#but anyway there's nothing really graphic here

[cys-fic-library]

Nighttime Affairs (The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x Reader)

You and the Ghoul, Cooper Howard, have a complicated relationship with each other. One which involves him paying you some nightly visits when he passes on by that little home of yours out in the lonesome wasteland.

Warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, bit of orgasm denial, bit of dirty talking, creampie, biting (its cooper i dunno what you expect, he's going to bite you), oral - reader receiving, complicated relationship, bit of yearning/pinning, fluff, cuddling, kissing, splash of angst, not beta read

Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x gn!afab!Reader (reader's gender is never mentioned but they do have a vagina)

Wordcount: 4256

a/n: made the smut a bit angsty at the end there by mistake. whoopsie daisies. Anyway, like it says above readers gender is never mentioned. But they do have a vagina (because I have a vagina, and I want to fuck the ghoul). Nothing about reader's chest is ever mentioned either. Also I usually write fluff/non smut fics, and only tend to post that. I have written smut before, but this is just my first time actually sharing some of it. So like ;-; Okie dokie? okie dokie.

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics (much love j ❤️)

Nights in the wasteland were always a deadly affair. All sort of creatures made themselves known—both human and non-human alike—never having the friendliest of tendencies. It was why you always made sure that your windows remained boarded up. Double checking the door of your home to be firmly locked, before finally making your way to bed.

You always kept a gun hidden beneath your pillow as you slept. Easy to grab in case of a break in. Acting like a sort of safety blanket. Hoping that such a comfort would help you sleep soundly, though most nights you still found it difficult. Restlessness haunted you. Plagued your mind. Never truly able to rest easily—not with danger lurking around ever dark corner. 

 Sometimes that unease proved helpful. Such as tonight, while on the brink of sweet slumber, there had been a shift in the room. The sound of worn floorboards creaking jolting you awake. It wouldn’t be the first time some wanderer had tried to get the jump on you in the middle of the night. 

Hand quick to grab your gun, you point it at the new body in the room. Adrenaline pumping in your veins. Heart on edge. Ready to fire at a moment's notice. 

“Easy there sweetheart.” 

Your tired eyes blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to clear away your sleep clouded vision enough to properly comprehend the familiar figure currently standing in the center of your tiny room. 

“Cooper?” 

The Ghoul grinned at you in the darkness. Hazel eyes almost seeming to shine from the moonlight that managed to filter in. His head had tilted to motion to the gun in your hand. An amused hum leaving him. “Bit of a rude way to greet your guests.” 

“Wouldn’t call you much of a guest.” You lowered the gun and rubbed at your face with a sigh. “More of a nuisance if anything.” 

“Aw, your words wound me darlin’.” His words drawn out and mocking, as he feigned being hurt, before he had turned from you to continue removing his gear. Setting it all wherever he liked in your room. Acting almost as if he owned the place. Not a care in the world that he was currently invading your home uninvited. Again. 

You could only seem to roll your eyes as you watched him. “What are you doing here so late?” 

“Oh just passin’ through.” The Ghoul said with a casual hum. Pulling out his own gun, its barrel glinting just as his gaze had earlier, before he set it on your nightstand. The tossing of his hat onto your bedpost quickly following. “Needed a place to stay.” 

It hadn’t been a question. He wasn’t asking. Never really did when he chose to invite himself into your home. It used to scare you way back when you first met the Ghoul. You never knew if the next time he came would be the one where you met with a bullet. 

But you learned quickly that Cooper only ever did what he felt he needed to. Wouldn’t take the life of someone he found to be useful. He didn’t kill pointlessly like that. Everything had a reason with him. Even if you couldn’t quite see it at first. 

“Well why don’t just make yourself at home then.” You grumbled. Annoyed. A bit more bite to your words then usual. Though it hadn’t seemed to phase him in the slightest. 

“Already on it sweetheart.” 

You glared at him, but he continued to barely pay any mind to it. As you went to put your own gun back beneath the pillow, you had laid down again. Rolling to face the wall, and letting out a tired breath, as you tried to settle. Let the exhaustion claw at your mind and allow your eyes to flutter close. Trying to ignore him just as he did to you. “Just don’t make a mess.” 

The Ghoul hadn’t replied. Which had been a surprise. He always seemed to have something to say. But there was none of that. Instead there was only the sound of more shuffling in the room before the bed finally shifted with his added weight. Pulling you back from the brink of sleep just enough, as he joined you among the tattered sheets.

 Your bed was cramped. Meant for only a single soul, and yet that never seemed to bother him as he fit himself in how he liked. It didn’t take very long for you to feel the press of his cool body against yours. An arm finding itself around your waist, as lips sought out your neck and trailed over your skin. 

“Sleeping.” You said. Quiet. But still you shifted. Legs parting ever so slightly. An invitation you knew he wouldn’t refuse. 

You allowed him to take what he wanted—his true reason for being here—and he did so greedily. Without any ounce of hesitation, bare fingers smoothing down and slipping past the waistband of your pants into their front. Immediately finding the prize he wanted. Your breath hitching as they ghosted over your clit. Teasing. 

“Then sleep.” Lips caressed your ear. His breath hot on your skin. Rough hands had molded you into his liking. Feeling yourself growing wet beneath his fingers all too quickly, as two of them slipped into your heat at first chance. “Don’t bother me, none.” 

Desire bloomed inside you. Arousal coiling tight. He left marks where he could. Harsh kisses that had teeth grazing your skin. Fingers moving inside of you to pull any sound from your lips that he could. Touching you in ways that had you burning, as if you would be engulfed in flames at any second. Toying with your body and purposely bringing you so close to the edge without ever actually bothering to send you over. 

“Stop teasing.” You had shifted again. Trying to provide more space for his devilish hands.  Moving yourself against him to seek the feeling you so desired—that last bit of pleasure that he denied you so easily, and would continue to do so. 

“I thought you were sleeping.” His words had a teasing tone to their depths, as he nipped at your skin. Pressing himself closer. Grinding. His own arousal hard against your hip. Just as worked up as you were it seemed. But somehow still not nearly as desperate. 

“Was trying to.” You sighed out a moan. Leaning impossibly close into him. Hand gripping at his wrist tight as he worked you. Letting his touch consume your very being. “Hard to sleep with someone messing around in my pants.” 

The Ghoul chuckled. “Well let’s fix that then.” 

And suddenly his hands were slipping away. 

You felt your eyes open at the loss of him. Hadn’t even realized they were still closed until that moment. You had gone to protest. Reaching out in the darkness to try and stop him from leaving. But he hadn’t gone far. He had moved you to lay fully onto your back before you could really react. Your pants and underwear removed by him in an instant. Lost to the dark depth of your room's floor. Not to be seen again until morning light. 

The Ghoul loomed over you. Eyes amused, and hands gripping your thighs. He spreads your legs out for himself wide. Exposing your arosural bare before his gaze into the open room. Fitting himself comfortably in between. Almost like there was nowhere else he belonged in the world. Ready to devour you whole. 

And what was worse is that you’d gladly let him do so too. 

“Fucking filthy thing you are.” He had whistled as he looked down at the debauched display he had made of you already. Fingers moving below to run along your dripping lips. Sending another shiver of pleasure up your spine. “You’re soaking and yet I’ve barely done a thing.” 

You couldn’t help but squirm a bit beneath him. He hadn’t bothered to remove any of his own clothes, save for the jacket and gloves he must have tossed somewhere in your room. He never really did remove his clothes when fucked you. Couldn’t remember anytime you had even seen him without a shirt. 

At first you thought he had been shy over his predicament. He wouldn’t have been the first ghoul you met to have struggled with the change after all. But that had been a foolish thought, because Cooper Howard wasn’t ever shy. It was just another thing he couldn’t be bothered with. 

It wasn’t worth it to him to remove, simply put. Probably even still had his boots on at the moment. Trucking sand and only god knows what into your bed. You’d usually lecture him for it. But like with many things tonight, he wouldn’t give you the chance. 

Before you knew it he had leaned down to put his mouth on you. Sucking at your clit. Lips and tongue working you in all the right places. Fingers gripping your thighs to keep you open for him. Devouring you whole, almost like he had been starved for days. 

It didn’t take much of this for you to be brought to that edge. It had been so long since you last saw him—last had him—and his skillful tongue had your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your one hand fisting the sheets below while the other reached for his scarred head. Pulling him in impossibly close. Trying to keep him there. But true to his nature just as you felt those sparks begin to fly he stopped. Lips leaving you and letting your pleasure fall. Hot breath only fanning over your soaked folds. 

He did this often. Riled you up to the point of breaking. Allowing your pleasure to grow high before sending it crashing down again suddenly. Denying that bliss you always found yourself so desperate for when with him. 

Most nights you were brought to tears by it. Begging him to let you have that sweet release. Frustration with his teasing at its peak. Tonight you did not beg or plead though, not yet at least, instead you sat up to lean onto your elbows. Insult for him at the tip of your tongue, ready to lecture him for all he was worth, but any complaint you had quickly died in your throat.

 The Ghoul had bit your thigh. Hard. Whether to silence you, or just because he wanted to, you didn’t know. You just gasped. Trying to pull away, though his hands remained firm. Fingers digging into your skin almost too harshly and holding you in place. Only finally pulling back just enough to swipe his tongue over the mark he left. 

You had winced from the pain, the mark aching, but despite it your arousal only seemed to course through you still. Stronger even. “That was just mean.”

“You like when I’m mean.” He smirked as he sat up again to overlook you. Your blood still staining his lips. “Besides, you’re supposed to be sleeping. Remember?” 

“Yeah and who’s fault is it that I’m not?” 

“No idea what you mean sweetheart.” The Ghoul had let go of your legs then. Leaning back onto his knees to free himself. Belt unbuckling to pull out his aching cock. Squeezing himself briefly before guiding it to your drenched hole. Teasing at your folds.  “Just here enjoying what was given to me after all.” 

It was quick the way he entered. No ceremony or grace. No time to say another single word between you two. Barely gave time for you to gasp again. Sending a shock through your system. He didn’t wait. Thrusts downright filthy as he took you all for himself. Both of your moans and heated breaths filling the room. The air suddenly feeling suffocating and hot. 

Your hands had gripped at his forearms, hoping to ground yourself and failing miserably, all while his own fingers dug into your hips. You tried to meet his own cruel thrusts, but the rhythm he had set  was unrelenting. Pleasure all too consuming. He was right. You liked when he was mean. Liked how rough he was—enjoying how he just took and took from you. He filled you in ways that you knew ruined you for anyone else. And yet still you loved it all so very much. 

You were getting close again. Could feel your peak just at the horizon. Waiting to burst. You moved your hand. Fingers desperate to finally bring yourself that last bit of pleasure to send you over the edge that you’ve desired all night. The one he’s been denying you all evening. But of course he notices immediately. Knocking your hand away before you get any chance. 

“Not yet.” 

You all but whine at his words. Almost pathetically so. Tears finally prickling at the corner of your eyes from being denied by him once again. “Cooper.” 

“You know the rules.” He thrusts a little more roughly as if to punish you. A warning. “You take what I give you.” 

“Please.” 

“Look at you, the mess you are.” He groans out at your begging. Eyes burning hot with desire. Thrusts still unwavering.  “You’d let me do whatever I want to you if it meant I fucked you, wouldn’t you?” 

He had chuckled as you could only seem to nod. Clinging to him. Any kind of words from your lips caught between gasps and moans. You were so overwhelmed. The air was too hot. Everything felt too much but too little at the same time. And it was all because of him. The Ghoul who seemed all too good at taking you apart piece by piece. The mess you were was his fault, and he knew it—reveled in it.

 You could never seem to get enough of him, and he knew it too. He could give you everything or nothing, and you’d still thank him for each little bit of it. He was the same. Even if he would never admit it. He always needed more of you. Both of you were addicted to the other. Needed to feel him just like he needed to feel you. Like a chem neither of you could shake. Didn’t want to shake. 

Cooper’s thrusts had begun to grow sloppy now. His breathing more ragged. Hands squeezing your hips so tightly you were sure to bruise by morning. Your head was swimming. Drowning in the pleasure and losing it in the feeling of him. Mind too far gone to think of anything else. A mere mess of moans and gasps, as tears streamed down your cheeks. So close to unraveling at the seams for him. All just for him. 

When he reached his end he didn’t give you any kind of warning save for a low moaned fuck. Making sure to thrust into you deeply. As far as he could go. His cum filling you to the brim as he did. It was only then when his fingers found your clit again. Rubbing the nub in harsh brutal circles that finally sent you crashing over as well. Ripping your orgasm from your body like he was owed nothing less. 

“There you are, take all of me.” He groaned out as you squeezed and clenched around him. Breathless. Eyes watching how you came undone. Making sure to take in every bit of you that he could as you lost it beneath him. “Come for me darlin’.” 

Your nerves felt on edge as the pleasure wrecked through your system. Body shaking while you could only seem to cling to him tighter. Hands fisted into his shirt and your legs squeezing around his hips, trapping his form to yours all while riding out your orgasm. 

It wouldn’t be until the high began to dwindle where your mind would begin to clear again. A gentle throb at your core. Your body relaxed in his arms, limbs growing heavy, and breath beginning to return. The night's air starting to feel cool against your heated skin. 

He hadn’t pulled out yet. Just stayed inside with the mess he made, as you both came down from your pleasure. Your oversensitive walls still clinging to his softening cock despite how completely wrecked you felt. Eventually you had almost felt sticky laying there—covered in your own sweat and grim. You tried to move away. Trying to free yourself from his grasp, but the hand he still had on your hip stopped you. Squeezing gently. 

“Cooper-” You had begun to question him, eyes fluttering open and looking to Ghoul who still hovered above, but found yourself unable to finish when you finally met his gaze. Breath and words caught in your throat all over again. 

Intense. Soft. There was a strange feeling that swarmed there in his eyes. Something you weren’t quite used to seeing from him. Something you just couldn’t place. It surprised you when he leaned in. Made your heart flutter—stomach flip—as his lips found yours. 

The Ghoul rarely kissed you, and when he did it was rough. All teeth and bite, just like everything else about him, but this kiss wasn’t anything like that. There was an odd softness to it. So gentle, and unlike anything you had ever shared with him before, but it was good all the same. Left your heart feeling like it was going to fall out of your chest right then and there.  

 It had all been fleeting though. That fluttering feeling. That sweet kiss. Lips pressed to yours only for a moment before they were gone again. Like it had never happened in the first place. Just another piece of memories from him to add to your imagination. Never to be addressed. 

There wasn’t a word spoken between you as he finally pulled out from your sensitive walls. The touch of his body—his hands—leaving you, as he moved to settle at your side again. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t help lull your head over to gaze at him. Still stuck in that dreamlike feeling. Watching. Quiet as he leaned over the bedside to rummage around in his bag. Pulling out the vials you had seen him take so many times by now. 

You still hadn’t a clue to what they were really. Knew it kept him from going feral, but beyond that you knew nothing. Which is how he liked things typically. He never told you too much. That’s just what it was always like between you two. You hadn’t even known his name till quite recently. 

It was during one of the last few times he had visited, if you recalled. Between moans and bated breaths. Pleasure so close to reaching its peak when he first told it. Cooper. You still remember how desperate he sounded. Caught off guard by the unfamiliar tone from the Ghoul you were beginning to know so well.  Name’s Cooper darlin’. And you’d never forget the way he practically crumbled to pieces as you said the name back. Soul exposed to you in ways you never thought possible with him. 

Honestly, you didn’t even think he had a soul until that moment. 

The Ghoul hadn’t been back for months after that night. For reasons you could only guess at. There was a point where you didn’t think he’d ever be back to seek you out again. But of course he was always full of surprises. Almost half a year passed until you saw him again at your doorstep. Acting as if nothing had happened since last, like he hadn’t been gone far longer then he ever had before. Familiar bite and taunting words greeting you fondly. All back to his normal self—or what was normal of him to you at least. 

“Cooper?” 

He inhales the chem. Doesn’t pay you any mind in the slightest. Which is fine. Doesn’t stop yourself from shifting closer to him. Allowing for one of your hands to trail up his chest. You feel him pausing briefly at your touch, and your eyes meet his as he glances your way. He’s unreadable as he gazes at you, hazel eyes holding yours for a mere second, before they’re focusing back to his life saving vials. 

He doesn’t go to stop you though, so you take the chance to tuck yourself into his side. Head resting on his chest. Your eyes feeling heavy once more as you do. But still you don’t sleep yet. Not when you know how little time you have left with the Ghoul. So instead your fingers draw shapes over him, and play with the button of his shirt he still never bothered to remove. 

“Thought I told you to fuckin’ sleep.” His voice brings you away from your thoughts, as he finishes up with his chem. Sounding almost annoyed, probably was, he’s not one for showing much bouts of affection after all. Doesn’t even really like when you’re clingy either. But somehow that still doesn’t stop his free arm winding itself around your waist. Holding you close.  

“Cooper…” 

“Sleep.” The Ghoul’s voice had been quiet but firm. He had pulled his hat from the bedpost to wear again, tugging it to rest over his closing eyes. “Some of us got shit to do in the morning.” 

You didn’t bother to point out how he had been the one disturbing you up till this moment. There was no point in arguing with him though. He wouldn’t listen—a stubborn bastard through and through. 

Not that you could find a good reason to do so anyway. Especially not with how your eyes kept trying to flutter shut, or how comforting it felt laying there in his arms. Listening to his breathing. His very subtle heartbeat somehow loud to your ears. 

When sleep finally took you it would be peaceful for once. Something about knowing the Ghoul was there made you feel calm. Even though you knew that it should have been the opposite. He was deadly. Could kill you in a second. But somehow that hadn’t bothered you in the slightest. Not anymore, at least. Instead it made you feel at ease.

 Safe.

The sun would be barely rising as you woke to the early light. Gentle rays illuminating your small room in a warm orange glow. You had stretched, yawning, before naturally going to feel for the Ghoul that had invaded your home last night. His spot had been empty, of course, long grown cold now that he didn’t occupy its space. 

He never stayed for long. Any night he spent with you he was always gone before you ever had the chance of waking. It’s just how he was. How things were meant to be between you two. You had understood since the very beginning, all those years ago when first taking him into your bed. 

And yet still your fingers ran over the spot. An ache settling in your heart. You knew there was no reason to be sentimental. There was no reason to miss something that wasn’t truly yours. But there was a part of you that did. A piece of you that wanted more than this—wanted what you couldn’t truly have for yourself. 

The Ghoul, Cooper Howrad. You wanted him. More than just for sex. His heart, his soul. You wanted it all. Every piece of him. Craved it even. More than you ever desired something in your entire life. That thought of being his, and him being yours rattling around in that silly little heart of yours. 

He’d never allow it. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand away from his spot and sat up. Wincing. You had almost forgotten about it. The bite mark he left on your thigh still painful. Carefully you looked it over. He hadn’t taken a chunk out of you. Thankfully. Just left you looking like some sort of chew toy like he usually did. 

It wasn’t worth a stimpak. Not like you’d ever consider using one anyway for such a minor injury. It would be a waste otherwise, and being wasteful out here meant death even on a good day. 

Sometimes you wondered if that was why he marked you up so much. As if he knew you wouldn’t bother to heal them so quickly. You wondered if he enjoyed knowing that your body carried signs of him for days. Bites and bruises like some sort of possessive claim. Every mark from him a reminder of just who exactly had left them there in the first place. 

You doubted it all the same though, he probably just thought it was fun to bite and mark you up. Probably did it to everyone he spent the night with. You were sure there were others. Even if he’s never said so, you weren’t dumb enough to think otherwise, as sad as it made you to think about sometimes. 

Leaving bed, your morning would end up being the same as any other. You’d get yourself ready, tidy up the room, and eat what little food you had. After you’d work the day away. Maybe even head into town for a little bit before heading back home. The simple mundane routine so natural to you now that it went about like clockwork. Doing what you needed to survive before the sun would fall again. The moon taking its place easily in a sky painted by shining stars. 

And as you’d lay in bed once more. You’d look out to the wasteland through those cracks in the boarded window. Wondering if he’d show, eyes searching for any kind of sign of him. Waiting—hoping—for the Ghoul to arrive again. 

But of course, he wouldn’t.

#the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard smut #fallout smut #fallout #reader insert #the ghoul #cooper howard #my fics #fallout show #fallout tv series #fallout fanfic

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊 (𝔭𝔱.2)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After finding more information about the case, Sam and Dean ask Jody if there was a possibility you could be involved with this case. And when they discover you aren’t, they realize they need to keep an eye on you before you could fall to the mark’s urges.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: loosely based on season 10, mentions blood, murder, nothing too graphic this time around (NOT ACCURATE TO THE SHOW SINCE THERE ARE PLANS FOR ALTERNATE OUTCOMES)

Dean’s arm was killing him. It was like an endless fire, relentless burning, but Dean was starting to cope a little better. At least he was able to hide it from Sam successfully so far. He said he needed the work to keep from being restless, which was mostly true, but deep down a part of it was to distract him from the mar, from you, from everything that’s happened. The vacation practically did nothing to help him as much as he wanted Sam to believe it did.

In a way, Dean was gradually beginning to feel like himself again, sure, but it was like the mark knew what was missing whether Dean wanted it or not. The fact was that even if you and Dean split, you two had a connection. And if the both of you were going to be stuck with that mark from your father, you’d have that connection until the end of time.

Sam and Dean were making their rounds through town trying to make any sort of connection to the killings at the farm, see if they had any sort of enemies with any other competing farms or if any other members of the nest made enemies outside of farming life. At the moment, Sam and Dean found themselves in a factory where one of the members named Mikey worked. They were speaking with their supervisor, Eric Raeford.

“So in the last couple of weeks that Mikey was working here, did he seem off at all? Did he act paranoid or something, any suspicions of anyone stalking him or anything like that?” Sam said while Dean took notes on a little notepad.

“No, not really. None of his coworkers seem to think so either. He seemed like just a normal guy. Gosh, I still can’t believe he was murderer like that. Do you think that family was involved in some sort of gang activity? Is it something I should be concerned about with my company?” Eric asked and Dean shook his head.

“No, I don’t think there should be any concern of your well being or that of any of these other coworkers. We’re just looking into any sort of potential connections.” Dean explained.

“Oh… I see. Well as far as I know, Mikey pretty much kept his nose clean of any problems, at least around here anyways. He always showed up to work on time, did his job the best that he could, never did anything that would cause any conflict. But he didn’t really seem to be the type of guy that would rant to any coworkers if he were going through something like this.” Eric continued.

“What about any of his family members? Have you met any of them or have there been any situations that threw up any sort of red flags?” Sam continued and Eric shook his head.

“No, not that I can think of. I didn’t know his family that well. His old man and mom that adopted him were good people, farmers. The wife made the best damn baked goods.” Eric groaned at the last part.

“Have there been any new comers in town that you’ve met recently? Anyone that claimed they were just passing through?” Dean questioned and Eric tried to search his brain for anything that seemed to stand out to him.

“You know…. I was at the bar about a week ago. There was this girl that said she was from Cincinnati taking some sort of nomadic lifestyle for a while. She seemed really nice, but she did seem to have some sort of mysterious vibe about there. And she had this funny looking mark, looked kinda tribal or something.” He said and that was when Dean looked up, brows narrowing as something troubling brewed inside him.

“Tribal mark?” Dean asked and then he started to draw the Mark of Cain before he turned the pad of paper over for Eric to take a look, “Would that be what it looked like?”

“Holy cow- yeah that’s the one! How did you know?” Eric asked, sounding amazed, while Dean had this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Just a hunch…” Dean said as he closed the notepad, tucking it in one of the hidden pockets of his suit jacket.

Sam put a hand in his pocket and pulled out this card holder before he handed one over to Eric, “If you can think of anything else you can tell us, please don’t hesitate to call us.”

“You bet. If you fellas need anything else feel free to stop by again.” Eric said, just wanting to be cooperative.

“Thanks…” And with that, the Winchesters left the factory and Dean opened the door.

When he got inside the vehicle he all but slammed the door shut behind him, “Son of a bitch…”

Sam heard the way his brother grumbled with aggravation with a hint of something else, disappointment maybe? Worry? Sam couldn't pinpoint what it was.

“Dean, you don’t think Y/N could have anything to do with this… do you?” Sam dared to ask and watched his brother grip the wheel tightly for a moment before he turned the engine on.

“Dean?”

“I don’t know, Sam. I really hope not.” Dean said before he pulled out and onto the highway, then Sam continued on.

“What if it is her? What are we going to have to do? If we kill her she’ll just turn into a demon again, sort of like when you died and came back. What the hell happened between you two that made her leave?” Sam questioned, practically interrogating his brother at this point.

“Why do you make it sound like something bad happened? After we both became human it was a mutual decision that she go her own way. I didn’t want her to go, Hell I wish she stayed so you and even Cass can monitor us so neither of us go dark side.” Dean replied.

“Dark side? That’s what you’re calling it?”

“You got a better name for it?”

Sam’s brows narrowed as he rolled his eyes before he looked out of the passenger window, “Are you ever going to talk about what happened? You both seemed to hit it off okay at least near the end.”

“It didn’t work out, alright? Can you drop it please?” Dean snapped, getting agitated with Sam lingering on the way you and him ended things.

After all, in the end things really were mutual. Dean still felt like shit for the things he said to you. And he wished that those three months with you were better than they were, then again demons weren’t exactly known for their redeeming qualities. You may have said there was nothing solid for the two of you to really learn anything abut each other, but Dean was bitter knowing that you seemed like you didn’t even want to give it a chance. Then he remembered one of the last things you said to him, something about you holding up your end when it came to helping him.

“She said she had to go find a way to help me with this blasted mark, whatever the Hell that means.” Dean grumbled.

Sam listened and he thought about the book you told him abut. We’re you looking for it while you were out who knows where doing who knows what? Then he thought about Jody, recalling her opinion about finding you again. If the mark started to effect Dean again, he didn’t deserve to go through it with people who didn’t even know what it was like. Only you’d know what he was going through, so maybe Dean wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Well… if she didn’t have anything to do with the massacre… I think we should consider looking for her.” Sam finally spoke up.

Dean was quiet and focused on the road.

“Think about it, Dean. If she was trying to help you out, what better recourses our out there than what we’ve got in the bunker? If we can track her down and figure out where she’s headed maybe we can convince her to stay.” Sam continued as if convincing Dean as best as he could.

“And what would our excuse be, huh? If she didn’t have anything to do with this case then how are we supposed to convince her to come with us?”

“Come on, man… Stop acting like an idiot. Just because things may have fallen through for you two doesn’t mean she can’t be an ally. If anything, I know you need her around even though you’re claiming not to want to think about her that much. With the way the mark affected you before when you didn’t kill, you may need Y/N for your physical health one of these days.”

The more Sam seemed to talk about you, the more Dean’s arm began to throb under the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Can we just focus on this case first with Jody before we go searching for her again? We can’t just leave her hanging if this is really our thing after all. If it turns out not to be our thing then we’ll figure it out from there.”

Sam noticed the way Dean seemed to speak through gritted teeth, which caused him to arch a brow upward.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better.” Dean replied just as he pulled up to the police station so they could talk to the sheriff.

When the two federal impersonators made it into the building, one of the officers took them to Jody’s office where she was sitting at her desk in front of her computer. She seemed to be going through some files before she looked up when the door opened, Sam and Dean saw a smile light up her face when she saw the two boys.

“Hey, you two. Any luck so far?” She inquired.

“Well… yes and no.” Sam began.

“We got in touch with Mikey’s boss, Eric Raeford. He said that he was at the bar one night and he met someone that was just passing though. Are you sure you can’t recall anybody coming into town?” Dean asked.

“Dean, kiddo, I’m a busy woman. I seldom get to people inspect if they’re new. That’s why I told you I couldn’t recall a newcomers yesterday when the two of you dropped by.” She reminded.

“Well.. could you maybe do us a favor then and see if this girl has dropped by here via train or something? Just any way to see if she’s been around or not.” Dean said, pulling out his phone to find a picture of you. When he did, he handed the device to Jody who took the phone and gazed at the photo, raising a brow.

“Her name would be…?”

“Y/N… Y/N L/N.”

“You mean-“ Jody looked over at Sam who had a hand behind his neck and an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Yeah let me see what I can do. She doesn’t look familiar right off hand. You don’t think she did it do you?” She asked and started typing your name in her computer.

“We’re just trying to find where she is. Maybe she could even help us on a case like this, maybe find out what kind of enemies your vamps had in this case or maybe she can help find the killer. Have you heard anything about witnesses?” Dean questioned.

“Well, the only witness I’ve got was actually a member of the rival farm. His name’s James, said he saw a figure wearing all black. Seemed to be more on the feminine side.” Jody said as she continued typing and she found you.

“Y/N L/N…. Tattoo artist based in Cincinnati. Based on her drivers license, she’s too tall to be our perp. Let me see if there’s any record of her leaving or coming here on some form of transportation. See if her alibi checks out.”

“You can do that?” Sam asked, unaware that Jody had footage of some kind of transportation in the first place.

“Well I had asked for it shortly after I called you boys. Wasn’t sure if a hunter would try the rail roads but figured I’d give it some sort of shot.”

Sam looked up at Dean and he tried to think of how he wanted to formulate his next thought on his mind, “What if we called Cass? Maybe he can help track her down. Or… I hate to say it but I think it would be a lot quicker if-“

“Crowley is off the table. We don’t have a use for him. He’s got the blade, probably trying to keep tabs on Cass, no. It’s just a bad idea.” Dean interjected, immediately shutting down the idea.

“Well whatever you two decide to do and whoever you decide to reach out to, the record I’m finding says she was on her way to Minnesota. If you two rush out of here then she may still be there.” Jody looked up at both the hunters.

“What do you two intend to do if her alibi checks out?” The sheriff asks and Sam shrugged a little.

“I figure maybe she could help us out with your case.” He said and Jody looked back at her computer screen.

“Frankly boys, I’m not so sure if this is a hunter or not. I don’t think it’s a monster though. I’m beginning to think I may have to call the actual feds for this one. Maybe they have this person’s files in AFIS or some of their other departments.” Jody said as she pulled up what she could about the train station.

“From what I can tell, Y/N’s alibi does check out, she arrived after the time of the killings.” She continued.

Dean heard the words and he couldn’t help but feel relieved when Jody said you weren’t here for the murder. He hated that even the slightest bit of doubt about you crept in, but in his mind the concerned seemed at least reasonable.

“Well that at least settles the matter of whether or not she was involved, but now it’s a matter of where she could be heading to next. Which I highly doubt she told anybody where she’s going. Dean, I really think we need to call someone.” Sam looked over at Dean.

“Actually… before we do anything rash, I think we need to talk to Eric again, or at least go to the bar. See if the bartender had any reactions with Y/N. Maybe she may have tossed around some ideas of where she’d go next, where in Minnesota if we’re lucky.” Dean replied then he looked over at Jody.

“And if you need anything, call us as soon as you need us. Whether you call the actual feds for your case or not, we’ll come right back here if anything goes wrong.” He said and Jody grinned.

“There’s a reason I’ve got you two on speed dial. By the way, the bar most frequented around here is Blackbird Ale. Ask for Chris.” She insisted, Dean grinned a little.

“Let’s head out Sammy, see what we and find. See you around Jody.”

With that, the two boys made there way out of the office so they could make it to the bar Jodi said to try first. It was worth a shot to try and find you.

Crowley was sitting upon his throne in Hell and he had a very old looking paper in his hand, sort of an agenda his underlings created for him when he was on his sabbatical. Yet he had his head in one of his hands, so disinterested in everything.

He recalled the day one of his demons had their little outburst, questioning the way he proceeded to rule since he went gallivanting around with the elder Winchester and yourself.

He couldn’t help but reminisce upon those times. Despite Dean such a pain in his royal behind, it was a fairly good time. You were much moor cooperative, someone that was able to keep Dean in line until you all seemed to have a falling out.

Crowley hated to admit it but he was beginning to miss the little band from hell. He missed how good of a ring it had to it, the King of Hell, with a Winchester turned Demon and the Daughter of Cain and Abbadon herself.

The three of you would have created the perfect Hell, it would be at its peak since Lucifer himself ruled, which it’s been centuries since people actually feared such a place as Hell. There must’ve been a way to bring it back to its former glory.

“Your greatness?” A timid sounding demon asked and Crowley blinked once or twice before he shifted his gaze up from the disinteresting and dull page to who had the audacity to wreck his train of thought.

“What is it now? Did you run out of souls to torment?” Crowley asked bitterly.

“I just.. wanted to inform you about an update.” The scrawny little demon said and Crowley arched a brow.

“Well? Spit it out. I have more important things to do rather than sit here and play these pathetic guessing games?”

“I-It’s about Cain’s offspring. W-we’ve located her and.. Sir, she’s human.” This seemed to peak Crowley’s interest and he set the paper down on the pile of boring papers beside his throne.

“Tell me more.” He said as he leaned forward.

“W-Well, we aren’t sure when she became human but we have reason to believe after your falling out with the older Winchester and once he became human, she may have been taken to the bunker and they may have turned her as well. We don’t know for sure of the situation leading up to that, but we have reason to believe she is somewhere in Minnesota.”

“Is that so.. And tell me, how did you come to find that out?”

“One of the crossroads demons. They said they caught a glimpse of her last night running away from Saint Paul’s Minnesota with blood on her clothes and hands. When the demon investigated where she was running from, it seemed like she had taken a life.”

Crowley lifted a brow slightly, that didn’t sound like you. After so long of hiding, it didn’t sound right that your first instinct would be to kill without at least a plan, you didn’t seem the reckless type. When it came to these things, not with all your centuries of training and your upbringing from Abbadon.

“Human life?” Crowley inquired.

“No, Sir. Seemed to be just another beastly creature a hunter would come after. We have reason to believe it was what they call a werewolf.”

“Tell me, where is she now?”

“We have reason to believe she is traveling on foot so she may still be just outside of Saint Paul’s Minnesota, we aren’t sure where she is heading next. Would you like to have one of us to track her down and have her followed to keep tabs on her?” The demon asked and Crowley shook his head.

“No. The moment she find out any of us demons are onto her, she’d kill any of us. Just because she is no longer a demon herself doesn’t mean not make her any less of a skilled murderer.” Crowley replied as he rubbed his hand over the lower half of his face, contemplating on what his move should be.

“What will you have us do then, Sir?”

Crowley went quiet as he began to formulate some sort of plan.

“If I may, Sir…” Another demon spoke up, one of Crowley’s advisors and Crowley looked over.

“From what I’m understanding according to a report from a demon close to Sioux Falls, the Winchesters are about to look for Y/N…. It seems they want to monitor her… humanity. Her well being. They may try to diminish her.. talents for lack of a better word.” Crowley lifted a brow.

“And we all know dear Sam wants his brother to lose the mark, if Y/N loses it too then all of our chances of restoring Hell back to what it once was, we must reach out to Y/N before the Winchesters do. They’ve speculated her to be the culprit of a mass killing of vampires, which is why they want to keep her under their radar. It’s only a matter of time before they catch up to her and try and convince her to stay on their good terms, maybe even convince her to be rid the mark as well.”

“It’s a little too soon for them to think her guilty of such ability isn’t it? They could be correct though given her history.” Crowley said.

“Sire, if they convince Y/N to remove the mark, if there’s even a way to do so, it will ruin all of our chances of rising up from this slump you’ve been working so hard to bring us from.”

“We could recreate the Knights of Hell… she would be the general of my army. We could reap so many souls as more demons the human’s contracts come to a close. Maybe even beyond.” Crowley agreed before he looked back at the scrawny demon.

“You keep tabs on the Winchesters, continue to keep tabs on their angel friend Castiel. You know how often they come to him when they’ve lost something like irresponsible children.” Crowley ordered.

“And what of Y/N, Your Majesty?”

“Leave her to me. She may need a visit from an old friend. It’s not easy being human after all and she may even want to come back to her roots - just for some clarity if nothing else.” Crowley said as he stood up.

When Crowley lifted up his hands, he snapped and within an instant, he was gone.

You found yourself roaming around the woods, still in Minnesota but you weren’t sure if you were in the same city or town anymore since you were pretty much avoiding all highways to avoid being seen any anyone. You supposed the one thing you could have said you missed about being a demon was the fact that transportation was a lot easier than traveling on foot.

Then you started thinking about the werewolf you killed last night, the feelings you had with it… was this how Dean felt when he went on his hunts?

Dean.

The very thought of him made the mark on your arm ignite all over agiain. The longer you were away from him, it seemed to get so much worse. Yet the first moment you became human and Dean was right there, it was like there was a sense of calm.

But you remembered it was you who made the ultimate decision to leave. And honestly you were starting to regret it, especially because deep down you knew you wanted to stay. But there was no way Dean would let you come back to the bunker right? Maybe not this soon. What if you made a mistake leaving?

Your mind went back to Dean again. You couldn’t believe he kissed you that night! Why was that such a bittersweet moment? And why did you feel so many things when it came down to that moment? Why didn’t you just stay?

Your mark started to burn again and you looked down at it. You knew you needed to help Sam and Dean. You told Sam to look into the Book of the Damned, and you would be on the lookout for it too. You needed to find where it was and soon so Dean wouldn’t have to go through baring this curse.

But what if you couldn’t find the book? What if thee really was no way out for this for Dean? What if there was no way out for him and he’d be miserable forever? And why were you beginning to feel like it was your fault when you weren’t even there when he accepted the mark from Cain in the first place?

“Ugh…” You groaned to yourself, frustrated with your own mind. You didn’t know humans could overthink so much, and you weren’t even sure if this amount of thinking was justified for anything!

Six weeks in and you were already finding out quickly what the human brain was like and how so many emotions could bubble up all at once, making you so unsure about so many things. And a part of you that had so much doubt about who you were and what you were trying to avoid, was even beginning to doubt your own abilities of finding the book that would even help Dean.

You understood that The Book of the Damned was cursed, about as cursed as your heirloom. You also knew it was sort of a legend at this point in time and a part of you wasn’t even sure if such a thing really existed anymore.

The truth was, you weren’t even sure where you should look. Maybe someone from Hell had it in their grasp once more, maybe a witch got a hold of it because there was a lot of dark magic involved with it. No one had seen or heard about it in centuries, maybe even millennia, so who knew where it could be found.

Your jaw tightened with the frustration you were feeling and you ran a hand through your hair.

You had your fun exploring, being a little nomad. You experienced human things during those six weeks, but now you knew that if were ever going to be useful to the Winchesters, you needed to buckle down. For Dean’s sake.

“Maybe I need to find a highway.” You muttered to yourself to no one in particular, specifically since no one was around.

Then, this sudden wave of nausea began to hit you. You asked over to one of the trees and placed a hand on it to try and steady yourself. Your mind started flooding right back to last knight when you had your first kill in weeks. You knew in that moment exactly what was happening to you.

Your mark wanted you to kill again. It was like it wanted, craved it more than life itself. Now that you were human, the feeling was physically beginning to overwhelm you. And this is the first time you were beginning to feel nauseated, but you knew it would only get worse. At least you weren’t at the point of withdrawals as you witnessed Dean go through before he became a demon. Though you knew that experience would be grotesque and hellish when you experienced it.

A part of being human, though, was learning how to resist. You had to fight back. Being around the Winchesters taught you that, so you needed to learn from them. You couldn’t kill anymore, even if the werewolf was a monster.

You were scared that one day it would be a human life you’d take. You didn’t want that on your shoulders, not when you were trying to be a new person, not when you were trying to escape the monster you were in the past.

You pushed yourself off the tree as you gathered your composure again and tried to return to your train of thought, one of many yes but you went to your main one before the nausea hit.

“Main road… Look for a way out of state… Buckle down on research for the-“

“Hello, Chipmunk.”

You could have recognized that accent anywhere and you turned around, glaring at Crowley after he called you that name.

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?” You said and Crowley simply shrugged, “What is it that you want now?”

“Just checking on an old friend.” Crowley said and you weren’t exactly convinced.

“Last time I checked were weren’t exactly on the friendliest terms.” You retorted and Crowley let out a low hum.

“Well, from my understanding, you aren’t exactly on the best of terms with the Winchesters. Heard you were human now and.. well I can definitely sense some sort of shift from you.” He said and you lifted a brow.

“I don’t need a wellness check, Crowley. Becoming a human was my choice and I left the bunker on my own accord.”

“And how’s the mark holding up? Either it’s beginning not to treat you so well or you’re starting to become one of those tree huggers seeing as you were practically clinging on that tree next to you.” He replied and you went silent for a moment.

“Now.. tell me why you became human. What on earth possessed you to do something like that?” He asked as he walked over with interest in his voice and you rolled your eyes.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was curious. After all, you and every other demon have been human once. I just wanted to experience it before I end up dying and going back to being a demon once more with this blasted thing.” You said and Crowley lifted a brow.

“So… you’re learning to resent your birthright?”

“More like resent this curse of an heirloom. But I’d rather it be me that bore it rather than anyone else. No one knows where Cain is ever since you and Dean blew his cover.” You said.

“I see.”

“Why are you really here, Crowley. I doubt you really want a status update on my human condition.” You said and put a hand on your hip, displaying your impatience.

“I just want to extend an offer. I know you originally went into hiding from Hell to avoid your mother dragging you back, wanting to escape everything and test. Out your father’s lifestyle. But should the situation arise that you need to return to Hell…Give me a call.” Crowley said and you became skeptical.

“What’s the catch?”

“None as of yet. But you should reconsider becoming the new leader of the Knights of Hell. I know you don’t want to be a killer for as long as you possibly can, but yo cannot deny what is in your blood. You’re talented, strategic, and Hell’s army needs someone like you to keep them in line.” Crowley reminded you and you glared.

“I refuse to take up that mantle. The Knights of Hell are all dead anyway.”

“No, but you could train up an army of your own. Turn even the weakest demons into the strongest soldiers under your training, they’d all be under your command and you’d have a place of power, second only to me.” Crowley said.

“Crowley, I think you’re failing to realize that I don’t crave power. I’m not like you, I don’t need to be in a position of leadership, and I never wanted it.” You stated and Crowley hummed a little.

“Again, it’s simply an offer. A place for you to go if you find yourself in a less than ideal situation. You know who you were meant to be deep down. That position will always be yours should you decide to claim it as you should.” Crowley said.

“The Winchesters wouldn’t be at all surprised if you claimed that role.”

You looked at him and stepped forward, brows narrowing, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. All I’m speculating is that if I were in their shoes and you were so new to being human, which you are, they wouldn’t be surprised if you slipped up one day. And from the looks of it, you’ve already given the mark a taste of what it craves most.” Crowley motioned to the blow on your clothes you couldn’t wash off.

“Let me handle that for you.” He insisted and with the snap of Crowley’s fingers, you looked down and saw your clothes were almost brand new, as if last night had never even occurred.

“They wouldn’t be so cruel as to make those kinds of assumptions.” You said, not wanting to believe Crowley, knowing his kind spoke practically nothing but lies most of the time.

“That’s what humans do, Y/N, Darling. They assume, they overthink, they judge prematurely. The human world is ugly. Why do you think demons prefer their new life after death? They become free from caring of others opinions and their assumptions of them. It’s easier to live without human insecurity.” He reminded you, and you supposed that was one part of your old life you missed.

“That’s my discovery to make, Crowley. And the day I become a demon again because of this mark, I’ll have learned all I needed to about being human. But until then, this is my life and my experiences. Let me learn them on my own terms.” You said and Crowley lifted his arms up in surrender.

“Very well. Just know that if you end up having enough of humans sooner than you think, you’ve got somewhere to go.” Crowley said and he started to walk off.

Then while Crowley was facing away from you, his eyes turned red as if her were getting in contact with his demons in Hell, “Monitor her. Give me frequent reports on both her and the Winchesters.”

Who knew…. Maybe either outcome could lead to his advantage. One must learn both sides in order to play the game properly after all.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @jackles010378 @chriszgirl92 @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @deangirl96 @snowayumi @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @blackcherrywhiskey @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

#jensen ackles #supernatural #spnfandom #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #dean imagine #supernatural x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #moc dean #moc!dean #demon dean x reader #dean winchester supernatural #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn

[softgrungeprophet]

gotta say, i'm def way more willing to—not overlook but tolerate—some (keyword: some) blatant cheesecake or Sex Appeal™ in comics when the artist has a certain level of technical skill and/or strong compositions (ie Bachalo or Ramos) vs like... artists who sacrifice page composition and readability solely to draw cheesecake and thus actively sabotage their own sequential work (Sandoval...) especially the ones without the technical skill (... like the porn tracers who can't keep character appearance even sort of consistent...)

#do not argue w me about ramos lacking technical skill (in the past) i put an 'or' in there for a reason #also disagree but it's subjective #similar applies to sameface-y art... much more leeway for ie Aja (tho i think this is also a matter of graphical pop art styling) #compared to one of a dozen nearly identical semi-realistic over-rendered black lipstick artists #i think it's also fair to say that i'm way more forgiving of unusual or wonky art than some people #but i think there's also a huge problem in fandom and pro circles alike that treats any form of stylization as 'bad art' #which annoys the hell out of me esp when it's shit isolated and taken out of context from composition and color #(semi)realism isn't actually Superior To All Other Art and some people could really stand to learn that #everyone has preferences but there's a difference between having preferences and being like #''i've decided this art is garbage because of a tiny portion of a single panel that isn't even drawn incorrectly'' #which i've seen? more times than you would think? ppl will be like 'this hand sucks' or 'what a terribly drawn baby!' #and then it's like. literally nothing. there's nothing wrong. it's a hand or it's a baby and it looks completely normal? #like? huh?? are you seeing something i'm not? wow anyway i got off topic down here #sexy ladies are way overdone and way objectified in comics but it's much less annoying when the art and writing is actually decent lol #but when i see fucked up art with boring compositions dead expressions AND excessive objectification? I'm out #nadia rambles #nadia reads comics #apropos of nothing I was just thinking about it

[aadmelioraa]

@wildwren i've done it, i've broken us down to our bare essentials

#i just really love a good diagram ok #anyway i found this amusing and so did wren so i am memorializing it here lol #i would say this little exercise revealed some things but I don’t think it’s news to anyone even us lol #nothing like a casual self assessment to get one through a Wednesday evening #strong graphic design is my passion vibes but I’m not sorry

[hiddenbeks]

i have finally reached dantooine and this game is glitching more than ever before <3

#el plays kotor #keep having these weird black lines stretching across like. everything #sometimes textures will not load fully. also the sky looks weird on dantooine idk how to explain it but its weird #at least its just graphics glitching! nothing that breaks quests or characters or whatev! for now!! #this game is really testing my patience but i will be brave about it and finish it. i actually kinda cant wait to get to kotor 2 #i know it has its issues bc of the rushed development. but im looking forward to that good obsidian writing...... #like if theres one thing obsidian games do well or at least better than bioware (lol) its well written grey morality #and i've heard that kotor 2's writing has just that #kotor 1 is so painfully black and white and all quest and dialogue choices on taris at least were like #'here i am giving you 200 credits out of the goodness of my heart :)' or 'fuck you. time to die' #anyway. time to finally get a lightsaber yayyyyy

[jobean12-blog]

Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #enemies to lovers #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #bucky

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice. 

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can. 

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there. 

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically. 

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood. 

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie. 

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty. 

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-” 

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-” 

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles. 

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word. 

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.” 

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home. 

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

#ehehehe #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management #jazz fenton #jason todd #she still loves psychology but its a back pocket tool to her knowledge as an emergency medicine provider #jazz is ready to throw hands because becoming a princess during med school sucked ass #she did not have the time #but she loves and supports anything danny is doing sooo... #danny is currently attending gotham u for engineering but lives across town so they just call everyday #he sees her on her off days and always brings her tons of fast food #jason is immediately smitten with the woman put him in his place #the pit maddness was barking up a storm this entire convo but she got him home and he was like holy fuck im in love #jason todd said she saw right through me and that shit was hot #yes he totally stopped to grab (steal) flowers on his way to the clinic #dick picks him up this time. sees the flowers and is like oh cool its my turn to wingman for my lil bro #jazz is worn down by sweet gestures and the fact that hes legit so nice now when he comes into the clinic #he quotes poetry at her sometimes and she's like omg did you just make that up? she's never read poetry a day in her life #only medical textbooks and psychology papers #long post

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Hi, your last post about reader not knowing that it was sa, I saw that and I wanted to request something. What if reader knows that she have been through it but she mentions this as a joke, she says it and just keep going like she said something silly. How would the boys (141 + konig) react?

(I do this sometimes and I don’t like it, but it feels like some kind of copying mechanism)

I’m sorry if this was too much, do not feel that u need to write this.

Anyway, thank u so much and take care

Honestly I make out of pocket jokes about my own trauma all the time, so I feel this

tw: mentions of trauma, brief mentions of sexual assault- nothing graphic or descriptive, humor as a coping mechanism, comfort

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Whiplashed so hard his neck is broken

“You bein’ serious?”

You explain what happened but you’re a little too blasé about it, he understands humor as a coping mechanism but this is a little serious

And by ‘a little’ I mean very

“Love, you can’t just drop a bomb like that.” He tries to soften his tone but his rage at what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through

He doesn’t realize he’s being a little hypocritical, we’ve all heard his “army humor” so he really doesn’t have a lot of room to talk. But the fact that it happened to you has blinded him to that fact. It’s not that you can’t make jokes, it’s that you shouldn’t have to because it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He doesn’t even let you apologize before he’s pulling you into his arms, hands shaking, doing his best not to imagine what kind of sick fuck would do that to you

“Simon, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone is firm and he’s refusing to let you go, so instead of arguing, you opted to melt into his embrace. Hands running up and down his back and as he’s kissing the crown of your head he’s wondering how worthwhile it’d be to give the fucker a visit. Maybe teach him a lesson or two.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Laughing with your joke at first but then it hits him like a ton of bricks

“Beg your pardon?”

You explain the joke and the context with a dismissive laugh before going back to what you were doing and he’s just frozen in place

Someone… hurt you… in one of the most awful ways imaginable, and you’re laughing it off?

He’s not sure if he should be in awe at your resilience or concerned at your choice of coping mechanism, so he takes a gentle approach

“Bonnie, you know you can talk to me, aye?”

“I know, I just… don’t want to burden you with it. I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault it happened.” He’s holding your hands in his, gently massaging the space between your thumb and your index finger,

“Aye that’s true, but it’s you. And I love you, good and bad included.” He gently held the back of your head and kissed your forehead,

“Anytime you feel like talkin’ I’m here. Copy?”

He doesn’t usually bring work jargon home but he knows it gets a laugh from you, and sure enough your little giggle proved him right

“Copy.”

John Price:

The whiplash also broke his neck

“Sorry, what?”

His heart broke when you explained yourself and whined that the explanation ruined the punchline

“Sweetheart, that’s no laughin’ matter.” His tone was gentle as he approached you, hands hesitantly coming to rest on your hips, suddenly unsure of himself

“Honey, I’m fine. It’s how I cope.”

“I know, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that. Just, maybe, talk to me about it instead, yeah?” One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes and leaned into the warmth of his palm, trapping it between your cheek and your shoulder

“I don’t wanna be a downer, John.”

“Never. I’m more concerned for your well-being than bloody mood. Am I clear?” As you looked in his eyes, you saw nothing but honesty and genuine concern, so you nodded

You closed your eyes and kissed his palm before he pulled you in to a tight embrace.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He heard you say it and weakly laughs before stopping as he chews on the words a little more

“Wait, what was that?”

And when you’re passively explaining it to him in the same way you’d talk about the weather he is in shock

He’s not sure if you’re trying to put on a brave face if you’re as nonchalant as you seem. He’s inclined to believe it’s the former.

“Babe that’s no joke. That’s kind of serious.”

“Don’t sweat it, Kyle. It’s how I’ve dealt with it. I’ve got it.”

He’s unsure but at the same time if it’s really worked for you so far then there’s no harm in letting it continue right? Wrong. He’s a little uncomfortable but it’s more so because it happened to you, someone he loves so deeply and he can’t fathom the idea

“Well yeah, I get that. But maybe we can talk about it when you feel like joking about it?” He shrugs, his words cautious and carefully chosen as he makes his suggestion

“I just want you to be alright. Ok?” His arms are rubbing yours before he’s pulling you into a hug, “I’ll always be here for you, babe.”

König:

Not a single chuckle from this man as he’s chewing over the words in his head

“Schatz, what’d you just say?”

When you explained what happened with a shrug and an all too casual tone, he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek

He doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, never in a million years, but jesus christ schatz, surely there’s no way?

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, he just can’t believe it happened to you, you’re the light of his life, his reason for existing, you’re the morning sun and the midnight moon, he’s truly in shock

“König?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and in two short steps he was in front of you, sinking to his knees and hugging your middle. He’s buried his face in your shoulder as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you run your fingers through his hair.

“Liebling, please don’t make those jokes anymore, ok?” His voice is so small and fragile, you almost felt like it was a child talking instead of the 6’ something behemoth at your feet, “I can’t stand to hear that you’ve been hurt like that.”

“König it’s ok, really. Humor is how I cope.” You kiss the crown of his head and your chin against it,

“I know, liebling, I know but I’d much rather you talk to me ok? Please? For me?”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #konig x reader #könig x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod headcanons

[ohcorny]

so! it's been a year since i put never satisfied on hiatus, and 9 years since i started posting it, and rather than make you read everything if all you want to know is "when's it coming back?" the answer is still: don't know! but the answer has also shifted closer to "it isn't" the longer i've spent on break, and i think it's worth being up front about that.

i talked about it a little here a few weeks ago, but the long and short of it is that between taking on better paying work, writing better stories, and looking back at what i'd already done for never satisfied... i just don't think i want to continue it? the year off has been incredibly good for my mental health, and i can't see myself wanting to go back after the two-three years still ahead of me on my current project. that's not to say i never want to return to the characters or the concept, but if i did, i imagine it would be with something completely new, in a different form. after all, i started this comic when i was 21 years old, a lesbian, and a sophomore in college. i am now just shy of 30, a bi man, and overall a completely different person than i was, back when i was writing without a plan and putting all of my insecurities into the comic--insecurities i don't identify with anymore. lord i'm closer to rothart's age than i am to lucy's. hate that

anyway. you have all been extraordinarily kind for following never satisfied for as long as you have, for supporting it as much as you have, and being as patient as you have. whatever form never satisfied takes in the future (god willing, with a more cohesive story structure and A PLAN FOR THE ENDING, WHICH BY THE WAY I NEVER, EVER HAD) i hope to see you there!

in the meantime, as an update on where i'm at with the thing that made me stop working on NS: i finished it! all the pages for Hunger's Bite (if you remember it with a different title: no you don't) have been turned in and now it's just revisions and covers and then........ waiting a year until it can come out. because that's how it is in traditionally published graphic novels! nothing releases for a full year after you finished it! and you're even getting it earlier than was originally planned, because i'm a creature and finished it like three months ahead of schedule. i've also already started thumbnailing the sequel book which i can't talk about whatsoever and will now be working on that for the next two years and then HOPEFULLY the first book will have done well enough that i can sell a third! so you better buy it when it comes out next february!!!!!!

to ease you all into it, i wanted to do a little crossover to introduce the main characters. we have emery, whose design is fully and unintentionally just Seiji Again down to his color palette (but seiji would bully him if they met. like so hard. he's a wimp). then we have neeta, a girl who dreams of travel and cares deeply about worker's rights, and wick, a vampire agent investigating the mysterious and sinister new owner of the 1910s ocean liner emery and neeta call home. he's also gay. but sorry lucy, you aren't his type. you're not mean enough.

the best place to keep up with me these days is probably here, as this first book gets closer to release, i will probably be posting about it a lot. and i will certainly post about it here when there's an official release date and cover reveal! i hope you'll go read it. i really think if you liked never satisfied and its themes, you'll like hunger's bite!

thank you again for reading!!

#corndraws #hunger's bite #never satisfied

[jymwahuwu]

-You play a stripping game with Aventurine! See how much you can win?

cw: yandere, dub-con, manipulative behavior, naive, drunk reader, reader has female reproductive system, creampie, getting stripped naked after playing games

"What? Did that customer really say that? This is so silly!" You held a wine glass with ice in one hand and giggled drunkenly. And Aventurine is sitting next to you now. He confirmed your question, causing you to snicker again. He adds the sweet golden liquid to your cup. "That's right - I always advised them not to… Who would have thought that that business would become so exaggerated?"

"Hmm, that's enough, that's enough…" You took another sip of wine, leaned on his table, turned your head, smiled, and looked at the outline of his face. It's been weeks since you talked to Aventurine like this, in his villa. But once you meet him, there is an endless stream of things to say, maybe this is the precious friendship.

"Anyway, how about playing a game when you have free time?" he suggested.

You got interested and asked him what his game was. Aventurine held up your palm and explained the rules to you several times. You nodded, but you didn't really understand. "Okay, okay, how many credits should we bet?"

"It's vulgar to talk about money all the time, my friend." He smiled and held up a finger. "How about taking off one piece of clothing after losing a round?"

"Take off… clothes?" You tilted your head… closed your eyes and shook your head. "ah?"

Aventurine said in surprise. "It's a popular game. Didn't you know?"

"I-Of course I know!!" You raised your voice, pretending you already knew everything. Thinking of the value of his outfit… "Hmph, I can take away your hundreds of thousands of outfits soon."

"1, 6, 2!"

"6, 6, 6!"

"It's time to take off your clothes." He raised his chin and reminded. You snorted, removing a jacket and throwing it on his couch.

"4, 5, 6!"

"6, 6, 6!"

"What?" You picked up the three dice, checked and struck them from different angles, but there was nothing strange about them. "Did you cheat? Why are the results always so incredible?" Aventurine chuckled and shrugged. "I told you before that I'm very lucky, don't you believe me?"

"Ah, okay…" You reluctantly stared at his exquisite attire, which he had never taken off, and then looked down at your own graphic t-shirt and shorts, which were pulled up so that the bra and the breasts wrapped inside were exposed to the air. Embarrassment tugs at your heart and you try to fight back. "Next round! I don't believe you can beat me!"

2, 1, 1.

6, 6, 6.

If question marks could pop up in reality, a thousand question marks would have popped up above your head. You stare at the results in disbelief. How could Aventurine be so lucky? You can't even take one of his watches or rings? And are you so defeated now that you have to take off either your bra or panties?

"I-I won't play anymore. Boring game!" You bluffed, asking to get your clothes back, but Aventurine raised his eyebrow. "Awwww, it seems there is a coward here…"

"Who are you calling a coward?"

"You didn't keep your bet."

You are not a coward! You took back the hand holding the clothes and tremblingly touched your underwear and bra. Which one should you take off? If you lose again, will you really be completely naked? How do you get home? In the midst of your thoughts and drunkenness, you settled on a bra, but then covered your bare breasts with your hands. "Humph, now is the beginning of my victory!"

Victory? Aventurine almost laughed out loud, holding back the ridicule rising in her throat, knowing that you might leave in a huff, and all the previous arrangements would be ineffective. You open a dice simulator from the Internet to avoid possible cheating from Aventurine.

5, 1, 3.

6, 6, 6.

…It’s really…BEYOND WEIRD. How on earth is this possible? Is Aventurine walking on some lucky path you don't know and being protected by the lucky Aeon? But anyway, now you have to take off your panties and keep your promise. Now you were completely naked, in his villa, in front of your friend.

"Hey! You... don't have to do this... " You watched as Aventurine put them all in a box and locked it up. These clothes…are no longer your property. "There's no way I'm going home naked!"

"Didn't someone just say they were going to take my clothes away? I thought you were serious?" He chuckled, pulled your arm, and guided you onto his lap. With your brain like a drunken fog and embarrassment, you knelt on the sofa in confusion, your legs spread apart, and the luxurious sofa sank. A gentle kiss. Bring some hot air. Like an electric shock. "Umm…"

"Too bad your clothes won't come back, but you can win a new set by…"

Aventurine's thumb rubbed against your hot cheek for half a minute before he reluctantly unbuttoned his pants and took out his long, swollen and erect cock, the glans teasing your slit. You whimpered, placing your hands on his chest, and the glans stretched your folds and the warm inside of your vagina. "I…"

This is really more incredible than these rounds of dice. You were bouncing on his cock, moaning and sobbing in ecstasy. His hand cupped your ass, occasionally slapping it in exchange for you squeezing his cock unconsciously, while rubbing your clit with his other hand.

As the cream spurts into your body, ecstatic bliss fills you. You tighten your limbs, your butt trembles, and you wrap your hands around his neck, gasping for air.

"You win. I'll give you a new set when you wake up, okay?"

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail x you

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got a name?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

"You must be tired.” 

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

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

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

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

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

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

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

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

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

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

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

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

Mina laughs a little. 

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

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

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

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

“Can you blame me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

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

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

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

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

“Got everything?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

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

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

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

“How long are you staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

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

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

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

There’s a pregnant pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

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

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

You tilt your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

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

“You’re doing laundry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your eyebrows. 

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

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

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

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

“Were you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

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

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

[haetrack]

study buddies

haechan x f!reader (ft. doyoung)

wc: 5.6k

warnings: sex mentions, dry humping (MDNI), nothing too graphic, haechan makes a bet against doyoung over you

this is a continuation of me and @hrts4doie nerd!haechan, read part one and part two if you would like! this is the first part, @hrts4doie will post the second part on their account, read here!

“i can’t believe that you haven’t even studied for this test.”

“well, i’ve been busy.”

doyoung rolls his eyes, scrolling through a powerpoint he swears he’s seen a hundred times already. “busy with your new girlfriend? can’t believe she actually asked you out.”

haechan lets out a sarcastic laugh, “you’re so jealous of me, it’s crazy…”

doyoung scoffs, shoving his face closer to his laptop, ignoring the proud smirk on haechan’s face.

haechan never expected to talk to you, never expected to sleep with you, and most definitely didn’t expect for you to to ask him out. he’s always kept to himself, making few friends, like doyoung, from group projects. he didn’t mind his social life, never really care for being alone. but with you by his side, he realized that he could never go back to how he was.

even before he had sex with you, he always found himself staring at you. all he had with you was one shared class, which he was so sure you didn’t even know he was in. you always looked so good, and it was his lucky day when you asked to be in a group with him. when the project was done, he thought you would never talk to him again.

except, you did. you kept up with him, listened to him rambling on about whatever video game, listened when he ranted about a class. you listened when he accidentally confessed that he thinks you’re attractive.

he had immediately taken his words back, to which all you did was laugh. you “accidentally” confessed that you thought he was cute, too. he remembers how the air in the room shifted, how your eyes glanced to his lips, moving to slide the glasses off his face. you pulled yourself into his lap, his fingers twitching at his side.

he suddenly hears doyoung calling out to him, followed by doyoung’s hand shoved in his face, snapping to get his attention. haechan blushes, realizing that he got too caught up in his thoughts, thoughts of you sitting so prettily on top of him. he quickly looks up to find an unimpressed look on doyoung’s face, “i called you here to study, not to daydream.”

“i, uh, i’m sorry,” haechan says, batting his eyelashes, “just remembered how boring you are.”

doyoung, already used to haechan’s teasing, can only huff in response, “you do realize that we’re studying for a midterm. a midterm. this is serious.”

“if you’re still sad about your breakup, feel free to talk to me anytime. now i’m the relationship expert!” haechan smirks, clearly showing off.

“how did you even get with someone like your girlfriend? does she like nerds like you or something?”

“hey! i have appeal, i’m not just some random nerd!”

“yeah, well i just know you’re into some weird stuff,” doyoung says, finally closing his laptop, “you’d probably like it if she pushed you around.”

haechan shifts in his seat, trying to ignore the image of you on top of him forming in his head. “w-whatever!” haechan splutters, “at least i have a girlfriend and i’m probably still going to do better on this exam than you will!”

doyoung has to stop himself from laughing out loud at haechan’s offhanded admission of being pushed around in bed. doyoung clears his throat before speaking, “well who’s the one who’s been studying and who’s the one who’s been getting fucked by their girlfriend?”

“i’m smarter, anyway! you’re acting like you wouldn’t beg to fuck my girlfriend, either!”

doyoung looks at haechan in shock, quickly trying to form a coherent sentence to get back at haechan, “we both know that i could fuck her better, don’t lie.”

a pout quickly forms on haechan’s face, “don’t think about fucking my girlfriend!”

“you literally just said that i would beg to have sex with her,” doyoung falters, “you know what, i don’t want to talk about this in a public library.”

haechan is silent as doyoung slips his laptop into his backpack. doyoung sees haechan bite the inside of his cheek in thought, probably thinking of a nice apology for his friend. once he’s packed everything away, he realizes that haechan is staring at him, his hands pressed onto the table.

“if you score higher than me on this test, i’ll let you fuck my girlfriend.”

okay, so maybe not a nice apology.

doyoung doesn’t really know what to say, doesn’t know how to react, and he doesn’t even know how he’s still making eye contact with haechan. his mouth opens and shuts, haechan still staring at him. doyoung manages to speak, “what… what?”

haechan doesn’t flinch at doyoung’s shock, “i said, if you do better than me on the midterm, i will let you have sex with my girlfriend.”

doyoung’s face is pulled into a frown when he realizes what haechan says this time. he has to stop himself from yelling into haechan’s face, “literally where did that come from?”

haechan just shrugs and pushes up his glasses with his finger, “i just know i’ll do better than you on the exam, and i kinda just want to show off.” 

“in what world do you have to make a bet like that just to say you’re better than me? just, i don’t know, say you’ll do good?”

“but where’s the fun in that? and plus, it’s not like i’ll lose.”

“and if i win?” doyoung challenges.

haechan whines and shoves doyoung’s shoulder, “you won’t.”

doyoung sighs, suddenly too tired and wanting to go home. haechan exhausts him, and tonight proves that. haechan just laughs and shoves his stuff into his backpack, standing up and looking down at doyoung. doyoung glares at him, standing up just to intimidate him a little. “lets just go already, you’re stressing me out.”

haechan just smiles and laughs, ushering doyoung out of the library. doyoung walks with haechan to the bus stop, to where haechan will eventually go to your place to be with you. doyoung isn’t jealous, but he does miss being around someone that he likes. maybe he’ll try studying on his own for this exam.

doyoung eyes haechan while walking with him, acting as if nothing even happened. he’s harping about some random game event, almost too casually. doyoung tries not to think about you, but he can’t help but think you are pretty. he’s seen you around campus, he’s seen you more with haechan. he can’t help but stare sometimes.

it doesn’t help that doyoung did go through a breakup, his ex saying that they should both move on. doyoung bites down on his lip, trying not to think too much about it. he should focus on his grades, focus on his studying, focus on this bet. the worst that could happen is losing. the best thing that could happen is the possibility of good sex.

while they’re both waiting for haechan’s bus, doyoung raises the question, “is your girlfriend even okay with this?”

“well, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing, so… i’m not sure yet,” haechan laughs into the quiet air.

once again, doyoung is rendered speechless by haechan, “how do you even know that she’ll agree to this?” 

haechan spots his bus rolling down the street, “she’ll say yes. and like i said, you’re definitely not winning.”

doyoung shoves haechan, sending him off to his bus as haechan laughs loudly. before haechan boards, he turns to look at doyoung dead in the eye, “i’ll see you on exam day. good night.”

doyoung nods, bidding him farewell. he goes his own way, hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he’s lost in thought. he will do better than haechan.

haechan finally makes it to your apartment. the bus ride felt too long, and it feels like it’s been years since he’s seen you. you’ve both been busy with your own exams. haechan used to not mind exam weeks, but now that he has you, it pains him to be away from you for so long.

he had tried studying with you, but it always ended up with haechan being too needy to focus. he can’t study by himself either, always disrupted by the thought of you fucking him. he’d send you a quick text, and you always agree to let him come over. it eventually turned into you scolding him, telling him he needs to find someone to study with him.

of course, it had to be doyoung.

he texts you that he’s at your place, making his way to your apartment door. he knocks, waits a bit, and is then greeted by the sight of you. you look tired, but he can’t help but still find you pretty given the circumstances. you smile at him, pulling him into a quick kiss, grabbing his hand to bring him inside.

he’s brought to your bedroom, watches as you plop yourself into bed. you turn to him, cocking your head to the side as you ask, “how was it with doyoung?”

he opens the separate drawer you made for his stuff at your apartment, pulling out some house clothes so he can lay down with you. he pulls off his shirt, hears how you whistle at him, and he immediately gets shy. he shushes you, “it went fine, we studied for most of it, and then we just kept on talking at the end.”

“that’s good,” you hum, watching him shimmy out of his pants with a smile on your face, “what did you guys talk about?”

he crawls into bed with you, caging you in his arms, legs intertwined with yours. after officially dating haechan, you realized how touchy he is. it’s cute considering how he’s still shy, not seemingly thinking too hard about the skinship he offers you. he nuzzles his face into your shoulder, “he was just telling me about his ex, everything that happened.”

you, not one to miss out on gossip, gasp as you pull yourself away to look at him properly. “please tell me you’re gonna talk about his drama. please.”

he laughs a little, moves to lean on his shoulder as he begins, “it’s been maybe, four months since he’s gotten broken up with?” he then leans in to whisper in your ear as if there’s other people around you, “but do you know what?”

you lean into him, whispering back, “what is it?”

“he still goes to see his ex. i don’t know if they’re still friends or they’re just…” he clears his throat, “having sex, but they still meet up.”

you gasp, eyes widening as you laugh at his words. doyoung doesn’t really seem like the type to do that, so knowing he might be just that desperate makes you giddy. “poor doyoung,” you start, threading your fingers into haechan’s hair, “i hope things get better for him.”

he’s not exactly listening, the feelings of your fingers in his hair making his eyes flutter shut, a natural pout forming on his face. you kiss him, and before haechan can pull you any closer, you pull away. you look at him expectantly, waiting for a response as he tries to remember what you said.

“um, speaking of which, there was something else we talked about.”

you curl into his side, eyes closing as you hum in response. he shifts a little, an arm wrapping around your waist. you’re waiting for him to talk, but you get no response. you call out his name, and he grips onto you. “is there something wrong?” you ask, a little worried.

“no, well, me and him have an exam coming up, and we kinda… made a bet on it.”

“yeah, what about?”

“so, i kinda said, if scores better than me, i’d let him…” his words trail off, mumbled out into your room. you move away from him to try to see what exactly has gotten into him. you’re surprised when you see his cheeks flushed red, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he looks away from you. you raise your eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

he takes a deep breath before he lets out his words all in one go, “i said if he scored better than me i’d let him have sex with you.”

you blink at him. once. twice. you can’t really say you don’t expect this coming from him but… still. rather than the actual bet, it dawns on you that he might talk about you more than you expect. you wonder if he talks about your sex life. you wonder if he says that he takes control in the bedroom.

“how… how did you even come up with that?”

haechan dryly laughs, “doyoung said the exact same thing. i just felt bad for him? and he kept on complaining how i wasn’t studying, but i’ve been busy!”

“and what made you think i would say yes?” you laugh at his outburst, and haechan relaxes a little at your comfort.

he continues, “i wouldn’t have made the bet if i knew i wasn’t gonna do better than him! i know i’m better, this bet is just gonna prove that.”

a small smirk appears on your face, “i like seeing you all confident like this,” you roll him onto his back, moving on top of him. his hair is splayed behind him, his glasses crooked on his face. “of course my baby is smart,” your lips are dangerously close to his, “are you gonna show me how smart you are?”

he nods, eyes losing focus at your proximity. you lean in to kiss him, his hands grabbing your ass, groping at the flesh. you can feel his dick twitch against your thigh, you can feel how fast he runs out of breath. you realize it’s been awhile since you’ve seen each other, and his desperate movements prove that.

you’re no different either, you can feel how wet your panties are as you grind against him. his hands push you against him, making you grind down onto his cock as he whines into your mouth. your hands make their way to his hair, slightly tugging at the strands as he bucks his hips into yours.

the room is filled with the sound of your lips against his, his loud whimpers, and your soft breaths. moans of your name are ushered out when he gets close, his hands touching every part of you that he can reach. “needed this so bad,” he whines, “been needing you since i’ve been at the library…”

“yeah? thinking gross thoughts in public, in front of your friend?” he frantically nods, arms wrapping around you to pull you close. he can feel the heat on his face, so sure his glasses are embarrassingly fogged up, begging you to continue.

your lips move to his neck, feeling your warm breath on his skin as you speak, “probably why you made the bet, right? you were thinking about me too much, hm?”

your words trigger his orgasm, cum spurting into his boxers as he lets out a whimper of your name. at the sight of your boyfriend falling apart under you, looking fucked out from just some humping and kisses, you cum. haechan moves your hips, helping you ride out your orgasm as he fights off getting hard again.

it’s quiet in the room again, save for the heavy breaths you both let out. haechan’s hand soothingly traces patterns on your exposed skin. your head lays on his chest, nuzzling close to him.

a few moments pass before you whisper out, “i’ll do the bet.”

he opens his eyes to look at you, “really? you don’t have to, i’ll tell doyoung that-”

“no, it’s okay, baby. i know you’ll do good. after all, you’re my little nerd, right?”

haechan doesn’t argue when you call him your nerd.

a few days pass without interruption.

doyoung doesn’t try calling haechan to study, and haechan blasts music in his ears to avoid any thoughts of you crawling into his mind (not that he would mind, but the bet is putting everything on the line). at any chance, haechan goes to see you, seeking praise for being such a good student. he blushes when you do, pulling you into a kiss.

haechan doesn’t try too hard at studying, considering that it was half of his argument saying he didn’t need to study to be good. he’s making sure it won’t backfire on him, glossing over terms and dates as he studies. he tries once more to study with you in a call and repeat way. it’s ruined when you call him a good boy, haechan not being able to stop his cock from twitching.

it’s the day before the exam, and haechan texts doyoung to see if he’d like to meet up.

doyoung: i don’t think you distracting me is going to help

haechan: why are u trying so hard to fuck my girlfriend

doyoung: ?

haechan gives up on him.

there’s no study guide for him to go over, all he can do is go over his notes once more. he considers calling you, but you're either busy, or he’ll just end up getting distracted. he doesn’t think it’s a bad thing with the amount of time he spends with you. he likes it, likes you, he’d rather you take up all his time than him being holed up in his dorm.

he spends the rest of his afternoon at the library, multiple tabs open on his laptop for different classes. he almost forgot about the other exams he has to take, too caught up in his one shared class with doyoung. this bet, he thinks, could be the best decision of his life.

haechan, fully confident that he will win, thinks about what he can do. he’s obviously going to ask if he can have sex with you, but he might have to beg to be more in control. he might send doyoung a quick picture of you under him, crying out for him to fuck you. he doesn’t want to show you off or anything, but he does want to gloat. just a little.

he’s happy that you agreed to do the bet in the first place. you’ve always indulged in his little fantasies, and this is another one added to the list. it makes haechan’s heart beat faster knowing he’s the only one that can make you feel good. it doesn’t matter if he’s not in control, doesn’t matter if he’s the one begging, you’re the one calling his name every night.

which is why he made the bet in the first place. doyoung can complain all he wants, can think about you at any time, but you’re his. haechan tries not to be too possessive of you, but it’s hard not to when he’s so obsessed with you. he was made for you, made to be your boyfriend.

his thoughts are interrupted by a text from you, asking where he is. a small smile forms on his face, fingers tapping against the screen to let you know what he’s doing.

you: if ur not busyyy, then u can come over if u want

haechie: literally just yelled yipee in the library

haechie: packing up my stuff as we speak

you: ur so silly

you: see u soon baby

haechan tries to fight the blush from forming on his face, hastily pushing up his glasses as he rushes out of the library. even if there might be a bet going on, he’d much rather be with you, keeping you close as you press kisses to his skin.

you wait for haechan to text you that he’s outside. you haven’t really done anything today, except for study and taking multiple naps. exam season has always been hard for you, taking up so much of your time when you could be spending it with your boyfriend.

you find it funny how easy it is for him. he always looked like he knew what he was doing, and it was only confirmed once you worked on a project with him. you remember him shyly saying that he’d tell you all his studying secrets, trying to ignore how your eyes focus on his fingers writing something down.

his advice did help, but you still struggle like every person. haechan is just too smart for his own good. it only makes you prouder as his girlfriend.

you get a text saying that he’s at your place, and a knock is followed soon after. you trot to the door, opening it up to see his bright smile. he whines out before he wraps his arms around you, his head falling onto your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. you laugh at him, reciprocating his hug as he buries his face into you.

“you don’t know how much i missed you, it’s been forever.”

“you always say that. come on you big baby, let’s go lay down.”

he follows you into your room, his hand intertwined with yours. he can’t stand not being able to touch you when you’re so close.

when he sees you lay down, looking so comfortable, he practically rips his outside clothes to the clothes he has with you. he quickly scrambles to your bed, joining you in the comfort of your bed. he presses you against himself, silently begging for you to spoon him. you sigh out a laugh, wrapping your arms around him.

you can feel him relax at your touch, shoulders untensing, eyes shutting in the quiet of your room. one of your hands move to his hair, messing with the overgrown strands at the nape of his neck. he shudders slightly, pressing his face in the pillow as he gets more comfortable.

“how was today, baby?”

he mumbles out, “was fine… all i did was study.”

“me too, i think my professors must hate me or something.”

he lets out an airy laugh, grabbing the hand that’s not in his hair to press a kiss onto it. you press a kiss to the top of his head in return, hearing the satisfied hum he lets out at the feeling. if you could, you would want to stay like this forever, him in your arms. you just wish you both weren’t so busy.

“what are you gonna do tomorrow?” you ask.

“i have that exam with doyoung,” he groans, “i’m not worried, but i just need to get it over with already.”

“i know you’ll do good,” you say, watching a pink blush begin to form on his cheeks, “my baby always does so good.”

“thank you…” he whispers, embarrassment in his voice.

“don’t worry about the bet. in the end, it’s up to us, hm? even if doyoung wins-”

haechan cuts you off, “hey! he won’t!”

you laugh out, “i know he won’t, but on the small chance he might, you’ll show him how good you treat me, right?”

you can feel him squirm against you, trying not to let your words get to his head, “y-yeah, he needs to know how good i make you feel.”

“exactly,” you say as you press a kiss to his neck, feeling goosebumps form from your touch, “that’s what’s gonna make you do so good tomorrow.”

he nods, turning himself over to face you. his hands grip at your hips, eyes shining in the darkness of your room. he licks his lips, pulling you close to him as he kisses you. he moans into you, trying hard not to grind into your thigh.

it’s when you can feel him press his hard cock onto you that you pull away, smiling at the desperate look on his face. you shush him before he can whine, tucking yourself under the covers as haechan tries to form a coherent sentence.

“you have an exam tomorrow, you need to sleep early, baby.”

“but i-” he interjects, his eyes looking down at his cock that presses against his shorts, “you- can’t you help me?”

“nope! my baby needs all the rest he can get,” you smile, patting the space besides you, “now come lay down with me.”

he lets out a small groan, ignoring his twitching cock as he lays next to you.

“and no getting yourself off without me,” you assert.

haechan can only let out a whine.

it’s finally exam day.

after waking up, haechan finds you wrapped around him, cuddling up at his side. he stares at you sleeping (in the most non-creepy way, he swears), a smile on his face as he watches you sleep so peacefully. he likes having quiet mornings like this with you, wishes he could stay in bed with you all day.

except, your alarm for eight am rings, immediately waking you up.

haechan watches you groggily reach for your phone, shutting off the alarm, slamming it against the sheets when you do. he laughs at you, pull you in closer, kissing the top of your head as you snuggle yourself in his chest. he’s warm, almost making you doze back to sleep.

the sound of his voice wakes you up again, “do you think i should just skip my midterm?”

his voice is soft, yet serious as he contemplates sacrificing his grade if it means to get to stay in with you. your voice comes out muffled in his chest, “hm, you know i can’t let you do that, baby…”

he lets out a chuckle, the sound soothing you. “if i don’t get up now, i don’t think i’ll be able to move from here.”

you try to untangle yourself from his hold, but he’s the one who’s keeping you in place. you let out a whine of his name while he watches you with a smile. he eventually lets you go, making himself sit up alongside you. he reaches for your hand before speaking, “i wish i didn’t have to go.”

“i know, baby, but you have to take this test. you have to show everyone how good you are.”

he tries not to smile too hard at your words, choosing to slide out of your bed to stretch. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes stare at his exposed stomach from his shirt lifting. if he had the time, he’d ask for at least a makeout session, but even that might turn into something too much. he quickly changes into whatever clothes he can find, ridding the thought from his mind.

“anyways, you have a bet to do, right?” you remind him, “you’re going to show doyoung how smart my boyfriend is, hm?”

“of course,” he hums, “gonna show him what he’s missing out on.” he finishes his sentence with a soft kiss on your lips. it’s always nice like this, having him so close, no shyness detected when loving you. he chases your lips when you pull away, his pretty eyes looking to yours as you walk him out.

your both at your door, hands intertwined when you say to him, “i know you’re going to do great. don’t worry about anything, i’m right here.”

his eyes shine at your words, a faint blush on his cheeks as he turns to walk away from you. before he can fully step out, you softly call out his name. his head snaps towards you, expectant eyes waiting for you.

“one more thing,” you step out towards him. you place a quick kiss onto his lips, his hands twitching in surprise. “just a good luck kiss. if you do good, i’ll give you even more than that.”

he nods, forcing himself to walk away from your door. his hands are in fists at his sides, nails digging into his skin.

he can’t wait to see you again.

he makes it onto campus, calming himself down on the walk to his classroom. he hasn’t seen doyoung anywhere, not that he was thinking he would. it’s quiet on campus, everyone either taking an exam or stuck at the library studying.

he takes a deep breath as he enters the building, watching as other students enter his classroom. still no sight of doyoung as haechan heads towards class. he’s quick to open the door, scanning the room for his seat. he’s happy to see that no one’s taken his usual spot near the front of the class. 

he does see doyoung in his spot next to him, scrolling through his phone as he waits for the exam to start. he easily slides in next to him, startling doyoung from his scrolling. he glares at haechan, haechan ignoring him as he clears his throat, “you’re here early.”

“i’m always early though?”

“feels like you might be excited about something.”

“like finishing this exam, yes.”

“or maybe the bet?”

doyoung scoffs, and as soon as he does, his professor begins to explain the rules. haechan drone out the words, shoving his phone away and taking out a pencil. it shouldn’t be hard, it should be easy for someone like him. what’s distracting is knowing that doyoung is thinking the exact same thing, the same goal in his mind.

having sex with you.

haechan won’t let it happen, though. before the professor starts handing out the exam, haechan turns towards doyoung. haechan extends a hand out to him, doyoung hesitantly shaking it back. haechan grins, “may the best student win.”

it’s been a few days since he’s taken the exam. he remembers feeling confident during the exam, remembers walking out of the class with a proud smile on his face. he remembers texting you right after, asking if you’d like to go out and eat anywhere. he remembers telling you how good the exam went over food, a proud smile on your face as you listen to him.

he only remembers being confident that day.

he’s only talked- texted doyoung once after the exam, only after their professor said when the grades will be released. it was a quick chat of haechan gloating while doyoung glosses over it. he doesn’t need to talk to doyoung too much anyway, knowing he’s just as busy as haechan is.

today, he’s at your apartment again, lounging around as he waits for his grade. you’re seated with him on your couch, legs on top of his as you mindlessly scroll through your phone. you’re done with your exams, he’s done with his. it went as good as it could’ve gone, and he’s happy with this exam week.

the cherry on top would be winning the bet, and even after the test, he’s sure that he’s won. he can’t help how his leg shakes under you in excitement, not really reading what’s on his phone as he thinks about what he wants to do. he bites his lip, trying to drown out his thoughts.

after what feels like forever (read: 30 minutes after), he gets an email from his professor saying that grades have now been posted and uploaded. he scrambles to his feet, scaring you in the process as your legs are thrown off the couch. he quickly apologies, his fingers tapping against his screen to check his gradebook. there it is.

he got a 95 on his midterm.

he turns to look at you, immediately squealing as he throws himself onto you. you laugh as you wrap your arms around him, his face nuzzling into your chest as he lets out high-pitched noises. you shake him a little, asking what he got on his exam.

he grabs you by the shoulders, pressing you into the couch as he looks down at you, “i got a 95.”

a smile forms on your face before you pull him down to kiss you. he’s smiling against your lips, a hand on your cheek as he kisses you. you can feel how happy he is, satisfied hums as he kisses you. your hands are around his neck, keeping him close to you. one of his thigh slips between yours, a hand resting on your hip as he continues.

he can feel you grind down onto his thigh, small whimpers coming out of your mouth as you do. his cock twitches at the feeling, adrenaline rushing through his body. you eventually pull away from him, catching your breath before you speak, “i am so proud of you. you worked so hard, i’m glad it all paid off.”

his eyes flutter shut when you palm over his bulge, “don’t you think you deserve a reward?”

he quickly nods, moaning out a yes as he moves to kiss you again. you’re both desperate, hands moving all over each other, feeling needy from how long it’s been since you had sex. you can feel his cock press into you, your hips rolling to meet his. his warm hands reach under your shirt, squeezing your hip when you moan out his name.

it’s not until he feels a buzz from his phone, followed by another as his mind clears. “h-hold on,” he says between kisses, “what if it’s doyoung?”

your head falls back, your hooded eyes peering up at him, “you’re gonna check your phone now, just to see if it’s doyoung?”

“i know, sorry. just really quick, i swear.” his phone turns on, a satisfied grin on his face as he sees the texts are from doyoung. doyoung’s asking what he got on his exam, and haechan quickly texts him his answer. haechan’s about to put his phone down to get back to you, but before he can, doyoung texts him back.

doyoung: that’s funny

doyoung: i got a 96

he sends a picture as proof, and haechan falls back on his heels. you watch as he stares at his phone in shock. he doesn’t move, and you softly call his name to get his attention. “what’s wrong?” you start, “what happened? is it doyoung?”

he slowly shows you his phone, watching as you quickly read the texts on his screen. your face falls in shock. you’re both sitting there in silence, shock painted across your faces. his phone eventually falls onto the couch, trying to think of what to say.

you choose to speak first, “well, i mean… you still did well on the test.”

“but he did better! by one point!”

your hand moves to soothingly pat his head, “we’re just gonna have to see what happens. he did say yes to the bet, right?”

haechan pouts, his head nuzzles against your hand, “yeah…”

“this could be fun for both of us. i get to show off how much of a good boy you are.”

he pouts even harder, “wanted to show him that i fuck you good.”

you laugh, “well, that wouldn’t be true, would it? i’ll make sure to show him how good i can fuck you.”

a/n: I AM SO HAPPY TO BE POSTING THIS WITH WINNIE!!! finally one of our ideas coming out of the drafts... i can't wait for their part to come out... its gonna be crazy... a threesome perhaps (in a way... u will just have to wait and see...)

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct fic #haechan smut #haechan fic #haechan scenarios #haechan x reader

[impishjesters]

Jax x Reader w/depression/suicidal tendencies

warning(s): mentions of depression/suicidal behavior/tendencies, nothing graphic though, mentions of morbid/dark humor note: it's only mentioned that he has feelings for you, whether romantic or platonic is left up to the reader. A/N: I think this is the fastest I've ever wanted to write for something utterly new to me, usually it takes a while of being into a series or liking a character to wanna write something. This was...less than twelve hours? This was probably the most self-indulgent thing I've written in a while.

Nobody was safe from Jax’s pranks, including you—regardless of how much he found himself gradually enjoying your company.

It’s actually a right of passage at this point that every new person (as rare as it is) who shows up is subjected to some awful prank to gauge just how much of an easy or difficult target they’ll be.

You handle the pranks with ease. Sure it can be annoying, but there’s little that can seemingly “kill” you here.

Which is a shame really—well, only slightly.

Your therapist would’ve probably found it a good thing, trying to off yourself in a digital world where sleeping and eating were no longer required likely meant the inability to die.

Not in a traditional sense anyway.

You’re the only one ballsy enough to prank Jax back, which isn’t easy but when a prank is successful? Oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction.

There’s an unspoken prank war back and forth, but typically the other’s are the subject of your guys’ pranks. Somehow it feels more rewarding with the joint effort.

It's not often, but sometimes Jax's pranks will go a step too far and trigger something unpleasant. He's not really sure why you just walk off like that, those pranks don't make him feel as satisfied for whatever reason.

Once a special type of friendship grows between the two of you, the pranks lessen—not entirely though—nah he loves the unsuspecting reactions of a prank you didn’t see coming.

The pranks become less hostile and more casual—he’s got a reputation to keep after all, regardless of how he feels about you.

The initial reaction to someone being told there was no way out was to panic, you however, didn’t..well not outright. Your initial reaction is dark humor—even with the whole censorship thing.

Ragatha is the only one initially disturbed/worried over your dark sense of humor, which should be expected from one of them since they’ve been there longer.

Jax is aware of your morbid sense of humor and often plays along with it, especially in the beginning—later in the friendship though? Yeah, there’s no noticeable physical change, but he’s only a tad worried.

When not tormenting the other’s Jax stuck with you, or vice versa.

After the attempted drowning and standing (willingly) in harm’s way of one (or three) of the rides, Jax keeps your bedroom key closer in hand than the others.

And honestly? Ragatha doesn’t even blame him. You aren’t distant from them, but you do tend to favour Jax’s company. Regardless of her feelings about him as a person, it becomes obvious that he feels something less hostile towards you compared to them.

It takes a while before you finally confess to Jax that prior to being trapped in this digital hell, you were medicated for depression/suicidal tendencies. And while the digital world took away things like needing sleep and food, it didn’t get rid of the thoughts or urges.

Now—had this been someone else telling him all this? He’d be very uncaring and probably make a nasty “joke”, but because it’s you? He’s treading into foreign territory here when it comes to emotions.

There’s not really anything he can say that would make you feel better, but he does show a more rare tender side, offering to be there whenever you need him. Just to backpedal like a tsundere and say that he won’t always be free ( a lie, the fuck else does he have to do?), but he’ll try and make time for you during those moments.

He doesn’t do some pinky promise bullshit, I mean he can and would, but he doesn’t expect his offer and attempts to do that much (words of promise aren’t on the same level as a prescription drug after all).

But if being around his rude ass self and doing the occasional nice *gag* gestures of like, hugging or whatever helps you, he’ll do it—just, not with others around obviously. Again, man has a reputation.

From then on Jax is more aware of where you are around him at all times, not in a suffocating way though. Well, not intentionally, he has his moments. But he’s trying, again this is new territory for him.

Jax makes it his unspoken, personal goal to make sure you don’t tread the line of becoming abstracted.

Bonus (fluff)

Jax will make an attempt not to immediately recoil from your touch when others are present.

I’m not talking “Whoops, sorry to bump into you”, I’m talking about grabbing onto his arm or being in his personal bubble because you need something grounding or whatever.

More often than none his immediate reaction is to just use you to lean on, elbow or arm resting on top of your head to give you some contact and pressure. (He does it out of habit even when you don't need it.)

Sure he probably looks like an ass to others, but after a while, they sort of just get used to it since you never bring up being offended by the act.

But in private? Yeah, sure shoot, just don’t expect him to put any effort into returning anything. Maybe the drape of an arm or his legs, but if it’s really bad? He’ll lay or sit there while you cling to him like a koala.

Jax actually finds it kinda funny how tightly you hold on whenever he gets up.

“Wow, you really holdin’ on there.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #jax #jax x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader

[janaispunk]

jana hi me again 🫣 could i have the prompt 28 "No one ever cared about me like you."

with either javi p or joel 🫠❤️🤎

take my hand, wreck my plans

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: 557

summary: Javi seeks out your company after a rough day.

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, alcohol consumption, mention of food, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, idiots in love because of who i am as a person (let me know if i missed something!)

a/n: i have once again been possessed by angsty thoughts and somehow, this came out of it. i hope you like this eden @reddedmiller and i’m sorry that it took three months lol. thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics as always because they’re the best <3

find my full masterlist here & follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates :)

He knocks on your door at 2 in the morning, all but collapses into your arms as soon as you swing it open, tired eyes and heavy limbs that melt into your embrace.

Your colleagues had warned you when he started coming over to your desk, inviting you out for lunch, about how he would chew you up and spit you out, like he did with half of the female staff at the embassy. You hadn’t listened, waving them off and going out with him anyway. First for a quick lunch break, then for after work drinks, then for dinner.

It was fun, a distraction, something to do and someone to know in this city where everything was foreign to you and where you felt more alone than ever before in your life.

It’s more, now. It doesn’t have a definition exactly, but you both know it. You’re the person he turns to when he needs somebody, and you’ll gladly be that for him.

“Do you have something to drink?” His face is sullen as he slumps down on your couch, like the weight of the world crushed him today. You furrow your brow.

“When was the last time you ate something, Javi?”

“‘M not hungry,” he grumbles, confirming your suspicion that he most likely survived the day solely on cigarettes and coffee.

You lean over the couch, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders from behind. His head falls back against you like he can’t help himself.

“I’m gonna make you a sandwich and get you some whiskey, okay?” Inching closer, you press a gentle kiss against his neck, just below his ear.

He sits up a little straighter and turns to you, reluctance in his eyes.

“Querida, it’s the middle of the night, you don’t have to-”

You shake your head and kiss him again, on his cheek this time. “It’s okay. I want to.”

He leans back hesitantly but doesn’t seem to have the energy to fight you on it, so your lips find his face once more before you head for the kitchen.

Watching him all but devour the food has you hiding your smile behind your own glass of whiskey. He already looks a little better.

“Not hungry, huh?” you tease, your voice light.

“Shut up,” comes his short reply, but his lips are twitching.

He has half a mind to stumble out of your flat again afterwards, but you convince him to stay, that it’s really no problem.

He takes a quick shower, mumbling about washing the day away, and you wait in bed, the warm light from your bedside lamp illuminating the room, until he slips under the covers beside you.

You wrap your arms around him again and hold him close, your fingers drawing shapes on his chest. He clears his throat, shifting awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles, his voice low in the darkness.

“Of course, Javi.” He tends to get like that, struggling to receive any kind of affection or care when he feels like he has nothing to give back.

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “No, seriously. No one ever cared about me like you. I- thank you.”

You sigh and pull him tighter into you, your face buried in his hair. You’ll care for him as long as he lets you.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make me really happy 🤍

#janas fics #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #javier pena angst #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader

[jasmines-library]

Hi. Um... i have been craving angst

👀 and my angsty mind has been making up... scenarios, but like would love them typed out so i can read 💀 i live your work, p.s. <3

anyways, would like to ask for something along these lines:

reader is a batsibling

is kidnapped

fam cant find her for a few days and is panicked

they find her somewhere, blindfolded and tied up, on the ground and caked in blood

they get her some med stuff and whatever

and they're like how did this happen so they somehow get cctv or duke uses his powers or something and finds out that they've been beaten for info

and they get like really angry and all that jazz

:D rest up to you!

would be great if you did it 🥺

but i understand if it's too much

love youuuu 💖/platonic ehe

okay, i will excuse myself from your asks now. byeee

Loaded Silence

hello hello! Thanks for requesting. This was super angsty, but as you put I crave it too... ❤️

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture (not very graphic), fear, medical scenes.

Word Count: 1.5k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

It had happened unexpectedly. You were there one second and gone the next. In a blink of an eye. Nothing more nothing less. That was all it took for you to slip away. Damian could have sworn he was only gone for a minute. To stretch his legs and grab something to eat. But that was all it took for them to sneak in. Quiet as a mouse they crept in, splitting through the open window at the back of the room. Leaving it open had been a careless mistake, but who was to think that you would have been taken in the safety of your own home? 

They grabbed you roughly from behind. A set of rough hands pinning you to the sofa, clamped tightly over your mouth as another worked to tie a heavy bandage around your eyes. You had squirmed feebly trying to gain some leverage. Your training desperately tried to kick in but at that moment, you were not a vigilante. You were Y/N Wayne: A citizen, child to the wealthiest man in Gotham and utterly fucked. 

You had no choice after that than to allow them to drag you downtown, you had kicked and cried blindly, desperate for one of your brothers to chase after you. But whoever was gripping you tight enough to bruise was clearly experienced and you knew that they stood no chance so unexpectedly. 

When they tossed you down on the ground, you thought it would offer some relief. The room was dank, dusty and smelt of water rot and mould. This was the part where they would send a ransom note to Bruce and he and your brothers would come charging in sooner or later. But you had never been more wrong. 

“We know who you are, Wayne.” A voice spoke. Feminine but not soft spoken. Threatening. “Or would you prefer Raven?”

Your stomach dropped as bile burned the back of your throat. You knew you could fight now, but you were defenceless weaponless with your hands and feet bound together. 

“The fuck do you want?” You spat, though the effect of the venom in your words was lost for you looked so helpless. 

“Bold of you to speak to me that way, given your predicament.” The woman chuckled, prodding you with her foot. “You’re here as a sort of…payment.”  She mused. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“What?” 

“My husband.” She started, moving away from you. You could hear her pacing around the room but you  could only conjure up images in your mind. “Leader of the greatest crime suricate in Gotham. And now, he’s dead. Rotting in some coffin in the ground, thanks to your father.” 

She moved closer again. Her heels clattered against the floor. 

“He took away the only thing that ever mattered to me!” She gripped your wrist, lifting you up off the floor and leaning into your face. “So now, I’m going to take away one of his toys until someone tells me how to get him out! His precious little girl. Oh how I can’t wait to see the look on all of their faces when they see you. That is of course…after we have a little fun.”

~

There was still no sign of you. And it felt as if they had searched every inch of the city. The high and the low but still nothing. No one had slept much in the three days you had been missing. Their nights were either spent searching for you on patrol or laying awake staring blankly at the ceiling as their minds conjured up the worst. None of them said it outloud but the possibility that you were dead loomed over them. But no one ever said anything. They just continued to search in silence. It seemed like Babs and Tim hadn’t torn their eyes away from the screens since Damian came barging into the room three days ago, doubled over and panting as he revealed the news. The only time they ever moved was to head to the bathroom or to make another mug of lukewarm coffee. 

The rest of the family were out on patrol. That was what they were calling it anyway. Really they were looking for you. And still there had been no sign until Dick stumbled upon a window. It was low down to his feet covered by concrete as though the building had just sunk into the concrete. And when he tried to peer inside, it seemed to be covered by something on the inside. 

It could have been nothing.

But Dick was desperate. 

He called over the other vigilantes with a signal on his com. They all came tricking over towards him silently through the city. Some bubbling with hope and anticipation, but all dreading the worst. 

Moving around the back of the house, Dick pushed open the door. 

~

You had never been more scared in your entire life. Everything ached, burned or stung. From what you could feel there didn’t seem to be a single inch of your skin that wasn’t covered in blood. It clung sticky to your skin, cracking every time you managed to bring yourself to shift against the floor.

She had continued her onslaught for hours, trying to force answers that she knew you would never be able to give her from your chapped lips. She would leave every once in a while, returning silently to catch you off guard with another round of pain. You couldn’t see her: the blindfold still remained firmly around your eyes, so you had to anticipate when she would return as you cowered against the back wall in a pool of your own blood. You were unsure how long it had been since she tossed you into the room. Without the relief of sunlight, your woozy mind had lost track of time. 

And then a pair of hands gripped your shoulders. And you screamed, trying to recoil away from them. You didn’t make it far. Your body was too weak.

“No! No please! No more!” You begged, tears dribbling down your cheeks to mingle among the dirt and blood. “I already told you I-I don’t know anything! Please!”

“Woah, woah.” It was Dick’s voice that broke through to you, though they had all called out to you. It was him who had reached out to you in the first place, hesitant that the smallest touch would break you. As soon as they were met with resistance they knew you were here. And they fought as fast as they could to get to you. Praying that they wouldn’t find you as you had. Sprawled out across the floor in a pool of your own blood as you struggled to breathe. “It’s us.”

“We’re here, Kid.” Jason leaned forwards to remove the blindfold from your eyes as Dick tried to support you in his arms. You squiremed weakly, still untrusting. But the minute the blindfold was off and you had finished adjusting to the onslaught of light. You broke.

You collapsed into Dicks arms, sobbing and shaking. He cupped the back of your head with his hands and held you, giving Jason and Duke a nervous glance. Your blood had already begun to stain the front of his suit as you whimpered in his arms, clinging to him tightly. 

When he tried to shift you, you let out a sob and clung to him tighter. He wasn’t sure if it was because he had hurt you or because you were scared he was going to leave you. Probably both.

“Y/N?” Jason whispered, moving to crouch by your side. “ We’re here now. We’re going to get you home okay? Can you tell us what happened?”

You shook your head and buried your face into Dicks chest trying to block out the pain.

Eyes turned to Duke who watched you with sad eyes. They observed as he surveyed the room, taking in the horrors that the light revealed. And he couldn’t help the gasp that slipped out of his lips. 

He paled at what he saw. Winced at the way your face contorted with pain as the woman towered over you, tossing you about the room like a ragdoll and slashing you with various tools as she screamed at you. He saw how she would catch you off guard by sneaking up on you in the dark as some cruel game to satisfy her sick amusement. He felt sick. 

In the time it took for him to see the echo of your agonies, Dick had managed to coax enough for him to stand so they could bring you out of the room and get you urgently to medical attention. 

The two looked at him expectantly. And once he had managed to stutter out what he had seen, Jason was tensely clenching his jaw and fists. 

Someone was going to bleed tonight. He was going to make sure of that.

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[russellsppttemplates]

A little hope (Lando Norris) (Part 1)

Lando will give you all the time you need if it means you will work things out

Note: english is not my first language. I don't think I've ever written a piece without closure/closing off the subject like this, so constructive thoughts are appreciated... might do a part two depending on how this one goes, let me know your thoughts on it! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a couple's fight, self-deprecation moments, body image insecurity, signs and symptoms of anxiety

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Here, gorgeous", Lando said as he opened the door for you, letting you in first and following suit, finding your places around the table as the meeting was about to start.

"Thanks, love", you whispered as you set your things down on the table, turning on your laptop as you gathered everything you needed to show them.

"Whatever you want to do, we'll do", Lando noted a while into the meeting already. He didn't know that much about graphic design, so if his graphic designer said they should do it, they were going to.

The frown on your face, however, didn't seem to agree, "I spoke to the marketing guys, as well", you looked at Anna as she nodded, "and they think this is also the best strategy if we want to expand it to this market", you clarified.

"Then that's how it's going to go, Y/N", Callum asserted, noticing your slightly antsy posture as you moved on to the next point of discussion.

This had been happening for a while, the thoughts plaguing you with the fact that, in the simples of terms, you worked for your boyfriend. While the relationship had nothing to do with how you got the job and position, and inside the team, no one seemed too phased by it, part of you wondered if you were taken differently because of your relationship.

"Alright, Y/N?", Tara said, calling you back to planet Earth, "yes, sorry. But I agree with that, yes, but could we do this earlier, maybe this week? It would match up with all the dates we have", you answered, earning everyone's approval as they booked the shoot for Friday.

A knock on the door startled you as a woman peeked, "I'm sorry, I'm looking for Anna? From Marketing?", she asked, looking at you, "are you her?", she pointed her finger to you.

"She's my girlfriend, Y/N, she's our graphic designer", Lando said with a big smile.

"That's Anna", you said as the ginger haired girl raised her hand, "I'm Y/N", you murmured the last part.

The uneasiness took over your body again when you noticed the woman's look directed at you, a mixture of a silent scoff and a despised expression.

"Do you need a ride home, baby?", Lando asked once the meeting ended, "I have to go somewhere before going home, but thanks anyway", you said, kissing his lips chastely and bidding goodbye to everyone.

"Is she alright? She seemed off today", Max commented as he saw your interaction with his bestfriend, "this project had been taking a lot out of her, she's been tired, that's all", he said as he looked at your back as you walked away from them, "at least I hope it's that".

Only it really wasn't that, and with your calendar and Lando's calendar, you only saw eachother again on the day of the shoot.

The fight you had the day before still resonated with you and Lando, each of you measuring your words and how you had behaved.

"In Quadrant, you are my superior and I respect that", you pointed between you two, "but I'm my own person and if there's something I say, I want to be heard as me, Y/N, graphic designer for Quadrant", you cleared, "And in the meetings, if I give an idea, I want it to be heard and seen as coming from a graphic designer with experience and knowledge, not your girlfriend who you're afraid will get hurt if you say no and always let me get my way", you explained.

"But who said that I don't respect you like that? Because I do! I've considered every idea you've said like I'd consider them if somebody else said them!", Lando attempted, "do you think my love for you is not genuine? Do you think my appreciation for you or how much I value, as a person and as a member of the team, depends on what? What do you think this is?", Lando snapped, looking angrier than you've ever seen him. He usually kept a calm stance no matter how stressful the situation was, so the slight raise in his and his tone was enough to show he wasn't his usual self.

"Is it my fault you are my girlfriend? Are we putting this relationship, our relationship, in a basket of cons for us and for our lives?", he sounded genuinely hurt at his admission.

You didn't mean it that way, and you knew he knew that, but the fact that his mind went there and considered it enough for him to say it out loud hurt you.

Despite Tara's insistence that you could be one of the models for the hoodie she claimed was made for you, you declined the invitation, feeling that it would only add to your self deprecation and the very few comments you had seen online about how "dating Lando has landed you a great gig when so many people are looking for jobs themselves". You weren't also in the best terms with your boyfriend, and since he was modelling too, it would hardly be a good idea to be so close to eachother whilst still working in front of the team.

"We printed the backdrop you sent us, Y/N!", the photographer, James, and his colleague, Kai, called for you as you went to inspect the piece. It wasn't greatly detailed, but had certain points already measured so the editing and designing would be easier for you once you go the pictures back from them.

"I've never done it like this myself, but a friend of mine from university has done this before and he said it was so much easier and the models can move freely as long as they're within the frame", you explained, sharing knowledge in case they ever found themselves with a similar issue in need of this solution.

So absorbed in the conversation about different techniques and the words they had done before, you missed Lando arriving to the studio along with Max who had started making sure everything was running as scheduled.

"First, it's model two and three", you said as you looked at the schedule Max held, "so that's...", you trailed off, looking again in the list to make sure you were calling the right names, "Lucy and Lando", you stated, looking around for them and seeing the boy laugh at something she had said.

"Guys!", Max yelled, "it's your turn", he whistled, grabbing their attention so they could get in position.

James kept telling them what worked best as Kai worked with the lights, carefully readjusting and pointing out whenever they weren't on the frame you had specified.

"Now it's just the male models", Kai said as Lucy stepped down.

"I'm sorry to bother, but do you think we can bring out the snack table around now?", she questioned as she clipped her hair back, not wanting to mess with the work that was done on the short blonde locks, "I woke up later than I wanted and I had to rush here so I didn't have much for breakfast", she cringed.

"I think we can, yes. There's coffee in there, too, so I might join you", you smiled, walking alongside her to the table the catering team had set up. You were planning to spend the whole morning in there, so food and drinks were ordered to keep everyone happy and content.

"Rough night?", Lucy asked as she say you make a triple latte from the expresso machine.

That would be a way to put it, you thought. You hated leaving things unresolved with anyone, but knowing you and Lando went to sleep without knowing where you stood, it was hard for you to close your eyes and fall asleep despite the tiredness you felt. You rolled in your bed countless times, changing the pyjamas you were wearing three times until you accepted that the choice of clothing wasn't what was keeping you from falling asleep. In total, you probably slept four hours, and you were hoping the coffee would help with that.

"I remember when me and Lando used to go out, there was this week where it was four nights!", she smiled, stirring the hot tea in her cup as she took one of the small sandwiches.

"You and Lando used to go out? I didn't realise", you asked, the curiosity killing you and the dread to know the answer even more.

"I mean going out as in out of the house and into clubs, parties and such", she laughed brightly, and even that didn't seem to settle your heart, "we found out we have mutual friends that work for the same chain of clubs. We never slapped a label on it, I think neither of us wanted the attachment or rules you had to follow, you know? He's always wanted to be free on his endeavours and do as he pleases".

"Sure", you gulped, drinking the hot coffee as you thought about her words, not going to far, probably for your own good, since you heard something fall, "I better go see what that is, excuse me", you smiled lightly.

As it turned out, there was a piece of metal holding the backdrop that had a smaller piece holding it together that wasn't the right size, "we have to tools in there, let me just change it quickly", you said, "you guys can go and grab a coffee and some snacks, they're really good", you offered, "I'll sort out the programming for the next set while I'm at it, too".

Carrying the piece to the room where you kept the tools, you turned on your laptop and ran the code, fixing the metal piece in the mean time when you heard someone walk in the room, "was the coffee that bad? I- Oh, hi", you muttered, seeing Lando walk in and sit in front of you as you worked on the table.

"Can we talk, please?", Lando wondered. Even though he was clearly tired and his usual bright eyes had required the makeup artist to apply eye drops on him twice already, he still looked as handsome as ever. His curls was bouncy and the green coloured hoodie was a perfect match against his tanned skin and the minimal jewellery he had on.

"Sure", you asked, setting the screwdriver down and looking at him.

"I want to apoligise if I made you feel unworthy, professionally and personally. It was never my intention, Y/N. I want to be there for you, and I want to protect you and help make sure nothing bad happens, okay? I'd hate to be the reason you feel bad, baby.

"But I also need you to tell me what's wrong, because I know something is bothering you and I don't care who I have to call or what I have to do to help, but you need to tell me", he stated.

Your eyes started to feel tight and threatened to spill tears you were sure had been building up for more than a week, "I'm a confident woman, I know what I'm worth", you reasoned, "growing up left from what society thinks women should behave and look like, I've had to grow thick skin and be confident in what I do. It's not that you've had other partners or flings before, it's the way I'm being labelled as your girlfriend. Suddenly, I lost my name, my identity and I'm something to someone, that's what people see.

"I love you, and I love being with you. I've had so many opportunities that I wouldn't have had in other jobs and in other relationships, but I'm not sure losing who I am is a fair price to pay", you added. "I need to think this through. I'm not in the right state to argue this and risk saying something I don't mean and hurt you in the process. I don't want to hurt you, Lando, and I don't won't to be hurt either, I'm sorry", you sighed, looking into his colourful eyes.

"I love you, Y/N, so much", he said as he took a step forward, testing the waters and not getting resistance from you which led him to press his lips on your forehead, depositing a slow and soft kiss there, "I don't want to hurt you either, but... Think about it, okay? Really give it some thought because there's a way and we will find it", he attempted, realising it wasn't his place to tell you how you should feel about something and finding a common ground.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but we need your opinion on something, Y/N", Kai asked, sympathetically smiling as you excused yourself from the room and back to the studio area.

Lando went outside to cool off a little, thinking about your discussion and taking the opportunity that he wasn't needed inside for a while.

Had he been a pushover? Was that how you felt? You hadn't been yourself in the past two weeks, but he had put it down to the fact that you had been to the race with him and then Quadrant had this project that you wanted to see through from begging to end and it was on a tight schedule. You wouldn't be persuaded to take it easy, so Lando did his best to make sure you were as well as possible, but he seemed to have failed.

"I don't know how long it will be before they notice I'm gone and need help, so I'm advising you to spit it out while you can", Max jumped in, sitting on the floor and against the wall next to him.

"Just tired, didn't sleep well", Lando muttered. He didn't sleep at all, truth be told, images of your shattered expression kept replaying in his head as he tried to figure out what was happening to you two.

"I suggest you tell me the truth", Max squinted, "so, try again".

"Y/N and I have hit a rough patch? Our first big fight? I'm not sure", he admitted, "she isn't telling me much, but I think it's about the fact that she works for Quadrant, as in the company I, her boyfriend, own and something about treating her like and employee and not my girlfriend", Lando let out, starting to get worked up, "she tells me this, and I've kept my distance, and that's not been good either. Didn't she say that I should treat her like the employee she is?", Lando snapped as his body language showed another set of emotions.

"She is an employee, yes, and she deserves to be treated as such. But she's also the person you come home to, she was someone before she met you, she is a person outside of your relationship and you shouldn't meddle things. You know that dating you isn't easy and she's been getting the backhand of it", Max reasoned as Lando listened intently, "the social media team have been taking care of it, but there have been comments that are less than kind about her on Instagram, the email marketing too...! It's shitty, less than reasonable accusations, but it has been there... Y/N has never liked to be discredited, and I'm not saying you do it per se, but maybe it's where you should go first", he tapped his friend's back.

"She's not letting me in, how am I supposed to know?!", Lando got antsy again, feet tapping the ground incessantly as his breath got quicker and shallower as he struggled to focus a little.

"Is this rage you feel? Anger?", Max checked, handing Lando the ice-cold water bottle so he could focus on the temperature and not spiral out, "you're good, mate? What do you feel?".

"It's fear that I might lose her", Lando said as he allowed himself to cry, "I'm afraid of losing her because of something I did to her unintentionally. Because being my girlfriend is bad for her and I can't be selfish and tell her to be with me when she's suffering. Because I can't help that I'm proud of her and I won't to belt out how proud I am of her work and that I have her?", he let it all out.

"Have you thought about how it feels for her, though? Even for you, there are comments left and right about how you got to where you are, so imagine how it is for her", Max thought out loud, letting it all sink in.

By the time they came back to the studio, the models were gone and, by the looks of it, so were you as they tidied the place.

"Lando, Max", James called, "we're just finishing up and then we'll also get going. Y/N had to leave, she said something about her mother calling her and she needed to go. Didn't look life threateningly urgent, but she had to get going. Also- Lucy, I think her name was -, she left her number here for you", the photographer said, "she asked me to make sure I handed it to you", he smiled, "do you need mine too? I'm assuming it's for the contract payments?".

"Yes, there was a mishap with her contract, but we checked and yours are still there, no worries with that", Lando lied, impressed at his ability to come up with a half decent excuse.

Walking up to his car, Lando threw the card James gave him in one of the bins outside before getting in with Max, "let me just send this text, one minute".

To lovie ✨️

I'll give you all of the time that you need, but I'm not leaving this, I'm not leaving us. You're the love of my life and I'll wait as long as you need me to, so whenever you want to talk, I'm here, baby.

I love you to the moon and the stars 🤍

"I'll be damned if lose her, Max", Lando admitted, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and supporting his head on his hands.

"You two were made for eachother, Lando. You'll figure it out", his best friend comforted.

As he was reversing out of the parking space, his phone beeped with a notification.

From lovie ✨️

Thank you for letting me do that, I appreciate it more than words can say.

I love you to the planets and around the Milky Way.

For now, it brought a smile to his face, and a little hope. And he would hold on to that little hope.

Part 2

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