also be nice to know actually where the hell I was instead of being briefly told that I was on some farm.

But I found myself just sitting alone in the silence with nothing to do because I forgot to ask Glenn to grab my stuff when he was here last night. The last thing I needed right now was more sleep, and all I really wished for was something to keep myself busy if I wasn't allowed to leave for a while. What I would give right now for my notebook.

I was then pulled out of my small trance once more when another knock came, revealing Daryl as he slowly entered the room. Though I couldn't help but notice he obviously had something hidden behind his back.

"Hey, yer up." he stated while lingering near the door.

"Wow, thanks Captain Obvious." I replied, smiling sarcastically.

He gave me a small glare in return, still just standing by the door shifting uncomfortably like the thing in his hands was weighing him down heavily.

"I don't bite," I said jokingly, "Come over here."

His eyes met with mine again as he nodded small, hesitantly making his way over to me once he knew it was okay, sitting down on the edge of the chair with his hands still behind his back. He looked nervous, so I immediately assumed something was wrong.

"You okay? What are you hiding from me?" I asked to try and lighten the mood.

He cleared his throat, "Well, I uh...I brought ya some stuff." he admitted quietly.

My eyebrows raised in amusement, "More flowers?" I asked.

His cheeks instantly flushed red while he avoided my eyes yet again. I hadn't forgotten the conversation we had before Carl came into the room yesterday, but I didn't want to bring it up again. He seemed to not be completely comfortable talking about it, so I just let it be.

"Nah, some other stuff." he said while pulling something out from behind him. I instantly recognized this as two of the books I took from the CDC, feeling myself smile warmly at the sight.

"I noticed ya didn't have anything in here to keep ya busy while you rest so...yeah." he spoke.

I took them from his hands, "Thank you, that's very sweet of you." I said before putting the books down on the nightstand, right next to the Cherokee rose that now stood tall in a glass of water.

Turning back to face him again, his hands were still behind his back, "You have something else?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Uh yeah...it was something I found when we were lookin through them cars on the highway. I didn't know when to give it to ya, but I figured you'd be bored in here so..." he trailed off.

I waited patiently for him to reveal whatever he had to show me with a smile on my face. I couldn't bring myself to understand why he was so nervous. I thought it was about the sweetest thing in the work he thought to bring me things while I was stuck in here.

He then slowly brought his hands out from behind his back to reveal a real sketchbook. My smile disappeared from my face as I stared at it with wide eyes trying to figure out how he managed to find one. I had been looking for one since the beginning and couldn't seem to find one anywhere because apparently, they're scarce in the apocalypse or something.

I slowly took it from his hands as I examined the cover of it thoroughly, running my hand over the smooth surface. It looked almost brand new.

"I also found these," he said as he handed me a fresh watercolor palette, "I found em in the same car, they must have liked to draw and shit too." he finished while I slowly took the paints from him as well.

I almost couldn't believe the things he sought out just for me, truly at a loss for words. But I could easily tell that my silence was starting to worry him, because he then began to ramble.

"I just uh...thought...you would like em. If ya don't like it, it's okay, I can take it back. Glenn said somethin bout how ya said you were lookin for a new sketchbook or somethin and when I saw it, I just grabbed it in case ya wanted it but-"

I then quickly cut him off and discarded the new things, wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing him into a hug. He was clearly shocked at my actions because he stopped talking completely and his muscles tensed like he had just been burned. But then he soon started to relax after a few long seconds and began to hug me back, placing his hands hesitantly around my waist.

Not letting go of him, I whispered, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." however many times I could. Wanting him to know how much I truly loved it.

Eventually I let go of him after giving him one final squeeze, pulling away to see his face. He was smiling shyly, with his ears turning a bright red as he huffed out an awkward laugh.

I looked back down at the supplies once more to admire them, "I love them Daryl, thank you so much." I spoke gratefully. 

He smiled even wider, "No problem." he muttered.

I paused as an idea suddenly came to me, "Well now, since you got this for me you have to tell me the first thing I paint in here."

He sat there for a minute thinking before shrugging as if it was too hard to decide, "I dunno, yer the artist." he smirked.

"Just whatever comes to mind." I replied.

He thought about it again as he rubbed his hands together nervously before an idea came to him, "How bout the house?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "I could do that later when Hershel actually lets me leave this room." I joked.

He chuckled before nodding his head, "Alright, well...I gotta head out and look for Sophia some more, but I wanted to see ya before I left."

"Oh yeah, yeah of course, just be careful out there okay?"

He gave a small smile, "Always am."

Nodding my head, I watched him get up and begin to head towards the door, stopping once I called his name just one last time. "Thank you again, it really means a lot to me." I told him.

He winked back at me before turning to head out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. I let out a breath of air I didn't realize I was holding in, flopping back on the bed as my heart raced in my chest. I lifted my left arm up to check and see if I was having a heart attack. I wasn't. It might've just been a certain man making me feel all giddy inside like a goddamn teenager.

But I merely scoffed to myself at the thought, knowing there was absolutely no way he felt the same.

My eyes flew through chapters and chapters of books but nothing was curing the utter boredom that I was feeling inside this stuffy room. I placed the book down with a slam on the bedside table before swinging my legs over the side of the bed at an attempt to stand. Hershel didn't give me the okay, but hours had passed and the painkillers were working, leaving me feeling much better for the most part so fuck it.

Slowly and hesitantly walking outside past the screen door, I tilted my head up and let the sunshine hit my face, it felt nice, refreshing after not being able to get out. My eyes then opened and gazed upon my surroundings, the acres of land, noticing this place was really beautiful. I would have a lot of fun painting this. The ideas only flowing the longer I stood on the porch.

But my attention was quickly drawn to my left after a moment or two, noticing Maggie and Glenn having a quiet conversation together. Their hushed whispers seemed almost harsh, but I couldn't make out what they were saying from where I stood. Though it didn't last long before Maggie started to walk away towards me, with Glenn looking defeated from behind her.

Her expression seemed to brighten when she caught sight of me out and about, a smile forming on her face as she approached. "Hey, you're up! How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Painkillers really work wonders." I replied.

She laughed at that and nodded her head, "Oh I bet. But actually I'm glad I got a chance to see you. I gotta run and finish these chores, but when I'm done do you want to maybe...hangout?" she asked me.

I smiled at her and nodded, "Yeah, yeah I would like that."

She smiled back, "Great, I'll see ya later." she said before walking off towards the barn.

Turning back to look at Glenn, he had a confused and upset look on his face as he followed Maggie's retreating figure with his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern as he was clearly replaying the conversation over and over again in his mind.

I found myself walking over and taking a seat next to him, nudging his shoulder with mine. "What's wrong?" I asked.

He looked over at me and gave me a small smile before shaking his head, "Nothing."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Don't lie to me."

He sighed, "Okay...okay. This is what I was going to tell you last night but everyone was there so I couldn't... so you know how Maggie and I went out on that run?"

"No, I think I was still unconscious for that part." I deadpanned.

"Oh right, sorry." he muttered before continuing, "Well, Maggie said that they needed more medical supplies because they were running low, and so she asked me to come into town because Rick recommended I go with her. Anyway, we get there, and everything is going fine, and I pick up something that I needed but she came around the corner and I panicked. So I dropped the thing I actually needed and picked up condoms on accident." he rambled.

I was silent for a few seconds as I stared at him, "Okay, I'm really confused as to where this is going."

"Oh, I'm getting to the weird part don't worry. So, I'm holding the condoms and then she asked me if she was sure, you and I weren't together since I was getting the condoms-"

"Woah, what?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, she asked if we were together because I came to see you when you were still passed out. Anyway I said no, that we were just friends and then all of a sudden, she offered to have sex with me."

I waited for him to say more as he gestured wildly with his hands, but I got nothing in return. "So...did you have sex with her?" I asked him.

"...Yeah," he responded.

"Okay, you got laid. I'm failing to see the problem here." I said.

He sighed, "The problem is, she doesn't actually like me. We just finished talking about it when you came outside."

My lips pulled together in a sympathetic smile as he just hung his head, "Glenn, I'm sorry." I said while wrapping one of my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug.

He hugged me back tight, squeezing me slightly before I hissed out in pain the minute I felt an excruciating pain in my side. He let go of me immediately and looked at me in shock, "Sorry, shit I'm sorry." he apologized quickly.

I waved him off, "No, you're good." I breathed while gently smoothing my hand over the bandage.

He sighed again and let a few moments of silence pass us before shrugging, "I just don't know what to do."

My eyes glanced back towards his face, seeing how much this was truly affecting him. "...Just give it time hon, I'm sure she'll come around." I assured.

He gave me a small smile and nodded before the conversation ventured off to talk about some other things to get his mind off of Maggie. I hoped they could work it out because I could see how this was slightly hurting him. Even though he didn't know her very well, he still had some feelings for her while she claimed to have none whatsoever.

Although the longer we spoke, the more I could tell he had something else on his mind, something else that was bothering him. I didn't ask though, if he wanted to tell me, he would when he was ready. That is one thing I didn't like to do to anyone. I absolutely hated to pry. If the person truly wanted to tell you, they would when the time was right. All I could do right now for him was listen, seeming to be the one thing he needed from me the most.

Though after a little while we split off as I eventually ventured further away from the house to start working on the painting that Daryl suggested. I walked a little further out towards the tents where everyone was staying at the moment to get a better full view of everything, briefly seeing Lori standing there hanging up some laundry to dry. I smiled at her as I passed, but then stopped myself and backtracked, wanting to properly do something I should've done last night.

"Hey Lori?" I said as I walked back over towards her.

"Yeah?" she responded as she hung up another shirt, clipping it in place.

"I never got a chance to say thank you."

Her brows furrowed, "Thank me? For what?"

"For giving me that blood transfusion," I said simply, "I know it was really important, and...I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

She stopped there for a second as her expression softened, before walking over to me and giving me a hug. I almost didn't expect her sudden actions, but smiled a little to myself as I wrapped my arms around her.

"You're welcome honey. I'm so glad I could help you." she said while pulling away. "It's good to see you up and moving already." she pointed out.

"I was going stir crazy in that small ass room." I joked, "But hey, if you see Hershel, you didn't see me out here at all." I finished with a wink.

She nodded as she raised her hand up to zip her lips shut without saying another word. I smiled at her again gratefully before heading back to the perfect spot to start on my painting.

This seemed to be the exact moment I realized how truly beautiful this house was, the way the sun was hitting it was making it even prettier. I started with a sketch of the structure to get the basic idea and started painting the plants around the exterior first, adding different shades of green to the grass below. The light purple flowers popping up around the area gave the whole thing an even more perfect effect as I added those in as well.

I even made sure to add the line of fences in the background, not wanting to miss a single detail as my eyes glanced back and forth between the page and the surroundings. Feeling myself get lost in focus only made me remember how much I loved to do this. It was a good distraction and something I would surely love for the rest of my life, calming me in a certain way I wasn't able to explain.

I was working for a good long while before I felt someone walking up to me, looking back up to see it was Maggie coming at me with a smile on her face.

"Hey," she greeted while taking a seat next to me, "What are you painting? The house?" she asked, looking over my shoulder.

"Yeah, Daryl gave me the suggestion and I thought it was a pretty good idea." I said as I turned the paper so she could get a better look.

She smirked and nodded her head without saying anything, though I quickly noticed the look on her face, "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she shrugged, "He's just so soft with you."

My eyes narrowed, "Huh?" I asked as if I couldn't understand.

She laughed at my blank expression, "I said he's soft with you. Just today he was snapping at people and telling them off, but when he's with you he smiles, he actually laughs, and gives you presents..." she trailed off.

My eyes glanced down at the sketchbook before turning back to her, "So you were eavesdropping?" I asked.

"No, not eavesdropping." she quickly defended, "I just happened to be passing by." she said, smiling innocently.

"Uh huh." I muttered, going back to painting as I attempted to ignore her suggestive eyes.

"I'm just saying, when you hadn't woken up yet, he was real worried about you. We all saw it." she said.

"You're preaching to the choir, believe me," I stated, "But everyone was kind of worried, I don't plan on reading too much into that."

"Okay that's fair...but I personally think it was something a little more than that." she told me.

"Whatever you say."

I then seemed to quickly change the subject, getting to know her more while I continued to paint the house. Although, I was a little surprised when she told me herself about what happened with Glenn, but I pretended I didn't know a thing as I listened to a different perspective. She then told me that the whole experience was eleven minutes of her life she was never going to get back, and that made me laugh louder than it probably should.

I knew this was hard for Glenn but for some reason I had a feeling it was all going to work out okay. She was actually very sweet, and I knew she would come around and love Glenn just like the rest of us did.

But after a while she then had to go off with her sister to do some more stuff around the house, and told me we would talk more later which I was looking forward to. I liked her, and we already got along much better than I ever expected.

Though after she left, my mind seemingly wandered back to Daryl. I couldn't help but think about how nice it was of him to get me these things just because he figured out how badly I had been wanting them. And if that wasn't bad enough, Maggie's words also seemed to replay a bit in my mind no matter how much I didn't want them to.

I had to agree, he was a little different around me then he was with anyone else, but I always assumed it was because I actually knew how to talk to him and when to give him his space. But I liked the kind of relationship we had; he was just a great person to have around I've come to find out. I just really hoped he was being safe out there.

~ Thanks for reading!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #desert rose

[blueberry-fiction]

Number 9

Summary: Urban explorers bite off more than they can chew while documenting a new site outside of their usual territory.

"We've got to be close."

"I've heard that before." Nicki groaned.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Well, Carmen's never gotten us this lost. She should be here."

"But Carmen's not here. It's just you and me tonight."

"Obviously, or else we wouldn't be turned around in the middle of CornField County, walking in circles for the last who even knows how long." Nicki huffed.

"At least this footage will look sick after a few edits. Carmen's going to be so pissed she missed out."

"Lets just go please." Triss groaned, not giving a shit about filming or edits at the moment.

The two girls trekked onward, allowing an immeasurably long stint of silence to settle over them. They'd rounded another bend in the dilapidated staircase they'd climbed all the way from the basement cellar before Nicki spoke up again.

"That looks familiar. Do you see that crack?" She paused to point her camcorder toward the crack in the wall, zooming in as she did, but Triss didn't turn to look.

"There are cracks all over this place. What do you even mean?"

"That crack. Right there." Completely stopped now, Nicki gestured with her free hand toward the wall.

Triss turned to face Nicki but kept her flashlight pointed straight ahead. "I think all this dust is going to your brain." She hissed. "It's an old building. There are lots of cracks in the foundation."

She was already annoyed with Nicki's constant paranoia whenever they spent more than a few minutes at a new location, and now she truly wished Carmen had been able to join them tonight just to have someone more rational to talk to.

Unconvinced by Triss's logic, Nicki let out a small "Huh", but continued onward, focusing her camcorder once again on the flashlight's beam ahead of them as the pair approached another bend.

The staircase really didn't feel safe, and usually Triss and Nicki avoided the most dangerous parts of these kinds of places, but the only other way to access the building's upper levels had been a rickety looking elevator that absolutely screamed "death trap", and it probably wasn't operable anyway.

Neither one of them could have guessed how tall the staircase was before they'd started, but now they kind of regretted not trying the elevator first.

"Look! Light up ahead."

"Thank God."

The girls continued carefully up the steps toward the light, Nicki recording while Triss aimed the flashlight at the ground to make sure they didn't trip on anything.

Triss slowly came to a halt. Nicki looked up from the screen to see her staring at a window just ahead of them.

"No. Fucking. Way." Triss took a few more steps forward and, standing on her toes, peeked out through the cracked window. They'd started this exhibition around eleven that night, but she could see the beginnings of daylight streaming through the glass now.

"There's no way we've been here all night." Nicki stammered, paranoia seeping into her words.

"I dunno, but I have to work this afternoon so we should probably get going."

Triss shot a glance toward the steps just ahead of where they now stood. The staircase wasn't safe to start, but what remained of them hardly counted as a staircase at all.

"We've probably got enough footage anyway. Think we can squeeze through?"

"Yeah, let's call it. We'll make what we've got work." Nicki agreed. "You go first and I'll get the shot."

Triss wrapped her hoodie sleeve around her hand tightly and punched out the little bit of glass that remained around the edges of the window frame, making sure Nicki got her good side while she did it.

With a little help, Triss awkwardly hoisted her body through the opening, sliding out on her belly, then reached back through the window to help Nicki climb up until both girls were laying breathlessly on the ground, bellies pressed into the damp grass beneath them.

"This was such a dumb idea." Nicki retorted.

"Yeah, you're not lying."

Nicki pushed herself up slowly and offered a hand to Triss, who obliged. A moment of relief washed over them as they grasped the peculiarity of what had just occurred.

Nicki brushed the combination of dust and dewy grass from the front of her blue jeans and reached for her camera. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Next time Carmen gets to scout the spot." Triss paused to look down at her bottom half in pain. "I haven't done that many stairs since soccer conditioning and my legs are officially bricks."

Nicki nodded silently in her own exhausted state, gulping down a few deep breaths of fresh air. "It looks so different out here in the daylight, ya know? It almost looked scary last night but now it's just, I dunno, normal."

"Well, a few things are the same, right?" Triss nodded her head toward the tree line at the edge of the property where they could hear the sound of car engines flying down the road just beyond it. "Come on."

Silently, the two headed toward the trees and toward what Triss thought was East, keeping their heads on a swivel in search of anything that looked familiar from the night before, but seeing nothing worth noting.

The trees were sparse, allowing slivers of daylight to pass easily between them, but the ground was littered with rocks and fallen debris, and Triss and Nicki were not prepared for a hiking excursion today.

"I think there's something there..." Triss pointed a little to her left, toward an opening in the trees. Nicki's eyes followed.

"A building." Nicki gasped, picking up her pace. "Maybe they'll be able to point us to the mile marker where we left the truck."

The building they'd spotted slowly came into view as the two girls moved through the tree line as quickly as they could without falling. It looked dated, but welcoming. Nicki wondered aloud if it could have been used for farming at some point.

The trees finally broke and Nicki practically ran toward the building and up the steps toward the front door. Triss struggled to keep pace with her frantic speed, but eventually caught up just as Nicki grabbed for the door knob and twisted.

"Uh, Triss..." Nicki’s sentence slowly trailed off as confusion began to cloud her judgment. She suddenly couldn’t remember exactly what they’d been searching for here.

Uncertain of what they might find, the pair cautiously passed through the front door, suddenly unable to remember how they’d gotten there. Tríss and Nicki found themselves staring at the base of a strangely familiar looking staircase that seemed to call out to them from the shadows of the cellar's cracked foundation.

Triss let out a sigh, the sound echoing eerily against the damp basement walls.

"Looks like our only way out is up." She flipped her flashlight on. The light flickered and she took the a few steps, but paused when Nicki didn't follow right away.

"Well, are you coming with me or what?"

X

#short story #short fiction #fiction #horror #horror stories #nightmare #creative writing #writeblr #urban explorers #urban exploration #mine #by me <3 #scary story #scary stories #spookie #spooky #original content #original fiction #original story #flash fiction #female writers #writers of tumblr #writer #nightmare fuel

[harryspet]

cement walls | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, non/dubcon sex, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, confined spaces, Stockholm syndrome(?), post-blip bucky, bucky needs some therapy, forced gender roles

[A/N] uhm so this is what i’ve been working on and like usual i have no idea where i wanna take it :):) i haven’t posted in a long while so i figured i would put this out there for some feedback! this is pretty much inspired by Room if you’ve seen that movie. [gif credit to https://jamesbrnes.tumblr.com/]

In which the outside world is too dangerous for you and Bucky is the only one who can protect you. 

taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes  @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan​ @doozywoozy​

main masterlist

word count: 3.3k

Within the cement walls that surrounded your home, you imagined that you had your own little planet. You spent hours of your days thinking about what surrounded you, if there were floating rings like Saturn had, the constellations you could make out only if you could only see the entire sky, and how the sun would really feel on your bare skin. You were beginning to forget what that felt like and you sat below the skylight trying to reach into your mind and remember.

Maybe you should be grateful that there was even a skylight at all and that there was enough room for a small kitchen and bathroom. You imagined that's what he thought. You could move around freely with no chains so you should be grateful. Almost three-hundred square feet of your new planet that you should be glad to have. Except you didn’t even own the ground you stood on, this planet wasn’t really yours, you were just an astronaut trapped in space. 

That morning, you scrubbed the floors, not only because the military man preferred organization but also because the small space got dirty quickly. After taking your vitamins, extra Vitamin D of course, and munching on a stale granola bar, you got to work. You made the twin bed up, making sure the sheets were tucked in tightly before organizing the small amount of clothes in the wardrobe. 

When you heard the beeping of the keypad outside the door, you stood up, shutting the wardrobe. You weren’t expecting him, not having gotten to the kitchen yet, but alas your moon man appeared. You couldn’t help it, you always looked past him to see what you could have of the outside world. You saw nothing, his figure was only surrounded in darkness as he shut it quickly, and it beeped as the metal door locked again. 

It was like he liked the idea of you not knowing where you were. He’d brought you into this room unconscious so you had no idea whether you were still in Louisiana or not. For all you knew, you could be floating in space and it wouldn’t matter. 

The tall man’s hair was cut short, like he’d just gotten a haircut, and you hated that the room was already beginning to smell like his cologne. He held a brown bag of what you assumed were groceries, “You haven’t been here in more than two weeks. I’ve been cleaning my clothes in the sink. I started rationing food t-thinking you weren’t going to come back.”

He set the bag down on the small kitchen table and you watched his eyes roam over the dirty dishes, “I wouldn’t leave you here, doll face,” Bucky assured you, “C’mere.” He waved you over and you stepped forward cautiously. 

“W-Where did you go?”

He reached up to hold your face, the leather brushing against your cheeks as he looked you over. You wore a green smock dress with a cardigan tightly over you, the box having been cold the past few days, “I had business. Far away business.”

“You’ve never been gone this long.”

“Did you miss me that much?” You wanted to roll your eyes. If Bucky didn’t come back, you’d die in probably the worst way possible and no one would know what happened to you, “I brought you back plenty of groceries, I even got you some oreos and that fancy bread you like.”

“Bucky …. I-I was so so scared. You don’t understand-” He leaned down to kiss you and when your lips didn’t move against his, he grabbed you roughly by your hair. You held in your yelp as you forced your lips to move against his. He held your hips, deepening the kiss and when he pulled away, his hands were still in your hair. 

“I’m here now, “ He looked at you sharply, tugging your hair a bit, “But it seems you can’t keep the kitchen clean, no matter how much time I give you.”

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, the words slipping out before you could even register them. 

He gestured his head over to the sink, “Get to it. And the groceries as well.” 

You moved past him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a sponge. You felt his eyes on your back as you began to clean all the pots and pans you’d been using. You heard the rattling of his belt, his jeans being pulled down, the sound of his boots being stacked to the side, and the grunt he let out when he tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair. 

When you placed everything in the drying rack, you moved onto the bag of groceries. He had gotten the bread you liked so you had something to look forward to that week, “I had to see that lady again.”

“You mean your therapist?”

“It’s court mandated bullshit,” You looked over and he was examining your desk and bookshelf. All the books you had were given to you by him and all the decorations were paper origami that you’d gotten good at making. 

“What did you guys talk about?” You asked hesitantly, putting things away in the cabinet. 

“She thinks I need more friends, more social interactions I suppose but that’s what she says every week,” You heard your bed creak as he sat down, “Hey, make me a cup of coffee, doll.”

“Oh,” It was clear that whatever that therapist was doing, wasn’t work, the biggest piece of evidence being the girl he was holding captive right now. You moved over to the coffee pot, pouring what was left into his favorite mug, “Do you … ever talk about me?”

You could feel his body stiffen even from across the room. 

“Why would I?” When you turned around, his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands on his knees. 

You crossed the small room with the cup in hand, “Well, you interact with me. I’m like your friend, right?” You handed him the drink, standing back as you watched him take a sip, hoping he’d be satisfied with it. 

“You know why I can’t tell her about you, Y/N.”

You shook your head, “Yeah, I was just thinking … “ You sat down a few feet away from him, “Does anyone else know about me?”

“You’re curious today.”

“It’s not like I have much entertainment in here,” You said a little more snarky than you intended. You felt his mechanical arm push into the mattress beside you as he turned his head, “Sorry … when do you think I’ll get to leave the room? Not outside, just out of the room. Maybe to where you sleep at night.”

“If you’re going to be like this today-”

“Forget I said anything,” You smiled weakly, “Please.”

Bucky set down his cup on the small nightstand before he urged you closer. You scooted closer and he gently pushed your head down until it was resting in his lap. You felt his cold hand through your sweater and the other through your hair, “I know what it’s like … feeling trapped,” You pulled your feet onto the bed and he continued to stroke your hair and you welcomed the comforting touch. 

“Then why …”

He shushed you, “Mind over matter, Y/N. It’s all about training your mind to adjust. You’re safer here, you’re taken care of here, and your mind is still trying to convince you that you don’t belong here.”

“I wouldn’t try to escape if I could just stay with you…”

He shushed you again, “I spent decades frozen and then, after that, I was trapped in my own mind. Now everyone’s trying to convince me that I have this new chance to survive in the world. They genuinely think of this new century as being so amazing, so much technology, and opportunities but it’s a lie, Y/N. This world is nothing but danger and death. You’re much better without it.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheeks. You felt like the chains around you were only getting heavier. He was so delusional that you thought it would be easier to start believing him, “Please don’t leave for that long again.”

Bucky sighed, “I’ll stay here for the night. How does that sound?”

You hiccuped, “T-Thank you.”

Later that night, you were lying beside bucky in the small bed. He was fast asleep but you were wide awake, looking up at the skylight. The full moon was lighting up the room. Carefully, you tossed your feet over the bed, doing your best not to disturb the soldier. You got onto the floor, crawling towards the carpet in the middle of the room. Oftentimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay down and stare up at the moon. 

You stayed like that for lord knows how long, drifting into a place where all your thoughts were silent. 

“What are you doing?” You sat up quickly, your heart racing as his gruff voice snapped you from your trance. 

He was shirtless, standing above you, and rubbing his tired eyes. You simply pointed up, “The moon.”

“Get back in bed,” He commanded groggily. 

You scooted over slightly, “I can’t sleep ... just come look with me. It’s beautiful.”

“You act like you’ve never seen the fucking moon before, Y/N,” His frustration caught you off guard as he reached down to grab you by your arm. You didn’t mean to but, on instinct, you flinched away. That only led him to grabbing your harder, and you stumbled as he pulled you up, “Get in the bed. You scare me to death when I wake up and can’t feel you.”

“If you care so much then why do you leave me in here for weeks on end.”

His eyes flickered with hurt for a moment, “I won’t … ever again. You need far too much discipline for me to let you be on your own for so long.” You rolled your eyes as you turned away, walking towards the bed. 

He grabbed you roughly by your waist, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed you further into the mattress, his hand on the back on your neck, and you were reminded just how cruel he could be. There was a point months ago when you stopped fighting it, knowing in the end he would overpower you, but sometimes your spark appeared. 

He lifted your nightgown easily, knowing he wouldn’t find any underwear to tear off, and his hand cupped between your legs. As you struggled beneath him, he felt you, rubbing and running his fingers over your lips, “Me being deep inside you seems to correct your mood. Is that what you need from me, doll face?”

Your spark appeared and went quickly, knowing he could feel your wetness, giving him the permission to sink two of fingers inside you. He moved slow, his knees pressed deep into the bed, as he watched your lips part with a gasp. 

“That’s it …”

This was his favorite, knowing he could get you off with just his fingers, his fingers curling against your most sensitive areas. He fastened his pace, pushing in and out of you as you lay there bent over. Knowing you were nearing an orgasm you were sure not to run away from, he moved his vibranium arm from your neck and underneath you where he stimulated your sensitive bud. 

“That’s my girl,” He coaxed you as he sent you into a shaking fit, “You finish so well on my fingers, so beautifully.” You came hard, Bucky enjoying the vulnerable view of your face. As he let you go, you pushed down your gown and laid down on your side. The bed dipped as he took a seat, rubbing your thighs as the post-orgasm regret filled you. 

“You ever think you have some control over me, I want you to remember this.”

8 months later … 

You flipped through the channels six channels that the old television would provide. The soldier thought buying you one would decrease your book intake which he was struggling to keep up with as you read several per week. He wasn’t a fan of technology but the two of you had a long argument about it and he eventually caved. 

You weren’t sure if he knew but the TV picked up a local news channel and you got a glimpse into what the world had been like over the past year. Every now and then, there’d be a mention of Sam Wilson and you figured that’s who he was disappearing with when he was gone for weeks at a time. 

As you neared closer and closer to your due date, he’d grown nicer than usual, though the way he’d gotten you pregnant wasn’t pleasant at all. “You complain so much about being lonely.” He had said when you’d missed your period, “This is what you wanted, right?” 

You weren’t sure if you were just nauseous from the pregnancy or if the idea of raising a baby in that room was making you sick to your stomach. Sometimes you caught yourself being selfish, thinking about having someone to take care of and take up your time. Having someone who could love you properly, in a way that Bucky didn’t quite understand. 

“How’s my girl? And how’s my mini me?” Bucky was an abnormally good move when he came down to visit you that night. He was carrying magazines in his hand and you crossed the room, curious to see the details, “I thought you might want to look at nursery stuff.”

“There’s gonna be a nursery,” Your lips pulled into a smile, “Where?”

“Here,” He gestured around and your smile fell, “You can’t be too far from the little tike. I was thinking we could put the crib where your desk is.”

You took the magazines from him, resting them on your protruding stomach, “Oh …” You tried not to sound sad, “You don’t think that maybe the space is too small? I mean, a mom and baby and sometimes you, that’s a lot of people for one room. And when they get older ….” You imagined having a happy little baby but you tried not to think about your child growing up in a box. 

“When he gets older, we’ll think about it then,” He stated, already gendering the baby without any actual knowledge. He refused to let you see a doctor, only brought you prenatal vitamins, expecting that you’d have a smooth delivery right here in the room, “For now, it’s plenty of room.”

You nodded, “When he gets older, will you take him outside the room? Kids need space to play and get fresh air.”

“I’ll think about it, Y/N,” Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

You didn’t want to push the issue further, not wanting to spoil his mood, “I think a light green will be a good, neutral color for everything. Maybe we can decorate his side of the room.”

He smiled, “Whatever you’d like, doll face.”

You crossed the room, setting the magazines down on your desk, and a scary idea crossed your mind. A scary idea and chance you might just have to take if it meant you could get help. You were getting nowhere screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone to hear you, and asking Bucky over and over again just to let you have fresh air. He was suffocatingly protective and that didn’t seem like it was gonna change. You couldn’t let him do that to your child. 

You made dinner and he slept over that night, his vibranium hand holding your waist the entire night. 

You planned to catch him off guard the next morning, figuring you’d have the best chance of causing a panic while he was still tired. You got up, whispering that you had to use the restroom, and you slipped inside the room. You read somewhere that only a fourth cup of water comes out when your water breaks, so you fill a cup before drenching your underwear, legs and the bathroom floor. 

“Bucky!” You shouted, making sure you looked scared in the mirror, “Bucky!”

The door almost flew off its hinges as the soldier went into full alert. His eyes were wide, examining you, “What-What happened?”

“I-I think my water broke,” A tear slipped down your cheek. 

“It’s too early,” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “A-Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. All the books say it's a gushing feeling and that was definitely gushing.”

“Maybe we should wait … we can wait and see if contractions start-”

You shook your head furiously, cautiously stepping forward, “We have to see a Doctor. W-We have to … contractions are supposed to start before my water breaks a-and I’m only 29 weeks. I can’t have the baby naturally.”

“But-”

“We have to! Please, Bucky, a-all I care about is the baby. Please, I don’t want to lose them. Please don’t make me-”

“Okay, okay,” He nodded, grabbing your face as he wiped your tears, “Uhm …. let's get dressed. There’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital,” You nodded and his eyes narrowed at you, “This is for the baby, remember that. You pull anything and-”

“I know,” You placed your hand over your stomach, pulling away from his grasp. 

Your body was heavy when he led you out of that room. You felt your reality shifting as you entered the world again. What surprised you most was how normal the rest of the home was, not particularly homey, but it was nice and spacious. There was even a full front yard and, sadly, you imagined the happy family that could have lived here. You half-expected him to have a wife and kids that he was hiding you from. 

Now, sitting in the hospital bed, you watched him paced around, not paying attention to what the Doctor was saying. 

“So she’s not in labor? She felt her water breaking.”

“No, Sir. Based on the ultrasound, the amniotic fluid levels are normal. I’m not sure what happened, could be a multitude of things, but it was most likely a false alarm. But don’t worry, it happens all the time. And your baby looks very healthy.”

You opened your mouth to say something but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, a warning. 

“Okay, thank you, Doc.”

“Do you two have a primary obstetrician? One isn’t listed-”

“Are we free to leave?”

The Doctor took another look at you, as if he was trying to understand our relationship, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say it, “Yes, you’re free to go. I would just make sure to keep a sharp eye out and give your obstetrician a call if you have a question-”

“Of course, thanks, Doc,” Bucky nodded as he forced a smile. With his dark jacket and black gloves, it was hard for him not to look intimidating. 

The Doctor looked down at you with a warm smile, “Let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”

Say something. 

Say something. 

If you were going to say something, this would be the time. Why did Bucky have such a hold on you even outside of the room?

As soon as the Doctor left the room, Bucky turned away, frustratedly packing up your bag, “Get up, get dressed, let’s go.”

“Bucky, I really did think-”

“If you don’t want someone in this hospital to get hurt, I’d get dressed and keep your mouth shut.”

You moved your legs to the side, real tears beginning to fall down your face, as you struggled to get your dress on. Bucky noticed your sniffling from the corner of his eye. He moved towards you, kneeling down beside the bed, “Hey, I’m sorry …. I’m just stressed out. I don’t like you being here ... but everything is going to be okay. Our baby is perfectly healthy and we’ll be home soon. There will be no more interruptions after this.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod in agreement knowing that your own opinion didn’t matter. Bucky was god, enforcing his will on you, and claiming he knew best. You felt so small in comparison to him but there had to be something left within you that could keep fighting, that could keep you from going willingly back into that room-

“Y/N?”

You perked up, “Yes?”

“C’mon doll face, let’s go home.”

hope you enjoyed! not sure where i want to take this so feedback will be much appreciated!

#dark fic #dark fics #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #stockholm syndrome #bucky barnes x black!reader #dark!bucky

[delimeful]

mere monstrosity (1)

warnings: spiders, misunderstandings, captivity

-

Logan woke up to the familiar soft chime of his alarm, and rolled out of bed bleary-eyed but ready to get the day started. He kept quiet as he crept out of the room.

He didn’t bother grabbing his glasses, knowing that they’d only be of use after his shower. His feet knew the way from his bedroom to the bathroom by heart, and he preferred to shower in the dark to avoid the likelihood of getting one of his light-sensitivity migraines, so he didn’t reach for the lightswitch either.

Instead, he pushed quietly past the half-open door and fumbled for the shower knob, cranking it up to exactly the point before it turned scalding.

The water flickered on a moment later, and amidst the clamor of droplets against ceramic, he heard an indistinct, high-pitched noise, like a chirp or squeak.

“A mouse?” he muttered to himself, squinting at the dark, blurry interior of the shower.

He couldn’t hear anything else over the spray, so he quickly turned the shower off and stepped back to flick the lightswitch on, potential headaches be damned.

He pulled the shower curtain fully to the side, and blinked at the sight of a blurry black splotch in the corner of his bathtub. Leaning in a little further, he could briefly make out individual legs, long and numerous, before they were pulled closer and blended in with the rest of the shape.

“You are… a considerably large spider,” he informed it, grateful that it was him and not Patton who had found it. The resulting terrified shriek would have woken him and Janus, and probably most of the neighbors for that matter. “Are you a tarantula? Are tarantulas even native to this area?”

The spider, rather predictably, didn’t respond, and Logan recalled that he’d just doused the poor thing with jets of cold water. It was probably curling all its limbs in a mock death-curl, trying to process the unexpected threat to its breathing and body temperature.

He reached over to the counter and carefully removed the collection of multicolored toothbrushes from the plastic cup next to their sink, tapping it against the side of the counter to clear out any remaining dust.

“Try to stay still, alright?” he coaxed in a low voice, crouching and leaning over the tub to get a better angle. “I don’t want to catch any of your limbs, just keep them all tucked in close like that and I’ll get you out of there.”

To his surprise, the spider really didn’t make any sudden moves, remaining frozen as he settled the cup over it. The only reason he was sure it was still alive was the tiny motion of its front legs, two little investigative nudges against the edge of the cup.

“Excellent job,” he praised, his curiosity only growing. Most of the spiders he had cupped would immediately run at the glass with arms lifted in threat, or run in frantic circles along the edges seeking an escape. Of course, none of them had been this large. Most wild tarantulas were hunters, though, not spinners. Aggression would serve them well, so why was this one so docile? Was it an escaped pet? Had the cold water been that shocking?

He quickly retrieved a folder from the living room, returning to find that the plastic cup had shifted a couple of inches. It was large enough to push it, then.

“Just a little bit more,” he continued to soothe, carefully sliding the folder under the cup bit by bit, allowing the spider time to shift its legs onto the folder so the tips wouldn’t be pinched. He then carefully lifted the whole ensemble up, keeping a cautious hand on top of the cup. “There we go.”

The kitchen was dimly lit, the small light under the microwave still on so that anyone getting water in the middle of the night wouldn’t trip or run into anything in the dark. Logan glanced at the front door for a long moment, and then gave in to the urge to investigate his catch a bit closer. It would be irresponsible to just release a domesticated tarantula into the wild, after all.

He set the cup and folder down carefully on the counter, and then placed a heavy ceramic plate on top of the cup, reasoning that it was better to make sure the spider wouldn’t push the cup-- and itself-- right off the counter.

“One moment.” That done, he went into his room to retrieve his glasses, leaving the light off so as to not wake up Janus, who had only gotten in from his night shift a few hours ago. His roommate normally slept heavily once he managed to get to sleep, so Logan didn’t have to worry about waking him by climbing out of their shared bed, but better not to risk turning the lights on in the first place.

The world came into a much clearer focus once he’d pushed his glasses into their proper place atop his nose, and with his vision improved, he had no problems finding the hall closet and rummaging through it for one of Janus’s old terrariums.

He set the glass case down on the kitchen counter without any furnishings inside-- he was only planning to get a good look at the specimen, after all-- and flicked on the kitchen light before carefully moving the trapped spider into the terrarium and then lifting the cup away.

The spider frantically scuttled back, smacking thorax-first into the glass wall of the terrarium, and Logan frowned contemplatively at the sight of it.

It was certainly a tarantula, one that he’d probably be able to find online fairly easily with the distinctive white stripes along it’s eight fuzzy legs. Concerningly enough, there was an odd swelling protrusion on the anterior part of the body. It was a similar dark shade to the rest of the body, but almost larger than the thorax, and it blocked off any sight of the pedipalps, fangs, or eyes.

The texture didn’t seem to match the carapace… Perhaps it was a piece of garbage or organic waste that had gotten stuck on the creature? If it hindered movement, that could explain why it had been so still earlier.

It wasn’t still now, exhibiting an odd vibrating throughout its body that Logan had never witnessed from a spider before. He would certainly be doing some research into arthropods after this.

Well, at the very least, he could see if that protruding material would come loose.

Logan carefully pulled on one of Janus’s thick leather gloves, one of the more worn sets in case the spider had urticating hairs, and then reached down. The spider seemed to spot his shadow, going by the way it stiffened, and he reminded himself that though he didn’t know the species and many tarantulas were venomous, it was incredibly unlikely their venom would be able to do more than hurt him.

Confidence restored, he continued reaching down until his fingers met the odd lump, at which point a low, guttural hiss sounded, and the spider threw its front legs up and lunged, slapping its limbs down against the floor of the terrarium in threat.

Logan remained undeterred by the small tantrum, instead focusing on the fact that the obstruction was loose, almost like shed skin on a snake. Studying the spider carefully, he pinched it gently between two fingers, trying to discern what in the world it could possibly be.

The next three movements happened in rapid succession.

First, Logan tugged lightly at the material caught between his fingers. Second, the spider recoiled sharply, pulling away from his grip with surprising strength. And third, the covering came loose, the spider pulling free from it and leaving a limp swathe of fabric hanging from Logan’s fingers.

Below him, now uncovered, there was pale skin, a mop of bedraggled hair, and a tiny, terrified human face.

Logan froze, staring down at it-- them with wide eyes.

The being he’d mistaken for a spider was actually a drider, a creature of myth that was apparently all too real. Logan couldn’t help how stunned he felt. Even apart from the shock of the discovery, there was the shock of their size. Driders were said to have a human-sized spider half, not the other way around!

Below, the drider was still frozen in place, staring right back up at him. He could see the way their little chest was heaving with quick, panicked breaths, could feel the way the tiny makeshift poncho in his hand was sodden and cold, and he felt guilt strike him like a ruler across knuckles.

“I-- Hold on a moment, please,” he managed, his mind racing as he stepped back, turning and hurrying out of the room.

Once again, the hall closet held exactly what he needed, and he mentally rescinded all his past complaints about the amount of extra snake care items Janus had stashed away in their storage closet like a dragon’s hoard.

The heat lamp was compact enough to fit easily in the terrarium, where the spider-person had scuttled back to press themself into the furthest corner, limbs pulled in tightly in what had to be a fear response.

Logan set the lamp carefully inside and plugged it in, sighing in relief when the bulb lit up and began to glow orange. “This lamp is designed for reptiles, not arthropods, so it may be too hot for extended use. However, it will work temporarily as a heat source to get rid of excess moisture, so I encourage you to use it.”

The drider was glaring up at him with the tiniest scowl he’d ever seen, front legs still lifted up defensively, but didn’t say a word.

“Do you speak?” Logan asked, and received only silence in return. “I suppose I should have guessed as much, seeing as you haven’t responded to any of my previous statements. Do you understand me? Do we speak the same language?”

The drider glared harder.

“I find it hard to believe that you have animal-level intelligence,” Logan continued, now mostly to himself. He lifted a hand, displaying the poncho he still held. “Although some birds can ‘sew’, construction of clothing to cover one’s form is a complex and distinctly human sentiment.”

Still, nothing. Their gaze was caught by the poncho for a moment before they looked away entirely, looking for all the world to be sulking.

Logan sighed, and then slowly moved to place the poncho next to the heat lamp, laying it out flat for easier drying. “I’m going to attend to my morning routine. It should only take me a few moments, but please feel free to call or make noise if you need my attention between now and then.”

The drider’s expression had eased into confusion at the sight of their garment laid out before them, but their legs remained warily upright as Logan left the room.

As promised, he only made a brief stop to make sure both of his roommates were still soundly asleep before climbing into the shower and preparing himself for the day, roughly fifteen minutes behind schedule.

It wasn’t too disruptive-- it had eaten into the time he normally allotted for sitting at the table and eating breakfast, so that would have to be skipped today, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Honestly, he’d likely spend the rest of the day thinking about the surprise addition to his morning. There were so many questions he’d love to ask, but seeing as the creature had attempted to hide their existence even at risk of being perceived as a normal spider (and therefore possibly squashed), he expected he wouldn’t be receiving any answers.

Talkative or not, the drider clearly had sapient levels of intelligence, and Logan was loath to start off humanity’s relationship with a vulnerable and secretive species by keeping them trapped in a snake terrarium against their will.

Even if he was willing to weigh scientific advancement over his morals, his roommates would never allow it. Patton would naturally be terrified and possibly sympathetic when witnessing their clear terror, and he’d had enough extensive debates on ethics with Janus to know that his opinion on keeping them captive would be much the same.

So, when he returned to the kitchen and saw them toppling over and scurrying back from the heat lamp that they’d clearly been attempting to use as a makeshift ladder to freedom, Logan didn’t bother commenting, simply moving forward and looking them over.

“You seem to have mostly dried,” he stated instead, able to appreciate the subtle design work of the poncho better now that it wasn’t being used as camouflage. The drider gripped it like they thought he might take it away.

They would react fairly badly to him reaching out with his hand, and reasonably so. Logan hadn’t exactly done much except douse, capture, and then gently interrogate them. Not exactly trustworthy behavior.

He studied the terrarium for a moment before grabbing a washcloth and draping it over the side, providing an easy textured surface for the spider to climb up. There. “You are free to go.”

The surprised expression that flashed across their face was almost comical.

“I’m not sure what your purpose in the bathroom was, but I’d ask you to be more careful in the future. One of my roommates…,” Logan sighed through his nose, exasperated even imagining it. “Well, suffice to say you should avoid him at all costs.”

The tiny drider continued to stare at him, gaze occasionally flickering over to the towel with clear suspicion. It was saddening to be so distrusted, but perhaps this show of goodwill would help prove that he didn’t intend any harm? He hoped he hadn’t frightened them from the residence entirely-- he shuddered at the many, many potential dangers the creature would find outside.

“My roommates will wake later in the day, so if you intend to avoid their notice, I’d suggest leaving the enclosure as soon as I have departed for work,” he gave a little farewell wave, not reacting to the slight flinch it elicited from the little guy. “It-- well, you probably don’t share the sentiment, but still-- it was nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

Forcing himself not to turn back and get one last look, Logan hurried out the door.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts logan #ts virgil #tiny drider au #drider #mere monstrosity #mm #g/t #spiders tw #well just one but yknow #sorry for late posting i forgot it was saturday #time is fake #my writing #writing

[kashimos-hajime]

turning page | b.k.

summary: a thousand years ago, bakugou destroyed the world. a thousand years later, you save katsuki in the middle of a thunderstorm.

WARNINGS: swearing, slight violence, mentions of hunting, skinning animals, war and death etc, SMALL angst, lots of tender fluff and banter, bakugou is bakugou, happy ending! pairing: god!bakugou x huntress!reader word count: 13.3k

a/n: written for @bluebellhairpin​ and their writing challenge! thank you so much for allowing me to participate. and extra thank you to @sukumen​ for letting me talk about all my ideas about this au :) bakugou is also like aged up and like 20s looking btw AKSNDALKNS 

crossposted on ao3

I surrender who I've been for who you are For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart If I had only felt how it feels to be yours Well I would have known What I've been living for all along What I've been living for

-Turning Page, Sleeping at Last

.

“Katsuki.” It’s a small surrender, but one nonetheless. The fire crackles, making his scowl that much more apparent.

“That’s all?” you ask.

“That’s all,” he says.

His eyes, red with hunger, fury, have dampened in the warm oil light as you run the towel down his chest. He is still slashed with blood, splattered, his eyes unhealthily bloodshot, his lips pale and blue. He looks half a god, and mostly dead.

Granted, more alive than when you had first found him passed out, one of his feet trapped in your snares and clothes torn to straps of fabric hanging off his bleeding corpse.

Still dead, though. Like there’s something unnatural. Something not quite alive, anyway. 

He doesn’t talk much, even after he woke up. Neither do you. You’d nearly avoided getting killed, the red marks from where he had nearly squeezed the last ounce of breath out of you still burning under his fading scrutiny.

After all, you’re a stranger taking in a stranger into your home in the middle of the woods, and you’re the reason his ankle is swollen like a wasp sting and eviscerated at the tendon. You don’t blame him, but a part of you is still stung that he hadn’t let you get a good whack in to his broken ribs.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” you tell him just to irk him when you finally finish with the cuts on his chest and haul his foot into your lap to deal that nasty laceration.

He’s half-asleep in the water that’s turned murky over the hour he’s spent in it, but still musters the energy to scowl and crack one red eye open at you.

His features are striking, and you wonder what blessed him to have such angry eyes.

.

You haul him out of the basin before he falls asleep and rub him dry. He makes some snide comment about being so comfortable around a naked man, probably to unsettle you, but you’re still drenched to your bones, and too exhausted to care.

Clothing him in a pair of trousers and a tunic you found that smell musky to you, you drag him to your cot, lay him down on pelts, and carefully make sure the long wound curving his forearm is still well-covered before covering him even more. It’s sweltering, but you don’t want to risk him getting cold, especially with the thunderstorm still raging outside.

You’ve been residing in this cabin your great-great-great grandfather built maybe centuries years ago it feels like, and no one’s found you here, yet. Most days you wake up and sit, go through the motions as you boil water over a fire and scrub yourself clean every night. Other days you go out to hunt so you don’t go too hungry and can’t think anymore.

There’s no particular joy in it, but there’s routine. Purpose.

You’ve been searching for that a lot lately.

Katsuki mumbles in his sleep just as a flash of lightning you don’t have to look through the window to see flashes. The room is dark enough that any light is too bright, and the thunder rumbles as you look at him again through the sliver of moonlight. If it gets worse, you’ll have to board the windows tomorrow.

The storms remind you of the temper fabled in the stories you were told when you were little. Old gods and mythologies that, still, a part of you believes in. Of a time when, you were told, the gods walked among mortal men, and they would cause earthquakes, tsunamis, walking tragedies if not pleased and pandered to.

Endeavour’s mighty temper. All Might’s righteous fury. The tempest living in Hawks’ wings and hidden behind a boyish smile. There was once another who could take away the powers of other gods for a short time, but even he has faded.

But, this storm reminds you most of the god who had broke apart the old world and replaced it with the one they live in now. The one who had torn down the pantheon and sent divine beings fleeing for their lives, to hide amongst mortal men.

Your mother used to call him Bakugou. That was his name, after all. Others named him Dynamight. God of the volcanoes that shape their country, and capable of mass destruction, he was the one most temperamental, the one who went insane. It’s said he ripped their world apart at the seams, destroying the pantheon and bringing about a total apocalypse.

The gods died out after that, or they disappeared, or maybe they ran and forgot who they used to be. The humans left in the ashes of his destruction were out to fend for themselves with a promise that Bakugou still lives and would return one day to end the world once more.

So many people hate him that you’re not sure where you stand. Sometimes, you wonder if you lived back then and prayed, if you’d be happier. Other times, you come across old churches, hear talk of Ua Mountain, where the gods once lived and how now it is closed off to all of them, and think it’s better not to waste time on such things.

.

You wake up right as the sun cracks over the horizon. The storms have not abated, the clouds still hanging over your home like a canopy of dark grey, but it’s at least not raining, so you get up and get dressed from where you had slept on the floor in front of the fire to go outside and observe the damage.

The entire front of your home is a muddied mess, with the few vegetables you’ve planted sunken or uprooted, probably by wildlife fleeing in fear of the flashing light as well as the furious wind. You grimace as your boot sinks into the ground, picking up twigs that have clashed with your home that you could use for firewood later when it dries out a bit, and trying to tidy up the grass. It’s extensive—the damage goes on deeper into the woods. You’re sure if you take your walk to your traps, you’ll find one knocked over tree at least.

Even so, your first priority is to board the windows by nightfall. Once you’ve done your best mucking out the front, you scan the area to make sure there aren’t any injured animals or broken branches threatening to impale you should you not watch where you’re going. And even after that, you head back inside, wiping the sweat from your brow at the heat clouding the air. Glancing at the fireplace, you sigh dejectedly and head to check in on your new visitor.

To your surprise, he’s sitting up on the cot, running a hand through his pale hair, and when he catches you staring, he scowls.

“How’re you feeling?’ you ask pointedly, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. He cups his shoulder and rolls it, and you stare at the bandaged slash on his forearm. Katsuki doesn’t answer you. Turning around, you grab the crock of poultice, cloth, and warm water from the kitchen before returning and stepping into the room.

Pale light streams in, outlining the bruising on his chest from his ribs, and you crouch down beside him.

“Don’t touch me,” he mutters, voice hard with pain. Teeth bared, he glances down at himself and rolls his hand into a fist as if that’ll stop the ache you know is spreading through his entire body. Eyes flickering from the strength of his arm, the veins of his hand, to his abdomen clenching tight, you sigh.

“Do you want to change your bandages yourself?” you ask, still knelt by his side. You really can’t care less, but if he wants to get better, he’ll know to ask you to do it. You know his type—stubborn, asinine, with a complex that demanded that they don’t rely on anyone for help. When Katsuki doesn’t answer, you stand. “Fine. Breakfast will be in an hour or so. If you’re hungry before then, manage to drag yourself to the kitchen and it’ll be all yours.”

Of course, you don’t expect him to be able to. His ankle’s all but given out on him. Still, by the glint in his red eyes, you know he accepts your challenge.

.

After picking through the forest to check your traps, you return to finally board the windows. As you work, you keep an eye through the windows, wondering if your guest will ever awake. Your thoughts on focused on your list of things to do, stubbornly pushing any questions you may have about Katsuki out of your head now that the tumultuous night is over. He’s clearly closed off, and you’re more focused on getting him up and out so you can continue on with your life.

Eventually, you see him coming out of the room. You spot him through the window, clinging to the wall of the door and then slowly edging to the fire, his lacerated foot dragging as he limps around. You slam the mallet into the nail, keeping the plank in place, watching in careful scrutiny.

Then, he slips with an ungraceful crash and you pause, peering through the slit to see him curled up on his side, face effigy of hunger and rage.

You drop the mallet to the grass and wander over to the open door, peeking your head in. “You’re not dead yet, are you?”

“I don’t need your help.” He manages to push himself up and lean against the wall with a heaving chest, and his arm wraps around his ribs. The cloth has slipped a bit down his forearm and he brings it to his teeth, tightening it with a jerk of his head. “Shit.”

“I’ve seen you naked at this point,” you tell him. His red eyes flit to you. Rubies, you think absently. His eyes are rubies in the firelight. “I’m not someone who will matter to you.” Your eyes flit down the opening of his shirt where it’s come unlaced, and you frown. “You’re going to die if you insist on doing everything yourself.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Yeah?”

He tilts his head back and doesn’t answer. His throat is glistening with sweat and he swallows, hard. You lean heavier on the doorframe, head against wood, and he closes his eyes slowly, lips still parted as he sucks in heavy breaths through bruised organs. You watch him quietly, the silence almost tranquil.

“This is pathetic,” you say after a while. You blink and turn your head away when you realize you’ve been staring and he only tilts his head towards you, eyes barely fluttering open to reveal slits of murky red. Then, his lids flutter shut and turns his face to the fire. Your heart strings twinge at the image he paints, the way the flames dance on slick skin, add warmth to pale, lifeless skin that reveals the blue of his veins, and you push off the door.

Heading in, you retrieve your medical supplies from the room and join him at his little spot. You pull the laces of his front apart, gently unwinding the sewn threads and revealing a sloppily bandaged chest. “Lean forward.”

As you work, you feel his head droop, the tips of his fine golden hair brushing against your neck and your fingers dance along the knots of his back. He feels tense everywhere, and you frown as you inspect his work. He’s got a good range of motion considering his injuries, and the only cuts not really covered by the poultice are the ones that stretch around his back. Fixing it up for him, you wipe at the droplets of water he’s let soak into the shirt, but a fine layer of sweat coats porcelain skin.

“I’m going to find you more clothes,” you decide, “so you don’t have to rely on one pair.” He doesn’t answer, his brow against the crook of his neck, and you sigh to yourself, picking up the bandages once again and beginning to roll up his chest and arm.

His breath puffs against your collarbone, feather soft, and you think this is the most relaxed he’s been in, say, a whole day and night. You’re not quite sure how well he slept, but judging by the ragged scratches where he hasn’t been cut open, not well. He looks like he’s seen a war. 

As you cast your gaze down his back, you see the smooth ripple of well-formed and trained muscles, the flex and curve of a warrior. 

You wonder what his story is, but then think he hasn’t asked you yours, so…

Commerce is a give and take. Their relationship is commerce, but you’re not quite sure what you’re gaining.

“Alright, finished. The stitches on the worse cuts are holding in place, but still, try not to move so much and ruin my work,” you tell him, gently pushing him back against the wall. He doesn’t look up right away, his stare burning into your hand and you draw both into your lap, frowning. “I still need to take a look at your foot. That’s the thing I’m most worried about, and—“

“You’re bleeding,” he notes. Blinking, you glance down at your own forearm where you must’ve cut it while you were trudging through the forests. You hadn’t realized. Pulling back, you clutch your hand with your other, but he stops you with a strong grasp around your wrist, insistent, but not constricting. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself,” you snort. “You need to have something to eat, and—“ He tugs your wrist with sudden strength, and your eyebrows shoot up at the warm, rough heat of his fingers. So different from the chilled claw-like grasp he had on you last night. “Katsuki.” 

A warning, or maybe, something else. Either way, his eyes flit to your face, and your lips part in silent objection but you cannot look away from the chipped rubies set in a porcelain face, moulded by something divine.

His other hand gently lowers to the wet rag in the bowl, gently squeezing it with nimble fingers before running it over your cut, swiping the blood away. It’s already stopped bleeding, and his touch is gentle as if he’s afraid you’ll snap in his firm grasp. You watch, eyes flickering from your hand to his face and you’re surprised at the intense concentration there, careful to make sure he gets every drop—even the trails that curve your forearm. Flipping your arm over, he wipes at your wrist, too, before setting the rag down and lowering his hand to the crock, dipping his fingers into the poultice.

“Sting,” he warns shortly, and then slathers it on thickly. Smoothing the mixture over your cut evenly, his brow wrinkles as you slouch forward a bit, letting him tug your arm into his lap. Your heart pulses in your throat at the detail he pays attention to the lines of your wrist, to the bump of your tendons and veins when you clench your fist. 

Soon, he is wrapping your arm in the bandage, tucking the ends carefully underneath the loops he’s made tight around the length of your arm before flipping your arm over again to press his thumb into the pulse point of your wrist.

You watch the motion absently, only focused on the sensation of his touch. For a moment, you don’t know what to say. You just pull your knees to your chest, and rest your chin atop of them. Something inside you crumbles in the way he drags his finger down your wrist, coaxing your palm open, as if curious about the nature of your human form in itself. A spiral of liquid heat flows like honey through your hand, spreading up your arm and nestling just underneath your arm in your chest.

Lips parting, his name rests on the tip of your tongue, but then he withdraws, pale fingers curling into a tist fight. It shakes with the force he’s cramped into his palm, and you swallow, pressing your lips into a thin line.

“I should make breakfast,” you mutter as red flashes to your face. It burns like onions to the eyes. “Can you stand?”

He jerks his face to the fire, staring into the consuming flames. “I’ll manage,” he snaps. You nod and withdraw, pushing yourself to your feet.

.

They don’t speak for the rest of the day. You finish boarding the windows just as the storm rolls back around, and pick vegetables, washing them off. You reset your snares, skin a few hares, and collect fresh water from the rain collectors before setting them back out again. You leave lunch for him by the door, but for dinner, you bring it to his cot. 

He sits up, reading one of the books you’ve left him with his lunch, and the fire light from the main room plays on his face like a spirit.

Sitting down, you set down his bowl of stew. He tries to ignore you, and you’re content to lean against the wall, tilting your own bowl back to fill your stomach.

“Leave me alone.”

“It’s my cabin,” you reply. “I can sit wherever I like. If you want me to move, move me yourself.”

Katsuki doesn’t budge. He sets down the book, and grabs the bowl, slurping it down as if to make you irritated enough to leave on your own accord. Still, you like the noise. Not the disgusting aspect of it, but maybe because it’s better than the quiet that has haunted you long before you dragged a bleeding man into your cabin.

.

The slice in his ankle heals nicely. By the third day, the stitches are beginning to look like they can be snipped and pulled off soon, and you watch him limp over to the table as you sip your mug of tea. The storm is just beginning to abate, too, and you sigh, looking through the boarded windows. You haven’t bothered taking them down and you won’t until you’re sure the storm has passed completely.

“Morning,” you say dryly over your mug. He doesn’t respond and instead sweeps his gaze over your small kitchen. You hold up your hand, setting down your mug and gesturing for him to sit down. His lips turn into a scowl as you go to the fireplace where the pottage is still simmering warm. Scooping a healthy ladle of the thick soup into the bowl, you set it down before him with a spoon. “Cheese?”

“No.”

“Good. I didn’t have any, anyway,” you reply. “No bread, either.” Making a list of what you’ll have to collect when you go to the nearest village tomorrow, you sigh. Maybe you could get a horse and ride out of here, towards the mountain’s pass.

Picking up your mug again, you lean against the counter and watch as he pokes at the stew for a moment, trying to discern what’s in it. 

Maybe you can take him with you.

You roll your eyes.

What a stupid thought.

.

The village is a mumble of noise at the crack of dawn. You’ve come early to get the best picks and so no one who could possibly be around to recognize you would have the chance. Even so, you make your trip quick. Eggs, milk, cheese, dried herbs you can’t find in the forest traded for your hares and flanks of a deer you managed to catch yesterday morning. Fabric for new clothes. For Katsuki, and for yourself. Maybe a pair of boots will do him some good.

Hm. You nearly smile at the thought as you approach the cabin. Katsuki is sitting by the fire, and his head snaps to you when you enter.

“You’re up early,” you observe, closing the door shut and wiping your boots of dirt against the floor before walking deeper into your cabin. He begins to struggle to his feet, and you arch your eyebrows at his movements. His feet almost give out underneath him, especially his ankle that nearly buckles under the weight, but he manages to stay standing.

“You were gone.”

“You can’t expect me to be here beck and call every morning. You’re so insistent on being your own man you can’t begin to depend on me now,” you reply sarcastically, pulling off your cloak and hanging it up as he limps up to you. The air ripples in his wake. You set your purchases down on the table and send him an aloof look. “Don’t strain yourself. Your ribs can only mend so quickly, which reminds me that I did buy more herbs. If you ever want some tea for the pain, all you have to do is ask.”

You know he won’t. Still, you’ll brew it for him anyway.

“You left without your bow and arrows. Your knives. Do you know what I thought?” he hisses, grabbing your arm. The way his fingers crunch into your bicep have you turning around and you grab onto his elbow, stabilizing him before running your other hand down his side to check for any torn stitches and to measure his breathing. “If you leave me here alone, if you ever came back, you would be left with a stinking corpse attracting maggots and flies through your shitty boarded windows. Is that what you want?”

“Well, no.”

“And what if you were taken?” he whispers coarsely. “Did you want me to fucking scour the earth to find you? Shit. Shit.”

His breath is hot against your ear and you jerk your head up to meet his glare, lips twitching into a scowl. Helping him into the chair, you crouch down before him and unlace the front of his shirt so you can get a better view and he breathes raggedly still, mouth open, eyebrows knotted together.

“You fucking… left and I…” His hand lands on your cheek sloppily and you shake your head, pulling apart the front and running your hands over his abdomen. Hand peeling off your face, his stare does not burn more than the invisible mark he has left on your skin. His own flesh is searing hot with blood fighting off infection, and you retreat to prepare him some of that numbing tea and to gather your standard medical supplies. 

“I’m not leaving you alone, you dumb bastard,” you tell him, rolling your eyes to yourself as you pour the leaves in and tilt steaming water into the mug before returning to him and setting it on the table. “Even if you get yourself killed first not listening to me.” Slowly unwinding his bandages for their daily change, you hear him sip the tea as you work, cleaning each cut slowly and carefully. You check the stitches, prod at the red skin. Some of the cuts have already begun closing and scabbing, vicious dark brown and red patterns where whatever tried to kill him had left thinner slices.

Questions bubble at your lips, but you swallow them and crouch to see if his ankle is looking better. It is, but it’s still visibly mangled, and you know it’ll take a while for the strength to return to withstand the weight of the man it’s attached to.

Maybe you should’ve bought that horse.

Hm. Next week, then.

Lowering his foot down to the ground, you wipe your hands on a damp rag and plant your hands on your hips, straightening up. He stares up at you, eyebrow cocked expectedly but there’s an unimpressed expression on his face and you scoff, shaking your head and turning away.

“Help me prepare dinner,” you order, pulling out the vegetables you’d purchased. “You know how to hold a knife, don’t you?”

“I know how to chop vegetables,” he snaps. “I’m not a newborn.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Just chop the leeks.” Handing him a knife, you set the leeks before him as well as a bowl of water. He picks up the knife hesitantly as if his hand isn’’t quite used to being used to do such a thing, and you try to suppress your smile as he tightens his grip on the knife.

He sets it down after a moment and grabs the vegetables, rinsing each one off in turn, inspecting each with a keen eye, and as you make breakfast, you can’t help but watch him turn the leek around on the cutting board, knife hovering over the vegetable as he cocks his head. It’s adorable, really, how he tries to decide how best to chop a simple thing.

Setting down a plate of cheese in front of him for breakfast, you eye the still-whole leek skeptically. He drowns the rest of his tea like a shot of alcohol before scowling at the cheese, reaching out for a cube, and you can’t help yourself: “Off with the root, slice in half, stack and chop, Katsuki.”

He swallows his cheese and sends you a daggered glower. “I know that!” 

“Okay, okay.” A subtle laugh curving its way into your voice. “I was just checking.”

.

Three more days pass. You make Katsuki boots out of animal leather, and find more clothes that fight him well enough despite his complaints about the musty stench and how you’re giving him second-rate garb.

“Stop complaining and eat your bread,” you snort as he hunches over in front of the fire. You snip the next stitch, gently pulling the thread free and wiping at his skin with a cool, soothing rag. It’s nothing more than a harsh red line, waxy skin that feels smooth against your fingertips. 

“How’s your arm?” he asks suddenly, and you blink, lowering your scissors. 

“It’s… fine. Closed and healed, now,” you reply slowly. “Thanks for asking.”

“I only did because I didn’t want your blood mixing with mine,” he informs stiffly. His spoon scrapes against his bowl as he looks down at the empty thing, picking up his half of a bread slice. You tilt your head and return the scissors to his back. “It’s unhygienic.”

You chuckle to yourself. His head lifts up at the noise and he looks over his shoulder, eyebrows almost meeting his hairline as you smile faintly at him. “Yeah, I guess it would’ve been.” Their eyes meet for a moment, and his lips part, as if to say something more but then you duck your gaze, the heat of the fire suddenly intensifying.

The silence is nice. There is only the snip of your scissors that accompany your thoughts. You trace the line of his shoulder absently as he bites into the grain. There’s a curious warmth emanating from his body, and you follow the old scars of his back, lines that have faded into white, a long lash of pink that has risen and fallen with time.

You trace one particularly jagged one from his shoulder to his waist, flattening your palm against it and feeling his heart through his skin.

“So why are you in my cabin?” you murmur. The fire crackles. Katsuki tears the bread apart from his hand with his teeth and swallows to give himself time to answer. 

“I was running,” he tells you vaguely. You smile and run your nail over another sealed cut curving his rib cage. One that crisscrosses a fresh one, and you cock your head curiously. His free hand is braced against his knee, clenching and unclenching. He doesn’t wince anymore, but his jaw still ticks like he’s holding back a shiver of pain. 

“Aren’t we all?” you ask wryly. He snorts. You lift your hand to rest on his shoulder under the illusion that you’re still looking at just his wounds. “From what?”

“Hell.”

“Ha.” It comes out a bit more strongly than you intend and he looks at you. Your shoulders fall, and you look at him, smiling dryly. His light hair shines like bleached wheat as it falls over his eyes. 

Katsuki watches you for a long time, chewing on his bread. You pretend not to notice, lifting your hand from his shoulder and gathering your supplies, until he speaks up. “Why were you out in a thunderstorm?”

“I was running,” you echo, and he rolls his eyes but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his face. 

“From what?”

“Life.” To be honest, you had meant to disappear in the mountain pass like you had thought before, into the country over, that night. Moral obligation had made you turn around when you passed by a bleeding body.

He lets out a singular snort, lowering his gaze and shaking his head like he can’t believe you. You don’t feel the need to convince him. There’s nothing more in this cabin than the bare essentials and two people who might actually want to be here.

.

“They say he has a temper. No one would take him,” you say as you lean beside Katsuki. You’re wiping your hands, having just fetched new water from the river. He looks through the windows that have recently been cleared of the boards at the dun stallion roaming the front of your field, and you tilt your head towards your guest. “I said he’d be perfect, you know.”

“I can’t imagine why.” He pushes off the wall and walks unsteadily towards the kitchen. You twist to watch him go. Feet stuffed in boots, he had just gotten back on his feet the day before while you had spent the day hunting and taking the reins to your new horse after returning from the village. A fair few bruises now mar your hips, and you wince a bit as Katsuki reaches the kettle and pours himself some tea. 

“We should go riding once I’ve got him settled down a bit more,” you suggest lazily. “He’s a horse who needs a lot of space.”

“As if,” he derides, “I would want to ride a horse with you.”

“Why not?” you retort. “You’ve been stuck in here for two and a half weeks. It’d be better than the air that comes in through the door and even then you almost always stay in the bedroom.” Sitting down on the bench underneath the window, you stretch your legs and cross your arms, watching him walk around the room like he owns the place. You can’t help the twitch of your lip. “Katsuki. I’m talking to you.”

“Because I don’t want to go outside,” he snaps, not looking at you. “That’s all. Is that such a crime that I don’t like the outdoors?”

“No, but it’d be good to stretch your legs.”

“I stretch my legs just fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Rolling your eyes, you turn to look out at the stallion again whose finally settled on grazing on some of the grass shoots beginning to grow long again out of the mud. Resting your arms on the sill, you lower your chin onto your forearm and sigh. The air is relatively warm still, but you can’t help but feel a bit strange.

You remember sitting here a great many times before, your mind going a thousand yards a minute with where you came from and where you should go next. You’re still surprised your family hasn’t found you, yet.

“Here.” Turning around, you’re greeting by a steaming cup of tea, and Katsuki sits down again beside you. You sip and let out a pleased sigh, the warmth going everywhere at once. “That’s better than that pensive fucking expression on your face all the time,” he notes once he’s observed your expression. Katsuki glances out at their little space again. “What are you even thinking about? Whether or not to have venison for dinner?”

You ignore him. He’s not even looking at you, so you don’t bother. “You’re so angry all the time,” you tell him instead. He rolls his eyes and scoffs sharply, slurping loudly on his tea as if to deter you, but you’re used to it by now. And, you’re stubborn to hell. “Why?”

His eyebrows twitch together, teeth gnashing, and he lowers his own mug into his lap, glowering at the clay. You turn around and mirror his position, looking down at the olive-shade of tea. 

“Because it’s the only thing saving me right now,” he answers at last. “If I’m angry, I won’t feel anything else.” His bloody gaze finds yours, and he smirks. It forms cruelly on his face and doesn’t fit him at all. “You could use a good dose of rage. Maybe it’d stop you from slinking around like a goddamn kicked puppy.”

“You could use a good dose of joy,” you shoot back, the lash of his words not quite settling in yet. “Maybe it’d make you more gracious of what I’m doing for you.”

“And what about what I’m doing for you?” he replies. Your eyebrows furrow as you study him. His nostrils are flared, and his stare burns like a thousand bursting volcanoes. 

You press your lips together and swallow, barely able to grasp the words together, until: “What are you talking about?”

His eyes widen a bit, like he’s surprised he even spoke, but then he scowls, and that confusion disappears. 

“Never mind,” he says, voice tight. Jerking his head away, he takes a gulp of his tea and you stare at him for a moment more before standing.

“Suit yourself,” you reply. They both ignore the way the air seems to simmer.

.

“Woah, there,” you hush, drawing the rope carefully from the horse’s mouth. “You’re a good boy, you know that? You told those thieves to think twice next time they rob someone, huh. That storeowner was so grateful he gave us free treats for you, you know?”

Dropping the lead to the ground, you pat the stallion’s cheek, laughing when he noses at your breast, seeking the storeowner’s gift. Another week has passed and Katsuki is all but well enough to walk around fully. Although some of his cuts are still sealed and on their way to fading, his ankle has regained strength and with your supervision, he took his first few steps again. All the evidence left is the pink slit across the back of his ankle.

Feeding the stallion his apple, you pat his nose and pick up the lead, hanging it on the hook just inside the door before dropping the rest of the purchases on the table with a small smile. Katsuki is sitting in front of the fireplace as usual and the fire is roaring hot as he reads a romance novel he must’ve found in some hidden corner because you don’t recognize it, but he sits up when you come in.

“Hey. Good book?”

“Could you keep it down?” Katsuki shoots back as he stands and ambles over. You raise your eyebrows as he roots through the vegetables you place on the table. Finding the carrots and potatoes easily, he grabs a cutting board. “You drive me insane with your chatter to your damn horse. You know he can’t understand you.”

“Yeah. I’ve got no idea why I keep talking to beasts,” you snort. His hands freeze for just a moment before continuing on, and you glance out the window, judging how much of the day you have left. You had intended to go by the river and relax for the rest of the afternoon. Now that your guest is on his own two feet again, you’ve realized you can start relaxing a bit more. 

It’s almost nice.

“I’m going by the river,” you tell him, the sound of metal against wood filling the silence as you pull off your leather vest. You think you’ll ride your horse bareback. It’ll save some time, and you’re sure a fierce horse won’t be persuaded into reins again, at least not happily, no matter how many free apples you give him.

Katsuki makes a decisive cleave of the carrot into a half. “Whatever.”

“Do you want to come with me?” Hanging up the vest, you glance over at him as you wait by the door.

“No.”

As expected. Shrugging, you only watch him for a moment more and, with a warning not to burn the house down entirely, you begin to walk out until you hear him call your name.

Pausing, you turn around as the horse walks over to you and you ignore the nose nudging into your neck as Katsuki gestures with the knife airily, looking at everywhere but you. “And the book is… interesting, I guess.”

Amused: “Yeah?”

“I think the guy needs to get over himself and the girl needs to stop being goddamn oblivious,” he says. You shrug.

“Guess love makes people blind and stupid.”

He scoffs. “Guess so.”

.

The day was long and you’re just glad to be off your feet. Katsuki sits on the floor beside you, a blanket covering his legs as you string your bow, and he reads one of the books you’ve picked off a merchant this week who had been passing through the village. It’s about some old history, something you thought someone who refuses to go outside would like, and you’re pleased to say you’re right. 

“You’re strange,” you tell him. His eyes flash to you, and catch that smile on your face, before he’s focusing again on his book, expression contorted in concentration. 

“You should take a look at yourself.” He flips a page slowly, eyes dragging over the words that linger until they’re completely gone, and you wonder if you’re imagining his faint smile. 

“Who were you before you tried to kill me after I saved your life?” you ask, setting your bow down once the string has drawn taut and looking over at him. He doesn’t acknowledge you, but by the subtle way his eyes no longer flit from word to word, you know he’s heard you. Laying down on the bedroll you’ve laid out for yourself, you rest your head on a stuffed pillow and sigh, staring up at the ceiling. Content to just lace your fingers on your stomach, you close your eyes.

Has it already been over a month since he’s barged into your life? Or, maybe you dragged him into it. You don’t even know. All you know is that it’s been a whirlwind of constant verbal sparring, hunting and, for once, waking up, excited to see what the next day would bring. 

“I don’t think it matters,” he replies at length. His finger trails down the yellowed page. It makes a crisp, whispering sound and you roll onto your stomach, looking at him curiously. He arches an eyebrow and lifts dispassionate eyes to you. “Who were you before you dragged me in here and kept me hostage?”

“I dunno.” You grin. “Rich heiress to a rich family, who had everything if she need only asked except the one thing she wanted. Probably would’ve made a pretty doll wife, if she knew how to keep her mouth shut. So she ran away. It’s very much a figure one would pull out of our mythology.” He snorts. You turn your face to the fire. “I don’t think she was someone worth your time, though.”

“Good that she shaped up.”

 “Good that she did.” An apathetic smile. “I don’t know what sort of ending is at the end of this fairytale.”

Katsuki’s own hint of a smile turns bitter. “Probably not the one you’re expecting.”

You nod, understanding, and rest your chin on your arms, content to just watch him read. Your eyes slowly grow heavy until they’re completely closed and you rest your cheek against your forearms, groaning as you get yourself comfortable.

“You know, you could leave tomorrow, and I wouldn’t stop you,” you murmur sleepily, burrowing your face into the crook of your elbow. Your mind begins to float away from you as the soft clap of a book closing gently splits the sound of the crackling fire.

“And what if I wanted you to stop me?” you hear a rough voice ask quietly. A slow, hesitant weight rests on your head and you feel a callused thumb brushing over your brow bone as you wrinkle your forehead and mumble incoherently. “Idiot. Shit, don’t fall asleep yet… you’re going to get cold… hey…”

The world slips to black.

.

You wake up in your own bed for the first time in what feels like weeks. Katsuki is curled around you, head on his bicep as he snores, and you smile to yourself, rolling into his scorching hot chest and when something tightens around your waist, you realize that there’s more than the cabin hiding you away from the world.

.

The first of summer’s leaves have begun to fall—another sign of autumn coming besides the falling temperatures.

You run your knife under the pelt of deer on the table. Katsuki sits on the bench by the window, trying to patch a hole in the shoulder of his shirt from when he had taken his first few steps in the surrounding perimeter of their cabin yesterday evening and had taken a fall after tripping.

Which resulted in a tussle in the grass when you had laughed at him, rolling until rocks met their shoulders, their breathing mingled and you can still remember the way his eyes, warm molten rock, had rested on you as if they’ve finally found a place to rest.

But then he had shoved you, still laughing, off of him and you had to get up because it was time for dinner.

“I want to go to the river today,” you announce suddenly. Katsuki looks up at you warily.

“Then go. I’m not stopping you.” 

“I think we should eat fish for dinner.”

“Fine with me.” 

You hum, finishing off with your carcass and sectioning off the meat and bones carefully as you hear the snip of scissors against thread. Wiping down the table with a rag thoroughly, you amble over ot him once you’ve done and peer at his work, a spiral of delight coursing through you when you see he’s applied to your teachings well.

“Hey, that’s better,” you compliment. “You’re a fast learner.”

“Of course I am,” he says brusquely. “Sewing a hole closed is a simple concept.” Flapping out his shirt, he admires his own work and you grin at his own self-satisfied smirk. It’s good to see that kind of expression on his face—something as simple as pride. It fits well on his face, better than rage, better than grief he thinks you cannot decipher. It’s a grief you’ve seen on your own visage countless times—it is comfortable the longer you wear it, and you think Katsuki has been wearing it longer than he realizes. 

He runs a thumb over the closed hole again, before lowering the fabric back into his lap and falling silent. You blink and sit down on the bench just by his feet.

“Do you want to come with me? Boy actually likes you, you know.”

“The fact that you named our fucking horse ‘Boy’ astounds me,” he mutters, and you raise your eyebrows as his gaze floats up to your cheek. “No. I’m not coming.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself, but this might be the last time we can swim for a while. You’re going to be scrubbing yourself with a rag through the winter unless you’re interested in dipping into the river in the middle of snow.” 

“I would keep warm,” he informs coolly, sniffing. 

“Mhm.” Patting his foot, you get up. “Well, I’ve told you how to meet me a thousand times by now, so the invitation is still there.”

.

The river is wide enough and deep enough that you’re quite sure a bridge spans across it somewhere closer to the main road, and the path you had taken had been along a small ledge from the ground into the watery depths so unless you travelled downstream where the ground faded from the sandy stone and grass to loose pebbles and fewer trees, you had to climb out. 

Fortunately, that meant it was a good hiding space from predators and a place to rest your elbows when you got tired. You’re lounging in the fading bits of the sun, elbows on the ledge and chin on your forearms as Boy clops over, ears twitching. The stallion nudges your elbow aside to get at the grass right at the edge and you roll your eyes, scooting over in the cool water flowing around your waist. Lifting a hand to scratch him between the ears, your ears prick just in case of other threats.

A branch snaps in the distance and you look up in surprise as the bushes part.

“You came!” A cheerful smile splits your face. Katsuki eyes you briefly, unimpressed, and you shake your head, flicking the cold droplets from your face. “Come in. It’s not that cold.”

He stops, patting Boy on the flank. “I thought you were fishing.”

“Well, I was, but then it got hot and c’mon.” He arches an eyebrow and comes closer, sitting down on the bank before you. Pushing yourself up onto your palms, you grin. Your shift sticks to your chest and Katsuki absently tugs the strap that’s beginning to slip off your shoulder back up as you tilt your head. “Come in. It’d be good for you.”

“And splashing in some water will make me feel better,” he says skeptically. You twist and sit yourself down beside him, letting your feet swish in the currents as he avoids the droplets you fling everywhere. Lip curling in annoyance, he shifts a bit closer to Boy who snorts territorially. “Oh, shut up. There’s grass everywhere else.”

The stallion huffs, raising his head and knocking it into Katsuki’s before turning around with a swish of his tail and stalking back to where the tree shading your clothes and boots away is.

“I think you pissed him off,” you tease, nudging him in the side. He snorts, sticking out his legs and reaching to tug his boots off. “Did it get too quiet at home?”

“I wanted to see what’s so good about swimming,” he mutters dryly. Tossing the boots aside, he begins to unlace his shirt and a sly smile worms its way onto your face as you watch his fingers play with the string. “Do not.”

“I didn’t even do anything.”

“You have that scheming look on your face.”

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay!” Smiling cheekily, you meet his suspicious glower and the instant he looks down at the front of his shirt, you grab his elbow and slip into the river, dragging him in with you. Letting out a shout, Katsuki grabs onto you as they plummet into the depths. You wrap your arms around him as their legs kick in conjunction to the surface.

Breaking through to air again, you hear a choking noise and a pair of shoulders shaking against yours as Katsuki coughs by your ear. Drenched, he yanks himself back and you laugh, tilting your head back as he lets go of you with one arm to rake his hair back.

“You idiot!”

“Are you okay?” you laugh, struggling through your wheezing breaths as he muffles his coughs with a fist, trying to keep his shivering to himself but you feel it as you wrap him in a hug and kick slowly against the current. “I’m sorry, but your face—“

Before you can reply, he draws back and dunks you underwater and your eyes burn as fresh water meets your corneas. Shooting back to the surface, you gasp and push against him blindly, hearing his evil cackle as you rub the water from your face. When your palm strikes his shoulder, fingers wrap around your wrist and tug you towards him and you sputter, eyes cracking open. Despite the cold currents, there is something undeniably simmering in your blood.

Still hacking up half a lung, you manage to shout, “Asshole!” before succumbing and he chuckles again, a smokey noise that sends your brain into dizzying knots.

“That was just payback,” he informs smugly. You playfully try to pull yourself out of his grasp but he doesn’t release you, swirling you around in the water. You let out a loud laugh as he lets go, letting you float away from him. “And now, I’m fucking soaked to my skin.” 

Swimming back towards him, you jab your finger into his, admittedly, soaked chest. He slants his head with a bemused cock of his eyebrow. “So you do have a sense of humour,” you declare, faux-mortified. “Here I thought it was all about grrr rage!”

He doesn’t entertain you, examining the water flowing by them in languid waves and your smile only grows as his hand breaks the surface, fingers crooking against the silky feel of the river. 

”Is this all there is to it?” he asks, coming closer to you. His arm wraps around you and the side of their hips press together as you raise your own hand from the water, holding it out in the sun and watching the water glisten. Katsuki sounds almost disappointed. “It’s as boring as the last time I was in water somewhere.”

“Well,” you begin thoughtfully, lowering your hand back into the water, “it’s more fun with more people. Mostly, I just sit here to think and feel the water. It makes me feel at peace, but I’m starting to think company can change how one feels about water.” He seems to consider that as he withdraws his arm and you take the opportunity to swim away from him. 

He wades after you and you whirl around, slapping the water and sending a huge splash into him. The water glows against his skin divinely, droplets of diamond-gold along smooth porcelain as it drips down his chin, down his nose and framing his widened eyes. You smirk. His gaze narrows, a subtle challenge in his stare.

“Hey, watch it.”

“Make me.”

Katsuki’s lips curl into something scarily cocky. Without another word, he lunges towards you.

.

The sun stains the sky orange and lilac, silky colours that twirl together in intricately delicate designs. 

Having changed into your clothes again, you rest on your side in the grass, and Katsuki dozes beside you, his chin tilted up to the slight breeze. Although the warm rays have long since left, you can’t help but feel a sedated type of heat oozing through your body as you rest your head on his bicep. His arm has bent, fingers absently dragging over your cheek. Your hand is over his heart, feeling the slow beat and their legs are tangled together as you admire his face.

“We need to get back soon,” he mutters, voice thick with sleep, and you nod, touching his nose. His brow wrinkles but he doesn’t say much more as you drag your fingertips down his cheek, to his jaw and neck, the faint pulse there echoing in your own heart. He strokes your ear gently, tracing the curve of it with a lazy knuckle. “I have to take a piss and I’m hungry.” When he turns his head, their noses nearly brush, and you smile faintly. He studies your face. “I’ll go piss in the bush.”

“What?” You lift your head sleepily, and he pushes himself up onto his elbow, carefully sliding his leg out from yours and you groan, rolling onto your back. His arm slithers out from underneath your head as he stands. “Alright, fine,” you mumble. “But take your time and I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His footsteps fade and you sigh, closing your eyes. Moments later, they return and you don’t open an eye.

“Back already?” you muse, cracking open an eye just as someone looms over you. Mouth parting in a scream, you swing yourself up but an elbow knocks into your skull, disorienting you. Your body lethargic, you bend in half, ducking under another jab and grabbing the knife beside you in the grass. Slashing forward, you grit your teeth when he moves out of your way so quickly your eyes can’t decipher his moves. He’s nothing but a green blur as he jolts back and you push yourself to your feet.

Flipping the knife in your hand, you wrap your fingers tightly around the hilt and sink your feet into the grass, ears pricking, eyes scanning your opponent. His green hair gleams in the orange sunset, and he wears something akin to what you think a rogue would, with a green vest and an insignia you can’t quite make out. 

He dashes forward. Sidestepping, you barely manage to get out of the way in time when a hand shoots out to grab your ankle and you’re slammed into the ground.

Breath knocked out of you, your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as your head knocks into the dirt. Stars explode in your vision and you suck in a sharp gasp, trying to make sense of what’s happening but the details are getting muddier by the second. A weight pressing down on your hips, you swing your knife at the shadow that falls over your face only for a hand to stop your wrist mid-flight and the other hand yanks the blade out of your grasp.

You hear it land somewhere in the distant grass and you, panting for air, crane your head up and squint at him. His eyes are apologetic as he pulls the rope free from his belt and begins to tie you up, forcing your wrists together. Wriggling, you let out a infuriated noise, feet pushing against the grass. Your eyes catch sight of something swinging at his belt, and, with one final vicious surge of energy, you tear your hand free, ignoring the burning that dances over your skin

With numb fingers, you take the dagger from his belt, jerk it free and stab messily in front of you. The sound of a knife sheathing in flesh tells you you’ve hit your mark and you pull it back out, knees bending. Something warm drops against your stomach as the stranger reels back, and your vision clears as you thrust the knife forward again.

You’re not so lucky this time.

The knife is knocked from your hand with a sharp jab to the wrist and the stranger grabs you, pinning and binding your hands together. Thrashing, you try to force your head up and butt him off as he ties the knot but you stop mid-attempt when something fizzling catches your attention. You watch the blood from his wound stop dripping suddenly, faint green embers glowing through the threads of his vest.

Blood chilling, you go limp against the grass as he sits up, and you gawk as the wound stitches itself closed with green magic thread pulling the skin back together.

“W-what?” you whisper, wrists burning as you try to twist your hands out of the coarse rope. Gritting your teeth, you buck your hips but the green-haired stranger merely shakes his head and moves to get up, mouth opened as if to explain, but then—

A blur of pale yellow tackles the body off of yours and you sit up, swinging your arms forward into your lap with a sharp groan to the pain that pulls at your shoulders. Turning your head, you see only the stranger in a pile against a tree, pushing himself up with a groan as the pale yellow figure solidifies in the shape of…

Katsuki plants his feet in front of you, the air molten as the earth seems to give way underneath his presence, but then his stance relaxes, and his hands, once rigid fingers with palms bared to the sky, relax.

How? Dazedly, you get to your hands and knees as a low breeze ushers through the grass, leaving a whistling symphony behind. 

“Deku.”

So… fast…

“Kacchan! You really are here!” The green-haired man stands up, his freckled face splitting into a joyful smile and you tilt your head up to look at Katsuki standing there, pale-faced and hands rolling into fists. Blinking, you hear something fizzle and you watch as embers fall, sparking and fizzling out from his hand.

“Katsuki?” you whisper. “What’s happening?”

“You’re going to be fine,” he replies shortly, not taking his eyes off the stranger for a moment more before turning around. He crouches beside you, untying the ropes. “Is this your blood?” he adds quietly, gesturing to your stomach and you look down at the tiny splotches before shaking your head. Undoing the knot, he huffs, almost impressed. “You got a stab on that bastard, huh? Nice.”

Tossing the rope aside, he grabs your hands and gently runs his thumbs over the tender skin of your wrists. Katsuki rakes a skeptical glare all over your body as you sigh, shoulders hunching forward, and when he deems you unharmed, he lets you come closer. Slouching against him, you let out a relieved sigh, rubbing at your sore wrists and Katsuki wraps an arm around you, hoisting you back to your feet and letting you rest against him. His grip is all-surrounding, a swath of heat that curls and sinks into your skin. 

All the while, Deku—that’s what Katsuki called him, right?—watches in faint surprise and almost amusement, a strangely friendly smile on his face. 

“I’m Midoriya Izuku,” he says with a small wave and you barely muster an eyebrow raise, your sopping wet clothes dripping against the grass. Your bare feet shift on the grass as Katsuki’s hand crunches into your ribs and you glance at him. “Sorry about that. I thought you were some kind of enchanter. I’ve never seen Kacchan so relaxed around anyone, much less a woman, so when he went missing, I thought you were the reason why he’s been away for so long.”

Your eyes widen. “Away?”

Katsuki’s nostrils flare. “You were spying on us? What are you doing here, shithead?”

“I was looking for you! We can’t enact our plan without you, and forgive me for being indiscreet, but All For One wasn’t happy that his scheme to kidnap you didn’t end well, so when you didn’t show up after we stormed his keep, we thought something must have happened.”

“All For One?” you echo, confused. “Katsuki, what’s—“ His arm springs off you as if you’d branded him and he steps away from you. You stumble, eyes widening, and you wrench your head up to glare at him only to find his gaze fixed on yours, blood red and dangerous. Your blood chills and your heart constricts painfully as he grits his teeth, snapping his eyes shut and jerking his head away to look at the ground. His jaw muscle ticks, and you reach out for him.

“She doesn’t know,” Midoriya whispers, and you swing your gaze to the green-haired man whose happy-go-lucky expression has melted away. “Kacchan—“

“Shut up, you bastard! Shut up.“

“You can’t just drop off the face of the earth. You can’t do this! You have an obligation to fulfill.”

“I’m sorry. What is happening?” you demand, stepping between the two men. Pointing a finger at Katsuki, you stop him before he can open his mouth to shout. “The stranger is going first because you won’t explain, so Midoriya?” Turning to look at the stranger, your stomach turns at the way his eyes linger on Katsuki for a moment before dragging towards you. He dips his head, brow wrinkling.

“You know the tales,” he begins. “The ones about how Bakugou brought the world’s end. Yes, that’s true but it’s not because he went insane. There’s an evil force and the mastermind behind it all, All For One, was penetrating our pantheon slowly. Insidiously. Bakugou tried to stop All For One by bringing the old world crashing down on him and it was supposed to have killed him.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m the reincarnation of All Might.” He says it like it’s supposed to be simple. Your eyes widen until you think they might pop out of your skull. “I’m going to try to defeat All For One now that my power has manifested fully and I can control it. But I need Kacchan’s help.”

“Why? He’s just some guy I found bleeding in the forest,” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest. “It was pretty pathetic.”

“Hey!”

“I don’t think he can help you defeat what sounds like the fucking devil that’s crawling all over earth.” You bite your tongue on the other words you want to say. Words that sound like he’s supposed to be here with me because that’s ridiculous and you don’t own him and that’s not even really…

You look over at Katsuki and find him looking at you, too.

That’s not even really true, is what you wanted to say. Now, you’re not quite sure.

“He can’t help you,” you reply shortly, tearing your eyes off him so you can focus. Your shirt clinging to your skin makes you shiver. “Katsuki, let’s go. This guy’s spouting nonsense.”

“Kacchan, wait.”

“Why did you even come here, Deku? I did my part in this shitty war. I’ve done my part for the past millenia. I’m sick of it. Why don’t you go piss off and die?”

You frown. “Millenia?”

But Midoriya does not hear you. “Because if you help me, we can finally rest. Me and you and the others who have lived in fear of the day he came back. He’s back, now, isn’t he? You’re supposed to be a hero!”

Hero? You hold out a wary hand. “Wait—“

“Some hero I turned out to be!” Katsuki explodes, cutting a slice through the air with a fist and a warm arching trail of orange crackles in the air in tiny bursts. “The world hates me! Oh, for fuck’s sake, do you want to know who I was before I met you?” He swings his head to meet yours, and gold lances up his arms, illuminating his veins like rivers of gold. His eyes glow eerily and when he exhales, a gust of smoke escapes his nostrils. “Do you?”

Legs turning to lead, you can’t move any more than what you think is the most negligible shake of your head as he storms up to you, grabbing your elbows and hauling you close enough that their chests press against each other. Your stomach cramping, you feel your heart shudder against your throat at the vicious glint in his damned gaze.

“Katsuki…” you breathe, but he only squeezes you tighter, desperately. It doesn’t hurt, just slowly forces heat into your body until everything inside you is melting and gooey, and you look from his blanching knuckles to his face. You search his eyes first—then, you wish you didn’t.

And, you wish he was angry. You wish it was betrayal or fury or rage or hate, but it is none of those things. It is a spear through the chest, a gulp of hot soup fresh off the fire scorching all the way down. When he looks at you, you see self-loathing. You see regret. 

He is just sad and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, teeth bared in a painful grimace before he forces himself to look at you. 

You understand why he holds onto you so tight, then. He sees you slipping away from him as the implications of his words slowly sink into your brain.

“Say it,” you urge him quietly, breathily. “Just say it.”

“I was Bakugou Katsuki, the destroyer of your world, and I am the villain in our goddamn fucking fairytale.” Letting go, he tears himself back and the heat his presence leaves dissipates like wisps of mist as your head bobs in numb assent. “Are you happy now?” he demands mockingly, bitter and pungent. It sears your heart until it is nothing but black little pieces.

He burns a hole into your face with his stare, awaiting your answer, and you don’t think you’re alive anymore. Some part of you must have died. Your lungs aren’t even fluttering in your chest. Muffled voices are everywhere, nowhere, too much all at once and through the throng, you only hear one thing over and over.

I was Bakugou Katsuki…

“I’m starting to think,” you whisper, “I never should’ve invited you to the river.”

.

Midoriya says there’s a war and he must go with him.

Katsuki doesn’t correct him. 

You feel oddly out of place, nearly numb, so when neither of them aren’t looking, you turn around and walk back to tree where you left your boots and then ride back home, ignoring the calls of your name.

.

It is very quiet in the cabin. It is not home without the other person who is supposed to be in here, breathing life into the wood and windows. 

You go through the movements of living—cleaning yourself off, making dinner for two because it’s habit now, going to bed. Waking up.

You cut slices of bread and eat cheese and look at the stack of books by the bed that has long since housed an indent of two bodies curled together, and wonder.

“I was running.

“Aren’t we all? From what?”

“Hell.”

You could’ve laughed as you lie in front of the cold fireplace and prepare to go to bed. You think you’re waking up in hell every day, now.

.

Most days you’re fine. You still trade with the villagers, and they’ve grown used to you by now that you’ve added balms and oils to your trade because you don’t know what else to do with your time. You receive news from your family regarding the fact that a war against an unknown force has been declared. Your father has joined the army. You don’t know about the others.

You stay where you are in the cabin. If they accept that you won’t come back, you won’t think about moving.

The nights are the worst. There is nothing to do except think. You can only scrub the floor so many times, scrape the soot off the stone in the fireplace and restitch holes until you’ve gotten even bored of that, and then you must confront the fact that the man who had swallowed your heart whole and burnt it in his hands had disappeared to fight a war that is only just beginning for mortals, but has been raging on for the past thousand years.

Insignificant. 

To Katsuki, to Bakugou, you mean, that is what you are. A plaything compared to what must be a long, long life. A blip, a pet. Something to amuse him for the time being, for that must be why he stayed, but he’s gone now. You still stay where you’ve always been.

You rage against that echoing, wilting sadness until it is just numb inside you, and eventually, you do not feel it at all. Maybe you’re just not sad about it anymore. 

After all, there is meaning in a simple life, you think. And you are still your own. Boy keeps you company, and sometimes you let him guide you through the forests where he wants to go, towards places you don’t often go to. 

A few times, you’ve spotted a herd of wild horses and Boy always paws at the ground as you unbuckle the gear from him before trotting over to them, chuffing and neighing, mane tossing. You always smile at that, at least.

And yet, you will still scout the woods, tread to the edge of the forests to the fields where it would be the most suitable for legions to set up camp while they travel to check if there is anyone coming. You don’t even know which front the battles are, what city centres would be targeted.

You could guess, but you don’t know. 

Autumn passes, and winter, too. As new shoots spring from the dirt, you trek out to the forests after a rainy shower and feel the mud beneath your boots before you hoist yourself up into a tree and stare out at the fields.

In the distance you see them. Soldiers, perhaps over three thousand strong, a legion, and at the head, a man with a winged hairpiece of black and orange metal rippling in the light, his hair of pale spun gold on fire as the sun rises . A looming figure, imposing in his height and strength, and you jump from the tree, turning back to walk to the cabin.

You eat dinner early and try to sleep, but the memories are still there and you sit up on the bedroll, staring at the cinders of the fire you had cooked dinner over. Moonlight streams through your windows and you stare at your own shadow as a knock on the door makes you blink.

You don’t have to ask who it is as the door creaks open and a slab of moonlight pours into the room, along with a shape of a man.

“Took you long enough,” you say, bypassing any sort of greeting. You just feel tired. “Passing some wise words to a mere mortal before moving on?”

“Gods don’t really need to sleep that often,” he replies airily, stepping in. “I was just admiring the scenery.”

“Right. Go fight your fucking war,” you mutter, picking up the iron pole and poking at the ashes of the fire. The floor isn’t warm anymore and you rest your chin on your knees as he stops behind you. You can’t see him any more than his silhouette, and you don’t think you can stand hearing his voice more, seeing a face you’ve grown so used to and now have only just beginning to accept is no longer part of your life.

“The war has moved inward,” Katuski informs.

“I know. I heard news from the village,” you reply. 

“Where will you go?” 

“I don’t know. Nowhere, probably. Maybe a country over, like I was going to do, but probably nowhere.” Setting down the iron poker, you set it down and stand, dusting off your pants and turning to look at him. He’s not wearing the black armour as he was earlier. Instead, he’s donned on an old shirt with a sewed patch on the shoulder, and a pair of animal hide boots. His hair is, as usual, shaggy and spikey, poking in all directions.

He looks…

Divine. 

There is no other word for it. There’s a strange luminescence about him, as if heaven lives in his skin and bones, and his eyes track your movements even though you don’t move. The silver light has turned his skin to smooth alabaster and gold flows, lingering hints of his godhood underneath his skin. 

Even so, you know the toll war takes on people. Katsuki regards you, and there is something dead inside him, silently urging you to ask your questions.

So you do: “Did you even need me to help you? Could I just have left you in the forest?”

“At first I did,” he admits. “But after I regained my strength with food and sleep, I could have healed my injuries at any time. Wounds not caused by weapons imbued with divine power don’t really have an effect unless it eventually overwhelms my healing factor.”

“And you let them heal and scar like a human?” you continue incredulously. Your eyes flicker to his arm, the only scar not covered by his shirt. It nearly matches the thin one on your own arm, and you clench your jaw. “Fucking stupid, if you ask me.”

“I wanted a reminder,” he supposes. You eye him skeptically, and he regards you so guardedly it feels like a punch in the gut. All of a sudden, that distance you’ve constructed so carefully over the past fews months has widened, crumbles apart like nothing and you want him close again. “Mostly, I told myself I didn’t want to make you suspicious.”

“Well, you sure played your part well,” you tell him, sarcastically congratulatory. Turning to the door, you head to the door but a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks completely and you feel that strength again. Strength you had thought had been just a normal man’s and your own willingness to let him pull you back towards him, and now strength you know is something else. Your anger is smouldering coals. “Let me go!”

“I’m not done talking to you yet and where would you go?” he asks shortly. “It’s night.”

“I’m a big girl,” you assure. “I can take of myself.” You twist, grabbing your arm and yanking it out of his grip. He lets go and you step back, glowering at him. “Why are you even here? There’s no scenery to appreciate.”

“Are we acting as if we are strangers, now?” Coldly, he raises a single eyebrow. 

“You left. You tell me, your Holiness,” you shoot back. “I had to keep going even if you weren’t here. I don’t know why you thought I would be waiting for you, or, maybe that I would be happy to see you again, considering everything that I’ve learned since your departure.”

Katsuki’s eyes are blood-red daggers prickling your cheeks. “Do you think I wanted to be the enemy in your history? What I did was right choice for humanity.”

You scoff. The fucking audacity of this man...

“Oh, please. I’m not angry at you for destroying the world, Katsuki. I can’t care less about the old world and those stupid legends which I suppose are real now, aren’t they?” you snap. “I am furious because you manipulated me! You lead me to believe that there was a life with you by my side when clearly, there has always been a higher calling for you! And I am just nothing! Nothing compared to a god, compared to Midoriya, to the countless others there supposedly are. I’m just human. Nothing,” you repeat achingly. “Again. Another trophy. Again. Just… another decoration. A plaything. A pet.” 

His fury freezes and begins to evaporate. Face going lax, he stares at you, almost lost, and you swallow tightly, turning around. You try to pull your pieces together but your hands are covered in butter and the shards that have been held into some mismatched semblance of who you used to be are slipping against your fingers.

“Honestly, just go, Katsuki. You’re making this harder for both of us.”

Taking a step forward, your knees feel cold and your feet feel like they’re too small for your boots. Katsuki is silent, and you close your eyes. A strange peeling sensation in your chest, you roll your shoulders back and let out a slow breath. You don’t know why you thought he’d even bother—

“You don’t understand, do you? 

You stop but do not turn around at his voice. “Enlighten me, then.”

“You heard what that shithead Deku said,” he begins slowly. “There was a whole fucking war you didn’t even know about against an evil we probably have no chance of defeating. I considered throwing all of that away just so I could stay with you. Don’t you understand?” he demands. You throw your hand up, flipping him off and he groans, boots causing the wood to creak.  Your heart stammers in your chest as he plants himself in front of you and you stare at him defiantly as he blocks the moon. Shadows fall onto your face and the only thing you can see is a smoking trail of red. He’s speaking some kind of stupid you’re not fluent with and he growls, grasping your shoulders. “You’re so fucking stubborn!”

“Have you met yourself?” you ask rhetorically, slapping his forearm but when he doesn’t budge, you only cross your arms and ignore how your body, after all these months, leeches his heat greedily. “You’re one of the most hardheaded people I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“Fucking hell. I’m hardheaded? I’m trying to say that I wanted a life with you, too. Can you just listen to what I’m fucking saying or do I have to spell it out for you? I would’ve let the world burn. Fuck the war. Fuck everything. I wanted you.” 

Quiet. Their gazes click, and your lips part as he stares at you, panting slightly. His eyes flutter from your eyes to your mouth, and you sink your fingers deeper into your biceps, not quite sure if you’re hoping you’re dreaming or not. You can’t quite find your voice and your breath keeps getting caught in your stupid throat as the oxygen is slowly stolen from your lungs. The air is humming with the promise of a storm, and you can still smell the rain against the dewy grass as a wind sweeps through the open door.

Katsuki swallows, jaw clenching, and you tear your gaze away, aside and down to the floor.

“You’re an asshole,” you breathe achingly. “I wasn’t like this before I met you. You’re a fucking asshole.”

He cups your face with one hand, tilts your head back towards him, and then, he holds you in two palms like he holds the world and he wants to be careful not to drop it. When you find his eyes, you see a certainty that clings onto you, keeps you anchored to the ground.

Katsuki steps closer, fingers wrapping around your neck.

“Yeah,” he agrees rawly, “I am. And I want you to be with me, no matter where we go. You okay with that, or what?”

You barely manage, “Not yet,” and his face drops before he hears you amend it with, “but don’t go on without me.”

“I won’t, alright?” He brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, sending floods of warmth that spread through your body like a fire igniting in your soul. “Just… just fucking come with me. Let’s win this war and then get back to this fucking cabin, huh?”

“This fucking cabin exactly? Kind of small for an army, isn’t it?” you tease quietly, and he sighs, knocking his forehead into your own. His eyes flutter, and you reach out hesitantly for his sides, your palms pressing against healed ribs. “Why not a bigger one we build together?”

He seems to contemplate that for a second, thumbs absently stroking your cheeks all the while. “Yeah,” he finally says. “Yeah, that’s fine, too.” 

.

The end to the fairytale goes as this:

Bakugou returns with the might of the reincarnated and blessed beside him. The war is fought, death reaps, there is joy and guilt and grief and rage, and then they win.

They win. 

It reads so simply on the pages the bards write on for their songs.

And then, the powered divine melt back into the human population and live the rest of their lives. Deku moves to the capital city of their country, acting as the crime deterrent and walking through the streets, with flowers and candies for the young children who bound up to their hero. He is always smiling, and protects his people with the strength of a thousand men. 

And, it is written that on some days, in the woods, he is seen astride his horse with a child sitting his shoulders while another dun follows, two riders atop the saddle. A dozing man’s arms around another, chin resting on her shoulder and eyes shut as they hold the reins together and ride through the tranquil forest.

Reports say that it is Bakugou, waiting for another end of the world. Others point out that he should be asleep in a volcano now that he no longer needs to fight a war, saving his strength for when they need him again now that he is their protector, not their doombringer.

Whatever the truth is, you know that Katsuki would just roll his eyes hearing every other whisper that comes from the city, so you tell him, and sometimes he laughs. Other times, he rolls his eyes and ignores you.

Most of the time, he tells you not to listen to such idiotic bullshit and leaves the room to tend to a fussing baby who wants their father’s attention.

#fic: turning page #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha x you #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fic #bnha fic #boku no hero x reader #Nemo’s Fantasy Collab #my writing

[milazka]

pull yourself together | 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: i really don’t know how to summarize this, if anyone has suggestions, leave them in the comments please!

warnings: swearing, smoking.

last thought: it’s a short one, i always hate writing the first chapter/one shot of a story. also, i won’t follow the exact timeline of ginny and georgia, i will use some events but it will be focused on charlie and marcus. btw, i made them seventeen cause i don’t want to write smut for fifteen years old kids. hope you’ll still enjoy! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

Nights are peaceful. 

Some will say it’s the most dangerous time to be outside, especially for a girl. Some others may be afraid of the dark or convinced that only bad things happen during those unlighted hours. For Charlie and Marcus, night equals freedom. Everything seems to be in slow motion, trapped in the silence of darkness. It creates a safe space where they can live fully, without boundaries.

Her age-old well-worn black converses stride on the slightly damp pavement, kicking the tiny rocks along the yellow stripe in the middle of the road. The cloud-covered nocturnal sky captivates her attention. Her cerulean eyes linger on every detail of the damp air masses, paying no particular care to her surroundings, knowing the path to her final destination by heart. Some clouds remind her of animals, while others are more in the shape of objects.The habitual barking of Jack, Marcus' neighbor's dog, indicates that she's a house away from her best friend's home. 

Charlie turns into the hallway, sneaking through the opening in the fence that leads to the backyard of the Baker's house. Kurt Cobain's exhilarating voice is cut short when her earphones cord gets stuck in the fence, yanking them from her ears. She tucks them into the front pocket of her forest green jacket, turning off Smell like Teen Spirit’s melody. 

Leaning against the old wooden door frame, arms crossed over her chest, she quietly contemplates the eighteen-year-old man laying on a small rolling piece of wood, his head buried under the old motorcycle engine. 

“Howdy, blondie,” her best friend’s deep, raspy voice shouts from under the bike. A soft smile slips on her rosy lips; he knew it was her, no one else would come here to meet him in the middle of the night. She tilts her head to the side, watching him grab the screwdriver with his right hand, a perfectly rolled joint between his plump lips.

“Hey John Bender,” she can see him smirk at the nickname which is a reference to the first time they met, five years ago. “How was your day?” 

“Miserable, darling, as usual, perfectly wretched,” he rolls forward, revealing his oil-stained face. Her sapphire eyes roll; Marcus always provides the same exact response whenever she asks him about his day. She shouldn't even ask him anymore, she thought.

“Still working on this bike? I thought your mom told ya to get rid of it,” she gracefully steps over his outstretched legs, stealing his blunt with the tip of her thumb and forefinger. 

“She did,” he says, a faint smile teasing the corner of his lips. “That’s why I’m working on it at night,” his tall sculpted figure stands in front of her, eyes to eyes with her since she sits on the stainless steel countertop. 

“Ellen will kill you,” she blows a cloud of tarnished air on his face, grinning at the sight of his scrunching nose and half-closed eyelids.

“Oh I know,” his crinkled eyes give him an innocent look as he inhales the poisonous smoke exiting the blonde's parted lips. “That’s why she can’t know, capiche?”

“I guess that would probably be a good time to tell you that your parents bedroom light is on,” his hand immediately flicks the light switch, plunging the whole space into complete darkness with the exception of the bright light emanating from the master bedroom window. They both fall into silence, him watching carefully through the window while she leans her back against the wall, mesmerized by how his eyes sparkle in the reflection of light. She has always loved his light-brown eyes and how she is able to read him through them.

“Shit, she’s in the kitchen” he curses, seizing her delicate hands in his calloused ones, yanking her from the countertop that was in sight of the sink window. The blunt still between her soft lips, he pins her against the corner of the wall, hiding the both of them out of sight of his dear beloved mother. From her perspective, she can see his jugular vein pumping quicker than normal, pushing an increased flow of blood through his body. His hands are slightly clammy and coated with motor oil. Her fingertips gently graze the scar along his right hand that he got when he attempted to climb up the gutter to get to her room last summer. As far back as she can remember, Marcus had always been the taller of the pair, and he never failed to remind Charlie when she had trouble climbing the fence of the public pool in the middle of the night or when she was struggling to climb up to his bedroom window. 

Their noses graze as he leans his head towards hers, grasping the joint between his teeth. He let go of her hand, taking the forbidden thing between his dirt-covered fingers. The warmth smoke tickles the top of her skull before she lifts her chin up to meet his hazel orbs. 

 “If this was a romantic comedy, we would’ve kissed by now.”

His furrowed eyebrows show his surprise and it doesn't take long for a smile to appear at the corner of his luscious lips. His thin, long-fingered hands are pressed against the wall on both sides of her head, his face close to hers to the point where their breaths merge.

“Should I correct that?” marcus whispers, his lips curled into his well-known cocky grin that she is so used to seeing. 

“It was an observation, not a request, idiot!” 

“Your loss, darling,” he winks as she pushes him away, her two hands resting on his chest covered with a Pink Floyd shirt. She then stands on tiptoes, her mouth a few inches away from his ear.

“Pull yourself together, Marc’,” a shiver runs down his spine as her warm breath brushes against the skin of his neck. “I know you’re the one dreaming about it.” 

Oh if she knew.

second.

─── ° • ❀ ───

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#the less i know the better #marcus baker x charlie henson #marcus baker #marcus baker x reader #marcus baker fic #marcus x oc #marcus #marcus x ginny #marcus baker fluff #felix mallard #marcus baker smut #marcus baker imagines #marcus baker one shot #ginny and georgia #charlie henson #ginny and georgia marcus #ginny and georgia imagines #ginny and georgia one shot #ginny and georgia fluff #felix mallard imagines

[belit0]

Hey, can you write Indra + size kink + cockworship + nasty cum stuff ?? Sorry, i'm hungry for that man

Sorry this took me SO FUCKING LONG omfg

No need to be sorry, I’m as hungry as you. I haven’t written smut in a while, so bear with me, I’m getting back at it:,(

Tw: Indra knows nothing about communication

When Indra enters the house, the sun has already set. He looks drained, tired. It’s been days since he started wearing his hair loose, devoid of his usual ponytail, and it only helps to make him look more massive than he is.

His steps are heavy as he heads to the bedroom, and when he looks at you with those expressionless serious eyes, you know he won’t be eating dinner today either. That’s okay, you’re not used to spending time together as a normal couple anyway, and you know you’d feel weird if he actually sat down with you and joined you for a meal.

His form disappears down the corridor and you know he has found the way to bed, seeking comfort from the adversities of the day. His shadow is dragged across the walls by the candlelight, and for a moment, it looks like the demon everyone says he is.

But of course, you know better than to believe those ridiculous tales.

It’s been months since this man appeared in your village, a place led by a poor wretch who was trying his best to get his people ahead. Only a few enjoyed good fortune, privilege, and wealth, and you were not one of them. Life before Indra, here, was based on working hard for pennies, finding food wherever possible, wearing the same clothes repeatedly for lack of more garments. Poverty was rampant among almost the entire village population, and despite the leader’s best efforts, nothing seemed to work for the betterment of the situation.

But a mysterious man with long hair and thick shoulders, tattooed eyes, impressive physique compared to the famine-stricken people... left everyone captivated. With just a couple of suggestions and commands, things turned around, and the outlook brightened for everybody. This mysterious man quickly rose in the hierarchical power of the village, and the current leader ended up giving up his place.

Indra became their ruler overnight, and hopes for the future of the town seemed to grow stronger and stronger again.

Town expansion was inevitable, welcoming visitors and travelers intrigued by the legends of this man who brought fortune to a doomed place. Enemies were also unavoidable. The Otsutsuki defended and used all his power to prevent the destruction of the foundations he had built with so much effort, leaving everyone terrified in his steps.

His red eyes became stories used by mothers to frighten disobedient children, his violet beast traveled on the tongues of all the merchants and their incessant rumors.

Respect mingled with fear, yet Indra never wavered.

He looked imposing as he walked the streets of the town, staring at nothing in particular, an expression forged by iron and ice. His towering figure seemed to cast a gigantic shadow over every other man nearby, and all the women were dying to take the vacant place at his side.

Everyone thought as he became leader he would choose one of the few wealthy ladies of the village as his wife, but he did not.

It was months after his ascension to power before he communicated with a woman. And that turned out to be you.

Although the village prospered and grew bigger every day, your life remained the same, complicated. Money was scarce as well as food, and working hard every morning was necessary if you wanted to get a crumb of bread.

You tended the garden of a prosperous family, kneeling in the morning dew, your clothes covered in dirt from the work you had started just a few minutes ago.

Footsteps in front of you broke your concentration, and when you looked up, a tall figure was staring down at you. A flowing robe floated in the wind, and that frown was visible even from the floor. Indra was intimidating without uttering a word.

“You look thoroughly filthy.” He had said. “I’m sorry, my lord.” You had replied, bowing your head in respect.

You did not finish that day’s work, for offering you a wide hand, Indra Otsutsuki himself lifted you from the dirt and escorted you to get a fresh change of clothes. Not one of the worn-out ones you used to wear, but an expensive one, of excellent quality, full of exquisite details. A garment of high society, one of the kind he himself usually wore.

From that moment on, he did not leave your side. It was only a matter of time before you moved into his residence, an immense house in the middle of town. You became the envy of all women, no one being able to understand how their leader could choose a servant girl as his partner.

And despite the fear you felt towards him at first, although his haughty looks seemed to be empty initially, you eventually grew to understand him. Dread turned into respect, affection, love.

After all, he saved you from that life of misery to give you one of luxury and privilege, asking for nothing in return. Even though you slept in the same bed every night, he never touched a single hair on your head, never came near you, never took the initiative you feared he may take.

“Why me?” you asked once, the blush on your face shielded by nighttime darkness inside the room. A large space lay between you both on the bed, and Indra, while you couldn’t see him, probably had his back to you. “You are the prettiest.” He replied simply, and you caught a note of amusement in his voice.

During the day it was rare for you to see him, but at sunset, you would both be in the bedroom. No lustful touches in the middle were necessary to make the night complete, for the silences which at first were awkward eventually were filled with chatter.

That intimidating look, that wide-backed warrior with blood-colored eyes, became a companion, a pleasant person to spend time with. Never smiled, never laughed, but you know he is calm, that he enjoys the moment as much as you do. You’ve seen him interact with other people, how his muscles tense when someone is way too close for his comfort, how his brow furrows when anyone speaks to him. You know you’re the only person he tolerates, appreciates, and loves around him.

That’s why seeing him arrive like this is something uncomfortable in your chest. Slowly following in his footsteps, you find his clothes lost all the way back to the room. You pick up garment by garment, and there is a certain satisfaction as you smell his clothes and feel his perfume. As you reach the doorway, he is already tucked into bed, buried under sheets. One of his arms supports his head and acts as a pillow while his other hand scratches his chest, which is slightly uncovered. One of his legs is bent, and covers slip off his skin, revealing a thigh and worked muscles. His eyes are closed, but he knows you are there.

Leaving his clothing on a chair, you approach him and sit on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in your lap. Rarely have you seen this scene, where he relaxes with all his rights in his own bed. Sex has never been addressed between the two of you, and it’s something you’re grateful for. Rumors travel faster than the wind, and many a woman has walked around claiming to have spent time in the bed of the mighty Indra. Whether that’s true, you don’t know, and you’ve never asked either.

If true, your experience is undoubtedly unparalleled.

Still, seeing him like this, becoming one with the bed and stretching out, getting a taste of his toned chest and his thick thigh... Curiosity suddenly demands more.

“You’re staring.” His eyes are still closed, but to be put on display is still just as humiliating. “I’m sorry...” You’re not sure if get up and leave at that moment, but it’s his voice that clears the uncertainty. “Why? I’m your partner, naturally.”

It feels like confirmation of your actions, and you become brave all at once.

“Can I help you... To feel better?....” Your voice is full of hesitation, yet one end of his lips lifts, revealing a wickedly tinged smirk.

“Be my guest.”

Climbing on top of him, your hands tremble with anxiety and anticipation. His eyes flutter open and he watches you intently, analyzing where your actions lead. The man really is huge, and being partially on top of him, the size difference is even greater. Indra seems to rejoice in your stupor, picking up on your intentions and stirring the sheets covering him as you settle between his legs.

Whatever nervousness you felt about what was to come only grows worse at the sight of his size, as even half-hard, his cock’s intimidatingly enormous length.

“Already frightened?” The teasing tone sliding across his tongue fills you with new determination, and with both hands, you hold his shaft. One at the base and one at the head. Your tongue timidly explores that unfamiliar surface, feeling in your grip how hardness invades his dick second after second.

Your lips wrap carefully around it, and pushing gently, inch by inch, his length finds its way into the pleasantly warm depths of your mouth. One of your hands slowly slides down, dragging skin in its wake.

Fixing your eyes on Indra while trying to deal with the raw, inexperienced situation and size, you notice impatience and need, lust swimming in red eyes dominates his expression.

From an instant to the next, your shoulders are enveloped by two gigantic hands, and position is turned around, a vast body hovering over you and trapping you underneath it.

“You teasing little fucker...”

Being handled like that awakens something on the inside that you rarely felt before, some sort of tingling urgently needing to be soothed. A broad palm grasps your chin, which moves your face in the direction Indra desires as he suddenly engulfed your lips.

You have never kissed this man before, and to be making out with him for the first time in these circumstances should feel wrong... but it only builds up more sensations in your lower belly, a treacherous emptiness, and an almost unfamiliar fire.

Your hands awkwardly find his back, and the need to press him against your face, to demand more, to extract more from those luscious lips is interesting. There is no more distance to close between the two of you, but you want to crush yourself against his labored chest until becoming one.

The moment ends quickly as you gasp for air, and trying to recover, a sultry Indra, who grins viciously seductive overpowers your gaze.

“I’ll introduce you to a thing or two...”

Before you comprehend what his words mean, the position changes again, and his two knees are one on either side of your head. He looks even more terrifying from this angle than in everyday life, and you don’t venture to peek at his dick. Two of his fingers slide across your lower lip, caressing your cheek, and suddenly squeeze your face harshly. Your mouth is forced open, but when his cock slides over your tongue and you understand the functionality of the pose, you ease back.

Your lack of experience was driving him crazy, and rather than loosening him up, you were upsetting him further. Managing the matter with his own hands, or rather with his own hips, Indra finds peace again.

Rising to height, one of his palms cradles your face, while the other supports himself against the wall. You try to find stability by holding onto his thighs, and as he buries himself lower in your mouth, sensations in your body become almost unbearable, coupled with his movements.

Indra is kind at first, gradually pushing into your inexperienced cavity slowly, closing his eyes tightly and fighting the urge to destroy your mouth.

Yet when your jaw relaxes completely, grasping the rhythm and feel of the situation, he lets go. The beast is finally released, and the Otsutsuki fucks your lips with abandon, hitting the end of your throat with each thrust. His hips move with agility, and imagining him between your legs with the same surrender and strength makes you hold on.

Tears decorate your cheeks and eyelashes, blending with the saliva dripping from your mouth every time that cock lunges at your face. Indra becomes completely abstracted, tilting his head back as deep growls rise from deep within his chest.

When air is inevitably needed and you can no longer avoid gagging, you repeatedly slap his thighs, drawing his attention. He leans his forehead against the wall and holds your face with both hands, withdrawing his dick from your throat and catching his breath with difficulty. His gaze is fixed on you, and although you could probably look better, you feel really appreciated under those red eyes.

The fluids from your mouth completely soaked your chest and cheeks, your clothes are soaked, and at the sight, the Otsutsuki slides his fingers across your wet skin, then strokes his shaft twice.

When you catch your breath, you place a kiss on the head which has been hitting the back of your throat for minutes, showing he may continue.

Without a second thought, he burrows deeply into your mouth, reaching a depth he hadn’t hit before. The grunt he exhales makes your skin crawl, and you really want to see him enjoy you like this for the rest of your life.

He gives you time to breathe again, and his thrusts become more shallow, seeking more contact with the softness of your tongue and the warmth of your cheeks. It isn’t long before his length is completely out of your cavity and he works it rapidly, seeking the longed-for finish. You’re not sure what you should do, so you simply watch him, amazed at the size of his hands.

After a few seconds, several white shots paint your face, staining your hair and chest, leaving practically nowhere without even a drop. It’s unexpected, but satisfying.

#naruto shippuden #otsutsuki indra #indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra x reader #indra x reader #indra otsutsuki x reader #indra #otsutsuki clan #naruto

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: PART I

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 2.8 K

Content Warnings: Mention of NA meeting, some case talk, mild language

Author's Note: This is my first chapter fic! I've only written one shots before, so bear with me. I truly do appreciate all reblogs, likes, and comments. Thank you!!

It's Delicate

Spencer doesn’t really care for gas station coffee, but at 2:00 am it’s the only thing that’s open. He pulls into the parking spot and turns off his Volvo. The check engine light is on, he needs to get into a mechanic, but between his NA meetings and work, it’s difficult to even catch his breath.

So that’s what Spencer does. In the middle of the gas station parking lot at 2:00 am, Spencer sits in his blue Volvo and breathes. He takes deep breaths, the ones that he uses when he has to calm down victims when they’re rescued. It’s grounding, breathing like this he thinks. It’s the kind of breath that Spencer takes when his head is fuzzy from sleeplessness and the only thing that can keep his eyes from drooping is a steady stream of coffee.

He unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of his car. Shutting the door, Spencer surveys the rest of the parking lot. He sees a couple other cars in the lot, he supposes it’s the gas station attendants, but he feels his shoulders tense at the thought of trouble. The bell attached to the door rings as Spencer opens the door. It's a small convenience store, one that Spencer has been frequently at odd hours after the BAU’s jet lands. He’s grown to know the owner, Jeff, who for the past 4 years hasn’t been around all too often.

“I’ll take a regular coffee,” Spencer asks the young man behind the counter. He doesn’t say anything in return, but nods his head in understanding as Spencer hands him a $5 bill and tells him to keep the change.

“Night,” Spencer tells the man, who he’s never seen before, when he hands him his coffee. Again, the young man doesn’t answer. Spencer tries to salvage the awkward encounter by chalking up the man’s coldness by it being so late.

As Spencer pushes against the door with the sleeve covered part of his arm, a poster that’s eye level catches his eye. It’s one of those posters where you can rip off the phone number and contact the person. But instead of a 20-something looking for a roommate, it’s a book club advertisement.

Spencer, quickly for a normal person, but slowly for himself, reads over the sign. The book club is hosted at the local bookstore, Hooked on Books, that Spencer has always meant to check out. From what he can gather, the list of numbers are from people looking for what the poster refers to as “book buddies”. Spencer’s eyes scan the list. There aren't any names attached to the numbers, Spencer supposes that the idea behind that is so bias won’t come into play.

It almost seems like the perfect trap: rip off one of these little pieces of paper with a phone number and call that person with the intention of being their book buddy. It’s something that Spencer knows deep in his bones he’s meant to avoid. But it’s like there’s an invisible string pulling at him to rip the third piece of paper from the group and stuff it carefully into the safety of his wallet.

--

It’s been five days since Spencer visited the cold man at the gas station and took the number from the poster. In those five days, Spencer slept for two and was back on plane to the middle of Montana for the next three.

After a long day in the sun, Spencer relishes in the cold water from the hotel shower. Even though he had to crouch slightly, Spencer still appreciated the way the chilly water seems to wash him anew. He never sleeps well when the team is on a case, it’s like his mind can’t rest. Well, his mind can never really rest, since it’s technically always growing and changing, especially during sleep.

Spencer’s thoughts travel from his messed up circadian rhythm to the piece of paper that burns a hole in his wallet. He steps out of the shower and dresses in his pajamas. It’s cold in the hotel run, as JJ likes to sleep in the coldest temperature humanly possible. Spencer knows that she finds the weight of blankets comforting. He makes a mental note to put some of his pillows on JJ’s bed, so she can pretend it’s her boys and Will in the bed with her. Spencer can’t help but wonder what’s like to have a child or a partner that misses you. It must be so bittersweet: the promise of coming home, but the threat of having to leave them all behind at moments notice.

Letting his hair air dry, Spencer unlocks the door and enters his and JJ’s hotel room. Out of the whole team, Spencer likes sharing with JJ the best. She’s the most organized and usually, they’ll spend the night on FaceTime with the boys and Will watching a movie, depending on the time.

“You’re all good, JJ. Thanks for letting me get in first,” Spencer says, flopping down on his bed. He shuts off his light, essentially telling JJ that he doesn’t want to talk about the case, or Henry, or anything really.

“Good night, Spence,” JJ says, before shutting off the rest of the lights and heading into the bathroom.

For a couple of minutes, Spencer lays in the all consuming dark. He tries the breathing exercise that’s scientifically proven to make you fall asleep. He counts, one, two, three, four breaths in and holds for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven and let's go for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

He tries it for a couple of rounds, but suspects thinking about numbers makes him think about the phone number. Spencer can’t exactly pinpoint why he’s nervous to reach out to the number. Maybe it’s his constant fear of judgement or fear of not being enough, he can’t tell.

Knowing that sleep is probably not coming anytime soon, Spencer rolls on his side so he faces the window overlooking the hotel parking lot. He can’t stop thinking about the case. The way the victim’s mother and father walk around the precinct with a lifeless look in their eyes, staying villgiant no matter how many times JJ tells them to go home and rest.

Spencer doesn’t want to think about the case, so his mind flits to another subject: Hooked on Books Book Buddies. He can’t really pinpoint why he didn’t reach out to his book buddy. But laying there in the bed, Spencer feels strongly compelled to do anything to get his mind off the case, so he climbs out of bed to reach for his phone.

It’s tucked away neatly in his go bag, unlike JJ, Spencer doesn’t have anyone that’s waiting for him at home. Sure he has his mother, but if she needed him, the home would wait until 8 am to call Spencer. He unlocks it and the blue light illuminates the room. Somehow, Garcia had convinced him to get an updated phone. Spencer hardly uses it, but does appreciate being able to get pictures of JJ’s boys and his mother.

He memorized the number in the ten seconds or so it took him to rip the little slip of paper from the poster and put it away in his wallet. Spencer punches the numbers into a new contact, but hesitates when he’s prompted to give a name. He doesn’t know the first thing about this person. Seriously, this is like FBI 101 on the do not listen, he thinks.

Spencer pushes the thoughts of serial killers, for what feels like the first time in ten years, from his mind when he hits the button to message his mysterious book buddy. He types out a message a couple of times, but ends up deleting them because he sounds so incredibly stupid.

Spencer: Hello. I do apologize for my late message. I work odd hours, but I came across your number at the gas station on the corner of Richmond Street and Connor Avenue in Woodbridge. If you are interested, perhaps we can have a conversation about Hooked on Books’ Book Club?

Spencer, realizing that the message he wrote is going to be as good as it gets, hits the little arrow for “send”. He watches as his message turns blue and the little gray delivered pops up. He doesn’t expect the person to send a message back yet. He’s all the way in Montana and they’re in Woodbridge, Virginia, presumably. If it’s 2:30 am in Montana, it’s 4:30 back at home. That’s a little too late for someone with a normal 9 to 5 to be up for work and a little too late for a person that’s joining a book club to haven’t gone to sleep yet.

Don’t profile them, Spencer.

“What’s got you glued to the phone, Reid?” JJ says, with a smirk as she walks out from the bathroom and climbs into her bed. She came in so quietly, or rather, Spencer was staring so intensely at his phone that he didn’t realize.

“Something with my mother, JJ,” he lies, and he doesn’t even know what he can’t tell her the truth.

“Okay, Spence. I just want to make sure you’re all good,” JJ says quietly, her back must be facing Spencer because her voice is muffled a little bit.

“Thanks, JJ, uh good night, now,” Spencer says, effectively ending the conversation.

JJ doesn’t say anything after that, perhaps she just understands that Spencer doesn’t want to talk. Spencer rests flat on his back and tries a couple more rounds of the breathing exercise, but nothing seems to make his brain shut off. Despite the way his eyelids droop and the way it’s almost painful to continue to think, Spencer can’t seem to fall asleep.

He thinks about his Book Buddy, whoever they might be. Spencer hopes that they are around his age. He can’t remember a time that he had a friend his age that wasn’t through work. He has people. JJ is the closest thing to a sister that he’ll ever get and he knows that Derek loves him like a brother, despite his teasing. Emily and Penelope are Spencer’s rock. And then there’s Tara, Matt, and Luke, though Spencer has really gotten a chance to know them all too well, he knows that they’re a team.

But Spencer has always dreamt of having a friend. As a little kid, he used to make up imaginary friends that would listen to his science facts and perform chemistry experiments from him. When he got to high school, his dreams were occupied by someone who’d reach for his hand after he’d been beaten down or strung to a football post. Sure he had Ethan, but that was something charged and electric that left Spencer longing for someone again.

Spencer hadn’t had dreams about a friend in a long time, but tonight he dreamt of coffee and books in a small café and a faceless stranger that would listen to him and laugh with him.

--

Even though he fell asleep relatively shortly after thinking about his Book Buddy, Spencer did not feel well rested. He turns around in his bed and notices that JJ’s bed is already neatly made. The bathroom is empty, so Spencer reckons that JJ and Emily must already be at the police station.

He wants to savor the last couple of minutes in bed, maybe chase a dream or two of strangers swapping books and making memories over expensive coffee and scones. But reality calls him back home. Spencer checks his phones for work updates (and maybe a message or two from his Book Buddy), but the only notifications on his phone is a Forbes article and a couple emails from Georgetown.

Spencer, heading to the bathroom, gets interrupted by a loud and persistent knock on his hotel room door. He opens the door, revealing an equally tired looking Luke. He waves Spencer good morning before slumping down in the desk chair in the corner of the hotel room.

“I’ve been sent by JJ to get you, she thinks you’re acting weird,” Luke says, expecting Spencer to explain himself.

Awkwardly, Spencer makes something in between a grimace and a frown. He rolls his eyes, but plays along with what he thinks Luke’s little game.

“Well I’m always weird, it would be weird if I wasn’t being weird,” Spencer says, heading into the bathroom with a pile of work clothes. He shuts the door, both literally on Luke and metaphorically on their conversation.

In the bathroom, Spencer dresses out of his pajamas and into a pair of well worn pants and a light purple button up. He forgot his contacts at his apartment, but luckily had a back up pair of glasses in his go bag. Spencer, looking in the mirror, never particularly carried for the reflection that looks back at him. It always seems like his hair is too messy, or his collar is all twisted, or his eyebags are too prominent.

At least the glasses can kind of cover up his eye bags, Spencer thinks as he shuts off the light and closes the bathroom door behind him. Luke, who still is slouched in the chair, looks at his phone.

“Waiting for Penelope to send you a picture of Sergio or something?” Spencer asks, the snark in his voice isn’t missed by Luke.

“You’re one to talk, JJ was telling me how you’re being kind of secretive for the last couple of weeks,” Luke counters.

“Yeah, that’s my work mandated therapist, Luke. You know from the time I was in jail,” Spencer shoots back a little harder than he intended. The look that Luke gives him is something akin to a hurt puppy and Spencer can’t help but feel a little bad for snapping at Luke’s teasing.

“Sorry, man,” Luke says, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “I get it, and you know I’m here for you, Reid. We might not be as close as you and Penny or you and JJ, but I’m here to listen to you,” Luke says, his hand on Spencer, who’s usually so hesitant to touch, is something Spencer never thought he would find comforting.

“Thank you,” is all Spencer can manage and somehow, Luke just gets it. They walk quietly to the parking lot where the SUVs are. The silence continues as they drive to the police station.

It’s still early, only 7:13 am. Spencer can only hope that they catch the unsub in the next couple of hours, so they can file the paperwork and be on their way to Quantico by 8:00 pm. Luke’s steady driving threatens to lull Spencer to sleep. His quiet presence, however, is interrupted with a buzz. Luke’s eyes dart to his phone that navigates them to the police station. He refuses to take direction from Spencer, who has a habit of being a terrible co-pilot.

“Check that for me,” Luke says, “it’s probably Penelope,”

Spencer raises his eyebrows and attempts to suppress a smirk at Luke’s blatant transparency.

“You know with updates about the case and whatnot,” Luke says, brushing Spencer’s teasing off and putting his attention back to the road.

“It’s not Garcia and for what it’s worth, Luke, I don’t see how she’d say no,” Spencer offers, genuinely wanting to see his two friends, who are so perfect for each other it’s almost ridiculous, get together.

Luke shuffles in his seat uncomfortably and pulls into the station. He shoots Spencer a lot, as if to say drop it. The last thing Luke wants is Tara and Matt to get wind of his excitement at Penelope texting him.

Spencer, who’s phone lights up alerting him that he has an unread message, feels a sudden surge in his heart. He’s so used to only getting messages from JJ about the cases or pictures of her boys, that a text not related to his work or his family leaves a smile to his face.

Spencer tries to not profile the message, but to just read it like a normal friend would.

Book Buddy (Y/N): Hey there😊! I can’t believe someone actually grabbed my number...I’m glad you’re interested in this. I’m Y/N and I don’t think you mentioned your name, I don’t make it a habit to meet up with strangers before not knowing their name.

Reading the message twice to make sure he can recite without any hesitation, Spencer’s face falls as he realizes that he forgot to tell them his own name. How could you be so clueless, Spencer, he thinks.

Quickly, because he knows that the rest of the team is waiting inside the police station, that is like a portal to the past, Spencer types out another message.

Spencer: My name is Spencer.

Spencer: I tend to be away for work quite often, so I do apologize for the late message. And for hiding my identity-- not that that was on purpose. Is it okay if we plan something when I get back to Virginia?

Spencer doesn’t expect a message right away, but he can tell that there’s going to be something Pavlovian about the way that little swoosh sound makes his fingers reach for his phone.

--

Thank You!! I love and appreciate all and every comments, likes, and reblogs. I love knowing what you think!!

--Taglist--

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds reader #spencer reid x yn

[spilled-some-blood]

Dating The Slashers Include

Includes: Bubba Sawyer, John Kramer, Billy Loomis, Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, Stu Macher, Amanda Young, and Tiffany Valentine

Warning: Slight smut warning for Freddy (but are you shocked?), but mostly just fluff

Dating Bubba Would Include: -Starting off as probably best friends -laughing and walking around a lot together -becoming very close, somewhere in between friends and lovers -you making the first move -maybe by accident -you’d probably be talking to him and Choptop -“Why don’t you ask that guy out?” -“Because I like Bubba, remember.” -“You do?” -luckily, he likes you too -going on a first date -it not being awkward at all -if you go out on the town, you end with a hot cup of tea and new clothes, wanting to get him out of the blood covered apron -back at home, laughing and hand holding, forgetting it was actually a date -you end with a soft kiss -both of you blushing madly -the two of you will sit on a sofa and Bubba mumbles about anything -being the last ones awake -Bubba falling asleep on your shoulder -you are smiling -you also falling asleep, not wanting to wake him up -the next morning, you greet with a kiss, as if it has been done a hundred times already -every night, before bed, cuddling on the sofa and cuddling together -searching for Choptop with him -just to please him -always being amazed at how smart he is even though he can’t talk -he knows everything about you -just on his own way -stroking his hair in a calming manner -always holding hands -quick kisses -favourite place is his room, where you can sit close and lay your head in his lap while in a puddle of happiness -spending holidays with each other -one time by him, one time with you -just being cute together -always thinking of each other -general love and sweetness

Dating John Would Include: -Reading books together in the living room with a blanket draped over you. -Laying your legs on top of his whilst attentively looking over the pages. -Him playfully starting to trace patterns on the bottom of your feet, fully knowing that you’re the most ticklish person ever. -It eventually became a full-on tickle fight. -But when you’re starting to scream for mercy he’ll stop so you can breathe again. -Making traps together as well. -Him giving you tight hugs every time you remind him you love him. -Snuggling into his jigsaw robe. -It kind of smelling like him. -He gives you neck kisses and collarbone kisses and doesn’t matter what kind of kisses… -Cause they’re loving and soft and gentle just like him around you. -He looks at you with sleepy puppy eyes and it melts you every. single. time. -Over all, he is so very happy about being with you. -Because you’re kind and amazing and loving towards him, and he can’t quite understand what you see in him. -But you make sure to remember him, very often, that he’s just as lovable as you. -And he will never appreciate someone more than his beautiful girlfriend/boyfriend.

Dating Billy Would Include: -Him coming up with pick up lines and always strolling up to you casually, looking you up and down, as he bites his lip and says something stupid -Billy dragging you to see a movie he loves -Going to see it with him but him smiling the entire time -Acting up together -You're concentrating on something and he'd look at you and forget to breathe -Nose kisses -Neck kisses -Changing study locations due to the seasons/weather -Quiet 'I love you's' -Cheek kisses -Trips to the kitchen to bring a worrying amount of sweets back to the room -Stu forcing you to share -Having a competition to see who can scream 'I Love You' the loudest -Having a very public relationship -Seeing each other across the hall or corridor and running dramatically into each other's arms and hugging -Stu would tell you off but you could see a twinkle of laughter in his eyes at your escapades -Sudden passionate kisses when you realise you’re alone -'It's been 1 day, 5 hours, 12 minutes and 6 seconds since I’ve seen you' -Comforting him when his dad hurts him -Stu always laughing when he sees him zone out because he's thinking of you -Spending most of your time together -Your family loving him instantly -Warm, comforting hugs to keep each other stable -Sitting in peace, tracing patterns on each other's skin -Having a very goofy relationship -You almost never stop laughing -Cuddling almost constantly -Whispering 'I love you' against your neck as he places soft kisses against it -Playing with his hair -Being the 'It' Couple -Braiding his hair even though it's short so it ends up being multiple little random braids in his hair -Him laying his head on your lap -His HAIR -Soft sighs falling from his lips as you lightly scratch his scalp -Him putting his cold feet on you when you're in bed -You shrieking and kicking him off -Wearing his Ghostface outfit -Double dates with Stu and his dates -You brushing his hair -Him attempting to brush yours -Watching the stars -Lazy days cuddling on the couch -Playing with his hair. A LOT -Putting flowers in his hair -Just loving his hair -"Sometimes I think you're only dating me for my hair" -"I am"

Dating Michael Would Include: -Him being extremely protective over you -No one daring to pick on you because of this -Shy smiles and glances -Believing in him -Him opening up to you and showing you his kind vulnerable side -Sharing secret kisses -Getting unexpected gifts -Him smiling when he sees you wearing his stuff especially his jumpsuit -You bring out the better side of him -Sitting by the couch and leaning on each other -Teaching him out to act out rationally, not on anger -Holding hands in public with your hands locked tightly by your sides -Him getting jealous of other guys and you teasing him about it -You being the big spoon because even though he acts really proud, he likes to be held at night -Sneaking around a lot -Midnight rendezvous -Neck kisses -Him calling you stupid nicknames to annoy you -"How are you, my sugar-drop?" -You hit him on the shoulder and him acting as if it didn't hurt but oh my god it does so much -Lazy Sunday mornings where you just sleep the day away -You wrap your arms around him from behind and hugging him tightly -Waking up to him tracing patterns on your skin with light fingers -Always trusting you with absolutely everything -Lots of giggles -Midnight dates -Deep talks in the middle of the night, either in bed or over anything. Him always playing with your hair -Him always being able to be himself with you -Suggestive grins during class -Sending animal-shaped notes to each other -Him being a perfectionist -So much sarcasm -Him laughing at you when you won't admit that you're a bit jealous of all the female and male attention he receives -You hiding his stuff to tease him -But him not being able to be upset with you -Arguments about minor things but both of you not meaning it seriously -Stolen kisses -Lots and lots of neck kisses -Sneaking into each other's homes -Back rubs -Cuddles

Dating Freddy Would Include: -Sometimes starting conversations but loving the silence of the moment. -At night he never lets you roam around without him. -After he tells you about how everyone hate him, understanding why. -But still doing after and it becomes a thing for you. -Starting to let you in more about his plans. -But carefully -Loving (ssshhh) your curious side and how you wanted to know more about all his slasher friends. -"So If that's the most painful place for a man where is it for a woman?" -"Well aren't you a curious little thing dear." -The other slashers not minding you. -He obviously had told them not to harm you. -You getting along with Chucky after you get to know each other a little more. -"Okay, now I know why he is your favourite. He is really interesting under his arrogance and big ego," you say and Freddy smirks. -"Hey, I heard that f-! " *Freddy looking disapprovingly* "......lovable normie" -Taking a stroll with him in the nightmare realm. -Gripping his hand tightly. -Playing it cool but when a bird scares you, you scream and fall into his arms. -"You know this is kinda ironic right? I can probably harm you more than anything in this forest. " -"Oh hush! " you say. -Kisses in secret places. -(Getting closer sentimentally to you.) -Seeing him battle and win his opponent is a total turn on (Sorry not sorry) -Mostly rough sex -Like taking his time with you -Slowly approaching the pain-pleasure subject especially after he founds out that you like spanking and choking (sorry not sorry again). -Blowjobs for sure. -Like when he is feeling pissed and generally needs to feel like a powerful man you are right there. -You feeling sometimes that he might not do some things because he might not think you are good enough -But he kissed you to shut you up -Talking back to him one day while going to hang out with Bubba and Jason. -Telling him not to blame the others. -Pinning you to the wall. -"Listen to me, dear. You don't tell me what to do. Also, someone has to be blamed." his hands lowering to your waist and leans to your ear. " You have to get used to it love if you want to be with me." his hands slowly trailing up your thighs. "So now shut your pretty mouth because it's not going change anything," he says smirking to you now caressing you. -Sighing and accepting that there is nothing that you can do. Kissing him while he leads you to your room too pissed to be around anywhere now.

Dating Stu Would Include: (Oh look, it’s two Scream imagines)

-where do I even start? He’s a kinky rat, everything to him is a kink -him falling completely in love with you, and never want to see you hurt in any way, especially by himself -he’d spoil the shit out of you -and he’d protect you to death -people would know not to touch you, those who have tried disappear -he’d take you shopping with full security -he’d be the guy waiting outside the change room to tell you how gorgeous and sexy you are when you come out -his hands go anywhere they want to, that’s just him. So if you wear a dress, you can guess where his hands are going -he’s the guy with his arm over your shoulders when you walk -very possessive -rough and VERY kinky sex lets are honest -but he spoils the shit out of you. wait I legitimately already wrote that but it's so true. -he’d love when you sit on his lap -especially with nothing on or in his room ;) -it throws other slashers off because they know to respect you and not look at you too long or Stu will flip and stab them -he’s the guy that can growl that sexy growl when he’s angry -but purr that sexy purr when he’s happy -you like both sounds. so sexy -he’d take you to the most expensive places and buy you the most expensive outfits and jewellery, although some of the outfits can’t even be called outfits ;) -date night is the best -ride or die. -him driving you places and speeding to make you laugh and scream. -rough ‘you’re mine’ kind of kisses -but the way he grips your waist when he kisses you is 100% -I mean, I wouldn't say he would be the best boyfriend, but it would be an experience

Dating Amanda Would Include: (Oh look, another Saw imagine) -Looking out for each other -Playing with her hands -Her being a real getlewoman -Her getting embarrassed and flustered when people ask her how she managed to get an 'an amazing person like you' -You tell her you're the lucky one to have a girl like her -Her getting clumsier when you make her nervous -Smiling when you notice Amanda getting more comfortable in your relationship -Opening up to each other -Meeting John and him adoring you -Her telling you all about her favourite fictional characters and how the pretty ones remind her of you -Her getting you the 'pretty’ characters toys as a gift -Lots of hugs -Her watching you talk, write or anything else -Blushing furiously when you catch her staring -Quick pecks in public at first -Watching anything together while cuddling -Her depending on your emotional support a lot -Light touches -Teasing each other -Amanda going on and on about basically anything and you just listening because you like seeing her happy -Picking a single flower and placing it in your hair -Sweet cheek kisses just whenever -Catching her looking at you and looking down and catching her eye and blushing furiously -Sitting by the lake and doing your work -Helping her out with her rehab sessions -Always standing up for her and vice versa -Spending a lot of time in her room just talking to her -Her heart fluttering all the time when you're around -Warm hugs where neither of you wants to let go -Helping him overcome her drug addiction -Comforting her when she feels useless -Gentle kisses -You aren’t a fan of a few a things she likes but you still listen because the excitement in her voice when she talks about it is so freaking adorable! -Cute nicknames -Spending entire days together -Letting Amanda play with your hair -So many inside jokes -Falling asleep under the stars -Food fights -Reminding her about what she's forgotten -Piggyback rides

Dating Tiffany Would Include: (You already know I freaking love Tiffany so you know this will be a long one) -God, she’s so fucking dramatic. -There would be multiple public declarations of love a week, without a doubt. -Crybaby™ -You’ll be goofing around together and say something jokingly rude, like how annoying she is, or some shit like that -And she’ll just deflate -She’ll start pouting, and a small crease between her eyebrows will appear -So, of course, you feel bad -So you’d take her face between your hands, and just start placing little kisses all over her face -On the cheeks, the nose, the forehead (if you can reach, that is) -After a minute you stop, looking Tiffany in the eyes at last after brushing her curls behind her ears -And they’re just filled with amusement, and she also has a shit-eating grin on her lips -She’d trick you into giving her extra affection because she’s a whiny little baby she loves you so much -So you smack her across the head -After a while, this little trick wouldn’t work, so she’d start finding other ways of getting what she wants -It’s not that you don’t show her enough love, it’s just that she needs excessive amounts -Because Tiffany never does anything halfway -It’s all or nothing -And with her, it’s often all. -She’d always show you off as ‘her girl’ and literally never shut up about you -And at first, people found it cute, because ‘aw, look how in love they are!’ -But now everybody just wants to put duct tape over her mouth -(they all still find you two cute, but, God, does Tiffany ramble) -You’re constantly talking about the future. -“What’d you think our wedding will look like?” -“How many children do you want?” -Pranks. So. Many. Pranks. -You turn it into your own little competition to see who can get the other better. -This was fun until the paranoia set in. -“Why are you looking at me like that..?” -“Because I love you.” -“Tiff….” -“Mmm.” -“What have you done?” -*Cue you chasing her down the house whilst screaming profanities, both of you laughing as you do so* -Her taking you on adventures around the town -She would teach you how to be a sassy bitch -Or, if you already knew how you’d have small games together. -Just you two, one-on-one. -You’d either: A) kick her ass, and she’d insist that she let you win, or B) be so damn terrible, but look so adorable trying that she would let you win - although she’d never make a joke about it, she’d support you and help you get better. -Throwing stuff to each other while the slashers are arguing. -Her aiming the paper so it hits your head, so you decide to make her get in trouble with Freddy -Mean Girls puns. -“You dropped your coffee? Get in, bitch, we’re getting more” -“How dare you!” -Tiffany laughing because of how terrible the jokes are. -Also, just horrible jokes in general. The type that makes you cringe, but also giggles. -Her being so open with you. -This girl will literally share anything with you. No fuss, at all. -She believes that trust is the foundation of every relationship, so why should she keep secrets? -She has so much faith in you, so the thought of you ever telling anyone something private has never even crossed her mind. -She hates it when you’re sad. -It physically pains her to know that you’re hurting. -So she’ll do everything she can to make you happy again. -Want to cry it out? She’ll hold you, murmuring words of comfort as she does so. -Feel like eating away from your problems? She’ll take you down to the kitchen so you can both have as much food as you want. -Just need to let it all out? She’ll take you by the hand and walk you down the lake so you can throw stones into the water. Or she’ll just take you up to the bedroom so you can scream into a pillow until your voice stops working. -Constant physical contact. -Even if it’s just holding hands, or feeling your shoulder brush against her: she likes to know that you’re there, and you’re safe. -Because in such a short amount of time, you’d become so important to her. -And she couldn’t bear to live without you by her side.

#bubba sawyer #bubba saywer x reader #Bubba Saywer imagines #John Kramer #John Kramer x reader #John kramer imagines #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis imagines #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers imagines #freddy krueger #freddy krueger x reader #freddy krueger imagines #stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher imagines #amanda young #amanda young x reader #amanda young imagines #tiffany valentine #tiffany valnetine x reader #tiffany valentine imagines #slashers #slasher #horror #slashers x reader #slashers imagines

[nessinborderland]

Between Apple Pies and Chocolate Cosmos (01)

Pairing: Aguni x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Character Study

Words: 6.4k

Summary: Aguni first laid eyes on you in the greenhouse. After that, he simply couldn't take you out of his mind.

Warnings: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Feelings, Eventual Romance, Denial of Feelings, Slow Burn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Notes: This was inspired by the wonderful @aghostsrantingcorner ask. For reference, there’s some things in this fic that were inspired by these posts by @hatterstan-shameblog​. This will be 2-3 parts max. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do <3

Aguni first laid eyes on you in the greenhouse.

It was a rainy morning, and the Beach was as silent as you would expect after a night of deadly games and partying. He always took advantage of the silent mornings to have a walk around the place, breathe some fresh air, and – most importantly – attend to his garden.

He had started working on it soon after he and Takeru found the Beach, still in the early days when it was only them. He never saw a reason why he shouldn’t. Since he was stuck there for an indefinite amount of time – since he would probably die there – he might as well keep up with the only hobby that brought him some resemblance of peace.

So, he did it. Every single morning. It kept him grounded; reminded him of who he was.

His Eden – as he liked to think about it – was a medium-sized glasshouse near the kitchens, surrounded by land where he had replanted a variety of fruit trees and berry bushes that he had found around Tokyo. It needed some remodeling, but it was perfect as soon as he was done fixing the broken glass and built a system to expertly use the rainwater. He loved the place. Its variety of colors and smells, the silence, and – what made him the happiest – being able to watch the literal fruit of his labor grow.

It was his little piece of heaven in the hell he was trapped in.

Now, one thing about the greenhouse: no one was allowed inside the place beside him. Everybody knew it. It was not like anyone had any real interest in plants or vegetables but, still, people knew that that was his place. Even the old ladies responsible for the meals knew to not go inside; if they needed any ingredient, they asked him.

So imagine his surprise when he got closer to the glass walls of his greenhouse and heard soft singing coming from inside. It was barely audible, the tip-tap from the rain hitting the glass making it harder for him to understand any words. But he knew someone was in there.

His first thought was to barge in and kick out whoever was disrupting his garden. He could feel his anger grow as he stared at the blurred figure on the other side of the glass, messing around with his stuff. He took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping inside. 

The air inside the greenhouse was warm, with light condensation already sliding down the glass walls. The intruder – a woman, he noticed – was with her back turned to him, humming a song that was more than familiar due to Takeru’s taste in music.

“... lay all your love on– ” you gasped as you turned to him, no doubt startled by his presence. The vase in your hands shattered as it hit the floor with a loud smash, and you let out another startled sound. You crouched to clean up the mess, a row of apologies already escaping from your lips. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, please don’t move while I–”

“You shouldn’t be here,” was all he said as he stood there, stoic and cold expression looking at you from above. Your face was vaguely familiar to him – like every other face at the Beach – but he knew nothing about you. He noticed when you froze and slowly looked up, locking eyes with him. He saw the exact moment you recognized him, eyes growing wide and mouth agape as you held broken pieces of clay in your hands.

“Aguni–”

“Clean up your mess and leave,” he mumbled as he walked past you to access the damage you had done to his greenhouse. He noticed how several of his previous empty vases were now occupied by small plants and flowers that he had meant to work on that morning. You had just done his work for him. And perfectly, he could tell. Or as perfect as he could expect from someone that wasn’t him. He felt his anger subside. “The chamomile is supposed to be planted next to the tomatoes,” he said as he started carefully removing the small flowers from the vases. “We have no need for tea here.”

“Hmm...I thought you were using those for medicinal purposes?” you hesitantly asked. He kept his back to you, focusing on the task at hand as he waited for you to leave. Leave, however, you did not. "I'm sure they could be useful if–"

"There are only two kinds of people here," he interrupted in a cold tone. "The living and healthy, and the dead. If you're wounded, you belong to the latter. The tomatoes, though, could use some–"

"But couldn't we start an infirmary here?" Your question made him stop what he was doing, and he raised a brow as he looked at you over his shoulder. No one interrupted him; ever. You clearly didn't notice his hard stare as you continued to talk, "We could use garlic and oregano oil for infections, and aloe vera for–"

"You shouldn't be here," he repeated, now in a tone slightly louder than he liked to use. You halted mid-sentence, the small smile on your lips changing into a frown. "I'm not repeating myself. This greenhouse is off-limits. Leave." 

He gave you one last glance before focusing again on his task, listening as you gathered the broken vase. A whimper made him look back at you, watching as you stared at your bleeding finger, droplets of blood falling on the rich soil underneath you. He sighed before grabbing a roll of paper towels from a shelf above his head, turning to hand you one.

"Thank you," you said in a low tone as you accepted the help and involved the tissue around your finger, hissing from the pain.

Only then did he notice what that broken vase had been carrying. At your feet, in the middle of a small mountain of dirt, was a chocolate cosmos. It wasn't one of his flowers, he was sure of that. He had never even seen a live specimen before.

"Weren't those extinct?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Your eyes widen at his question before you looked at him with a soft smile on your lips. He felt the tips of his ears get warm; why in the hell were you smiling at him?

"Mhm, I think so... You can still find them in captivity, though," you said as you gently picked up the reddish-brown flower. You looked at him for a moment before nodding to the table behind him. "Could I get another vase, please? It's just that she's been staying in a box since I got her and I just wanted to– oh, thanks!"

You smiled at him again as he handed you another small vase without a word. Aguni averted his eyes, focusing on your hands as you arranged the pretty flower in its new home. He felt... uneasy, is the word. His usual relaxing morning had been ruined by some random woman with a nice smile.

He didn't like that one bit.

"Well... I'm gonna go now," you awkwardly started as you made your way to the door, before stopping and turning around as if you forgot something. "Oh, by the way, did you...did you do all this?" you asked, gesticulating around you. He nodded once and you smiled again. "It's beautiful. Good job."

With those words, you finally left him alone. 

Aguni was sure he wasn't just blushing in his ears now. His whole face was warm. He never had anyone compliment him on his gardening skills before. Yeah, Takeru told him several times he was good at it, but no one had actually shown interest. It made him feel some kind of way.

He shook his head and got back to his work. He could still enjoy his quiet morning before a council meeting if he was fast enough.

»«»«»«

You were there the next morning.

The sun had barely risen when he approached the greenhouse, a warm cup of coffee in hand while he whistled a tune that had been stuck in his head since he woke up. He hadn't even noticed you until he went to open the door, your voice making him jump slightly where he stood.

"You like ABBA too?" you asked from behind him.

He looked over his shoulder to stare at you. You were sitting under a tree not far away, that same nice smile on your face. You were holding something in your hands – something that he noticed was hot – as steam was visible in the chill morning air.

He felt his ears get warm again; damnit, he hadn't even realized that the tune he was whistling was the same song he had caught you singing the day before. He took a deep breath and shook his head. 

You both stood there, clearly waiting for the other to speak first. He was never a man of many words, though, so he just nodded once in your direction before getting inside his greenhouse and closing the door behind him.

A knock on the door not long after made him roll his eyes. He walked away from his work table with a sigh, cursing at his lack of peace and quiet; all the man wanted was to drink his morning coffee in solitude.

"What?" he asked as he opened the door to find you there, holding something wrapped in paper in his direction. He had noticed the steaming thing earlier. "What's that?"

"I wanted to thank you," you said, almost stumbling over your words as you signaled him to take it from you. "It's a pie."

"A pie?" he asked slowly, raising a brow in distrust.

"Yes, apple pie," you sent him a small smile as you tried to get him to accept the baked good. When he just stood there, arms crossed, your smile fell. He almost, almost, made a move to grab your offer then. "Hmm, Mrs. Yamamoto from the kitchen lets me use ingredients sometimes to bake stuff, and as long as I clean everything after–"

"I don't eat breakfast," he interrupted, arms still crossed as he looked you up and down with furrowed brows. He was trying to understand your intentions towards him. What was your move here?

"Oh, but you should, you know?" you said in a raised tone. "It's the most important meal of the day! A-and this one was made with your apples, so I thought you would–"

"What do you want from me?"

Even though Aguni was a man of few words, he never had any problem being direct. When you just looked at him with big, confused eyes, he was even more weirded out by your manners. You were either being genuine or were a really good actress. He didn't know what made him more uncomfortable.

"I just want to... to thank you for the vase?" you hesitantly answered, arms lowering.

His hand snapped towards your arm before he even realized, suddenly aware that he did want that pie. However, a pained gasp made him release you immediately upon touching you over your jacket. 

"Are you hurt?" he asked, secretly hoping he hadn't actually hurt you.

"I- I'm fine," you answered with a shake of your head. "It was just a small injury from yesterday's game."

"Let me see," he ordered.

You stared wide-eyed at him, and it almost made him backtrack and send you away. Why should he care if you were hurt?

Aguni was about to do exactly that when you gingerly extended your arm in his direction. He focused on your arm as his fingers lightly grabbed your wrist, pulling your sleeve up to show a burn mark roughly the size of your palm. It didn't look too bad, but he could see that you hadn't put anything on it.

"Come," he said as he gestured at you to follow him inside the greenhouse.

He worked fast as he prepared something that would help you with your burn. He didn't know much about medicinal plants, but he knew enough.

He gestured at you to sit on the table as he carefully applied a mix of aloe vera and oats to your injury with light feather-like touches. It was all done in silence until he heard a noise from you, something resembling a barely huffed laugh. He glanced up to notice you looking straight at him, that same damned smile on your lips. He quickly focused back on the injury, hoping you wouldn't notice his red ears.

"I thought I was part of the dead now," you said, clearly referencing what he had said the day before. He grunted with a shrug, now at all interested in talking about his change of ideals. "You know...I never thought you were the type," you kept talking, and he kept addressing your injury. "To like plants, I mean. This place is amazing." 

"What type am I, then?" he caught himself asking. Not that he particularly cared about your answer, but curiosity got the best of him. You laughed at his words and shrugged.

"Hmm, I don't know... the type that punches tigers?" He had to control the will to smile then, hiding his face from view. "I really wasn't expecting tall, big, and stoic Aguni to be so good with plants. I'm pleasantly surprised."

His movements halted for a second as he processed your words. He was sure he was red all over his face now, damn you. He continued what he was doing before he could overthink your words too much.

"Never judge a book by its cover."

He cringed as soon as those words left his mouth. What a corny thing to say. He decided then that your burn was sufficiently covered in aloe, and immediately retracted his hands, turning his back to you as he cleaned his fingers and tried to get his blush under control.

"Hmm, I guess you're right…" you said as he heard you stand up. "Well, thank you again, for this." He nodded and grunted in acknowledgment without turning to face you. "And the pie is here, just in case you want to try it." You hesitated, "...Hmm if you don't want it, you can always give it to Last Boss. He- he caught me in the kitchens once and I promised to bake him stuff if he helped me clean up after. He doesn't talk much and he's kind of scary, but he's nice." He turned to you then, and the expression on his face might've told you that you were overstaying your visit, so you quickly rushed for the door. "Mm okay, bye!" you said as you sent him an awkward wave and left.

He wondered if you thought he was scary but nice.

»«»«»«

A piece of chocolate cake was left by his greenhouse the day after.

The day after that, a croissant.

The gifts were always accompanied by small notes written in pretty handwriting. Some were simple recipes; others were small facts about medicinal plants he knew nothing about. He kept them all, safely hidden in a can on his worktable. A week went by where he expected a new pastry or sweet to welcome him. And, without fail, there it was. He never saw you around though, in the mornings or throughout the day, which he found odd. He didn't even know your name, but he found himself searching for you throughout the Beach, or in the games at night. But he never saw you. He would've thought you were dead if it weren't for the consistent gifts you left at his door.

Now, he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't a man for breakfast. He really wasn't. But after trying a piece of that apple pie, he saw himself devouring almost the whole thing. The same with the cake and the croissant. They were probably the best baked goods that he had ever tried. He was even more excited to start his mornings.

This morning, however, he arrived at the greenhouse to find nothing by the door. No box, no note, no wrapping. Nothing. He furrowed his brows, feeling disappointed, but quickly shrugged the feeling off as he got inside. Your pleasantries had to stop someday.

It bothered him, though. And he hated the fact that it bothered him. He hated the fact that he cared. He spent the day thinking about it. Thinking about you. Where could you possibly be? What happened? He didn’t even know your name. He didn’t know what bedroom you lived in, and it was driving him mad.

He had zoned out throughout the morning meeting, lashed out at several of the militants, and was now fully ignoring Takeru as his best friend went on and on about something he didn’t care enough to even pretend to be listening.

“Mori, hey!” His friend snapped his fingers in front of his face, forcing Aguni out of his thoughts. He stared at Takeru with a frown.

“What?” he asked, taking a sip from the glass of water in front of him.

“The first time all week that we’re having lunch together, and you’re quieter than usual,” his friend said, nodding at the plate of barely touched food in front of him. “You’re not even eating. What’s going on?” 

“I’m fine,” he shrugged, stabbing a piece of roasted rabbit with his fork and taking a bite. He chewed as he thought of a good excuse. Takeru could be annoyingly perceptive when it came to other people’s emotions, especially his. “Just have a lot on my mind, that’s all,” he finally said.

His friend looked at him for a moment before setting his elbows on the table, supporting his chin on his palms. Oh no, he knew what that meant. He was about to be questioned to death.

"Are you in love?" he asked, a slight smirk on his lips.

Aguni choked on his own spit at the man's question, violently coughing as he vehemently shook his head. 

"What the hell are you talking about?!" he asked after easing his cough, throat burning, and eyes teary from the effort.

"Well let's see," Takeru started, hand raised as he prepared himself to make a list. Aguni instantly regretted his question. "You've been late to meetings almost every morning for the past week, you barely pay attention to anything I tell you and I'm pretty sure I heard you hum 'Lay All Your Love on Me' by ABBA the other day. I've never heard you do anything close to singing," Takeru said as he wiggled three raised fingers before raising a fourth. "And a little bird told me that they heard you talking with someone inside your garden house." The smirk on his lips turned into a grin as Aguni averted his eyes. "So, tell me; who is she? Or is it a he? C'mon, you know you can tell–"

"I don't know what you're talking about," was all he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone.

Takeru wasn't easy to fool, though.

"You know what, I know you're full of shit, but I will allow it," he said with a fork pointed in his direction. "For now, at least. Now it's dessert time!" Takeru licked his lips as he pulled a tray to the center of the table. "I've been wanting you to try this for days, it's delicious!" He opened the tray to uncover two perfectly sized individual pies. Not just any pies, either. Aguni knew exactly who made them.

"Where did you get this?" he blurted out, staring at the perfectly cooked pastries. Takeru looked at him with a confused look.

"Huh, the kitchen? Where else?"

"Yeah, but who made them?" Aguni pressed further, wanting an answer that would show him that you were actually alive. "Were they made today?"

"Uh, I would hope so, yeah. And I don't know who made them, old Yamamoto just said it was one of her helpers," Takeru retorted with a shrug. "They're amazing, though, you should try it."

Aguni almost felt himself sag in relief. If these were made today, that meant that you were alive. It also meant that you definitely had stopped leaving gifts at his door. He tried not to focus on how he felt a little hurt by it. It was not like you owed him anything, anyway.

He still couldn't stop thinking about you as he finished his lunch with Takeru. He hated to admit it, but he felt bad for how he had treated you when you first met. He felt like he owed you at least an apology, and – not like he would ever admit it to himself – he wanted to see you again.

He always went for a short walk after lunch before having to proceed with his duties for the day. He wasn't exactly surprised to find himself by the kitchens, peeping inside the large double doors to take a look – part of him hoping to see you there.

What he saw instead were the so-called Food Ladies, a group of old women that had taken upon themselves the important role of cooking for everyone at the Beach. They were now chilling and having their own meals after the lunch hour rush. He spotted Mrs. Yamamoto, the oldest of the bunch – that also happened to be the boss – leaning by the doors that led outside, smoking her usual cigarette. She spotted him too, with small dark eyes that made him want to run away. It was strangely similar to the way his grandmother used to look at him when he misbehaved as a child.

“Oi, boy, c’mere,” she called him before he could walk away. The laughs and conversations of the other women ceased immediately as he entered the room. They eyed him for some time, one of the old ladies elbowing another before whispering something he couldn’t hear. His brows furrowed; he hated all that attention.

“Mrs. Yama–”

“You have to learn how to control your militants, Aguni,” she said as soon as he got close enough. “Two of your boys were disturbing one of my girls this morning. God knows what they would’ve done to the poor thing if I hadn’t shooed them away.” He had to control his facial expression; was she talking about you? “That girl gets up before dawn to cook sweets for so many people in this godforsaken place, and that’s how they repay her?” The old woman shook her head, before adding, “The rude boy with the piercings on his face and the odd one with the katana. See to it that they don’t get close to her again, do ya hear me?” 

He nodded once before turning to leave, anger already simmering inside him. He had the urge to use his fists on a very specific someone.

He found whom he was looking for on the roof, as he expected. Last Boss was the first to notice him, eyes going wide as Aguni power walked to the man next to him.

“...and Chishiya– oh fuck! What the hell?!” Niragi screamed as Aguni pushed him toward the edge of the roof before forcing him to lean over it.

He held the man by his collar, almost making him lose his balance and fall to his death. Part of him really wanted to let go. He knew what Niragi was capable of.

“What were you doing in the kitchen this morning?” he asked in a cold, emotionless tone. The younger man looked down before visibly gulping and staring at him with a furrowed brow.

“T- The kitchen?...” he asked back. Aguni took a deep breath before loosening the grip on his shirt, making Niragi yelp and grab his arm. “Look look, it was his idea to go there, I didn’t do anything!”

Aguni looked back at Last Boss, and the man raised his hands while shaking his head.

“He- he just followed me there, I didn’t ask him to come with me,” the tattooed man said, stumbling on his words. “If you’re talking about the old lady, she kicked us out, but we didn’t do anything, I swear.” 

“The girl?” he asked through gritted teeth. He was starting to lose his patience. The younger men shared a look between them before Last Boss started talking.

“Y/N?” he asked for clarification. So that was your name. “We didn’t touch her. Niragi just took some pies and we left.” 

“Is that so?” Aguni asked Niragi, the man still in his grasp. He knew what he was capable of, and he wouldn’t put it past Last Boss to lie for his friend. “Cause that’s not what I heard…” his fingers loosened once again around the man’s collar, making him tighten his grip on Aguni’s arm.

“Fine, fine, I- I might’ve teased her a little,” the man confessed. “But I didn’t mean to make her cry, and we left right after. I didn’t do anything, I swear!”

Aguni considered his words for a moment, before pulling Niragi off the edge and pushing him to the ground. The man cursed something under his breath that Aguni preferred to ignore as he now focused on Last Boss.

“Do you know her last name?” he asked. The man shook his head. Aguni sighed; he would have to check Mira’s records if he wanted to find her room. “You both better stay away from the kitchens and from that girl,” he said, now keeping his stone-cold gaze on Niragi. “Is that clear?”

Both men nodded. 

Without another word, Aguni left the roof.

»«»«»«

It was surprisingly hard for him to find your room. 

Mira had immediately denied any access to her records, claiming invasion of privacy. Which it was; he would probably do the same thing if he was in her place. But he pressed on, and she eventually gave in, simply saying that you lived in the south wing of the Hotel, somewhere on the second level. He accepted the information and forced himself to ask around for you, as inconspicuously as he could. Surprisingly, practically no one recognized the description he gave of you, and no one knew your name. He was almost giving up when finally...

“Oh, Y/N?” a couple of young women said. “Yeah, she lives next door to us, room 237.”

He finally had your room number.

Aguni spent five minutes gathering the necessary courage to knock on your door, hesitating and almost leaving every time he lifted his knuckles against the door. He made a frustrated sound, annoyed with himself.

“You’re an idiot,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Hello?” someone greeted behind him. Aguni froze before looking over his shoulder. There you were. Dressed in shorts and a light jacket, hair in a braid over your shoulder, and a hesitant smile on your face, you looked pretty in his eyes. It really made him wonder if Takeru was right; he did have a crush on someone. “Hmm, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, uh- hey.” He cleared his throat as he realized he had been staring. He could feel his face getting warm. “Hm, how’re doing?” he asked, before grimacing. Ah yes, Morizono, very nice. You raised a brow as you looked at him for a moment.

“I’m... fine,” you answered with a hesitant smile. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes, I- I wanted to apologize,” he cringed at his stuttering. But there it was. Direct and clear. The fastest he could get himself out of this awkward conversation, the better. “I heard about what happened this morning with two of my militants, and I just want you to know that they won’t bother you again.”

“Oh, that was just a misunderstanding!" you say as you shake your head. "I was just talking with Mrs. Yamamoto about that. Nothing happened."

"That was not what I heard."

"No, no, I'm fine, they didn't do anything to me," you reassured him. "Niragi just… said some mean things, but Last Boss stopped him. Mrs. Yamamoto thought they were hurting me and I'm really sorry." You shrugged and gave him an awkward smile. "I just cry sometimes. I even went to talk with Last Boss about it, but I think Mrs. Yamamoto really scared him, 'cause he keeps avoiding me." You said with an awkward chuckle. "But I'm okay, really."

Aguni grunted with a nod, convinced that you were telling him the truth. Still, he wanted those two, Niragi in particular, as far from you as he could.

"If they mess with you again, let me know, all right?" You nodded at his request, and he almost had the urge to smile back at you. "Okay then," he said with a nod before making a move to leave.

"Hmm, did you enjoy today's pastry?" he heard you ask in a hesitant tone. He turned around, confused. There was no pastry waiting for him today. He said so to you, and your brows furrowed. "Uh, no, I'm pretty sure I left you something. Strawberry pie with a chocolate crust?"

"There was nothing when I got there," he said. There were butterflies in his stomach, though. You hadn't stopped baking stuff for him, after all. 

"That's odd…" you said as you bit your lip, wondering what could've happened. "Well," you shrugged, "I'll make sure you get it tomorrow morning, then."

He nodded without a word and watched as you smiled at him before moving to open your door.

"How's your arm?" he blurted out before he could stop himself. You froze by the door for a moment before showing him your arm, skin looking much better than it was just a week prior.

"That aloe mix you gave me helped a lot. Thanks, again," you said with another one of those smiles that made him want to smile back.

"You know…" he hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and saying what he meant to say, eyes on your feet, "If you ever want to, you can show up by the greenhouse, sometimes. There are these new seeds I got that might interest you. I don't know, but the offer stands."

He shrugged, like what he just said meant nothing. He finally focused on your face, and his stomach did somersaults as he found you grinning at him.

"I would like that very much." 

»«»«»«

You were there the next morning.

And the next. And the next. And the other one after that. Always with a smile on your face, always carrying a new sweet that you would both share.

The first days were as awkward as you could imagine. He almost feared looking you in the eyes, feeling like a teenager again with all the blushing and weird sensations in the pit of his stomach. All he needed was a smile from you to look as red as one of his tomatoes. 

At first, you would eat in silence, until you eventually broke it by mentioning something about plants, or what flowers you were expecting to bring the next time you went scavenging. Then it would be just you doing most of the talk as he stuffed his mouth with whatever deliciousness you had brought him that day, nodding, and grunting on occasion. He realized he liked hearing you speak. Hearing your voice.

Then he would start working on whatever he had planned the morning before, and that's when you would watch him as he went around his garden showing you things. You would give him ideas from time to time, always following him as you attentively listened to his words. He realized he liked the attention. Your attention.

It didn't take long until you were more comfortable around each other. Then you would both talk freely, almost always about plants. He would be lying if he said he wasn't curious to know more about you, but he didn't have the courage to ask.

"What did you do... before?" you asked one day, about a week into your morning rendezvous. You were sharing a quiche today, and he took his time chewing before answering.

"Was part of the SDF," he said. You nodded like it made sense that a man like him had a job like that. "Nothing too interesting, though,” he said with a shrug. “You?"

"Worked at my family's bakery," you said, a small smile on your face as you seemed to think back to those times. "My grandma taught me everything I know. She made the best quiche in Tokyo, you know? Mine has nothing on hers."

He couldn't control his chuckle then, nor he meant to say the words that got out of his mouth next.

"Takeru would love to hear that."

"Who?" you asked, brow raised as you chewed a piece of the salty pastry. There were flakes of crust on the corner of your mouth, and he had to control the urge to wipe them away with his thumb. He shook his head instead.

"Just a friend from… from back home," he said. "The man can't cook to save his life but bakes one hell of a quiche. Yours is better, though."

You smiled at the compliment and proceeded to eat in silence. He didn't want to waste the chance to get to know you more, though.

"What do you do all day?" he asked. You raised a brow, and he specified what he meant, "I mean, I barely see you around and no one seems to know you, so…"

"Oh, I just stay in my room all day," you said as you shrugged and let out an awkward chuckle. "I'm not really a people person and I spend most of my nights awake, so I mostly just sleep."

"What do you do when you're awake, then?"

"I go to the games, I bake and, well, now I spend some time here with you." He could swear his heart beat a little faster at your words. He felt strangely honored that you decided to spend time with him. 

"Yeah, I'm not much of a people person myself," he said. "Plants are much better, aren't they?" He tried to send you a small smile but immediately regretted it as it felt more like a grimace. You smiled back at him, though, so it probably wasn't as bad as he thought it was. 

"Hmm, you're right, but I don't mind some people."

He didn't know what to make of your statement.

»«»«»«

A month passed when you met every morning. 

Your joined morning routine had taken a comfortable rhythm for both of you, where you ate, talked, and worked without that awkward vibe of the first few days. With you joining him in the work, his crops flourished. It was the best part of his day, without a doubt.

He realized several things during that time.

The first was that you liked to sing while you worked. Didn't matter if you were planting potatoes, watering the flowers, or preparing herbal remedies – that you had eventually convinced him to be useful – you were always humming a tune under your breath, or singing the words aloud. 

The second thing he realized was that he liked it.

He liked to hear you sing so much that the songs would stay in his head for the rest of the day, and he would wake up with your voice still echoing in his head. He had even caught himself whistling at times. Once during a council meeting, where he had zoned out again and was completely oblivious to the fact that he had been humming 'I Want to Break Free’ by Queen until Takeru snapped his attention and everyone was looking at him like he had grown two heads. All except his best friend, that had a knowing smirk on his lips.

The third thing he realized – and, to his shock, didn't surprise him – was that he had totally developed a crush on you.

"So, am I ever going to meet them or what?" Takeru asked over his glass of golden whiskey, taking a sip when Aguni took too long to answer. "You can't keep them a secret from me forever."

"I don't know what you're talking about," was all Aguni said as he took a gulp of his own drink, avoiding his friend's eyes and looking at the moon up high in the sky. His friend really had the best view for late-night drinking, especially after a stressful game. 

"Fine, don't tell me," Takeru shrugged like he didn't care, but Aguni could tell he one hundred percent did. What was he supposed to tell him? There was no relationship for him to talk about. 

"Okay, listen…" his friend's eyes shined as he focused all his attention on him, making Aguni want to hide from his scrutiny. He took a deep breath before saying, "There's nothing to talk about. There's no relationship."

"Ahh, but you're in love, aren't you?" Takeru let out an excited laugh, and Aguni could feel the corners of his mouth pulling up. "In all the years we've been friends I saw you like what? Three people? And you never behaved like this." He drank whatever was left of the drink in his glass before filling it up again. "This one sure looks promising." There was a pause where they just drank in silence before he asked again "So, what's her name? It’s a she, isn't it?"

"Y/N," Aguni mumbled, loud enough for him to hear. Takeru's eyes widen comically at the name.

"The pie girl?!" he asked in a raised tone. "You're head over heels for the pie girl?" He laughed then, and Aguni furrowed his brows in annoyance.

"You know her?" 

"Yeah, I mean, old Yamamoto wouldn't tell me who the miracle baker was, so I went to see for myself. She's cute," he let out a mean chuckle, "I knew you were getting thicker around the waist. She's feeding you well, I see."

"Yeah." Aguni gave him a full-on smirk as he said the next words, "She makes the best quiche I've ever eaten." 

The shocked and offended gasp that left Takeru's mouth almost made him laugh. 

"You take that back!" the man punched his arm once and drank the remaining of his whiskey in one single gulp. "You just ruined my night. Get out and think about what you just said. I'll be expecting an apology by morning."

Aguni laughed then, the only kind of laugh that he could only make when he was around his best friend.

"Yours is good," he shrugged, still laughing. "But hers is better."

»«»«»«

->Next Chapter

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #ima wa no kuni no alice #aguni morizono #aguni x reader #aguni fanfiction #aguni imagine #aib fanfic

[thisisnotourlasthunt]

Andrew Showing The Foxes His Love Through Actions.

All through “All for the game” we can see how Andrew shows his love through actions. I believe that Andrew does care for his teammates and I know I; m not the only one, so I wrote this. (Also, I will just forget about the choking scene because N*ra did their relationship so badly, like- ugh, that’s for another time)

Tw: Curse words, references to the foxes pasts, punches, vomit, Riko, mentions of scars, mentions of nightmares, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of past self-harm, probably many spelling and grammar mistakes.

Allison.

It happened during a game, the foxes were winning and the other team were getting exasperated because they could not get past the backliners and if they could, Andrew would not let them score.

During the last minutes of the game, a player from the other team made Allison trip on purpose and “accidentally” kicked her.

Everyone else were too far away from them.

Except Andrew.

When the referee called the fault, Andrew was already there, punching the guy resulting in him taking a step back and falling to the ground.

As the referee gave him a yellow card, Andrew extended his arm to help Allison up.

And if he asked Renee how bad the injury was, no one had to know. 

Matt.  

When Matt was visiting his mom during summer vacations, they decided to go shopping, there he found the most adorable hoodies. It was orange on the outside and the inside had a really soft and warm fabric, which was white and had orange paw prints. But the best part was that the hoodie had fox ears.

Matt obviously bought nine of them.

“Disgusting.” Andrew had said, which Matt had obviously expected, so he thought nothing of it.

Everyone wore them, Aaron had given his to Katelyn, except Andrew.

But when winter came, Matt saw Andrew get out of his dorm room with the hoodie on, pulling it tighter against himself when a cold air blast came.

“Not a word.” Andrew deadpanned, pointing at Matt, when he noticed him, before leaving the tower.

Matt smiled the whole day.

Dan.

During one of their dinner bankets, the foxes were placed into pairs and told to socialize with the other teams. The pairs were meticulously design so that ‘the monsters’ (minus Nicky) interacted. This meant every ‘monster’ was placed with an upperclassmen. Andrew got Dan.

So when they Dan were talking to some players from Penn State, the Ravens decided to join.

They began talking sh¡t about Dan’s time as a stripper.

Andrew didn’t say or do a thing, knowing Dan was capable on fighting her own fights, she is the first female captain on Exy, but he does stand to the side, throwing a death glare to them.

But when one of them decide it’s a good idea to slap her in the butt when she is distracted....Andrew intervienes.

He grabs the Raven’s wrist, twisting it before pushing him into a table.

Dan is surprised, to say the least, but she knows that the Raven will get a worst fate if she leaves Andrew like that. 

Calmly, she tells him she is okay and that the Raven didn’t touch her and that he can look and see for himself.

The latter does the trick, Andrew turns his murderous glare at Dan so she turns in place extending her arms showing him that the Raven did nothing to her.

Andrew calms after a while and stands up, glancing at the Raven one more time. 

The rest of the night Andrew does not leave Dan’s side until they head back home. Dan attaches herself to that memory forever. 

Renee.

Renee and Andrew sparred at least once a week, more whenever Andrew was having a bad day.

Such as that moment, Aaron’s trial was just around the corner and Andrew was not having it.

He went to Bee’s twice but it still wasn’t enough, so him and Renee spared.

But today was a specially not good day, Aaron’s lawyer had said that he’d have to speak about what happened that day.

Renee knew that Andrew was far more on his head than n the present so she wasn’t mad when Andrew threw her down to the mat and her hip bumped onto the floor.

For the first time since they spared that day, Renee saw Andrew actually see her.

His eyes were wide, probably surprised of what happened so she reassured him that she was okay and that it didn't hurt much and that she’d had much worse before.

But he didn’t listen to her and got off the mat.

Renee stood up and went for her water bottle, thinking that Andrew had gone to let out some steam alone.

But then he came back with an ice package in hand and gave it to her.

Renee thank him, placed it on her hip and sat near him while he starred to the distance in moral support.

Nicky.

Nicky wasn’t one to get sick often, but when it happened, he really got sick.

So when one day he wakes up with a headache and all of his bones ache, he knows he’s in trouble.

Not wanting anyone to be worried about him, Nicky tries to stand up, just for a blast of nausea hits him and he has to run to the bathroom before he pukes on their bedroom.

When he is done throwing his guts out, he brushes his teeth and walks out to the kitchen for a glass of water. But when he gets there, a water bottle is out with a bottle of Pepto-bismol beside it. 

In the middle of his confusion, Andrew and Aaron appear with a thermometer, a blanket and pills.

“Go lay down,” Andrew says with an uncharacteristically softness in his tone.

Nicky complies and walks towards the couch, Andrew protectively trailing behind him with his phone and a blanket.

“I don’t have any class today, Aaron has two in an hour but then he’ll be back. Tea?” Nicky is perplexed at this attention given by his cousins so he is only able to nod and think who were these people and what did they do with his cousins.

The rest of the day, the twins (mostly Andrew) take his temperature, give him his meds, cook for him and help him out whenever he needs it.

Nicky sleeps with a smile that day.

The next day, he feels much better, but because the sickness messed with his feelings, he has an urge to hug his cousins.

He asks for permission and surprisingly, Andrew says yes.

Nicky keeps the hug fast and makes sure he doesn’t make Andrew feel trapped.

He still cries at the memory. 

Aaron.

Out of all the foxes, Aaron is the one with the most difficult things to study. He is in fact studying pre-med.

So during the finals week, he is the most stressed.

There is this one class in which Aaron has been having the most trouble with and if he doesn’t pass the test, he’ll have to repeat the class. So to say that he was stressed was an understatement.

He begins studying for that class a week and a half before the exam is and the day before the exam, he skips gym, morning practice and afternoon practice.

He studies for the exam the whole day and had to be reminded to take breaks for the bathroom and meals constantly.

He is also forced by Andrew to sleep when he woke up at 3 am and Aaron was still awake, studying.

Aaron keeps thinking of the material as he tries to sleep, and isn’t able to until 4 am, he dreams on the material the whole night.

When he opens his eyes, he sees that the sun is much higher than usual, worried, he checks the time on his phone just for his fears to be true, his alarm didn’t sound and he slept through the whole exam.

He doesn’t even care to change and runs to the building. The door to his classroom is closed and the professor is not there.

“Can’t stop thinking about the exam? Me neither.” He hears one of his classmates say behind him.

“I didn’t even do it.” He says through his teeth.

“What do you mean? I saw you there.”

Aaron is confused so he asks more classmates if they saw him, and all of them said that yes, they saw him there.

Hurriedly he got to the tower and confronted Andrew if it was his doing and if he did the exam for him like they did in high school.

“I did.” was Andrew’s only response before walking out.

Aaron got a B⁺ a grade much better than if he had done it by himself.

Kevin.

After Riko died, his and Andrew’s deal could be done, but they had grown close, they had passed so much time together since Kevin escaped Evermore.

Neither of them would say it out loud, but they were each other’s best friend.

So when Kevin learned that his things would be thrown away from the Nest, he went into a spiral.

But when Andrew asked and Kevin couldn’t say why, Andrew made it his mission to know.

Neil had a few assumptions, but when he had been at the Nest, he had been too focused on his injuries that he wasn’t a good resource.

So Andrew contacted someone he never thought he would be speaking to. Jean.

Jean told Andrew of Kevin’s old bedroom and the things Kevin had to hide away from Riko because if he found them, Kevin would be punished. Yet he didn’t know what these secret things were. 

Thankfully, Jean knew where the hiding spot was.

The next day, Andrew took the Maserati in the early morning without a word (Neil knew but he had to act as if he didn’t), and made his way to Evermore.

Once there, he had to sneak inside, but given that the Nest was desolated for classes it was easy.

When Andrew got to where Jean had told him where the hiding spot was, he found a small shoe box.

Opening it, he found three things and Andrew immediately understood Kevin’s spiraling.

When he got back to the tower, he directly went to his dorm. Inside were Neil, Nicky and Kevin watching a game.

Andrew signaled Neil and the latter made Nicky follow him out.

“Where were you? You missed morning practice,” Kevin said as soon as they were alone.

Without a word, Andrew took the shoebox out of his bag and carefully gave it to Kevin, who took a shaky breath at the sight of it.

As soon as it was in Kevin’s hands, he opened it and carefully took the three things which were the last things he had from his mother.

A woman’s ring, a record player and a photograph. 

Tears immediately sprang from Kevin’s eyes and Andrew decided he would give Kevin his space.

“Thank you,” Kevin said as he opened the door, Andrew just nodded feeling a weird warmness in his chest.

Neil.

Andrew shows Neil his love in so many ways, helping him out during panic attacks, reminding him that he’s safe, holding his hand, kissing him, sharing a cigarette in the roof, stroking his hair when they cuddle and so much more.

But the most important thing Andrew does for Neil is letting the latter see his vulnerability and trust him with it.

It starts with simple things, Andrew letting Neil sleep with him in the same bed, cuddle together, sit on Andrew’s lap (and vice versa), etc.

But it slowly begins to increase, let Neil stay whenever he gets a nightmare and/or a panic attack, let Neil take care of him when he gets sick, let Neil cuddle on top of Andrew, let himself seek comfort in Neil, Andrew letting Neil take his armbands off, see and touch them.

It takes a long time, but Neil doesn’t mind, those little things are more than enough for him and he doesn’t expect more from Andrew, but welcomes this little things and holds onto them with all of him.

Bonus:

Wymack. 

Wymack is always threatening his foxes with running marathons and says that their personal stuff is over his pay rate, but oh doesn’t he care for them.

He works hard for them so they can have good things and safe and comfortable area for them, that’s why he had the walls on the showers made.

He loves the foxes, and they love them too.

One morning, he had to organize some piles of paperwork, but he had a stressing week and the night before he hadn’t been able to sleep good, so after a while of organizing paperwork, he decides he deserves a break.

The foxes are supposed to be in class so he doesn’t expect them until the afternoon. He goes to the lounge and lays down on the couch to “rest his eyes”.

He falls asleep almost instantly.

Andrew had forgotten something on the court after their morning practice so he decided to go now, he had finished his classes and knew that Wymack had to organize some paperwork, he was surprised to see the old man asleep.

Andrew could remember his initial fear of the man when he saw him the first time, he was tall, broad and serious, but he didn’t let it show. He had been waiting for the man to do something to him, but instead the man had respected his boundaries and didn’t ask when Andrew broke into his home in the late night and made himself a pot of hot cocoa (which had been bought for this reason).

So quietly, Andrew went to Wymack’s office and organized his paperwork, marking those who were missing one or two things with a post it and leaving right after he was done, not expecting the man to know it was him.

When Wymack woke up and walked back to his office he was surprised to see that his paperwork was organized. He mentally questioned who it was but when he read the post its he immediately knew it was Andrew, he knew all of his children’s handwritings, and made sure he bought Andrew’s favorite  chocolate ice cream.

Abby. 

Abby was the first one, apart from Bee, to see his scars. 

The first time she had tried to say something but she had seen something in his face because he didn’t and let him place the armbands back on.

After that she looked away when he took them off and just glanced at them for a second to make sure there were no track marks before turning around again so he could put the armbands back on.

(She knew there would not be track marks, so she just looked at them so there would be no new ones, he cared for her foxes.)

And during the physical exam, she made sure not to touch him more than necessary. 

Abby checks on Bee asking if he’s okay, she never expects an in depth answer, just a confirmation and she feels relief when Bee tells her that he is getting better.

On one of his sessions with Bee, she suggests Andrew that he should tell someone about his scars, preferably someone who has already seen them. 

Andrew knows what Bee is trying and Bee knows that Andrew knows and Andrew knows Bee knows that Andrew knows.

In the end, he does tell Abby. He keeps it vague and watches her reaction, waiting for a small expression change, but thankfully Abby just listens, and shows no pity, knowing that Andrew would hate it and does not comment.

When he’s done, she just nods and thanks him for telling her and when Andrew leaves, Abby lets the tears she had retained out.

She keeps the truth guarded with her life, glad Andrew trust her enough to say this.

Bee.

It is not a secret that Andrew sees Bee like his mother figure, out of all the woman in his life she was the only one that he didn’t feel the need to be unlike himself, she loved him just the way he was.

It was scary at first, his mind supplied that it would be just like Cass, he just had to wait for the other shoe to come down.

It never did.

So he found himself driving to her office when he needed to understand something or he was just not in a good mental place.

He would also call her when he didn’t have the energy to move.

She was on one of his sides during Aarons trial, helping him keep his cool when he felt like he needed to punch something.

When it had been his turn to say his testimony, he had looked at her and Neil, remembering that they would be with him and that they would show no pity to him.

So the day before Mother’s day, when him and Neil were shopping for clothes, and he saw a coffee mug in the shape of a bee hive that read “To the Bee-st mom” he had to buy it.

The next day he arrives to her office and leaves the cup before leaving without a word.

It fills Bee’s heart when she reads it but knows best than to comment of it on their next session.

But if she uses it everyday and it becomes her favorite mug, no one has to know.

Look at me posting three days in a row, I’m proud of myself ngl. Anyways, have this, hope you like it, I tried my best and this is honestly the longest “headcanon” I’ve ever written.

#all for the game #aftg #headcanon #andrew minyard #the foxes #allison reynolds #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #kevin day #neil josten #david wymack #abby winfield #betsy dobson #andreil #the foxhole court #the raven king #the kings men #Andrew Minyard shows his love through actions #This is much longer than I anticipated #The foxes are a family #Wymack is the foxes dad #Abby is their mom #Except Andrew's she's more like an aunt to him #Bee is Andrew's mom #This took me more than an hour to write #please be nice to it #Also

[harryspet]

sweet sister | peter parker

[Warnings] dark peter parker x innocent reader, reader is extremely innocent, manipulation, male/female masturbation, somnophilia, stepcest, hj, vaginal sex but not really? 

A/N: This is based off a request I got for a innocent reader where Peter teachers her about sex. Reader is 18 and Peter is around 21. DARK THEMES SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

In which you’re May and Happy’s foster kid and Peter takes advantage of your innocence. 

Like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 2.9k

You came home from school like it was a normal day. Walking up the steps to your family’s brownstone, clad in your school uniform, and loud music blaring in your headphones, “May!” You shouted too loudly, walking down the hallway towards the kitchen, “Did my package come?”

You stopped in your tracks as you saw three figures standing in the living room. Happy, May, and … some kid you didn’t know. Your eyebrows raised in confusion at the young man standing with your foster parents. 

“Y/N, this is my son Peter!” May smiled, trying not to be awkward. She approached you, urging you forward. Now you recognized him and your eyes widened because of how easily you missed it. He was in all the photos on the mantle but, now, he looked a bit older. 

You were not what Peter expected, at all. By May’s description of you, he thought you might be a middle schooler. His eyes trailed over you, the way you filled out your uniform … Peter snapped out of it, moving forward to hold out his hand to you.

“Hi, I’m-” Interrupting him and surprising him at the same time, you went in for a hug. Peter hesitated for a moment before hugging you back. You noticed he had a strong grip. 

“She’s a hugger,” You heard May whisper. 

You pulled away and offered your hand for him to shake. He took it, smiling, but still a little confused by the long greeting, “I’m Y/N. You look just like May! I mean, you’re very pretty like her.” Happy always went on about how pretty May was and you always agreed. 

You watched as his cheeks reddened. Was it something you said? ''Thank you very much, I haven’t heard that one before.”

You looked back at May who seemed to improve the interaction. You smiled, worrying that you had made him nervous, “Peter finally has a break from his busy schedule to come see us. He’ll be here with us for at least a week. May and I thought this would be a good time for you two to get to know each other.” 

May had taken you in two years ago but this was the first time you were officially meeting Peter. He was always halfway around the world fighting crime and could only stop at May’s work every once and awhile. You never thought you’d ever have a full family like all the people on the television did. 

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” You heard Peter say and your heart did a little backflip. Your very own big brother.  “What’s this about a package?” 

“Oh,” Your face fell, “Uhm, they’re just books.”

Peter gave you a look of inquiry, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “You like to read? What kind of books?”

You opened your mouth to make up some excuse but Happy interrupted you, “I put your package on your bed, sweetheart. Why don’t you show Peter his new room?” Right, you had taken Peter’s old room. 

“Okay!” You perked back up, glad the subject of books was over, “Follow me, big brother!”

That was easy, Peter thought. She didn’t seem to give a second thought about accepting him which was endearing but scared Peter to a certain extent. How trusting was she exactly? May had warned him that she was a little eccentric … and a little emotional. 

Peter tried to keep his focus up as he followed you up the stairs. A part of him was a little let down that you were wearing shorts beneath your plaid skirt. 

“May says you have like a sixth sense. And that you can sense when danger is near. She talks about you a lot, you know? You call it a Peter tingle, right? I thought that was a really cute name but I’m not supposed to bring it up around you apparently-” You were rambling, as usual, and had passed your bedroom but you noticed that Peter wasn’t following you anymore. 

“You made it pink,” You heard Peter say as he peeked into your room. He adjusted the black backpack on his shoulder and you couldn’t help but notice his muscles. He was like the boys you read about in your books but … he was technically your stepbrother. 

You walked toward him, “May said I could decorate it how I wanted. Do you hate it? You hate it, don’t you? I’m really sorry. It’s just that it’s my favorite color and-”

“No way, I like it!” He quickly assured you, not wanting to see what happened when you finally ran out of air. Peter walked inside and you followed him. There was no twin bed anymore but a regular-sized bed with a white canopy. 

There was a pile of stuffed animals in the corner that Peter noted, “You have a lot of stuffed animals …”

“Those are the ones they give you in family court,” You explained to him before pointing over to your bed, “I keep the ones Happy and May give me on the bed, those are my favorite.”

“I see,” You spoke so casually about being in family court that it made Peter wonder what your story was. There were at least ten stuffed animals there, “Which one’s your favorite?”

You liked that question, smiling wide, as you walked over to your bed. Peter watched you carefully as you bent over to grab a gray penguin, “I like penguins a lot. My first Christmas here, May got me this and a penguin puzzle. I’ve done it a million times now but we could put it together if you wanted.”

“I can’t imagine anything better, Y/N.”

You were going to be very fun to get to know, Peter thought. 

+

The family had gone out to dinner that night and had been the rest of the evening putting together a hundred piece, penguin puzzle. It was one of the best days of your life and, as you expected, having a family was wonderful. Having Peter was just an extra bonus. You wished he didn’t have to leave. 

The next day, as you walked down the steps that lead from your school, you didn’t expect to find Peter waiting for you. You ran up to him and hugged him, of course, and you savored the moment when his strong arms were around you. Some girls you didn’t know gasped and practically swooned as they watched you two. 

“I have strict orders to take you straight home so you can start right away on your homework,” You frowned until Peter continued, “But I think we should stop for ice cream.”

You were practically bouncing with excitement as Peter grabbed your hand and lead you down the street. 

At the small parlor, you licked at a cone of chocolate ice cream while Peter stuck his spoon into his ice cream sundae. Peter’s eyes wandered over to your mouth, imagining your wrap your lips around his-

“You never said what you liked to read, Y/N.”

You blushed, your nose wrinkling, as the embarrassment filled you, “It’s silly … you don’t want to hear about it.”

“I do,” Peter insisted, “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

You took a breath, “They’re … they’re romance novels. It’s a series one of my friends at school told me about. She thinks I’m too … too babyish. Apparently, there are scenes in it ... “

“Scenes like what?” You blushed even more. 

“Bad scenes,” you whispered and Peter pretended to think the subject was taboo, “She wants me to learn about … dirty stuff. These guys are taking us to prom and she wants … she wants us to have our ‘first times’ together. I don’t even know what that means! But I can’t tell her that or she’ll think I’m even weirder than I already am to her.”

Buried treasure. Peter had stumbled upon pure gold.

“Y/N, you’re talking about sex?” Peter narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Sex?” You spoke the word like it was completely foreign on your tongue, “I think that’s it. Sounds gross, right?”

Peter couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’s kinda gross if you think about it too deeply but it’s not meant to be gross. It’s not as scary as you think. It’s quite beautiful, actually.”

Her eyes went wide, “You’ve done it a bunch, haven’t you?”

Peter shrugged, “A few times but only with special people. If the guy who’s taking you to prom isn’t special then you definitely shouldn’t give him your first time.” Peter would have to do some research on this guy and make sure he didn’t even think about coming near her. 

You looked solemnly at your melting ice cream, “I must be a total weirdo then …”

“You’re not, Y/N, trust me. Eighteen is still young.”

You leaned forward, whispering, “I haven’t even kissed anyone, Peter. People do that in middle school.”

Peter leaned forward next, entrancing you with his eyes, “Do you really want to get some experience? Because … I could help you. I’m probably better than those trashy books.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Do brothers and sisters normally talk about stuff like this?”

“Don’t you want to be friends too?” You instantly nodded, “Then I can help you out, as a brother and a friend. But if you want to read your books-”

“No, no, you can teach me!”

And you easily stepped into his trap. 

+

That night, Peter slipped out of his room clad in his pajamas. Your door slowly creaked open and you sat up in your bed. You rubbed the tired from your eyes as Peter peaked in, “My room is freezing … and I can hear Happy snoring through the walls.”

You pulled back your comforter, patting the spot next to you, “You can sleep in here with me,” Peter entered all the way before slowly shutting the door. 

“Really? I can sleep on the floor …” 

You shook your head, “It’ll be like a sleepover.”

Peter moved in the darkness, climbing in beside you. You pulled the covers over him and you both lay down. Peter watched as you turned over before tiredly murmuring, “Goodnight, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Peter waited a good hour before moving closer to you. In a slow movement, he had pressed himself against you, taking in the scent of your hair, as he admired the lines of your body. It was a risk but he touched your waist, his hands trailing over to your stomach. He felt the soft skin of your back as well before reaching into his pants. 

He touched himself to the thought of you and he almost panicked as you moved. You turned to your other side, not facing him. Watching your sleeping face sent Peter over the edge and he muffled his grunts with a pillow. 

He wasn’t in your bed when you awoke the next morning. 

+

Happy had surprised May with a romantic dinner that night so Peter and you were left alone that evening. You were brushing your teeth in your jack and jill bathroom when Peter walked in suddenly. You looked over to see him only wearing a pair of basketball shorts. 

You blushed, looking back at the mirror before spitting out the foam in your mouth. He stalked closer to you and you noticed something different in the look in his eyes, “I was thinking something, Y/N, about what you told me at the ice cream shop.”

You put away your toothbrush, turning off the sink before wiping your mouth with a hand towel, “I thought you had forgotten …” 

Peter smirked, “Far from it, actually. I was thinking about how you said you want more experience. With kissing boys and things like that, right?”

You nodded slowly, growing nervous. 

“I think the first thing you should learn is how to pleasure yourself before you learn about pleasuring someone else,” He held your hand, rubbing soothing circles into your palm. 

“Pleasure?”

Peter nodded, “Sex is all about pleasure,” Peter held your hand it slowly brought it against his crotch. You felt something hard and flinched away, “It’s okay, don’t worry.” 

It was such a weird feeling. Only recently had you learned that boys and girls even had different parts. 

“Right here is where guys can feel pleasure,” Then Peter reached out to touch you. Through the fabric of pajama pants, you could feel his fingers brush against your folds, “This is where girl’s feel pleasure. Let me show you.”

He assured you that everything was going to be okay as he slid down your shorts. Before you could step out of them, Peter swiftly lifted you onto the counter and you yelped at the sudden movement. 

He took your hand and pressed your fingers against your crotch. He tried to guide you as best as he could, standing between your spread legs, “Oh my stars …” You breathed out, savoring the foreign new feeling. You wanted to run away from it and run to it at the same time. You looked at Peter with frightened eyes as he slowly moved his hands away.

“That’s it, good girl, keep rubbing,” He praised you, loving the sight of you discovering your own body. You kept going, rubbing circles over that sensitive area through your light pink panties. You leaned back, lifting a leg on the counter, so you could get a better angle.

“Is this good Peter?”

“You’re doing great, Y/N. Doesn’t that feel good?”

You nodded, practically whimpering. You looked at Peter differently than before, you didn’t see the boy you saw before. You thought about how handsome he was and how sweet he’s been to you all week. You felt the wetness growing beneath your legs and you blushed as you look down, “Peter, I-I  think I’m peeing …”

Peter gave you an amused smile, “That just means that you like it, Y/N. That you’re aroused,” Peter grabbed your hand and moved it away from your crotch. You found yourself missing the feeling and you watched as he slid off his pants and underwear. The sight of his manhood felt foreign but aroused you at the same time. 

Peter slowly palmed his manhood as he leaned into you. You practically froze as his lips touched yours. He didn’t even have to speak because as he slowly left soft pecks on your lips, you started to lean back into him. Your hands touched his neck as you started to move your lips against his. You liked it … No, you loved it, “Your lips feel squishy,” You gushed and Peter laughed, turning his head as the kiss became more passionate. 

You let your leg fall back over the counter and, as it did, Peter slowly slid off your underwear. Then suddenly, he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you into your room. He sat on your bed, leading you to straddle him. 

“I want to try something,” Peter said before pecking your lips again. 

You were all in. 

He laid back on your bed, and you sat on his legs, “Touch my cock,” You thought the word was silly but you could tell what he meant. It felt harder than you expected and as you gripped it on your hand, a guttural moan exploded from Peter, “Spit on it.”

“Peter-”

“It’s okay, it’ll feel better that way,” He tried to assure you and you hesitated before pulling your hair back. The trail of spit fell onto his member and you felt gross for a moment until you saw his reaction. 

That sound he was making you even wetter. 

Peter grabbed your legs, pulling you up more until your private parts were positioned right over his, “I want you to rub yourself against me, can you do that?” Peter asked. With all his fantasies coming true, he wasn’t sure how long he’d last. 

You nodded. You held onto Peter’s chest as you slowly dragged your private parts against his. His cock was pressed against his stomach and your lips moved up and down his length. You felt it then. That pleasure and his pleasure mixing. You kept going, starting to feel something building up in your core. 

You bit down on your lips, liking the feeling of when his tip rubbed against your sensitive bulb. Your wetness acting as even more lubrication, you thought you were making quite the mess but Peter didn’t seem to mind. 

You moved faster, Peter’s groans encouraging you and your curiosity of that thing building up inside you kept you going. Your toes curled as you got the feeling of a waterfall rushing off a cliff. Your mind went blank for a moment and your body shook as that damn finally broke. 

You moaned, riding out the feeling and that's' when you felt Peter convulsing. You felt his cock twitch as white spilled from the tip of his member and onto his stomach. Peter’s head rested all the way back and you couldn’t help but smile as you realized that you had both reached your tipping points. 

“Well, was that it? Did I do sex?”

“Sort of,” Peter said, completely out of breath. The eagerness in your eyes wasn’t something he expected, “You have a lot more to learn, Y/N.”

“Then can we do it again, Peter?”

+

Hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to check out my masterlist for more Peter fics! There is a short sequel to this! 

PART TWO

#dark peter #peter parker x reader #dark peter parker #dark!peter #stepbrother #stepsister #mcu smut #marvel smut #mcu x reader #mcu #dark marvel #oneshot #peter one shot #tom holland #tom holland x reader #au #peter parker au #ariana grande

[tummytings]

// First original fic! I was unsure about how best to write this. Please let me know whether y'all like an A/B format like this or would prefer more fleshed out original characters! //

The setup is a couple who have spent the evening gorging on food and alcohol. This can either be early on in their relationship or at a later stage where they've grown apart a bit and are trying to reconnect.

"I ate too much pizza," B whines, rolling onto their back and subtly scooting towards A in a way that makes it obvious they're still the tiniest bit tipsy. Less guarded than usual.

"Aww," A coos, smiling. They reach out and poke B's taut belly teasingly. It's visibly very bloated and feels tight and warm. Hesitantly, they rub their fingers gently back and forth a few times over the tight crest before pulling back their hand.

"Mmm, will you keep rubbing?" B whimpers. "Please. I have such a bad tummy ache."

"Of course," A says quietly, taken by surprise. "C'mere."

B shuffles their body closer to A with a quiet groan and A pulls them carefully into a semi-spooning position, stroking their hair as they settle in behind them.

A rubs back and forth gently and rhythmically. B arches their back, pushing their swollen belly into A's palm. A applies the slightest bit of pressure as they begin rubbing in controlled circles, careful not to jostle.

B moans appreciatively and closes their eyes but they still feel tense, every now and then releasing a ragged breath.

"Try to relax," B whispers, running their fingertips slowly back and forth across the underneath of A's overstuffed gut.

"I ate too much," B says, their mouth heavy with saliva. "I drank too much. I don't feel good."

"Do you need to throw up?" A asks plainly, mentally making a note of the nearest trash can.

"No," says A after a moment. They lay their hand just above their navel before groaning and clutching the sheets instead. "Just so fucking full and bloated." They sound like they're having trouble taking in a full breath.

"Your poor belly's pretty distended. Just try to relax and let everything settle," B says sympathetically.

B exhales and lets their eyes flutter shut. A smiles. B's breathing eventually evens out into a light sleep and A lightens their touch, still stroking slowly as they start to nod off themselves...

...

"Hnng, baby, it hurts," A is awakened by B's heightened moaning and writhing up against them. A little while has passed but A can still smell the tell-tale sweetness of alcohol lingering on their breath.

"I know, love, I'm sorry," A replies softly and rests their hand back on B's abdomen. Under their palm they can feel the tiniest gurgle reverberate through B's otherwise rock-hard belly. B shifts uncomfortably.

"Fuck, why did I eat so much." It's unclear if B is still fairly inebriated or just tired but their voice carries a twinge of panic. "It feels like rocks in my gut."

"Shh," A whispers, gliding their hands back and forth down to the bottom of B's belly. They palm the underside and B instantly relaxes, then arches to push the lowest part of their belly into A's hand.

Palm still applying pressure, A uses their thumb to massage the lower part of B's gut. Suddenly they feel a rumble and B lets out a sickly sounding burp, followed by a moan.

B rolls their body away just slightly, tucking their back into A and pressing their own hand into the side of their belly.

"It hurts," they moan quietly, pausing for another shallow, queasy-sounding burp. "I'm so full."

"Everything just needs to digest." A thinks back to their earlier meal, all the greasy food washed down with sugary and alcoholic drinks. For the first time they notice the heaviness in their own stomach.

"It feels like nothing is moving," says B, grimacing as they push a hand into their bloated belly just below the navel. They pull their knees up a little and their voice cracks with exhaustion. "Fuck, it hurts so bad."

"Oh, baby" A sighs, pulling them back into their arms. Trying to hide the wince as their own belly is jostled.

"I'm sorry," B whimpers, sobered slightly and suddenly aware that A might not be feeling great either.

"Shut up and let me take care of you," A replies with mock annoyance, then whispers, "You can take care of me later."

B turns around just enough to kiss them before doubling over as a harsh cramp shoots through their torso.

"Mmm, my stomach!" Then softly, "My tummy hurts so bad."

A might have found the semi-drunken baby talk amusing if it didn't also break their heart a little. Gently they coax B back against them, B's back pressed against A's own silently-worsening belly.

A instructs them to bend their knees, then leans over and props a pillow underneath A's heavy belly. B's belly is cramping more often now, causing them to tense up and moan pitifully.

"I've got you." A runs their hands softly up and down the sides of B's angry, bloated gut, doing their best to comfort but feeling increasingly helpless.

"Make it stop," B begs and inhales sharply following an especially long and painful cramp. B grabs A's hand with both of theirs and presses it into the middle of their belly as they whimper and draw up their knees.

"Oh, love." A pulls in as close as they can. "Just breathe, baby. It'll pass."

A runs their hands all around B's tight belly, which is now intermittently letting out miserable-sounding gurgles.

A takes a deep breath and moves their hands over B's belly button. "Maybe we can try to get things moving." They hesitate for just a moment. "Get some of that trapped gas out."

B just moans.

A continues, "This will probably be a little uncomfortable. If it's too much just tell me to stop, OK?"

Another small moan from B.

A sighs in genuine sadness, then starts carefully massaging, up and around and down. Alternating small circles with deeper massage, and occasionally stopping to run their hands lightly and tenderly all over B's abdomen. B squirms and moans at times but doesn't protest.

Suddenly A can feel intense bubbling down the side of B's swollen gut.

"Ahh" B confirms, voice rising in pain.

"I know baby, just try to relax," A says as calmly as possible, focused on massaging out the area.

"Ahh, ahh," B wriggles but A is unrelenting, fingertips kneading, trying to ignore the grunts of pain. They can feel the pocket moving, dissipating.

"Mmm," B continues to protest weakly, drawing their legs up so that they're almost in a fetal position.

Without warning, B vibrates A's lap with a momentous, involuntary fart. It's warm and sour, the culmination of all the night's earlier overindulgences.

B lets out a long sigh of pure relief before the reality of the moment sinks in...

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," B shuffles their body forward, their embarrassment hanging in the air along with their gas.

"Don't be silly," A says, unfazed. "That was the point. If you can let it out then let it out."

A reaches for B again, ignoring the intense pain in their own belly. "I just want you to feel better."

...

// What should happen next? Does B switch to caring for A or do they both care for each other? Does someone get sick or have an accident in the bed? Maybe they mess around to feel better. Let me know if/what you want to see in part 2! //

#tummy ache #belly ache #stuffed belly ache #belly ache kink #sic fic #stuffed