#four dumbasses and the (second) apocalypse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smp-live · 3 years

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The apocalypse happened a few years ago. And- it's vague, the apocalypse. It's not some big earth-shattering moment. It's confused tv reports and impulse decisions and little growing bits of tension until the pot boils over.

The details are fuzzy; it all happened so quickly that many civilians were left unaware of what exactly went down. One day, they were living, and the next, most weren't.

Nukes, EMPs, solar flares - the survivors find it doesn't matter. One way or another, the world ended, millions died, and everything’s different. Hostile. Harsh. Unforgiving. The sun is bright and searing, and radiation burns skin not covered head-to-toe.

People are cruel and will take advantage of anything they can. If you're not a part of an already-existing group, good luck.

Somehow, two men end up on a wooden pallet floating in the middle of the ocean. Maybe it was a plane crash, one of the few still running downed by a stray shot; maybe a boat capsized, embrittled by the radiation. Same as the apocalypse, it doesn't matter. What does is that now they’re surrounded by debris and a shark thirsting for blood and there’s one thing they both know: trust no-one.

So they don’t. Names hold power, as they’ve learnt over the past few years; names imply trust. When it becomes apparent they’re stuck together and the time comes to introduce themselves, the elder of the two stares out to sea and says, “Call me...” And that phrase brings back memories of a book he’d read long ago, in the Before Days, and so he finishes, “Ishmael.”

The younger panics and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m Gunk.”

‘Ishmael’ raises a skeptical eyebrow, clearly amused. “Gunk,” he repeats. And ‘Gunk’ nods, crosses his arms.

“Yeah, bitch. It’s...” his mind blanks, “Russian.”

Ishmael’s brow climbs further, and he looks on the verge of laughing, lips twisting ever-so-slightly upward. “Last name?”

“Uh,” Gunk wracks his brain, and something from a history class, years ago, stands out. Nearly forgotten amongst all the useless information - what he calls anything that doesn’t directly contribute to survival, nowadays - and only clinging on through his brain classifying it as ‘important’ for God-knows-why. “Gorbachov.”

“Like... Michael Gorbachov?” There’s a hint of laughter in Ishmael’s tone now, the first in a while. He tries not to let that thought depress him.

Gunk nods, relieved at the reminder of the rest of the name, even if he still can’t place it. “Yeah. He was my father.”

“Michael Gorbachov, eighth and final leader of Soviet Russia, was your father,” Ishmael deadpans, and, frustrated at having been outplayed, Gunk scowls.

“What of it?” he challenges, which makes Ishmael laugh, throwing his head back to the blistering sun high above.

“Okay, Gunk,” he says, and yet it doesn’t feel patronizing.

They both know the other is lying, that much is obvious from the constant teasing and jokes about Gunk’s ‘father.’ But it doesn’t matter, because in the slow turning of the days, they grow close. After all, there’s not much to do on a makeshift raft in the middle of the ocean, other than chat.

Ishmael is handy, and the main reason for their survival. He knows how to purify water and fillet a fish, how to add on to their raft without nails and swim against the ocean current. Gunk wonders where he picked all that up, but never asks.

(A survivalist father and paranoid brother, whom Ishmael hasn’t seen in half a decade. The thought that they’re probably still alive brings him comfort.)

Gunk, on the other hand, does most of the grunt work. Fishing in debris that floats by, diving down for rocks when they briefly dock, and the ever-important duty of keeping the shark they named Clive from destroying their miserly raft. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter through it all, and Ishmael thinks that’s what makes the monumental effort to go on worth it. Then, he wonders when he let himself get attached.

(It was a week or so in, when Gunk had fashioned himself a shelf out of the bottom of a storage bin and some planks, and proclaimed it his ‘comfort shelf.’ Gunk felt the same when Ishmael didn’t tell him to dismantle it, only pushed it aside, even though they were supposed to use that wood to repair Clive’s last attack.)

They survive, they grow closer, they hesitantly trust, and yet, they don’t pry. They don’t share their real names. Not until one day.

Ishmael goes swimming out to a nearby island to scavenge for food and chop down a few trees, if he can manage. Gunk stays on the ship - an anchor is next on their to-do list, and so he’s responsible for keeping it from drifting off with his tiny paddle. Except it’s not well-crafted, and grey jaws reach up to snap at the wood he’s standing on so he uses it to stab Clive, and the tip breaks off. The raft starts drifting away.

“Ishmael!” he calls, then again, louder, “Ishmael! Fuck, man!” But he’s nowhere to be seen, and the current is dragging Gunk awfully far out from the island.

He keeps calling, shouting, screaming, increasingly panicked at leaving his friend, the man who’d helped him survive for months, now, behind. Until his voice grows hoarse the way it never did from rambling for hours on end, and a little speck appears on the beach of the island.

Ishmael waves widely at him, and he must be shouting but Gunk can’t hear it over the lapping of the waves. So he assumes what was said, hollers, “I can’t fuckin’ come back, arsehole!” and raises the remains of the paddle over his head to clarify.

The speck stills, then bursts into motion, tossing everything he’s holding aside and shucking his shoes. Gunk can practically hear him mutter about what an “ridiculous child” he is, because although they’ve never shared their ages Ishmael’s decided he’s the elder of the two, which obviously means Gunk is a child.

And then Ishmael dives into the water, and he’s closing the distance between himself and the raft with each stroke. He cuts a straight line through the waves, until he suddenly swerves to the left. Gunk is confused a moment, before he notices - a grey fin jutting out of the water next to him.

Clive goes in for another pass, then another, and Ishmael jukes him out both times. He’s maybe five meters away, now, but the shark is coming back so Gunk screams. But Ishmael’s head is underwater, and he doesn’t hear. Just keeps going, towards safety he won't make it to.

Clive barrels into him. Ishmael vanishes underwater.

He doesn’t come back up.

Gunk is diving in before he can properly think, pushing past the cold shock of the sea, as he uses his self-taught skills to bring him to where he guesses Ishmael last was. Then, he takes a deep breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and goes under.

After a nervewracking few moments, his elbow bumps into something and he latches on, desperately dragging it upwards. They break the surface and he gasps for breath, Ishmael limp against him.

The trip back is agonizing. Ishmael is deadweight, their clothes are waterlogged, and Gunk has never been the best swimmer. But Clive is still lurking, and he refuses to drown after all this time, so he manages to drag them both back to the raft through pure willpower and spite.

Gunk collapses next to where he’d heaved Ishmael onto the planks, taking a second to compose himself. Shivering violently, he curls into a ball - he'll have to go for a spare change of clothes. His eyes drift shut. In a moment.

Then, panic seizes his heart as he becomes aware of how still Ishmael is. He jerks up, staring at him, searching for any sign of life, anything-

But a moment later he relaxes, when Ishmael rolls over and starts heaving out saltwater. Gunk reaches over and pats him on the back until it subsides, and he falls back onto the wood.

“You,” Ishmael says, letting his eyes flutter shut, “are so stupid.”

Gunk feels a burst of indignation. “Hey, what the fuck! I just saved your dumbass, Ish-ma-el.” He scowls at Ishmael’s placid little twist of the lips.

“Wilbur,” he murmurs, hands folded over his chest.

“What?”

“My name is Wilbur.”

Oh.

“I’m Tommy,” he says after a moment of silence where it sinks in, what he’d just been told, the trust laid on him, and then lays down next to Ishmael - Wilbur, now.

Wilbur just hums and wraps an arm under his shoulders, tugging him close - which is new; they’re really going all-in with this trust thing, huh? - then says, “So, so stupid.”

“Oi,” Tommy protests, but leans in closer.

Things aren’t really visibly different, after that. They still bicker, still do the same daily tasks, still slip up and call each other ‘Ishmael’ and ‘Gunk’ - though it becomes less and less common, other than with a teasing tone. They finally get their anchor, which means Tommy has the chance to go on land; though he quickly grows to dislike it after an incident with a particularly pissed-off boar.

To an outsider, everything remains the same. But to the inhabitants of the raft, it feels different. More homely. Warmer.

Once, after Wilbur chides Tommy over something or another, Tommy rolls his eyes and says, “You know, we really are like brothers.” He tries to keep his tone joking, and to not let himself hope for the words to be true.

Wilbur freezes. “Don’t say that; I’ll cry.” He blinks once to keep the tears at bay, and tries to push down the warmth in his chest.

(They both fail.)

About four months in, a light appears in the distance, at night. They angle their sail towards it and the dark shadow on the horizon. A few days later, it becomes apparent what it is: a lighthouse.

Inhabited land. Civilization.

They gather their meagre supplies once they dock, then ditch the raft in favour of climbing the lighthouse. And, from the top, off over a hill, Wilbur spots it first, points it out to his brother, who squints-

A Dome.

#wilbur soot #tommyinnit #Fic #enderspeak #sbi rust #crimeboys #Love how we all saw that stream and went #''Yes. Those are the Rust boys.''#Also I can't write anymore apparently. Pain

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Title: Survival of the Fittest.

Pairing: Yandere!Bakugo/Reader/Yandere!Kirishima (BNHA).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Apocalypse/No Quirks AU, Unhealthy Codependency, Non-Consensual Touching, Mentions of Death/injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Imprisonment.

You were lucky Kirishima had been the one to find you.

‘Find’ might’ve been the wrong word. It implied that he was looking, that he wanted to discover you, bleeding and battered and bruised, cowering in a grimy corner of what used to be a grocery store. It must’ve looked pathetic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your torn clothes, your matted hair, the way you’d whimpered as he first approached, all wide eyes and open arms. Survivors were few and far between, and it’d been weeks since you saw another living, breathing person. Kirishima hadn’t seemed like a god-send, not in the moment, but he was a miracle. You’d been too shocked to thank him properly, as he pulled you to your feet and practically carried you out of the city, but you should. You wanted to. You owed him that, if nothing else.

You were lucky it’d been him, rather than Bakugo. You were grateful it hadn’t been Bakugo.

You’d probably still be rotting in that corner, if it had been.

He didn’t seem to like you very much, even if he had begrudgingly moved aside when Kirishima asked if he could bring you inside. It was a bunker, judging by the sparse furniture littered around the common area, plain cement walls only adorned with the occasional hunting knife or bat left to lean against them. The bench Kirishima had left you on was wooden, too stiff to ever be comfortable, but it was a practical choice. Fabric was a luxury to be stowed away and treasured, saved for things more important than a stranger’s comfort. You’d do the same thing, if you’d been in his shoes.

That didn’t stop Bakugo from glaring, though, perching himself on the edge of a nearby crate and refusing to take his eyes off of you, as if you’d already earned and lost his trust. “There’s no fucking advantage,” He started, but he wasn’t talking to you. You weren't worth his time, just yet, not while you were still just a stray Kirishima was too much of a saint to turn away. “We’re not a damn food bank. It’s not out responsibility to babysit every dumbass on the verge of death.”

“Don’t listen to him.” At least Kirishima was kind enough to address you as he slipped back into the common room, taking his place at your side and handing you something – a mug, cremated and unchipped and filled to the brim with something watery, steam still rising off the top. Your first sip was hesitant, but you couldn’t stop yourself from draining the cup once you recognized the taste. Coffee. Cheap, bitter, heavenly coffee, the kind you didn’t have enough clean water to risk trying to make. You could’ve kissed him. You might’ve, if the calm levity in his voice hadn’t snapped you out of it. “Katsuki’s just a little defensive, when it comes to guests. We’ve got plenty of supplies to go ‘round, and…” He trailed off, glancing over you. To the bruises circling your wrist, the stained bandages peaking out from underneath your shirt. To the spot where your ankle twisted just a little too far to the left for the angle to be natural, the evidence of a fall you tried and failed to break with something besides your own body. “I don’t think we can kick someone out in good faith with those kinda injuries. Not with all the crawler activity, lately.”

You flinched at the name alone. Crawler, creatures, the things that used to be people and weren’t, not now, not anymore. You used to think of them as zombies, but that wasn’t right. Calling them zombies would be an injustice, even if they did tend to rot if left to their own devices. Zombies weren’t that fast. Zombies weren’t that distorted. You’d encountered three or four, but you tried to avoid attracting them, when you could. It was easier, when you were on your own.

Bakugo groaned, bringing you out of your thoughts. You tried to stop your hands from shaking, as he spoke. “You’ve got a group to run back to, right? Nobody survives that long without one.”

You tried not to sound as small as you felt. Judging from the way Kirishima glanced away, it was a futile effort. “Nobody survives that long with one, either.”

Kirishima’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, and Bakugo crossed his arms, a sign that must’ve meant submission, judging by Kirishima’s optimistic response. “Just until your ankle’s healed up,” He promised, a compromise you hadn’t asked him to make. “You’ll stay until then, right? ‘d be a shame if we had to lose another person because of Katsuki’s bad attitude.”

There was a sharp ‘hey’, a barely stifled laugh, and slowly, you forced yourself to nod, immediately receiving a bright grin from Kirishima by way of reward. It was a practical choice, honestly – they had food, they had shelter, they didn’t seem to be grasping at threads just to get by. Even if Kirishima was a little too friendly and Bakugo wasn’t nearly friendly enough, you could life with that, you could get by. Once you’d worn out your welcome, you’d leave. As soon as you were fixed up.

You didn’t want to wait for things to go bad, this time.

Despite his reluctance, Bakugo didn’t take long to warm up to you.

Kirishima was still the approachable one, obviously. He was who you went to when you needed to find something, when you had a question about their ration system or weaponry or the parts of the bunker you weren’t allowed to go in, rooms with steel doors and deadbolts on the handle and a raw, metallic smell emanating from the other side, but Bakugo always seemed to be lingering just behind him, ready to scoff and roll his eyes before he took you by the wrist and explained that, if you expected to reap the benefits of their hospitality, you had to at least try to pull your weight. He was helpful, like that, his help less patronizing than Kirishima’s, albeit twice as easily frustrated. Still, he didn’t hate you. If anything, he seemed to—

“If you slow down one more time, I’ll feed ya to the damn bears myself.”

You sped up, reflexively. He didn’t hate you, but it wasn’t too late for him to start.

It’d been Kirishima’s idea for you to go hunting. You were still in a splint, the majority of your calf an abstract blend of medical tape and cloth padding, but you bit back the pain as you followed Katsuki down the rough, unpaved trail, gritting your teeth past the ache forming under your skin. It wasn’t a raid. If anything, you were only getting further from the city, working your way up the mountain their bunker was carved into the base of. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been concerned about the crossbow in Katsuki’s hands, the weapon already loaded and poised, but the hunting knife strapped to your thigh eased your nerves, as did his disinterest in doing anything but trudging forward. If he didn’t take the time to call back to you every few minutes, you might’ve thought he’d forgotten you were there entirely.

But, silence never suited you never well. Not with a near-stranger, at least. “You’re not afraid of crawlers?”

“This far out? Fuck no.” It was an immediate answer, quick and shameless. Like an amputation, if an amputation left you nursing a bruised ego rather than bleeding out. “There’s enough fresh meat in the city to keep ‘em occupied. Only the runts ever bother coming out here to look for scraps.”

“I would’ve been that meat,” You mumbled, absent-mindedly. It was an idle thought, more of an admission than an accusation, but judging by the way his posture slackened, how quickly his attention shifted to the foliage, he wouldn’t have cared either way. “If Kirishima hadn’t found me, I mean. God knows I look like an easy target.”

“You are an easy target. Just be glad he’s got a weak spot for charity cases.”

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what he meant, you lost your footing before you got the chance, slipping on the damp leaf litter as a spike of something agonizing ran from your heel to your knee. Bakugo didn’t flinch, letting you catch yourself on his shoulder as he raised his crossbow, barely taking a moment to aim before firing. You could feel the kick-back, a jolting reverberation that only seemed to make the wet thunk that followed a little worse, the sound of an arrow piercing skin and flesh.

You expected that. You were ready for it. But, you hadn’t been prepared for the deafening scream that came afterwards, heart-piercing and human. You moved to rush toward its source, but Bakugo only caught your arm, shaking his head. Like he’d missed, like he’d only killed a deer. Like there wasn’t a person thrashing in the underbrush, still crying out as he spoke over them. “Looters,” He explained, like that was an excuse. “We’ve been dealin’ with them for a while, now. ’s just a scout, but he would’ve been back with reinforcements if we let him run off untouched.”

Bile rose in the back of your throat. For your own sake, you chose to believe him. “So? We can’t just—”

“Yes, we can.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need your permission, and he didn’t want your compliance. He didn’t even bother to justify himself before he turned away, starting back on the trail as you stood, still too shocked to move. “C’mon, we’ve already lost enough sunlight, and I’m not wasting arrows on scum. The fucker can drag himself back to his hideout, for all I care.”

You could’ve argued. Bakugo didn’t seem to think the blow was fatal, but you could’ve checked, made sure, offer what might’ve been a dying man a few last seconds of company before he bit the bullet. You could’ve, part of you wanted to, but…

But then, Bakugo tossed a glare over his shoulder, and your attention was brought back to the crossbow in his hands, to the machete strapped to his belt, to how pitifully small your knife was, in comparison. You didn’t want to lose the trust you hadn’t really gained, just yet. You didn’t want to take that kind of chance, not when Kirishima wasn’t around to give you the benefit of the doubt.

So, you shut your eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the quiet sobbing in the background as you followed in his tracks.

Surprisingly, Kirishima was the first one to slip into your bed.

You told yourself it was a mistake, when he let himself into your room in the middle of the night, closer to sunrise than it was to sunset. None of the doors locked, thin plywood serving as more of a source of comfort than an actual barrier, and beyond your small collection of personal possessions and the bedside table you’d commandeered from storage, your room was identical to any of the eerily unoccupied barracks on the lower layers of the bunker. Still, you expected him to turn around, to see your sleeping form curled up in a corner of your cot and realize he had the wrong room. It was late, and he made a mistake. It didn’t have to be anything more.

But it wasn’t that late, and Kirishima never really made mistakes. He was too careful for anything like that.

At least he was being careful now, too, as far as you could tell with your eyes clenched shut, your breathing restricted to slow, shallow inhales that left your lungs feeling just a little too tight. He was gentle, if nothing else, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest and burying his face in the nape of your neck. You didn’t squirm, you didn’t push yourself away, but you must’ve been too stiff, too still, too rigid. He didn’t seem to buy the act, however desperate it was.

“’suki’s real proud of you.” His voice was tired, weighted down by exhaustion. Clearly, he wouldn’t be leaving. “He told me about yesterday. Says you were good, cooperative and all. He likes that kind of thing.”

You didn’t respond, digging your nails into the sterile, medical sheets. Your ankle throbbed, and you tried to focus on that, to justify it. To remember why you could still convince yourself to stay.

“He’s a big softie, though. We both are, but I don’t try to hide it.” There was a light squeeze to your side, the ghost of his lips over the crook of your neck. His breath was warm, compared to the bucker’s constant chill, and you tried to think of his smothering body heat as a small silver lining. “I think it’s sweet. Gets lonely ‘round here, y’know? You’re a good fit.” There was a pause, a chuckle. For a moment, you thought he might push a little further, hold you a tighter, but Kirishima only shook his head, going on with that same careless, tired lilt. “I knew you would be, when I first saw you. A fragile little thing like you could never survive out here, not all alone.”

He was half-asleep. He didn’t know what he was saying. He’d probably apologize tomorrow, if he even remembered. “I’m not going to stay for much longer. I’ll be on my own again, in another month.”

“We’ll see.” The cot’s barred frame creaked as he shifted, his weight coming to rest against your back – a constant, oppressive reminder of his presence. A memory flickered to life in the back of your mind, a familiar intimacy that’d been earned and asked for, but you pushed it away quickly. You didn’t want to think about things like that, not here, not when this was so one-sided, in comparison. “Get some rest. You haven’t been getting enough sleep, lately.”

You’d leave when it was safe to. When you healed. When you’d worn out your welcome and become more of a burden than a benefit.

You wouldn’t stick around long enough for things to get suffocating, this time.

It was a mutual decision, when Bakugo and Kirishima stopped you from leaving the bunker.

They didn’t ask. That was the part that stung, really, the thorn that started working itself under your skin the moment you caught them standing in the threshold, an empty duffle bag slung over Kirishima’s shoulder and a baseball bat tucked under his arm. Bakugo had his crossbow, a pistol you’d never seen before holstered at his hip, but that bothered you less than the way they were muttering, keeping their voices purposefully low. Like they knew how you’d feel, if you saw them. Like they wanted to avoid the tension.

You’d never been very good at picking up hints, though. Much less those you were desperately trying to ignore.

“You’re going out?” You called, approaching them before you could stop yourself, suppressing a yawn as you made a show of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It was early, and you didn’t want Kirishima to know you’d already been up for hours. If he thought you were tired, he’d assume you were losing sleep, and if he thought you were losing sleep, he’d take it as an excuse to visit you at night, again. You… you didn’t like it, when he did. “Let me grab my stuff, it’ll only take a minute. If I knew you two were planning a raid today, I would’ve—”

Bakugo was the first to shut you down. “Sit this one out, alright?” It was a question, this time, but barely, his usual bluntness wrapped in a layer of kindness so thin, you could practically see through it. “’s just a quick supply run. We’ll be out and back before you notice we’re gone.”

“We’ve done this a thousand times,” Kirishima added, offering a small smile. At least he was trying to be nice about it, in his own, patronizing way. “It’s starting to get boring, honestly. It‘d be a shame to ruin all the progress you’ve made for something so minor.”

Right, your ankle. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d complained about it, the last time you’d been in enough pain to limp, even if Bakugo still insisted on tending to your ‘injury’ once a day, at least. The truth was glaringly obvious, even if they still made a half-hearted attempt to hide it, to let you avert your eyes and pretend you believed them.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your disappointment, your expression dropping as your nails bit into the meat of your palm. “You don’t think I can keep myself safe.”

In their defense, neither tried to deny it. Bakugo only looked away, and Kirishima smiled apologetically, his hand already pushing against the bunker’s metallic door. “We don’t want to risk it,” He explained, like you were a liability. Like you hadn’t survived out there for months without their help, injured or uninjured. “If something happened to you, if someone got to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. We both care about you, even if Katsuki doesn’t want to admit it.”

“It’s practical.” Bakugo didn’t look at you. It was a small mercy, really. At least he was self-aware enough to be ashamed. “You need more time. You fucked yourself up bad before Eijiro found you – all that doesn’t go away overnight.”

Expect, it hadn’t been a night. It hadn’t been a day, or a week, and you were starting to question if it’d even been only two months. It was hard to keep track of time, but the weather was already turning, every scrape and bruise Bakugo could’ve concerned himself with was already healed, and you’d already let yourself get comfortable. You’d stayed too long. You’d let them get attached, and you’d failed to make it clear that you weren’t.

You had to get out. Now.

Or, you could try to get out, at least.

You’d waited too long for Bakugo and Kirishima to just sit back and let you walk away.

They were stronger than you’d assumed. It was easy to forget what the human body was capable of, when you were so used to be exhausted and half-starved, but it wasn’t difficult to remember, not with Bakugo’s hands wrapped around your wrists, one of Kirishima’s arms splayed over your knees, stopping you from thrashing as they shoved you against a bed, a real bed, the frame wooden and the mattress more than just sponge and stuffing. It was one of theirs obviously, and if you’d stumbled onto it at any other time, you might’ve felt insulted, left out.

Right now, the only thing you could feel was terrified.

“Fucking bitch.” It was a grunt, a growl, followed by something close to a snarl as your elbow connected with his check. He was the one who’s caught you gathering up what little you had to take with you, a canteen already filled and strung across your back. It was on the floor, now, the metal dented and the contents spilling out, but if either of them minded wasting clean water, you couldn’t tell. They were busy, now, too busy dealing with you to worry about something so minor. Too angry to care, leaving you as the center of their rage. “We tried to be nice. We tried to give you a choice. You just couldn’t take the fucking hint, could you?”

“Let me go.” You couldn’t bring yourself to raise your voice, but you tried to come across as frantic, desperate, as betrayed and as disgusted as you really felt. “You’re both fucking crazy. I don’t want to—”

Kirishima didn’t let you finish, he’d never really bothered to. He was already shifting, leaning on one of your calves while grabbing at the other, calloused fingertips pressing into your newly-healed ankle, the remaining bruises still raw and tender. You cried out, more out of instinct than agony, but Kirishima only grit his teeth, rubbing circles into your skin, like that would be enough to soothe you. “We’re just taking care of you, alright? We’re just doing what’s best.” It was pointless to say, but the didn’t stop him from going on, rambling like he was going to convince anyone, including himself. “It’s dangerous, out there. You just need a little more time to realize that. You just need to see that ‘suki and I are your best option.”

They weren’t. They weren’t your best anything, but you didn’t have a chance to retort before Bakugo cursed under his breath, gathering your wrists up with one hand and forcing the other over your mouth, cutting you off before you could protest further. “Just do it,” He spat, all-but ignoring you as he spoke to Kirishima. “There’s no point in trying to explain this to someone so irrational. Let’s just get it over with before we have to do something worse.”

For a moment, you went still, a series of worst-case scenarios flashing before your eyes before you could rationalize them, before you could tell yourself to stay calm. For a moment, there was panic – pure, unadulterated, brutal panic.

And then, something cracked under Kirishima’s hand, and you forgot how to think of anything at all.

You let out a stilted, faltering sob, something akin to liquid fire running from your thigh to your calf to the point where everything stopped – everything below your ankle numb, disconnected, dead meat that still managed to hurt. The rest of your body went limp, your survival instincts gone and replaced with the unbearable desire to curl into yourself and cry, but Bakugo was still holding you, his arms strung around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as Kirishima slotted himself against your back, cooing soft nothings as you fought not to break down completely. They were talking again, both of them, but you couldn’t seem to listen. It didn’t matter.

Your ankle was broken. Not sprained, this time, not bruised, but broken. Shattered. Dislocated. Forced into a position that meant you’d be forced to stay, voluntarily or otherwise. Whether or not you could still stomach looking at Bakugo and Kirishima, let alone living with them.

You couldn’t leave, and you were beginning to think they were never going to let you.

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mcytblr-elections · 4 years

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WELCOME TO THE MCYTBLR ELECTIONS

created by @adhddream

this blog was made (with permission!!) to compile Political bid posts!

I'll try and create a link list right here for each one, so you can browse as you please

(Have a Bid we're missing? feel free to message the account!!)

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-Grapefruit 2020-

@/limelocked

-R.M- @/octosghost

-Cinnabun 2020- (coalition)*

@/cinnabunthefilthyinniter

-R.M- @/wooteena

-R.M- @/imgns

-Best 2020-(coalition)*

@/wooteena

-R.M-@/imgns

-R.M-@/cinnabunthefilthyinniter

-Rice 2020-

@/adhddream

-R.M-@/kritzzinnit

-Potato 2020- *propoganda*

@/itsfundy

-R.M- @/fakenoblade

-Sandwich 2020-

@/violet-sandwich

-N.R.M- yet. Precarious standing.

-Cookie 2020-

@/dtvibez

-R.M-@/peskydice

-Soot 2020-

@/wilbursootstan

-R.M-@/happysarcasm

-Gold 2020-

@/thedreamsmp

-R.M-@/octopus-defense

-Netherite 2020-

@/mcyt-apocalypse-au

@/neptunelilies

-Fakier 2020-

@/fundy-in-a-boat // @/fundy-minecraft

-R.M-@/tubbo-in-a-boat

-Kinnie 2020-

@/wasaminx

-R.M-@/skeppiee

-Con 2020- *may be illegal

@/anxiious-mcyt

-R.M-@/pog-juice

-Peepo 2020-

@/no-thoughtz

-R.M-@/bubblellop (sus)

-TubToe 2020-

@/tubbo-live

-R.M-@/oakskull

-Pog 2020-

@/sootblr

-R.M-@/innitblr

-Crime 2020-

@/enraged-chihuahua

-R.M-@/toesuckler-but-spooky

-Quotes 2020-

@/mcyt-quotes

-R.M-@/sosigshoney

-Royal Concubine-@/the-royal-bat-snake

-GOLD 2020-

@/thedreamsmp

-R.M- @octopus-defence-squad

-Coffee 2020-

@/golden-chocolate-demon //@/ask-those-dumbasses

-R.M-@/dr-froggo

-R.M-@/vrynnnavriisz

-FUVK 2020-

@/poggersinnit

-R.M-@/ehreneret

-R.M-@/mrblobby

-Moss 2020-

@/dreamingheart

-R.M-@/tie-dyed-dumbass

-GLOW 2020-

@/myppisaninnie

-R.M-@/sombraookami

-Silverfish 2020-

@/severely-nearsighted

-R.M-@/sleepypurplepandas

-Arson 2020-

@/tabzanite

-R.M-@/maybe-its-micheal

---

Rules to create a Bid

(taken from adhddreams pinned post)

-A Running mate

ask someone to be your second in command, support is needed to prevent.. revolution 👀

-A party name!

Pog2020 or Swag2020?? Use a word or short phrase to title your campaign≥ try and keep it different from existing campaigns!

-Seven policies

the seven deadly sins. What does your campaign stand for? They can be short or long, but make sure they represent what you're running for.

That's it! This post will be updated with campaign links and pertinent information, but this is an unofficial blog. If you want information straight from the source please go follow @adhddream ! Happy Politic-ing!

**(note: Cinna and Best share the same members- I asked for clarification via @/wooteena and got this answer. These two parties are in precarious political states and it will be interesting to see play out)

Update- they have been accepted!!

Okay so I've been working on this for about four hours today; I'm not in the discord, and all my info is pretty much second hand. I'm also running on about an hour of sleep so just. H. I can't keep up-

But here's ADHDdreams masterpost of policies and parties anyways. Some of the candidates in my post may no longer be relevant but mobile Tumblr has crashed on me five different times today. Happy voting??!

EDIT;

There is now an MCYTBLR ELECTION RP occuring on-tumblr and in-Discord. You can find the list of relevant sideblogs here; It is constantly changing and hard to jump into, but I am currently pursuing a plotline summary to make it easier to join; If you would like to volunteer your services to outline the plot, or you have a sideblog that is not currently linked on the masterpost, please dm me!!! It is much appreciated and no trouble at all

#MCYTblr #MCYT election #MCYTblr election #MCYT

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superfanficnatural · 4 years

Text

Maybe the apocalypse isn’t so bad after all

Pairing: Negan x Male!Reader

Summary: Negan finds you having some fun with some walkers, resulting in some unrequited attraction to intertwine the both of you. Deciding to go back to the sanctuary with him, the both of you couldn’t hold yourselves back any longer.

A/N: This is my first Negan fic so I really hope that you guys like it! I tried to make Negans personality as accurate as possible so there is a TON of f-bombs in here haha, also I know the summary sucks but I couldn’t think of anything to write xD, enjoy!

A/N 2: Spoilers for TWD seasons 6 and further but if you are reading a Negan fic then it’s not a spoiler lol.

Warnings: Heavy Cursing, Smut, NSFW 18+, Oral Receiving (Male), Dirty Talk, Anal Sex, Bondage (Rope and Blindfold), Daddy Kink, Slight Fingering, some others.

Word Count: 3.5K

Italics are thoughts

Gif isn’t mine

Negan’s POV

“God DAMN it’s been SO long since I’ve been able to let out some steam.”

“Who the hell was that?” asked one of the four soldiers behind me.

We backed up and hid behind a wall, I peeked my head over to see some random fucking guy walking up to the gas station next to us. I counted a dozen walkers, he can’t be serious, I thought to myself. He took off the backpack he was wearing and to my surprise, he didn’t grab the pistol by his hip, instead reaching behind him to grab a machete that was hooked onto his back.

“Now, who’s first.” the guy said, walking up to the walkers.

Two of them walked up to him side by side and he swung his machete, beheading two of the fuckers at once, damn he’s good.

“Oh come on, you guys can do better.” he teased, inching closer to another three.

They were decently spaced out, walking in a single file line, cars on their sides making their path narrow. He shoved his machete into the first one's stomach, pushing him back until his machete hit all three. The walker at the front tried to grab him, flinging its arms out at his face. I was about to go help the poor son of a bitch until I saw him cut both of it’s arms off in seconds, swinging his machete once again, this time connecting with its head. Whoever this guy is, he’s fucking good. I was considering taking him in, seeing if he could help the sanctuary.

“Damn, sucks for you.” he said sarcastically, coaxing a small chuckle to leave my lips, now this is the kind of person I want around me.

He shoved his machete through the second one's skull, piercing it and getting the third one as well. Seven left.

One was trapped in a car, another trapped underneath one, the other five in a group a few feet in front of him.

“Come on you fuckers, come to daddy.” he joked. He’s a badass AND funny? Well fuck me.

He dropped his machete and I was about to yell out and call him a dumbass until he reached behind him, grabbing two medium sized knives strapped to the back of his belt. He approached the group, throwing one knife, he connected it with one of the fuckers heads, running up and tackling the second, his other knife going into it’s eye socket. He ripped out the knife and walked up to the other walker on the ground, taking the knife out, he ran up to the last three, simultaneously killing two of them. Turning to the third, he motioned him to come closer with his pointer finger. The walker was at biting distance and that’s when he shoved both of his knives into the sides of his head. He turned around and that’s when I saw the smirk on his face, blood covering it and his clothes, my pants tightened and my breathing got heavier, wait what the fuck? I’m not into- forget it.

He easily finished off the two remaining walkers and grabbed his machete off of the floor, walking over to his backpack and picking it up, I was tempted to walk out, try and get him to come back to camp with me.

“You gonna come out or...?” he said, glancing over in our direction with a grin, we all instantly jumped behind the wall. After a few moments I decided to walk out, taking my chances.

Your POV

You knew there was a group of guys behind that wall this whole time, how else would you have survived this long without picking up a few skills?

“I’m not going to wait forever ya know?” you finished, growing tired of them hiding. You were about to make your way over to them until a man walked out, fuck. You hadn’t seen any attractive men since this entire fucking apocalypse and there he was, salt and pepper beard, slick black hair, a black jacket and baseball bat wrapped with wire, a complete fucking dilf. Attractive AND dangerous? Fuck me.

“Don’t mean you any harm, was just walking through here until I saw you fuck UP those sons of bitches.” a foul mouth too? Damn, I guess some good things do come out of the apocalypse.

“Right... anything else you need?”

“People, honestly, you got a camp or something?” he asked, testing you.

“No, I don’t have a camp, I also know there are four other guys behind that wall so you have a camp.” he was about to open his mouth to speak but you cut him off, “Don’t worry, I couldn’t care less if you have a camp or not, I’ll just be going on my merry way.”

“Wait!” he urged, turning you back around.

“You need something, daddy?” you joked, not realizing the power behind your word until after you said it, a slight blush threatening to flash across your face.

He smirked and his eyes grew darker, “Actually, I do. I want you to come back to my camp, I need tough sons of bitches like you,” he admitted.

Wait, he smirked?? He doesn’t look gay to me at all, I mean he looks like he can probably fuck whoever he want’s but he definitely does not swing that way, he was probably just laughing at my joke, yeah, that.

“I’ve always been solo, what makes you think I want to join up with you guys?” you asked, already considering it just because of this perfect vessel in front of you.

“Can’t be solo forever, eventually you’re going to need some help. Plus, we got food, running water and electricity, clothes, anything you could ask for.”

“Electricity? As in I can shave my pubes after however many fucking years? Along with this ridiculously unfashioned beard?” you asked, perking up.

He chuckled, “Would I ever fucking lie to you?”

You chuckled to that in return, damn a sense of humor too? Who the hell is this guy?

“I’m Y/N, you?”

“Negan, and this here is my baby, Lucille,” he said, swinging the bat around.

“Oh god, you were definitely one of those guys who named his car some kind of name before all of this weren’t you?” you asked with a jokingly disgusted face.

He full body laughed at that, resulting in you letting out a small chuckle as well, “Something like that, so, you wanna join up with me?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Fuck it, why not,” you responded with a smile, him giving you one in return.

You both made your way over to the other men, introducing yourself and them doing the same, you already forgot their names except for the one who looked important, Simon. They had a truck a few hundred feet down the road, “What were you guys doing out here anyways?” you asked.

“We came to this gas station looking for some gas, but from what it looks like, there’s nothing left.” Simon replied.

You nodded in acknowledgement, hopping on the back of the truck while the rest got in, Negan in the driver's seat with Simon next to him, you had a feeling he was his right hand man.

After about an hour on the road, you reached a huge factory, fences with walkers hung up on them, smart, keeps the rest away. After a whistle from Negan, the gates were opened by two men, driving past them you saw they were fully armed, damn, this place is fortified.

Parking in front of what seemed like the front entrance, you all got out and Negan motioned for you to come over to him. Walking into the building, you noticed a bunch of stalls and what seemed like people selling stuff, “On the first level, we have the point system, they sell what they have for other people in need and get points to buy stuff for themselves.”

“Seems a bit flawed but it’s better than nothing I guess.” you shrugged.

Walking past the hundreds of people, you noticed they all basically got on their knees as he walked past them, “What are you? God?” you joked.

He smirked, “To these people? Fuck yeah I am.”

Chuckling, you made your way up to the second floor with him, noticing long hallways with multiple doors.

“Up here the point system doesn’t exist, it’s where all the soldiers sleep, eat, and probably fuck, no points necessary.”

“Damn, sign me the fuck up.”

“Why else do you think you’re here smartass?” he nudged your shoulder.

“Fuck off, where are we going?” you asked, nudging him back.

“To your room, so you can settle in and cut those pubes that you were talking about.”

You laughed, continuing on with him. He stopped at the end of the hallway and opened a door, a huge room that looked nice as fuck came into view, “There’s no way this is mine.” you said in disbelief.

“This one is mine, but yours is similar, come here.” he said, walking over to another door a bit further down the hall. He opened the door and you saw a room that was barely decorated, all of the essentials in place.

“Damn, last time I had a place this nice was in my dreams a few months ago.”

He chuckled and walked you over to the bathroom, you noticed a shower with a razor on the counter, along with some shampoo and body wash.

“I would normally tell you to not take too long with the hot water, I have a feeling you’re gonna go and stay as long as you fucking want anyway, so go ahead and take your shower and shave, I’ll be waiting in the main room.” he said, walking out and closing the door behind him. Wasn’t he the leader of this place? Does he really have the time to wait on me?

You stripped down, turning on the shower and getting in. Holy shit the water felt amazing, you didn’t even wash yourself for a few minutes, simply enjoying the amazingly warm water before eventually washing yourself thoroughly. Getting out of the shower you felt refreshed, the best feeling you have had in the past six, seven years?

Grabbing the razor from the countertop along with the shaving cream, you shaved off all of your pubes, already feeling so much better. You didn’t want to get rid of your beard, it actually suited you very well, it just needed a trim and size-up. Grabbing the electronic clipper, you trimmed your beard about an inch, it not being too long anyways, and lined up your cheeks, cutting the area around your ear as well. Learning how to cut hair from your friend before all of this started, it helped out a lot. Trimming your hair down as well and shortening the sides, you looked like a new man. Probably ten times more attractive as well, your face finally shining.

Wrapping the towel around your waist since there weren’t any clothes inside the bathroom, you walked out and were met with Negan laying on the bed, Lucille perched up against the wall.

Negan’s POV

Why the hell did I get hard earlier? And why the fuck can’t I stop looking at him? So many questions were going through my head as I was laying on the bed waiting for Y/N. He was taking a while but I know shaving is a pain in the ass. I heard the bathroom door open and I was met with Y/N in nothing but a towel. Fucking shit he is sexy as hell. I could finally see his face clearly, beard and hair trimmed down, was he a fucking model before all this shit? His body was covered in a few scars, only serving to make him look more intimidating and sexy, his figure still lean, six pack abs, toned arms, legs I wanted to kiss and bite. I’ve never even considered fucking a dude, why the hell am I now? I was brought out of my head by Y/N clearing his throat, a smirk on his beautiful lips, “Got any clothes I can fit into?”

Your POV

You walked out and saw that Negan was checking you out, you fought your hardest to suppress your blush and instead put on a confident smirk, “Got any clothes I can fit into?” you asked, bringing him out of whatever he was thinking of. Without saying a word, he got up and stood in front of you, eyes darkened with lust, breathing heavy.

“Unfortunately we don’t, so you are going to have to fucking wait till we find some.” he slowly gravelled. Reaching out, he tugged at your towel, no fucking way this is happening.

“Negan, what-”

“Shhhhh, just let me see.” he cut you off with a whisper. Pulling your towel apart, it fell into the small space in between you two. You were already hard, the simple close proximity of him arousing you. He glanced down and you heard a low moan from his chest. He pushed you against the wall and buried his face in your throat.

“Why the fuck are you so goddamn hot, I never thought I would like another guy but the only thing I can think of around you is how fucking good your tight little ass will feel around my cock while I bend you over and fuck you.” he growled, nipping on the skin of your neck.

You felt your knees grow weak, mind going hazy from his dirty talk. He backed up and took off his jacket, his shirt following. There were multiple tattoos covering his skin, hair on his chest and stomach, if the world ending brought me to this moment, I wouldn’t change a thing. Before he could take off his belt, you grabbed his hand and stopped him, sucking on his neck and leaving a few hickeys, you removed his belt and pushed his pants down, leaving the underwear you got on your knees. Licking and sucking his cock through the thin fabric, his hand grabbing your hair, “Fuck that feels good.” he moaned.

You smiled and removed his underwear, his thick cock bouncing out, you licked your lips in anticipation, you knew he was going to burn just the right way. You teased him a bit longer, licking the tip and tasting his precum, fuck he tastes good. He pulled on your hair and you looked up at him, “Stop fucking teasing me and suck my goddamn cock.” he commanded. You smirked and took him into your throat, inching your way down until he bottomed out, another skill you kept, your cock sucking skills. You started bobbing your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock as you were going, feeling the vein throb. His grip on your hair got tighter and he started moaning, it was the sexiest thing you had ever heard. You wanted to taste him, pulling off, “Cum in my mouth daddy, let me taste you.” you huskily whispered, using the nickname from before. His eyes darkened even further if that was possible and you knew the name turned him on. Resuming your task, you started going faster, twisting your head as you sunk down on him, hollowing your cheeks. He started pumping his hips into your mouth, keeping his hold on your hair tight so you wouldn’t be able to escape. Pumping his hips a few more times, “Fuck I’m gonna cum down your throat, fuck yeah, you want my cum don’t you, my dirty little boy.” You hummed around him, the vibration triggering his release.

“Oh fuck yeah!” Feeling his cum coat your tongue, you eagerly swallowed it all down, his taste arousing you further, making precum leak from your tip.

He let out a huge sigh and took a moment to compose himself before grabbing you by the arms and tossing you on the bed. He reached into a cabinet next to the bed, pulling out a blindfold and some rope, “So, every room just has sex toys in them?” you jokingly asked. He chuckled darkly before responding, “Something like that.”

He climbed on the bed next to you, roughly grabbing your arms and tying them together, bringing them up to the bed frame. Putting the blindfold on you, he slowly backed up. You had never done this before and saying you were nervous was an understatement. You couldn’t see anything and barely heard any movement, you almost thought he just left you there until you felt his lips on your inner thigh, “Shit.” you hissed, the feeling intensified since you didn’t know it was coming. You felt him smirk against your thigh, his lips inching closer and closer to your throbbing cock, “You were made to suck cock, good little cock slut aren’t you? Well daddy is gonna be nice enough and return the favor.”

You felt his breath ghost against your cock, feeling his hand wrap around it and slowly start to stroke it, the simple movement threatening to make you bust, the tension already too high. You felt his lips wrap around the head and you let out an appreciative sigh, his warm mouth enveloping you. He bobbed his head up and down and you wished you could see him, just imagining him sucking you off made you squirm in place. He brushed his finger against your rim and you let out an involuntary moan, him ceasing his actions for a second, then returning to it with his finger rubbing and tapping your hole.

You started tensing up, “Fuck Negan, I’m gonna cum.” you moaned.

He instantly pulled away, “What the fu- Keep going!” you whined.

He chuckled, “You’re only cumming when daddy says you can.”

He lifted your legs up and balanced them on his shoulders, you could hear him spit down on his cock to lube it up, feeling the tip press against your rim. You could already feel how thick he was, moaning in anticipation.

He slowly started to push in, stretching your walls to their breaking point, “Oh fuck!” you shouted. You could feel the vibrations of his chuckle against you, your arms slightly hurting from the amount of force you were struggling against the rope with. Inching in, he finally bottomed out and you let out a loud moan, feeling completely and utterly full.

“Today is your lucky fucking day, daddy is gonna fill you up with two loads, and you’re going to take this one deep inside of you.” he grounded out, voice low and husky.

He pulled out almost all the way until nothing but the tip was left then rammed his cock inside of you, “Oh fuck, Negan!”

He started relentlessly pounding into you, leaving no room for you to even breathe. The breath being forced out of you with each thrust, you could hear the bed creaking with the force behind each one, the sounds of his cock entering and exiting your hole filling the room.

“Damn your ass is fucking perfect, warm and tight, perfect for my cock to fill and stuff with cum.” he growled, reaching down and nibbling on your ear. He was hitting your prostate with what seemed like pinpoint accuracy, each thrust bringing you closer to your release. His hips started stuttering and you could tell he was close. Wanting to return the dirty talk, “Fuck daddy, your cock feels so good inside of me, filling me up to the brim, cum inside me, breed me and make me yours.” you moaned in his ear, clenching the muscles in your ass to make it tighter.

He let out a guttural moan and slammed into you, the force behind it greater than before, sending you into your orgasm, shooting all over your chest. He pumped his hips a few more times and released, grunting your name into your ear. You could feel him shoot string after string of cum into you. Pulling out, there was a trail of cum following his cock, your ass completely filled. He licked a stripe up your chest, collecting all of the cum there and taking off your blindfold, he claimed your lips and shared your cum. You moaned, intertwining your tongues together and sharing the taste.

“Fuck you even taste perfect, how the fuck did I not find you before?” he asked rhetorically.

He unwrapped the rope from your hands and reached for the towel on the floor, cleaning up the cum dripping from your hole and both of your cocks, plopping down on the bed next to you. Both of you let out huge sighs, more than satiated with what just happened. You turned towards him to notice a soft look on his face, damn, this man is incredible, you thought, gazing at his handsome face.

He was wearing a huge smile, “What?” you asked with your own smile.

“Nothing, was just thinking that maybe the apocalypse isn’t so bad after all.”

Tag List: @negan-the-cat @negans-network @negandarylsatisfaction @magssteenkamp

#negan smut #m/m #m/m fiction #negan x y/n #negan x reader #negan x male #negan fanfiction #negan imagine #negan fic #negan fanfic #twd negan #twd #twd fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan #negan twd #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction

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generallynerdy · 5 years

Text

Through Hell & Back (Daryl Dixon X F!Grimes!Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) Grimes and Daryl Dixon would go through hell and back for their big brothers. But something they realise along the way is that they might just be willing to do the same for each other.

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: Shane Walsh & Andrea existing, cursing, badly written accents, injuries, fights (physical & verbal), badly written reunions, attempted rape, death mentions, mentions of Rick ripping someone’s throat out with his teeth, Emotions Word Count: 5,261 (yeah wow it’s a doozy)

Note: i am in love with this fic pls request more grimes!reader shit when requests are open i am begging you

“You need to get your priorities straight--”

“My priorities are straight! My brother comes before anything else-- anyone else, do you understand me?”

(Y/N) had been arguing with Shane since dawn. After screaming at him and nearly ripping his head off when he admitted he hadn’t watched Rick die, she was still going. She could do it all day.

“You would risk the lives of everyone here for him?” Shane whispered harshly.

She met his gaze with stubborn defiance. “In a heartbeat.”

“Even Carl?”

“Carl needs his father,” she spat, shoving him back. “And you don’t get to say anything else about this. You left him to die! I’m gonna find my brother and when I get back I’m gonna kick your ass so hard you taste leather.”

She stormed across camp to her tent. Still fuming, she packed her things as fast as she possibly could, ignoring the footsteps approaching her tent.

At first, (Y/N) figured they belonged to Shane, still wanting to argue with her, but when they paused outside, she knew it wouldn’t be him. He would’ve entered without hesitation, as would Lori, so it had to be--

Daryl cleared his throat as he came in.

"What do you want, Daryl?" (Y/N) muttered, shoving her supplies into a single duffel bag.

She didn't need a lot, especially if she was just going to drop into King County and see if her brother was still there. If he wasn't, it would be a whole different story.

"I'm comin' with ya," he said firmly.

She turned sharply on her hell. "Scuse me?"

"I said I'm comin' with ya," he repeated, his tone possibly more stubborn than hers. "You ain't goin' all the way to King by yerself."

She scoffed and turned back around, ignoring him in favor of packing her things. "Daryl Dixon, I never thought I'd see the day." Rolling her eyes, she continued. "I have to find Rick and nobody's changin' my mind."

"Didn't say I was tryin' to."

"I'm not taking you with me," she decided, swinging her back over her shoulder and looking back at him.

"Can't stop me," he glared.

She almost laughed. "The group needs you here more than I do. I won't be long and hopefully I'll have the dumbass with me when I get back."

"They can go without me," he suggested.

(Y/N) shook her head. "We both know they need the food you get from hunting. Stay here."

She went to leave the tent, but was stopped when he grabbed her arm. The smallest gasp left her lips. He'd never touched her before, not in the slightest. He'd never touched anybody except maybe Merle, who he'd smacked on the arm last week.

Since bringing Daryl and Merle Dixon into this group, (Y/N) was a lot less busy than she had been at the start. They brought in a good amount of food from the woods and she couldn't thank them enough for that. They were irritating as hell, mostly Merle, who nobody in their right mind liked. Daryl, on the other hand, was perfectly tolerable.

(Y/N) found herself hunting with him more often than not, actually. He was quiet, but so was she. His company was preferable to Shane's, that bastard.

"You would go through hell for Merle, wouldn't you?" She asked him suddenly, meeting his gaze evenly.

Though Daryl paused, he nodded. "And back."

"Then you know why I have to do this," she said, pulling his hand off her arm.

"That's why I'm goin with ya," he said again. "Nobody should go through hell alone."

Now that had her hesitating. She'd never taken him for the sweet type. By the look on his face, though, even he was shocked by his own words. He almost looked like he wanted to take them back.

"I'll be back soon. You stay here with Merle and the others," she said again. "If I'm not back in three days, then you can come after me."

"And you won't be pissed?"

She snorted. "Didn't say that." She bit her lip a little, sighing. "Just stay, okay? I need someone to be here that isn't Shane."

"Don't trust him?"

"Not anymore," she almost growled. "Sick fuck left my brother to die. Who knows what he'll do if we don't keep an eye on him?"

Daryl nodded at that. "I'll watch him."

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice surprisingly genuine.

After Shane told her that he hadn't, in fact, watched Rick die with his own two eyes, (Y/N)'s list of people she could trust was getting shorter. She always had Lori and Carl, that was for sure, but it wasn't like they would be much use except for emotional comfort.

At least now she could depend on Daryl and maybe even Merle if he was willing to help his little brother out. The others in the camp were trustworthy, too, she supposed, but not when it came to Shane. They listened to him. That was dangerous.

(Y/N) had hoped she could trust her brother's best friend since childhood in the wake of the apocalypse, but that plan had fallen out from under her feet. People in this camp trusted her, they listened to her, but they listened to him more. And after what he admitted to doing, she wasn't sure if she could do that anymore. It was better for her to leave, to go searching for her brother. Daryl would keep an eye on Carl and Lori and there wouldn't be any leadership disputes, at least not until she returned.

"You should tell the kid what's goin' on," Daryl suggested after a quiet moment. "He'll wanna know why his Aunt (Y/N) and Uncle Shane are shoutin'."

(Y/N) sighed deeply. "I know. I wish he hadn't seen that."

Daryl shrugged. "Might be better if he knows you and Shane ain't gettin' along. More likely to listen to ya."

"Maybe. Doesn't mean it won't hurt," she admitted. Shaking her head, she took a step out of the tent, Daryl following her. "Just do me a favor and keep an eye on 'em, Dixon."

"Yeah, well, you do me a favor and don't die out there," he shot back.

She laughed a little despite herself. "I'll try not to." Then, she turned to him, her tone serious. "Three days," she repeated. "Three days before you come lookin', okay?"

"Okay."

“I’ll hold you to it, too, Dixon. Don’t be late.”

He snorted as she went to leave, or at least find Carl so she could say goodbye.

I'm on my way, Rick, she thought as she left. I'm on my way.

That was four days ago.

Daryl had it in his head to leave yesterday, but then Officer Friendly informed him of Merle being missing and suddenly it was a double rescue mission. Of course, Daryl would probably regret trying to beat Rick up when (Y/N) came back, but in the moment, he'd wanted to make him pay for leaving his brother.

To be honest, part of his fury came from the fact that he would never have done that to Rick's sister. So how come he did it to Merle? Well...Merle could be a jackass. Fair enough.

The day the group was going to leave, Daryl overheard Rick and Shane.

"This ain't a good idea. Merle ain't worth it," Shane was trying to say-- again.

Daryl scoffed as he passed. "Sure, Merle ain't worth it. But (Y/N)'s been gone three days. Oughta start lookin' for her down there."

Rick's eyes widened. "(Y/N)?"

That was when it hit Daryl-- Shane's guilty face, Rick's absolute horror.

"He's been here two days and you didn't say shit!?" Daryl accused instantly. He turned to Rick then. "Yer little sister's been lookin' for ya by herself. She said she'd be back four damn days ago. I was s'posed to look for her after three."

So, a rescue mission it was.

Shane was shocked that Daryl was meaning to go after (Y/N), as was...pretty much everyone else. But he ignored them. As soon as they were in the city and found Merle's hand, Daryl was pretty sure they were going to move on to (Y/N).

They were searching the building where they left Merle. Daryl split from the others when he heard movement down a hallway. He paused by the corner and took a deep breath.

He swung around the corner, coming face to face with a loaded pistol.

"Jesus, Daryl," came (Y/N)'s breath of relief. "Might've warned me."

He dropped his crossbow instantly. "Yer an idiot."

"Thanks, missed you, too," she sassed. "After yesterday I didn't actually expect you to find me."

Daryl frowned. "Shit happened. Run into Atlanta went wrong-- your bitchass brother handcuffed mine to a roof."

(Y/N)'s face lit up immediately. "Rick? Rick's with you?"

Daryl almost smiled at her joy, but shoved it aside when he was reminded of his own brother. Sure, they found hers, but his was missing. Talk about a trade off.

He led her down the hall where he left the others and as soon as they turned the corner, she was sprinting at the turned back of her brother. Rick turned right at the last second and caught a massive, tearful hug from her. She clutched the back of his shirt fiercely and buried her head in the crook of his neck.

"Jackass," she muttered.

Rick, voice breaking somewhat, replied: "Dumbass. What were you doing-- looking for me by yourself? What about Carl and Lori?"

"Daryl said he'd watch 'em for me," she said, pulling out of the hug.

"You could've at least taken Shane."

(Y/N) scoffed. "Yeah, right. After what he did?" She shook her head and punched his arm fondly. "Whatever. I'm glad you're okay, loser."

Rick rolled his eyes and reached forward to ruffle her hair, but she shoved him away.

Daryl watched in bitter, spiteful silence, gripping his crossbow tightly. He would have given anything in that moment to have his brother back. And when (Y/N) looked back at him, nodding, he knew she understood.

Through hell, she’d expressed silently.

And back, he’d replied.

Days-- maybe weeks-- later, Daryl was pulling away. He went out nearly every day searching for Sophia. It was an unspoken agreement between him and (Y/N) that she would let him do it. She understood why.

"It's because you didn't go after your brother, isn't it?" She asked him one day.

"What?"

She took a deep breath. "You search for Sophia to make up for not going to look for your brother. You wouldn't leave us to go look for him and now it's eating at you."

"Maybe," he muttered, mostly trying to ignore her. "What's it matter?"

"You stayed to take care of the group. You're not a bad brother for not looking for Merle," she tried to reassure. "There's nothing you could have done."

That was when he stopped replying, grabbing one of the Greene's horses from the stables. He intended to go out again that day, to spend hours looking for a little girl who was probably dead. (Y/N) would let him, like she always did.

"One day," she said, making him stop.

"Huh?"

She smiled a little. "One day. You don't come back, I'm gonna come looking for your ugly ass."

He snorted, mounting the horse. "Yeah, good luck with that."

He rode off, leaving (Y/N) to worry about his return. Every hour that he didn't come back was another hour spent worrying. As it began to get later, she was completely on edge. Rick asked her what was wrong, but she couldn't find the words to tell him. He already had enough on his plate as it was.

When she and the others ran toward the walker on the edge of the field and she recognised it as a person, she nearly collapsed with relief.

And then the gunshot rang out.

(Y/N) was on Andrea as soon as Daryl was in the house. She got in a nasty right hook before Rick ripped her off the woman, yelling at her to calm down.

"I oughta kill you!" (Y/N) spat.

Okay, so leadership wasn't going so great these days, at least with Andrea and Shane. Everybody else looked to her for a neutral point of view in the wake of the Shane v. Rick thing going on. Punching Andrea might not have ended up changing that, either. Most would probably be on (Y/N)'s side in that.

"You just HAD to pull the trigger, huh?"

"I thought he was a walker!" Andrea tried to say. "I was protecting the camp!"

(Y/N) scoffed. "Oh, yeah, shoot the walker even though there's a whole group of us staring it in the face. It wasn't trying to eat us and even if it was, we could have handled it. You just had to play hero, didn't you?" With that said, she stalked off, spitting on Andrea's boot as she went.

"Jesus," she heard Shane mutter.

"Oh, shut the hell up," she snapped at him as she went. "I'll slug you next."

Okay, maybe Daryl was bringing out a little more vicious side of her. But to be completely fair, somebody had to be vicious with those assholes. She was just giving them what they deserved.

(Y/N) made her way to Daryl's room, pulling a chair up to his bed. "How are you?" She asked.

"Fine," he mumbled.

"I know you're not," she sniffed. "What happened out there?"

He was silent for a while. It took him a good hour to open up, to admit he'd found the doll but that the horse had thrown him. (Y/N) listened the whole time, just waiting for him to admit to what was really bothering him.

"Thought I saw Merle," he finally sighed.

Her gaze softened. "We'll find him, Daryl. I promised you we would."

"Ain't happenin' anytime soon."

"Maybe not. But it'll happen eventually," she said.

She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to go for his hand, but decided against it at the last second. Despite stiffening at first, Daryl eased into her touch, basking in the silence that surrounded them.

When he found out about Andrea, he laughed about it for days. He'd never let her live that one down. Sure, she was willing to do anything for Rick, but was Rick willing to go through Andrea for her? Because it seemed like the bitch was holding a grudge.

Rick brought it up to Daryl, who shrugged him off. "I'll deal with Andrea" he said. "You just focus on the rest of it."

Rick, of course, had no idea what he meant. But (Y/N) did.

When Daryl came back from searching for Merle alone, (Y/N) knew something had happened. He shoved past everyone to get to a guard tower and be alone. Everyone left him that way, for the most part. (Y/N), of course, dared to lean in the doorway of the guard tower he had chosen, staring at him thoughtfully.

"Hey," she greeted simply.

"Go away."

She shook her head and moved inside just slightly. "What happened out there?"

"Nothin'," he spat. "Can't ya leave it alone?"

"I'm not leaving you alone, not like this," was her instant reply. "Are you okay?"

His voice cracked when he said: "Piss off."

"Where's Merle?"

With that question, he let out a small sob. (Y/N)'s heart broke as she heard it. She'd never meant to push. For a second, she was sure he was just pissed, but now she realised that he was hurting. Something had happened to Merle and he was in immense pain.

She crossed the room and sat on his cot beside him. "Oh God, Daryl, I'm so sorry."

He cried harder, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders shook and (Y/N) drew him into a hug despite her initial instinct to run. She couldn't let him go through this-- not alone.

After a hesitant moment, he hugged her back, drowning his tears in her jacket. She held him tightly, running a hand through his hair.

"I know it's rough," she said quietly. "I know it hurts and right now it feels like it won't ever stop. It might not. But you're gonna be okay. Merle went through hell and back for you, just like you would have for him. He did it so you could be here right now."

"Bastard," he spat just loud enough that she could hear.

(Y/N) snorted and nodded. "Yeah, you'll feel like that, too." She paused. "This is what it was like when Rick got shot. I know it's not the same, Daryl, but I understand what you're feeling right now."

He hesitated to speak, the words catching in his throat when he finally came up with them. Well, it. It was one word, one question.

"Stay?"

(Y/N) knew that Daryl was hating himself right now, hating how pitiful that sounded. It nearly broke her heart to hear from him, something so soft and so broken. She hugged him tight, vowing to herself not to let go until he was ready.

"I'm gonna be here until you get sick of me. I promise."

The prison fell. Of course it did. They could never have anything good for longer than a few months. That was how the world was.

Daryl, (Y/N), and Beth managed to stay together, to stay afloat for a while. But then they lost Beth. God, that almost killed Daryl. (Y/N) was dragging him along more often than not, trying to convince him to keep going. When she mentioned that Rick was still out there, that Carl and Judith were still out there, he picked up the pace.

The Claimers almost killed her when they ran into them. Somehow, though, their leader was convinced she could be useful. Daryl and (Y/N) joined their ranks, though regretfully. They both detested the way they looked at (Y/N), like she was a piece of meat. It made her skin crawl and Daryl glared at everyone who even dared to glance her way.

They kept calling him her boyfriend. He didn't correct them, maybe thinking it would be safer for her if they thought so. Maybe he just wanted them to.

"Look," Daryl was telling her one night when the others were asleep, "we're gonna find 'em. Bound to run into 'em sometime."

"You don't know that," she muttered.

It had been days and she was losing hope by the minute. Her brother, her nephew, and her niece were out there and she couldn't find them. God knew if they were even alive. The only thing she could be sure of was Daryl, sitting thigh-to-thigh on the ground next to her.

Daryl's presence had grounded her lately, especially on the more difficult days. But at some point she'd need more than just him, she thought. The longer they were out on the road, though, the more she started to consider that maybe he was it. Maybe he was the only family she had left. She wanted her family more than anything, but if they couldn't find them, if it was just her and Daryl, maybe she could still survive.

"You'd go through hell and back for Rick," Daryl said suddenly, breaking her thoughts. "That's what you said when you went to go find him."

(Y/N) nodded hesitantly. "I still would-- hell, I have."

"I would, too," he admitted. "He ain't my brother, not like he is yours, but I'd go through hell for him. We ain't gonna stop until we find him, I swear."

She soaked in his words like they were the only thing keeping her alive. In the silence of the Claimers' home for the night, she leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. Reminded of that day so many weeks ago when he'd lost Merle, she was sure he would tense up. But he didn't react. He didn't even flinch.

Daryl let (Y/N) lean on him that night and every night after that, no matter the looks they got from the Claimers. She needed it, that he knew. But what she didn't know was that he needed it a little, too.

He kept his promise when they found Rick.

The Claimers turned on them faster than they'd welcomed them, that was for sure. Before (Y/N) could process, she was being pulled to the ground by a man twice her size.

They circled Daryl, beating the hell out of him. She screamed and screamed, shoving at her captor, but he wouldn’t budge. The horror that ran cold through her blood when the man held her down almost killed her instantly. Her shirt was ripped off and she could hear Rick, Michonne, and Daryl yelling at them to stop. Daryl almost broke through the circle trying to get to her.

His hands went to her jeans while she kicked and screamed. (Y/N) risked a glance at Carl across the road. His eyes met hers, terrified.

Goosebumps pelted her arms. She couldn't let him see this-- couldn't let him experience it. Oh god, anything but that. Anything but that, please.

(Y/N) didn't know when Rick bit the man's throat out, nor when Daryl found the strength to overpower the mob. All she knew was that the man above her was dragged off her and stabbed through the face by her pissed off older brother, who was practically bathed in blood.

Daryl ran to her side while Michonne helped Carl, who was still shaking. He pulled off his shirt and gave it to her. Unable to speak, it was all she could do to keep sane, putting that thing on.

"Carl--" she stammered. "Is Carl okay?"

"He's okay, they're all okay," Daryl told her quickly.

She looked behind him, where Michonne had the boy. With a nod at each other, the woman with the katana took Carl to the car, where he was out of sight from (Y/N).

The moment he was gone, (Y/N) burst into tears.

It was like her worst nightmare had almost come true. She was moments away from being violated in the most despicable way she could imagine-- and in front of her nephew. In front of the boy she held so dear, the boy she'd spent so long protecting. He almost had to watch that happen.

She'd barely held the tears back in front of him, but her inner motherly instinct told her that she shouldn't. It had kicked in ever since Lori died. She was one of the only women Carl had to take care of him. Thank god for Michonne.

Daryl shocked himself, Rick, and (Y/N) when he hugged her. (Y/N) expected to flinch away, but instead found herself sinking into his arms.

She was shaking uncontrollably, unable to stop her tears. He held her, rubbing her back like it was second nature. He couldn't understand her terror, not entirely, but he knew that she was terrified. The best thing he could do was be there.

"Are you okay?" She asked suddenly, her voice breaking. She looked up and put a hand on his face, examining his wounds. "They hurt you."

He shook his head. "It ain't bad. He touch you?"

(Y/N) swallowed hard and shook her head. "Didn't get far."

He hugged her again, tighter this time. If Rick hadn't kill that son of a bitch, Daryl sure as hell would have. He would have given him worse than death. Far worse.

They took a while to recuperate. Daryl stole one of the dead guy's shirts and (Y/N) kept his. Their reunion with the others was long awaited, but it wasn't as joyful as they had imagined. (Y/N) didn't care. At least they were all together-- well, some of them. It hurt that the rest of their family was still missing.

That night, (Y/N) passed out in the car with Carl long before the others.

Outside, Rick and Daryl had a heart to heart.

"You're my brother," Rick told him, shocking him. "In more ways than one."

Daryl turned bright red at that and looked away, daring a glance toward the car. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"I think you know," Rick teased. He went serious after that. “I get why you did it now.”

Daryl frowned. "Did what?"

"All of it. Why you went lookin' for her in Atlanta, why you didn't leave after Merle went missing," he continued. He looked over at him with a stricken expression, finally completely understanding. "You love her."

The words hit Daryl like a brick wall.

Okay, maybe he had feelings for (y/N), but love? That was a little strong. A lot strong. Hearing it out of her brother's mouth almost made him want to run into the woods.

He looked down at his feet, mind running at a million miles a minute.

Love her? He didn't know.

Sure, he would do anything for her, that he'd already established. She was different from the others, warmer and more familiar. She had been since day one, when she was the only one who didn't pretend like he didn't exist. (Y/N) was different and he had feelings for her. That he understood.

Did he love her?

He was starting to think he did. He'd done everything in his power to keep her with him, to keep her alive. He'd done that for everyone in their little family. But with her, he wanted her at his side all the time. He wanted her right there with him through everything and she was almost always there, regardless of whether he voiced that one.

Daryl Dixon did love (Y/N) Grimes, he was starting to realise.

"She loves you, too," Rick said, breaking him from his thoughts.

His eyes widened. "She tell ya that?"

He laughed. "No, man, my sister hardly tells me anything anymore. But I can see it in both of you. She's never leaned on anybody as much as she has you, not since we were kids."

"I--" Daryl hesitated for a moment. "I lean on her, too. She's different."

"You're damn right she is. And you better treat her like that, too," Rick warned, lifting an accusing finger.

He raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright. Enough with the big brother talk. I won't hurt 'er. You know I won't."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Still had to tell you. Part of my job."

Daryl took a deep breath. "Seriously, ya think she--?" he left it unspoken, not sure how he felt in asking her older brother about it.

"Pretty damn sure," he laughed. "Heard her tellin' Carl the other day that if you took your shirt off to dig graves anymore she was gonna die."

He groaned immediately and buried his head in his hands, making his best friend laugh. "So, everybody knows but me?"

"Pretty much," Rick admitted. "Cept maybe (Y/N). She doesn't know how you feel. You're both a little oblivious. We had bets goin' for a while, but you both took so long that we all lost."

Daryl shook his head. "Y'all are assholes."

"Oh, we know."

When they got moving the next day, Daryl kept his pace equal with (Y/N)'s, staying at her side all day. He couldn't bear to leave her alone for a moment, not after that night. They watched with amusement as the others bantered on the way to TERMINUS. They joined in occasionally, but (Y/N) was pretty quiet. She was still recovering from the shock, so no one pushed her.

As they walked through a particularly rough patch of woods, staying off the railroad tracks directly, Daryl got a little bit of a dumb thought.

Walking beside (Y/N), he tentatively reached out for her hand. She almost jumped when she felt him take it, but smiled and let him. Daryl felt like a teenager, beyond red in the face. Luckily, they were walking behind the others, so they didn't notice.

That night, the other three were asleep long before Daryl and (Y/N).

"Don't wanna sleep," she admitted to him after a while. "Scared I'll see it again, last night. It just keeps playin' over and over in my head. What if he'd gotten what he wanted?"

"He didn't. I wouldn't let him," Daryl said firmly.

(Y/N) inhaled shakily. "I know, I just-- it still freaks me out. Can't hardly sleep."

He motioned for her to move closer and she did. He let her lean on his shoulder, as they'd done when they were with the Claimers. He knew it would calm her down, at least a little. It would help her breathe at most. Daryl did notice that Rick, who was definitely pretending to be asleep, opened an eye at the movement. Daryl glared at him and he went back to his pretending.

"Through hell and back," he muttered.

"Hm?" (Y/N) asked drowsily from his side.

"I'd go through hell and back for anyone we know," he admitted. "Been that way since Merle."

"They'd all do the same for you," she said in a quiet reassurance, not quite understanding his point.

He hadn't gotten to his point yet, but he was pretty sure it would kill him.

"I'd do it for any of 'em," he said again, but continued. "But I'd do it twice for you."

Daryl didn't dare look down at (Y/N) after he said it, but he could feel her sit and up and search his face for any sign of amusement or lies.

"I'd do it as many times as I had to," he finished.

"Daryl Dixon, did you go all soft on me?" She asked gently.

He shook his head with a sigh. "Shut up."

(Y/N0 reached up and moved his head to face her, her touch gentler than ever. "I would go through hell and back if you asked me to," she agreed.

"I wouldn't ask ya," he shot back.

She shook her head. "You wouldn't have to."

Leaning forward, (Y/N) Grimes gave Daryl Dixon the most valuable thing she had to give-- her affection. She kissed him soft and slow, letting herself sink into his hold. Daryl was almost breathless. She had her hands in his hair while his arms were wrapped tightly around her.

“Yes!” A quiet voice cheered. “Michonne, you owe me two candy bars.”

“Goddammit, you couldn’t have waited two days?” Michonne hissed at the kissing pair.

They pulled apart instantly and Daryl looked more embarrassed than he ever had been. Rick and Michonne were beaming and Carl was giggling, especially at his dad and Michonne’s bet.

“Carl Grimes, you go to bed right this minute,” (Y/N) instructed.

He laughed but curled. “Okay. ‘Night, Aunt (Y/N). Night, Uncle Daryl.”

‘Uncle Daryl’ mumbled something incoherent and the group burst into another set of giggles, unable to help themselves. Despite themselves, even (Y/N) and Daryl smiled a little.

They had already gone through hell and back for their big brothers. They'd both go through hell again for Rick, in fact, it was almost guaranteed they would have to one day.

But for each other? They'd go through anything and everything without question.

Through hell, they promised each other. Through hell and back.

Masterlist

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drop-of-infinity · 4 years

Text

Destiel fic time, this part canon compliant with season 12. As always, anything is quotation marks is directly from the show, and any chapter can be read alone.

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

<><><><><><><>

Chapter 9: season 12

Keep Calm and Carry On

{“Whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend.” On some level Dean knew that Mary’s gun couldn’t actually hurt Cas, but he still panicked at the sight of it pointed at the angel’s chest. Besides, he didn’t want Mary and Cas’s first meeting to involve anyone getting shot. Cas stared at him in shock, then immediately wrapped his arms around him. Dean sunk into Cas. I’m home, he thought.

{“Dean!” Cas felt like his chest was going to explode. He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. He latched onto the hunter, desperately needing the contact, and almost cried when he felt Dean’s arms lift up to hug him back. This is real. He’s alive. When they separated, Cas found himself breathless. Odd, as I don’t technically need to breathe, his slightly scrambled brain thought distantly. He looked up at Dean who was smiling softly, and his heart clenched. I love you.

{“Cas Cas Cas! Don’t hurt him. Not yet.” Cas allowed Dean to hold him back. He was an angel, Dean wouldn’t actually be able to stop him from doing anything, but Cas had enough faith in him to allow himself to be manhandled. He still glanced up at Dean ruefully, although the effect was slightly ruined by the way he’d already melted under his hands.

The Foundry

{“Morning sunshine.” Sam gave Dean a weird look, and he realized he’d said that out loud. It was getting steadily harder to keep his thoughts under lock and key around Cas. Dean was used to hiding feelings, but four years was a long time to know you were in love with someone and never say anything. He took a deep breath and pressed everything down again.

First Blood

{“They’ve only been gone-“

“Six weeks two days and ten hours.” Cas’s chest hurt. He hadn’t stopped beating himself up for letting them go, even though Dean had told him to. Dean. Where was he now? Was he ok? Cas knew that the longing rolling off himself must be palpable but he didn’t care at this point. He just wanted Dean back.

{“Cas.” “Dean?” “Hey buddy, long time.” “What-what happened, wh-where are you?” Cas almost collapsed on the spot. His heart was trying to beat out of his chest and his knees were weak with relief. How many times had they almost lost each other by now? It didn’t matter, because every time it was the same bone crushing relief, the same lung deflating he’s okay he’s okay he’s okay. Cas grabbed the edge of a chair to steady himself, and took a deep breath for the first time in weeks.

{“Hey buddy.” Cas melted into Dean’s arms, barely holding back a whimper. The hug was over far too soon for his aching skin, and he turned his body towards Dean as he walked away, like a flower trying to catch the sun.

{As they sat in the back of the car, Dean considered what he had done and what he was about to do. There was no way he was letting Billie reap Sam or their mom. He was about to die. It was why he was sitting in the back of the car with Cas. He just wanted to be with him for a minute. Cas’s hand rested on the seat between them. Dean didn’t grab it, because he was, at heart, a coward, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything so badly. He could practically see the longing radiating off himself in waves.

Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets

{“Why do you let him talk to you like that?” Dean’s blood was boiling. This dickhead had no idea what Cas could do, what he had done. He might not command celestial armies anymore, but the dude was still amazing. It was more than just righteous anger though. Cas had rebelled against heaven for them. For Dean, or so he said. The way Ishim was talking to Cas, everything he said about how far Cas had fallen... it was all on Dean. He knew Cas would resent him for saying it though, so he didn’t.

{“I’m gonna cure you of your human weakness the same way I cured my own. By cutting it out.” Cas lay bleeding on the floor, unable to do anything, but he knew Ishim was wrong. Ishim’s love for Lily had turned him dark and twisted because she didn’t love him back. Cas knew Ishim could feel Cas’s longing, and saw a similar situation to himself and Lily with Cas and Dean, but he hadn’t accounted for one thing. Cas was at peace with it. He was prepared to always love Dean and never get an answer, and that wasn’t a weakness. It was what had made him strong enough to stop the apocalypse, to break free of Naomi’s control, to save the world from Amara. It was his greatest strength.

Stuck In The Middle (With You)

{“I think I’m dying.”

“No.” Dean could feel the panic rising into his throat, and he forced it down. Cas needed him right now, he didn’t have time for this. I can’t lose him he thought desperately. They had to do something. A distant part of his mind reminded him of something someone had told him once. “I watched the man I loved die. There’s no normal after that.” Dean steeled himself. He was NOT about to watch the man he loved die because they were going to fix Cas. They had to.

{“I love you. I love all of you.” Cas was dying, and he needed them to know. He needed Dean to know. He had imagined saying it a million times, and there had been dozens where it was on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he hadn’t pictured this. Dying in a barn, stabbed by a prince of hell. In some ways, Cas thought it was fitting. Dean met him in a barn after all. The beginning of the end. It didn’t matter now. He had said it. I love you. Yet somehow, Cas couldn’t even meet Dean’s eyes. He had a feeling the other man hadn’t gotten the real meaning behind his words. Not that it mattered. This was the end.

{Miraculously, Cas didn’t die. As Sam and Dean pulled him to his feet, all of his nerves were focused on the place where Dean’s hand held his. As the hunter let go, Cas chased his touch unconsciously, and felt Dean’s hand pivot back towards his and brush his skin again. His heart clenched painfully.

The Future

{“You know what, whatever. Welcome back.” Dean knew he wasn’t being fair, and he knew he was just making things worse, but he couldn’t stop. He was just so angry. He’d been worried sick about Cas and turns out... turns out the angel had just been ignoring him. It hurt like hell. He wanted... well that was the problem wasn’t it? He wanted. Dean rubbed his face and sighed. Just because you’re in love with the guy doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole, he told himself firmly. You wanted him back and now he’s back. Don’t be a dick.

{“It’s a gift. You keep those.” It was an olive branch, and Cas knew it. He was strangely relieved to be allowed to keep the mixtape. He remembered Dean giving it to him, and he remembered listening to it anytime he was driving alone. The music was... enjoyable. Cas found he liked the beats and the feel of it, but mostly he liked that Dean had given it to him. He was pleased to be allowed to keep it. Cas felt a surge of guilt about what he was about to do, but it had to be done. For the greater good, he told himself. He remembered repeating the same thing when he was working with Crowley all those years ago, and felt slightly sick. This time is different, he thought firmly. I’m not letting Dean do this. This... this is on me.

{“W-we?” “Yes dumbass, we.” Dean’s heart broke a little at the uncertainty in Cas’s voice. Sometimes the angel seemed seconds away from breaking, and Dean just wanted to grab him and hold him together. He pushed that feeling down, along with the way his chest ached with fondness at seeing Cas silhouetted in his doorway.

{“What the hell were you thinking?”

Dean shoved him up against the hotel wall as soon as he walked in, his arm warm against Cas’s chest. He hoped Dean couldn’t feel how fast his heart was beating through the trenchcoat. Cas should really not be staring at Dean’s lips right now, but Cas has missed him so much and he wants so desperately. Sam called Dean over before Cas could do something he would regret. He ran a hand over his chest, aching and missing Dean’s angry warmth.

{“You’re hurt.” Cas reached out and touched Dean’s hand lightly, then slid up and wrapped his hand around Dean’s injured arm. It was not necessary to touch people to heal them, which Cas was hoping Dean hadn’t figured out yet. He drew his hand away slowly, and Dean looked down at his healed arm as though in awe. Cas couldn’t imagine why. He’d healed Dean countless times since they’d met.

All Along The Watchtower

{“Here Dean. Let me.” Cas touched two fingers to Dean’s head gently, and his leg healed at once. The cut on his cheek also stitched itself up. Dean felt his heart speed up a little as Cas drew his hand away, and Dean looked down, flustered. He sighed inwardly. He was a grown man, not a teenager with a crush. He didn’t get fucking butterflies. Except, apparently, he did.

{“No!” As Sam ran inside to find Jack and Kelly, Dean sank to his knees, overcome with grief. Their mom was in the other world with Lucifer, and Cas... Dean knelt next to the angel, too stunned to do anything. The outline of Cas’s wings stretched across the ground beside them, and Dean lowered his head. He felt hollow. He stood slowly, looking up at the sky. Cas had always loved the stars. Dean wanted to scream, to find God and rip him limb from limb, to do something other than sit here and drown in his sorrow, but he couldn’t. Dean looked down at Cas again. The angel’s eyes were closed. He was gone.

{Cas had felt the life drain out of him, felt his spirit fall into the earth and then sink beyond it. Now he felt nothing at all.

{Dean wished he could fly into the stars, find Chuck and make him bring Cas back. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything at all.

#supernatural #destiel #spn #deancas #castiel #supernatural thoughts #spn thoughts #spn season 12 #supernatural season 12 #lily sunder has some regrets #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas fanfiction #deancas fanfic #deancas fic

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hairringtonsteve · 5 years

Text

and they were roommates.

[steve harrington x reader]

summary: The shit hit the fan, and you need to find a place to stay. Steve Harrington, being the knight in shining armor that he is, offers to let you crash at his place during the quarantine. Clearly, feelings ensue.

word count: 3,704

a/n: Hey guys. I’m back. The world is a little bit scarier than it was before, but we’re here and we’re getting through it. I need to emphasize that while this fic is lighthearted, it’s not me making fun of the situation. This last week has been excruciatingly stressful for me as well as the rest of us, and honestly, I just need some fluff. So here’s to you and Steve being stuck in an apartment together. Informational links will be located in the first reblog.

**********

“Do we stockpile toilet paper?”

You snorted in response, assuming that he was kidding. Instead of bothering to look at him, you kept your eyes on the Netflix menu, scrolling through the list of horror movies as you tried to ignore the anxiety building in your gut.

If someone had told you at the beginning of the year that you would end up being stuck living in Steve Harrington’s apartment for who knows how long because of a global pandemic, you would have laughed.

But who could have guessed that it would happen? Who could have guessed that your college would shut down and shift everything online, that you wouldn’t be able to fly back home because flights were too expensive? Who could have guessed that Steve Harrington would somehow have perfect timing and walk by just as you burst into tears over flight costs?

“No really, do we stockpile toilet paper?”

You ignored him and kept scrolling.

Really, though, his timing had been perfect. You’d been searching Google for the last twenty minutes, trying to find a flight back home when the cheapest flight out was still over two thousand dollars. Sitting on the steps of your college building – the one that had become like a second home to you since the dorms were awful – you’d shoved your head into your hands and cried.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Steve had asked. You didn’t bother to look up at him, instead opting to take in deep, calming breaths. “You good?” He sat down beside you, not bothering to keep his distance.

The news had been telling everyone to practice social distancing, but it was hard when you were suddenly hit with the reality that you probably wouldn’t see most of these people again. Everyone had thought that you wouldn’t start the I’m graduating college goodbyes until May.

“Oh, you know,” you began as you lifted your head up but didn’t look at him. Your voice was watery as you spoke. “Global pandemic and all that. I’m fine.” Steve leaned over your shoulder to get a glance at your phone.

“Fuck, that’s rough. You trying to get home?”

You’d gotten the email the night before. Sitting in the common area of your building despite the fact that your classes had ended hours ago, the group from your department had all sat at the various tables in shocked silence. Students out of the dorms within ten days unless there were extenuating circumstances. They hadn’t defined what those circumstances would have to consist of, but you knew deep down that you wouldn’t qualify.

“Yeah, I uh… My mom can’t afford it and neither can I.” A new wave of tears started to sting at your eyes. A few made their way down your cheeks. “I’ve got ten days, though. I can figure it out.”

Steve sighed. You finally looked over to him. The tears made him a little blurry.

“My roommate is flying out tonight,” he said. He looked forward before looking back to you. “I’m sure he’d be cool with you crashing in his room until shit gets sorted out.”

You stared at him. Your throat got thicker. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to hold back the sob that wanted to burst through at the offer. Instead of saying anything, you gave him a short nod.

Within an hour the two of you were packing up your dorm room, throwing everything into whatever luggage you had. You hauled the luggage and everything else that couldn’t fit down the four flights of stairs and tossed it into his car. His two-bedroom apartment was a fifteen-minute drive away. There had been a quick goodbye to his roommate – who didn’t know what was going on until you had gotten there – and that was that.

“Toilet paper, Y/N. Do we need it?” A hint of annoyance was coloring his words and you finally shifted around on the couch, twisting your neck far enough so you could see him. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, already holding two packs of toilet paper, eight rolls in each.

“Dude, seriously?”

“What? What if we use it all up?”

“Then we go to the store and get more.”

“What if they put us under martial law and we’re not allowed to go anywhere?”

“Then we’ll figure that out. But we have enough for now. We’re not hoarding toilet paper like the rest of the assholes out there.” He tilted his head back and groaned. “Steve, c’mon. It’s fine. It’ll—” You were interrupted by your phone beeping, alerting you to a text. You ignored it. It was probably your mom, checking in. Again. “Steve, it’ll be okay. We’ll have enough toilet paper. We just need to go get food and beer, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve stared at you. “But what if one of us gets diahre—”

“Okay, that’s it. Get your shoes on. We’re heading to the store, dumbass.”

Steve grinned. “Wow, dumbass? It’s like we’re back in biochem.”

You snorted and got up from your spot on the couch, heading to where you’d taken off your sneakers near the door. You’d placed them next to his. It hit you, that your sneakers and his sneakers would be right there for the foreseeable future because of… everything that was going on. You swallowed, the anxiety that had been settled in your gut for over a week now threatening to rise to your throat. But you sucked in a deep breath, willing yourself to keep calm.

Things were fine. It would be okay.

Steve came up beside you and reached down to shove his shoes on. When he righted himself, he bumped his shoulder against yours and grinned.

“Think the beer will be gone?”

*****

The grocery store looked like it was ransacked. The toilet paper and baby wipes were off the shelves. People had grocery carts piled high with nonperishables and whatever else they could get their hands on.

You and Steve locked eyes without a word. His fingers thrummed against the railing of the last grocery cart that had been available while he raised a brow at you. You nodded and the two of you headed straight for the alcohol.

It took twice as long as usual to walk the length of the store to get to the far corner where they held the beer and liquor. Not surprisingly, the area was filled with mostly college-age looking people trying to get their hands on whatever would get them adequately fucked up for the next few weeks.

Steve cleared his throat and nodded towards the beer, the one that everyone had been studiously avoiding. “Should we get some?” He waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes. “No, that stuff tastes like piss.” He laughed and pushed the cart forward, stopping to get a case of Angry Orchard. “You like that stuff?”

“No, but it’s your favorite, right?”

You nodded as you tried to remember when he would have been able to figure that out. The first time that you’d met was last fall, when you had the same biochemistry lab together. “Yeah?”

“I thought so. I remember you mentioning something about it the night all of us went out after our final in December.”

That had been over three months ago. But everyone in the lab had gone out for drinks to celebrate making it through finals week. At the time, you’d exchanged a handful of words at most. Hell, you hadn’t even mentioned that it was your favorite directly to him. Something shifted in your chest.

Weird.

After that, things grew quieter between the two of you as you made your way systematically through the store. With the alcohol, you got some staples, some favorites, making sure to take into consideration the fact that there would probably be a few nights where the two of you would drink enough to kill a horse. After that, you started to make your way through the food aisles, getting whatever was left over. While most of it was taken, you got the important stuff: bread, vegetables, fruit, meat, peanut butter. Things were scarce, but you got through it.

And the whole time, your stomach was sinking further and further down.

Things weren’t supposed to go this way. All you could think about was the day prior as your professors had said their goodbyes to the students, everyone trying to keep a brave face. Rationally, you knew that things would eventually be fine. But it was hard to keep that in mind when it felt like the beginning of an apocalypse movie.

“—You good to go?”

“Huh?” You looked over to Steve, blinking. At some point, the two of you had made it to the front of the store.

He smiled, soft and understanding. “I asked if you were good to go. We should probably get in line. They’re just getting longer.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” It took a few minutes to try to find the shortest line (if you could call any of them short. You glanced towards the front of the line, watching as the over-worked cashiers struggled to keep everyone happy. Looking back to Steve, you leaned against the grocery cart. “Have I thanked you yet for letting me crash at your place?”

“Only about ten times, but I haven’t figured out that you’re appreciative yet, so you could go for eleven.” You laughed and rolled your eyes as the line moved forward about an inch.

“Seriously, Steve. Thank you. You didn’t have to offer.”

Steve shrugged. “I kind of did. I can’t live alone.”

You scoffed. “You think we can live together and not want to murder each other?”

Steve shrugged once more. “As long as you let me win at Mario Party, we’ll be fine.”

The anxiety in your chest eased up a little. Maybe staying with Steve wouldn’t be too bad.

*****

As it turned out, being around Steve Harrington constantly was a lot to handle. He was adamant that the two of you worked together daily on your coursework. He’d said that it was to make it just like being on campus as much as possible, but the two of you knew that it was really just an excuse to bicker over homework and steal each other’s pens.

It was weird, knowing these little intimate details about him that you only find out when you live with someone. He sang while he did the dishes. He never made his bed and left video game cases strewn throughout the living room. He had a habit of falling asleep on the couch in the most uncomfortable positions. He preferred tea to coffee, sweet to savory, and had a weird lack of movie knowledge. He also played a lot of Fortnite with a bunch of kids from his hometown.

When you asked him about it, he’d just shrugged and said: “I’m a really great babysitter, what can I say?”

To which you’d heard, muffled through his headset, a boy’s voice shriek, “Bullshit Steve!”

The biggest problem, though, was that he was starting to get to you.

Objectively, you’d understood that he was conventionally attractive. A guy with hair that nice couldn’t be wholly unattractive.

It was just that it didn’t really hit you until two days into quarantine. You wandered around out of your room, too occupied with replying to a text to keep yourself from running into a shirtless Steve, complete with a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his hair.

His hands wrapped themselves around your arms as he pushed you back a little, making sure that both you remained upright. The two of you locked eyes. You were close enough that you could see the little flecks of gold in them.

Oh.

Your stomach flipped and suddenly you were acutely aware of him. Your eyes started to slide from his face – taking in his nose, his jawline, his mouth – to his chest when he let out a choked sort of noise.

“Please don’t look down,” he said, his voice higher than you’d ever heard it before. You looked back up at him, scrunching up your brow. “The towel fell and I… Naked.”

There were maybe three seconds of silence before you burst out laughing. You took a step back, clapping a hand over your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

There you were, in the middle of quarantine during a global pandemic, and Steve Harrington was naked and dripping wet in front of you.

“Just shut it, okay?”

You tried to stifle the laughter, but it just turned into muffled giggles. “You good to go there, Harrington?” You could hear a bunch of shuffling along with some muttered swearing before eventually, he gave the okay for you to look. Your hand dropped from your face and the laughter died out as you got a good look at his chest.

It took him clearing his throat for you to meet his eyes once more. He was looking at you with an intense look on his face. His tongue darted across his lips as he took a step towards you. Your heart thudded in your chest and just as he took another step forward and then —

A knock at the door.

The two of you jerked back. You almost knocked your head into a shelf while Steve said that he’d get the door. You watched as he stepped forward, raising an eyebrow in silence as he turned back to you, a sheepish look on his face.

“Did you just now realize that you’re…” You trailed off as you waved your hand up and down to motion towards the towel. He nodded, his cheeks growing red. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get it.”

He’d scurried down the hall to change while you opened the door to one of Steve’s neighbors clad in a mask, asking if you guys had any extra toilet paper.

You got the elderly man two rolls and waited for Steve to come back out of his bedroom.

He didn’t come out for the rest of the night.

That was twelve days ago and since then, the two of you had been avoiding each other like… well... the plague.

Instead, Steve would walk into the kitchen, only to see you and abruptly turn around to walk out. You would head into the living room to watch Netflix and immediately try to leave when he was playing the PlayStation. When the two of you did talk, it was weird. Stunted.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Whatever you want.”

A beat of silence.

“Cool.”

On and on it went, both of you hole-ing up in your respective rooms while trying to avoid the other. You even took turns doing the grocery shopping.

The worst part about it, though, was how aware you were of him. When you walked by him in the hallway, your senses honed in on the way your arms brushed. When he was leaning against the counter and shoving his fingers through his hair, your gaze would somehow magnetically drawn towards looking at him regardless of what was on the TV.

You had to shove your face into a pillow every time you heard the shower turn on.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Crushes – and that’s what this was, a full-blown crush – were awful to begin with. They were inconvenient and distracting in the best of times. But this? This was downright torture. Utter and complete torture. You felt like you were going to snap at any moment, ready to combust at a second’s notice.

And then you got the alert on your phone. You were sat on the counter, a spoonful of peanut butter shoved halfway in your mouth. Your thumb flicked the notification bar down as you read the headline. It wasn’t anything different, just an update on the virus spread and the estimated time that it would take for things to calm down.

But that meant that you would be there longer. That meant that you would be in that apartment longer, having to go through silence and awkwardness and who knows what else for an “indeterminate amount of time.” Something inside you snapped. You hopped down from the counter, chucked the spoon of peanut butter into the sink, and hurried down the hall towards his bedroom.

After around five hurried knocks, the door swung open. He had a panicked look in his eyes as he stared down at you. “What? What’s going on? Did something happen?” He was frantic as he stared down at you.

“What?”

“You knocked like someone important just died, and I missed it. What’s going on?”

“I — I just wanted to talk?”

Steve blinked at you. “We’re… There’s a global disaster going on and you choose to knock like that so we can talk?”

“Steve, I knocked on your door. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“There’s knocking on a door, and then there’s whatever the hell you did.” He stepped outside of his room, causing you to step back as well to give him some space. “So this —” He knocked against his door three times, slow and not too hard. “-- Is how normal people knock. And this —” There he knocked hard and fast against the wood, exaggerating how hard you’d knocked. “Is how you knocked. Now clearly, there is a difference and you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“You’re dramatic.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “So what’s up?” He crossed his arms and quirked a brow.

You heaved in a breath and started rambling.

“I — Look, I get it if things were weird because I practically saw you naked but we’re in the middle of a fucking pandemic and I’m stuck in your apartment for who knows how long and I can’t keep avoiding you like this. It’s weird, Steve.”

He just stared at you and didn’t say a word. So you kept rambling.

“I get it that you’re really stressed out and I am too, but Steve, this is just making things worse? And like, honestly it’s not that big of a deal. You were shirtless. It was fine. More than fine, actually. Like, it’s cool. It’s —”

“More than fine?”

You stared at him. “What?”

“You just said that me being shirtless was not only fine but more than fine.”

You could feel your cheeks begin to warm. “I don’t — I —”

Steve took a step forward. “Is me being shirtless more than fine with you?”

You gaped at him, frozen.

“Do you like me being shirtless?” There was a smirk on his face now, as though your silence was enough of an answer.

“Steve, I —” He took another step forward, right in your space. He leaned down a little. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

“You like me shirtless.” He wasn’t asking anymore. Your rational brain wasn’t working. You opened your mouth to reply something, anything, and what came out was:

“We’re supposed to self-distance.”

Steve froze, eyes wide, and took a step back. “Did I — Did I misread? I thought—”

You tried to shake your head, hoping that he’d notice, but he was too caught up in the panic of thinking that he’d misread everything and crossed a boundary. So you did the next best thing.

(Really, the thing that you should have done a week ago.)

You reached out, fingers grasping at his shirt and tugged him towards you. You rolled up onto the tips of your toes and pressed your lips against his. He froze, his words falling silent. Your heart was pounding so hard that you feared it would come out of your chest. Slowly, his hands fell to your waist as his lips began to move. He pulled you closer to him, all thoughts of social distancing falling away as you kissed.

Eventually, he pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “We’re supposed to self-distance?” He asked, a slow grin spreading across his features. You rolled your eyes and tried to pull back, but he gripped your waist a little tighter, keeping you there.

“I panicked, okay? You just — I just didn’t expect it to go that way.” He didn’t respond verbally, instead just raising his brow. “It’s been weird not talking to you and being here. And I didn’t mean to say that about you being shirtless, it just kind of slipped out.”

“Why are you acting like that wasn’t okay? Y/N, you know I’ve liked you since the first day of biochem.”

You blinked.

“Seriously, you had to have known. I was hung up on you.”

You blinked again.

“Y/N, I laughed at all of your terrible jokes in lab. I… offered to let you stay in my apartment during the quarantine.” While he’d started off laughing, by the second sentence, he was speaking slow and soft, enunciating every word. You opened your mouth to reply when he continued. “I let you win at Mario Party, come on. You’re terrible at that.”

Whatever thoughts of acknowledging his feelings flew out of your head at that. “Excuse you, I am great at Mario Party. I kicked your ass at that the first two days that we were here.”

He rolled his eyes. “I purposefully lost to make you feel better.” Your expression softened at his words. He pulled away just a little — his hands still on your waist — to stare up at the ceiling. “You were stressed about your mom constantly texting and I know that it’s hard for you to not be with your family. So I just wanted to make it easier on you.” He looked back down at you.

Warmth bloomed in your chest.

You smiled up at him as you searched for the right thing to say in response. But it was hard. There weren’t words to convey just how thankful you were for that. You leaned up to press your lips against his once more. After a moment, you pulled back just enough to look at him and grinned.

“So, you want to go play some Mario Party?”

#stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington #stranger things

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prismatica-the-strange · 3 years

Note

Au Zombie apocalypse (but more like the movie Fido

While I did watch the film (and absolutely loved it!), I didn't really know how to write it as an AU, so I went more for a 7 Days to die meets Tyler Posey's Alone.

Word count: 2014

Warnings: Blood, violence, swearing

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"Jackpot!"

"What'cha got?" Cam comes up behind her to look into the cabinet.

"Enough to last us a while," Bunny grins, shrugging off her backpack and shoving cans from the shelves into it.

"Dread found a buttload of nonperishables," he says into the radio on his shoulder, "What about you gu-"

He's cut off by the sound of gunshots from two floors up where Daniel and Vala are going through apartments.

Bunny freezes, hand gripping the worn, bloodstained handle of the fire ax on the counter next to her. Everything goes quiet.

They wait for what feels like forever with bated breath until Daniel's heavy breathing crackles through the radio, "We had a group of infected, but we took care of it... Keep an eye out, those shots could have attracted more."

Before she can even let out a breath of relief Bunny sees a figure shambling up behind Mitchell.

"Behind you!"

She manages to pull out her sidearm as the zombie tackles him. She fires a few times and prays she was quick enough to kill it before it bit him.

The infected goes limp and she nudges it with her toe before pushing it off him.

There's a lot of blood, she wipes away as much as she can but she doesn't see a bite mark, just the gash on his forehead.

"Mitchell's unconscious," she says into her radio, "Zombie took him down and he hit his head, I don't see a bite."

"Keep your distance, just in case," Daniel answers, "We'll be right down Bunny."

"Hey! It's just me!" Daniel says when she points the Glock at him.

"Announce yourself next time dumbass!" She snaps, pointing her gun to the floor. "There's infected around, I could've killed you!"

He glances up at her when he kneels next to Mitchell, checking him for bites or deep scratches. "We'll bring him back, but he'll need to be watched closely, are you okay?"

"'M fine, let's get him back to base." She assures him with a small smile.

"Guys!" Vala skids to a stop in the doorway, "We've got an entire pack of runners headed right for us, if we're leaving, we need to go now."

"Help me with him," he looks to Bunny and she slings one of Cam's arms over her shoulders, helping Daniel get him to his feet.

Vala takes point as they drag him down the, now darkening, hallways of the apartment building. The group makes it to the truck without incident, Vala climbing into the bed with Cam and the supplies they managed to raid.

The compound was a small, red-brick school that they had reinforced. Two floors, lots of rooms, a flat roof that was good for patrolling on, and a chain-link fence surrounding it that they had wrapped and topped with barbed and razor wire.

"This is Raid Team One to Base, come in Base," Bunny says into the radio hooked to the dash. "I Repeat, This is Raid Team One, we're coming in hot, ETA 8 minutes. Base, do you copy?"

She gets back nothing but static and she looks to Daniel in the driver's seat.

"We have a man down and sprinters on our ass. ETA 5 minutes. Base, please respond." Nothing, "Damnit Walter! You'd better have that gate open when we get there or I swear to fuck, I'm gonna kick your ass!"

... "This is Base to Raid Team One, what is your current Eta?"

"Fuckin' finally!" She holds the mic up to her face again, "One minute Walter! Get that gate open NOW!... And tell the doc to be ready for a bleeder."

"What in the hell happened?" Sam asks as they unload Cam from the back.

"One of those new silents," Bunny grimaces, wiping her sleeve at the speckles of dried blood from her cheek, "Fucker got the drop on us."

"Hey!" She stops the group just inside the gate, the sound of gunfire echoing from O'Neill and Teal'c in the watchtowers as sprinters hurl themselves at the fence, "You know the rules, I can't let you in until you get a bite check."

"Damnit, Sam! Mitchell's dying!" Daniel snaps, "We don't have time for this!"

"I won't be the reason we have another outbreak!" She argues, pulling her pistol from its holster.

"Both of you calm down!" Fraiser interjects, rushing in with a gurney, "Sam, put your gun away, and Daniel..."

She looks at him pointedly, "Roll up your sleeves. Rules are rules, no exceptions, not even you."

He does as she says as she scours Cam for bites, Bunny and Vala also rolling their sleeves and pant legs up for Sam to inspect.

After getting checked out, Bunny brings the raided food to the kitchens, Daniel trailing closely behind her.

Once they make it to their quarters, an old English classroom, he pulls her into his arms.

"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, looking her over again.

"I'm fine," she assures him, "A little irked that we had to leave before we finished looting, but physically, I'm okay."

"Good," he sighs, pressing his lips to her forehead.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"We should take the mountain." She says, fingers drumming against the table in the war room.

"Not this again," O'Neill sighed, running his hand over his face, "That place is swarming with infected."

"But it's also loaded to the teeth with Ammo, MREs, and medical supplies." She argues, "Enough to last at least a few years. Jack, we've nearly picked the rest of the town clean, there's not much else to raid, what do we do then?"

"And or med supply is running dangerously low," Fraiser cuts in, "The stock in that mountain could save a lot of lives."

O'Neill huffs and slouches against the wall next to the window, looking out in the direction of Cheyenne Mountain.

"We need to take inventory of our current ammo supply before we make any hard decisions," He says, "If you can get the floor plans from the town office and draw me up a workable plan for this, we might- and I stress the word might- be able to get this thing off the ground."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

"So you finally got O'Neill to agree?" Cam groans from the bed in the makeshift infirmary, "How the Hell did you manage that?"

"Persistence."

"You annoyed him into it," he clarifies.

"Something like that," Bunny laughs, "Daniel and V are prepping the truck to raid the town office to hopefully get the floor plan."

"Document snatching, I don't envy you there."

"Yeah... So how are you doing? Feeling hungry for human flesh?" She jokes, "Craving my sweet sweet bone marrow?"

"Nah, the doc checked me out, I am 'infection free' as the kids call it."

"That's good, I hope to see you up on your feet soon, I don't like being down a man." She pats his arm and makes her way to where the rest of the team is getting ready to head out.

"How's he doin'?" Daniel asks, lifting the weapons duffle into the bed of the truck.

"Cam is Cam," she shrugs, "Bit of a concussion but otherwise still the same, we lucked out."

"Yes, those new Silents are beginning to be quite the problem," Vala says, climbing into the back of the truck.

"We'll figure it out," Daniel nods, "We learned to manage the sprinters, we'll get a read on these ones too."

"You guys ready to go?" O'Neill asks, walking up with Teal'c, his hands in his pockets.

"Just about," Daniel says, "What's goin' on?"

"With this new variant out there, I know I'd feel a lot better if you took Teal'c with you." He tells them, "So you're taking Teal'c with you."

"Hop in," Bunny motions to the truck, and Teal'c nods before stepping into the bed and shutting the tailgate.

The town office is mostly empty, with only a few zombies stumbling around, easily incapacitated with melee weapons.

"Where do you think they'd keep the floorplans?" Bunny asks, scraping the blood off her ax on the side of a desk.

"Archives are in the basement if they had them at all," Daniel explains, "Uh... Teal'c and Vala, you guys take guard up here, Bunny and I 'll check out downstairs."

Their lights shine around the dusty folder-covered shelves as they try not to kick up any papers that litter the ground as they go.

"It's too fucking quiet," Bunny hisses, eyes darting over to Daniel, her knuckles white as she grips her flashlight, "Daniel."

He turns to look at her, but her eyes and light are trained on a spot on the floor. He follows her line of sight to a bloody bootprint on the cement floor, "That's not ours."

"It's still wet," she grimaces and he shines his light around their immediate surroundings.

"They're still here," his eyebrows knit together, "We should go."

"We need those plans."

"We don't even know if the plans are here," Daniel argues, "Even if they are, is it really worth risking our lives to a band of Rovers?"

"We risk our lives every time we leave the compound," she frowns, stepping past him to continue her search.

"Is someone there?" She calls out and Daniel rolls his eyes, grabbing his radio.

"Teal'c? This is Daniel, we think we could have a Rover situation here, keep your eyes peeled."

"Understood."

The sound of shuffling papers alerts them to another presence a few shelves over. Daniel pulls his gun, pointing it in the direction of the sound, pulling Bunny behind him without a second thought.

"Come out," Daniel orders, "Calmly with your hands behind your head. We're armed."

A small figure slowly shuffles into the light, hands clutched tightly around a raggedy-looking stuffed moose.

"Jesus Daniel, it's a kid," She tries to move past him, but he stops her.

"Are you alone?" He asks, "Is there anyone else here with you?"

Their eyes start to glisten with tears and they start sniffling.

"M-my papa he-" They hiccup, "He told me to hide. B-but he hasn't come back!"

"Honey, how long ago was that?" Bunny asks them.

"F-four days ago."

"Oh geez," Daniel slowly lowers his gun and looks to his wife who carefully approaches the child.

"Did your dad tell you anything else before he left?" She asks softly, unscrewing the cover of her water bottle and handing it to them.

"S-something 'bout getting bit," they pout, taking a sip.

She turns to Daniel.

"He can't be more than five," she whispers, "Daniel we can't just leave him here."

"I know."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" She asks as Daniel radios the new information to Teal'c and Vala.

"H-Henry."

"It's nice to meet you, Henry," she smiles warmly, "You're gonna come with us, ok? We've got food, water, and a nice safe place to stay."

"But... but my Papa!"

"Honey, I'm sorry but I don't think your papa's coming back," she tells him, "Now you need to come with us to where it's safe."

"Ok."

"I need to make sure you weren't bit too, can you roll up your sleeves for me?"

He nods and does as she says.

Once she's sure he hasn't been infected she picks him up and he clings to her.

"We just need to find something before we go."

"I think I've got it," Daniel calls from the other side of the basement, after a good 40 minutes of searching through musty old files.

He meets Bunny near the stair and unfolds one of the blue documents. Shining his light through it he smiles when they see the layout of one of the complex's floors.

"Hell yeah!" She grabs his arm, and grins, "Let's get these back to base."

"It's okay," she reassures the young boy when he whimpers, holding her tighter when she goes to set him in the front seat of the truck, "I'll be sitting right next to you."

"Base this is Raid Team one," she says into the dashboard radio, "The mission was a success. We found a new survivor and we're headed back. ETA 15 minutes."

○●○●○●○

There will be a part 2 (or even more) because I really love this AU and want to write more for it

Taglist: @mysg1spacemonkey @sgcprometheus @i-am-morrigans-apprentice @malcolm-reeds-pineapple @witching-things @reeseykins @abnormalvampire64 @girl-obsessed-with-things @gatez @myro-tse @just-a-si-fi-nerd

#Zombie apocalypse au #Daniel Jackson #Daniel and Dread #Bunny Dread #prisma Answers #prisma writes #stargate #SG-1

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talietikasero · 3 years

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Stability

Random prompt from 8/11 [finished 8/16]: rewrite the Strive ending / create an alternate epilogue [to line up with my story project]. I may or may not rewrite the whole thing for fun lmao.

[Main story preview here (contains 6 scenes)] // [Chapter 1 now on AO3]

"I guess... that's what they meant..." She let out between huffs. Both the voice in her head and the former Sanctus Maximus Populi said the same thing regarding her potential ability.

“When the time comes, with your seed, you hold the power to save or destroy the world.”

“You can prevent the end of it all.”

Energy drained, she fought off the sluggish pace her body was moving. Looking over to her partner, she noticed he was barely hanging on to his life, staying incredibly still, and trying to regulate his breathing while facing down. While her body contained the [Scales of Juno], he had the [Flame of Corruption] ripped out from his, reverting him to a human. "On second thought, don't move." Once she closed the distance between them, she knelt and put her arms around him. Face against the scuffed leather sleeve, and she struggled to hold her emotions in. "H-hey..." Voice cracking, she lowly muttered between sniffles, "please, don't go..."

"..."

"You... you stayed true to... your word about... a-about..."

"..."

"Fighting to... s-save the world..."

"If the world was going to disappear tomorrow... What would you do today?"

"What kind of a question is that? Stop whatever's ending the world or die trying."

Her embrace tightened as tears ran down her face. "Human, Gear, or neither. The world still needs you."

With drooped ears and saddened eyes, the wolf spirit whined. Its host and companion soothed it by scratching behind its ears and reassuring the worst had come to pass. "(It's okay, Rei. We're still alive.)." She whispered to the spirit in her native tongue. Another whine followed by a lick to the side of her face, Giovanna patted Rei's forehead. "What? Are you worried about me? I'm okay, I swear." She winced as another sharp pain ran through her body. "Ouch..." Her superior, the President, placed a hand on her shoulder. Half-expecting him to say she's no longer needed, she began, "I'm sorry-..."

"None of that." Vernon's voice was firm; however, it sounded... fatherly. He may have his doubts about the agent, but he knew she was more than capable of the job. Facing off against an unstoppable force, she did prove she's worth giving a higher position. "I can tell what you were thinking, but you're not being let go. You take as much time as you need off, Gio. Goldlewis, Erica, and I will await your return."

Saddened at the loss of someone he could consider a friend, the time traveler meekly looked down at the minty green and white guitar he held in his hands. This entire time he was unaware of her true identity. If he had to lose someone like her, it didn't have to be this way. Regardless of if she recalled who he was and why he was important to her in the first place, false memory or not. He threw away his chance to return home a while ago, and now he felt that it would've been for nothing had he gone through with it. "It shouldn't have ended like this... Megumi." Axl softly said under his breath.

After regaining control over his body and revealing the wicked goddess's weak point, the vampiric samurai pierced the ground a few centimeters with his sword. He kneeled to show his appreciation for defeating the evil force that used him as a puppet. Now, he could see why his master was fascinated by the will of a single person. This same person was stripped of his powers and still faced death head-on. "May you rest for now. The next time we meet, it won't be as enemies, but acquaintances." Drawing his blade from the ground, Nagoriyuki sheathed it and took his leave.

The King of Illyria – his lifelong rival and their son-in-law – made his way over to them, stopping a few feet short to maintain distance. "It's finally over. They're gone. We can... we can go home now." Part of him wanted to hold a hand out to help him stand, yet he held back and deemed that action unnecessary. Ky's spirits rose once he noticed the man in front of him was taking steady deep breaths -- body slowly moving to show signs of life.

Right hand maintaining its grip on the Outrage's handle, his free hand lightly grasped one of hers. Face still downward, a weak smile formed. "...You think so?"

She couldn't believe it. He's hanging by a thread and using what energy he should be saving to answer her with a question of his own.

"I know so."

The past three weeks were a blur. From the day she woke up and adjusted to this new world to the present, where she aided in bringing down a god. She never would've guessed that any of these events could've transpired. In the days leading up to September 2016, she was a terminally ill scientist who refused any life-saving alternative to live past what little time she had left, insisting she spent it with her significant other. Fast forward to December 2187, and she was brought back to life and became the partner of humanity's savior -- the very same person, albeit for the last time.

_____

The next day, another patient was checked into the hospital. This time there wasn’t a commotion caused by bringing his unconscious form bursting through the front doors. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him in her arms like he held her – that’s what the gurney from the airship’s infirmary wing was for.

“I have a request. May I stay here until he recovers? I… I don’t want to leave him.”

Three days later, word had reached his family that he's – miraculously and defying all odds – alive. His refusal to follow the light after what had happened was attributed to his stubborn nature. The Grim Reaper knocked at his door, and he slammed it shut in their face. Occupying the same bed, in the same patient room as her around a month ago, the now de-powered hero lay hooked up to the vitals system.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"Hard to say, but he'll pull through. He did wake up this morning, so there's something, yeah?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but has anyone seen my mother? About my height, short red hair with white underneath, and wearing a blue leather jacket? She hasn't been seen since everyone returned."

"She's in the room and hasn't left at all. I had someone stop by the house and bring her spare clothes since she spent the last four days here."

"Oh, thank god." The queen was relieved to know her mother's whereabouts. She respected her parents' privacy by not asking if she was able to go in.

---

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring-ring.

Sighing in aggravation, she answered her phone. There was only one person she kept in contact with these past few days. "What do you want now? He's still not up, so stop cal-..."

"I was going to ask something else. I'm going to regret this, but are you still angry?"

"You're a smart man to keep your distance from me, but a dumbass to ask that. Of course, I am! You ruined our lives with your 'self-righteousness' and nearly brought another apocalypse."

"...Aria, I understand your rage. If only I could rewind time and prevent your illness. I shouldn't have forcibly converted him and disappeared with your sleep capsule. It wasn't my intention to have our research weaponized, but I was figuratively and literally held at gunpoint to hand it over to the US Government. I should've known better and anticipated that Chaos -- erm, the Original's creation would sabotage your activation. Your screams still haunt me... and... I'm... I'm sorry."

"Asuka."

"I can't fix this by excessively apologizing and listing off my crimes, but I hope everything goes well for you and Frederick."

"Whatever. Enjoy the moon, or don't." She ended the call before her former friend could reply. "Asshole." Aria slumped back in the chair and opened her book to the page she left off. "We should've launched you into the sun."

"Oh my. And I thought 'Sol' was a hothead. You're pretty harsh, you know that? It's more frightening than I-No on a good day." Jack-O's voice rang through. Capable of feeling and expressing emotions herself, the Valentine was taken aback at what she heard during their calls. "If possible, can we listen to his show sometime? Please?"

"...Okay."

"Thank you. ~"

---

Forty minutes after the heated conversation, a groggy voice broke the silence.

"Is the... afterlife a sterile... hospital room?" Frederick's eyes were half-open, staring directly at the ceiling.

Aria closed what she was reading and placed it on the counter. Ignoring the monitors that once kept track of her, she looked over his body to see minimal damage sustained. "Looks like you've still got some of that healing factor. Or you're just too hardheaded to die."

He slightly turned his head to face her. "Heh. Probably both."

Running a hand through his now short hair, her lips curved into an unsure smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living?"

"This doesn't look like heaven. If you're my welcome guide, then I'll stay." His body was still sore, but he extended his arm out for her to hold his hand. The warmth from the fire magic still dwelling within them made their contact feel safer.

"I should've worn that jumpsuit and halo." Her inner voice's reaction was an exaggerated throat clear. "But if I did," she held a finger to her temple, "I don't think she would've appreciated that."

"I would've been mildly annoyed at best. Mildly annoyed yet honored that you'd wear it because of what you did."

"You're really pissed off at Asuka, aren't you?"

"How much did you hear?"

"All of it. Didn't know you were capable of that."

"I felt like you after the second day." He took that as a friendly poke at his history. "Since you've saved the world for the last time, are you still up for that 'alternate life' you mentioned the other night? We don't have to stay at Ky and Dizzy's. They can arrange something for us."

His ears perked up at the suggestion. Did she remind him about his statement regarding them settling down? Having survived an act of God, living a quiet life together a few minutes out from the capital didn't sound like a terrible idea. "What did you have in mind?"

"A fair-sized home, nothing too big or small, probably just down the way from their place. I don't want to throw everything away and live in seclusion. We're way out of our own time, but we finally have a family, people who care about us, and we care about them in return. Unless you have a better idea?"

"I'm fine with anything. Can't imagine I'd be able to go out much or at all because I'm officially a dead man."

"Not too long ago, I was a dead woman walking. Besides, the world thinks that Sol Badguy is dead, not Frederick Bulsara."

"Point there. You know, now that I think about it, this situation is just like a month ago."

"With you in my place, but I didn't have to be dragged in? This is the same room where I spent my time recovering. It was also -..."

"Where you got your new start."

"Y-yeah. That's exactly it. This is where I woke up to my new life! Not as Justice, or Jack-O, but as myself. That same day, I met our daughter and her husband, and then I saw you again. Just this time... I've been here since you were checked in. Everyone tried to get me to leave, but I refused."

He noticed the duffel bag placed near the door. There was a pant leg hanging over one side of the unzipped bag, and next to it were two pairs of footwear. "Way to tug at the old heartstrings. Stubborn as always, aren't you?" If he were honest with himself, he wanted to do the same when she was still unconscious. He had the feeling that the IRMC staff wouldn't have thought about asking him to leave the premises, even though he almost kicked the doors clean off the first time.

"One of my best qualities." She winked at him, giggling at her remark.

"Hey, Aria."

"Hm?"

He slowly sat up despite the mild pain, leaning over to bring her in for a hug. "Thank you."

Aria returned the motion, both holding onto each other, not wanting to let go. She had felt incomplete up until this moment. Preventing the end was a combined effort, and she couldn’t be any happier to have been a part of that team.

A sense of déjà vu, the song playing on the radio had neared its end.

You are all I long for All I worship and adore In other words, please be true In other words...

"I love you."

#guilty gear #aria hale #only tagging her since she's the main character of this little project #other characters in this mini prompt: sol axl giovanna nagoriyuki and vernon #also ky asuka and jack-o #the main fic's about 90 percent done #and i wrote this because i hit writer's block for two days #i'm ending the main fic's chapter 3 at the beginning of ggst so i may do some more rewrites #the song at the end is the brenda lee version of fly me to the moon #nat's fanfics #ah whoopsie it's 5am #by the energy drain i intended for her to jump into god i-no's body like in the actual story mode #but then she was torn out after starting the halting process

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cloudeling · 2 years

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malikah aster bryce n cams relationship oscillates between worlds most complicated polycule or a silly little gang of besties whether theyre romo adjacent or not is heavily dependent on my mood

#when its a polycule some of them r platonic n some r qp i called it compliacted for a reason #theres a whole chart #you guys don't get to see the chart though you just get to suffer in confusion #rambles #ocposting #four dumbasses and the (second) apocalypse

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disappearinginq · 4 years

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