#i had posted this on my ao3 but it was meant to be on here

[gamerstar111]

Downward Spirals

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Komaegi | Words: 1,758 | Hurt/Comfort

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What time even was it? Hell if Makoto knew.

All he knew was that he’d been lying in his bed for far too long, unable to sleep.

His head was loud, so loud.

He hated his anxiety. He hated how out of control it got during Nagito’s self-destructive spirals. Of course, he saw the improvement. He saw his improvement more than anyone did. He saw it in the way he talked himself down less and less, in the way he tried to be more conscious of situations that would put him in danger. He would do well for months—going to therapy, working on the way he talked about himself—and Naegi’s anxiety would fade away.

And then, one day, one sentence, one phrase would send it all crashing down.

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posting some of my fav ao3 fics here... i love these two sm i actually think about them (especially in non-despair au’s like this) SOMUCH

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What time even was it? Hell if Makoto knew. 

All he knew was that he’d been lying in his bed for far too long, unable to sleep.

His head was loud, so loud.

He hated his anxiety. He hated how out of control it got during Nagito’s self-destructive spirals. Of course, he saw the improvement. He saw his improvement more than anyone did. He saw it in the way he talked himself down less and less, in the way he tried to be more conscious of situations that would put him in danger. He would do well for months—going to therapy, working on the way he talked about himself—and Naegi’s anxiety would fade away.

And then, one sentence, one day, one phrase would send it all crashing down.

Sitting in his bed, he heard the conversation he had with him earlier play in his head on loop.

“That would be so dangerous...”

“I’m well aware, however, I have confidence that my luck would carry me through.”

“Nagito, but what if it didn’t?”

“Well, then that would be the universe deciding that it’s meant to happen, no? It would be an honor to go in such a situation, where I would have the chance to become a stepping stone for an even brighter hope to shine.”

“You’re still thinking like that?”

“I have always had faith in the mysterious nature of the universe, and of hope. If it meant that I could inspire such hope to blossom, I would gladly lay down my life.”

That stupid sentence wouldn’t leave him alone. How could it? He knew of Nagito’s history with suicidal ideation, and even genuine attempts, during his episodes of mania or depression.

It terrified him to even know that he still thought the same way, even after showing so much improvement.

“Don’t say that.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. Why don’t we change the subject?”

He agreed at the time. But the pit in his stomach never left. It only grew the longer the sentence looped in his head, like a broken record that he couldn’t stop.

“I would gladly lay down my life.”

Before he could even think of stopping it, tears were beginning to form in his eyes. His bottom lip quivered, and he raised his hands to cover his face as a quiet sob escaped him.

He knew he was spiraling, but there was nothing he could do about it. He felt trapped in his own mind. 

What if you were just being optimistic? What if he never really made any progress? 

No, don’t doubt him like that. He’s been working so hard.

But he wasn’t even in an episode today. He said that entirely sound of mind.

What if he’s still suicidal?

What if he has a plan?

There are countless different things he has access to.

Don’t doubt him like that. That’s not fair. He’s trying.

But what if he relapses?

What if he’s already dead?

Before long, he was sobbing—unable to escape the hold his anxiety had on his thoughts. They became more and more extreme, until he was convincing himself that maybe, just maybe, his anxiety was right.

What if he really was planning something? What if that was his silent cry for help—what if he missed it by dismissing it as his anxiety making him question things too much?

When he couldn’t handle it anymore, he finally gave in. He reached for his phone with trembling fingers, his free arm gripping his shirt now damp with the tears streaming down his face.

He barely spared a glance at the time. He searched through his contacts for Nagito, until he found it; clumsily pressing the call button as he awaited a response. He would pick up, and it would all be okay.

One, two, three, four, voicemail.

The spiral he was trapped in rapidly began to evolve into a panic attack. He felt his breathing grow unsteady, and his vision swam.

He called again.

One, two, three, four, voicemail.

Was he right? Should he really have taken his nerves more seriously? Maybe it never was anxiety, maybe it was his intuition. 

One, two, three, four…

“Makoto?”

He felt like falling apart with how much relief he felt. 

“Nagito,” He sobbed, gasping for air between his cries. Concern immediately laced the tone of the voice sounding through the phone. 

“My hope, what’s wrong? Are you okay? I apologize for not picking up sooner, I was asleep. Where are—”

“I thought you were dead,” 

After that sentence left his mouth, all of his anxieties tumbled out in an unstoppable wave of words.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I got so scared. I can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier. About— about how— how you would die if it meant— if—” He was cut off by another sob, burying his face against his knees pulled up against his chest. “I was so scared. I was trying to let it go, I was. I just— I—”

“Makoto, my love. Are you breathing?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying— I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Do you want me to come over?”

“Please don’t hang up.”

“I’m right here, Makoto. I’ll stay on the phone. Can you try and focus on breathing for me?”

The faint sound of shifting sounded from the phone, followed by the clattering of keys being pocketed. 

“I can’t. I’m so sorry. It’s so stupid.”

“Darling, please. You don’t have to apologize. I’m almost there. Is your door unlocked?”

Makoto could hardly remember if he locked his door. In his anxious state, he wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot. He was just relieved that Nagito was okay.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

As much as he wanted to stop apologizing like Nagito was so gently begging him to, he just couldn’t. His anxiety was the reason he was acting so irrational in the first place; yet it never failed to remind him that he was being irrational, that his thoughts were unreasonable and unfair to project onto others.

Before he got a response over the phone, he heard the faint click of his doorknob being turned. Light from the hallway filtered in, and a familiar face poked in from behind the door.

Never had he been so, so relieved to see someone. 

Before he could even comprehend that Nagito was here, he was making his way toward him; pulling him into a tight embrace the moment he was close enough.

His arms moved around him immediately, clinging to him like he would disappear if he let go. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Nagito shifted to sit on the bed with him, pulling him into his lap and running his fingers through his hair. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I promise.” There was a pause, before he spoke again. “Focus on my touch. Can you feel my hand in your hair?”

A quiet nod, and he continued.

“Can you feel my shirt? My chest moving with how I’m breathing?”

Another nod, and he pulled Makoto closer. 

“Focus on my breathing. Try and follow it, okay? Listen to my heartbeat. I’m safe, Makoto.”

Whilst he didn’t respond, Makoto’s sobbing began to fade into quiet sniffles the longer Nagito held him, playing with his messy curls and holding him against his chest. The sound of his heart beating calmed him, a physical reminder that Nagito was really here. He was okay, just like he said he was. 

Eventually, the rise and fall of Makoto’s chest matched Nagito’s, and his tears finally ceased. A silence fell over them, simply holding each other and grounding him in the warmth of Nagito’s embrace. 

Voice hoarse from his sobbing, he finally spoke.

“I know you told me not to apologize, but I really am sorry.”

Nagito frowned.

“And I still mean it when I say you don’t have to apologize. In fact, I should apologize. You’ve told me how much you dislike self-destructive talk like that a few times now.”

Makoto shook his head, playing with the bottom of Nagito’s shirt mindlessly as he spoke.

“I know… but you didn’t give me a reason to panic that badly. I really do trust you. I promise.”

As if a puzzle piece clicked into place, Nagito’s eyebrows momentarily raised in surprise, before he laughed gently.

“Is that what you’re worried about, my love? Me feeling like you don’t trust me?” 

Nagito’s hand moved to cup Makoto’s face and make him face him.

“My hope, you believe in me more than anyone else. I hold that fact very dear to my heart. Just because you worry about me, especially after such a concerning conversation, does not mean I am going to start thinking you don’t trust me to keep myself safe. I’d be concerned if you said the same things I do, looking back on it. I suppose old habits just die hard.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to Makoto’s head, wiping away some of the tears remaining on his face with his thumb as he met his eyes.

“Just as I struggle with my mental health at times, I know you do as well. Your anxiety certainly isn’t kind to you in the slightest.”

Makoto gave a bitter laugh, burying his face against his shirt. “It sure isn’t.”

Nagito sighed, leaning back against the wall and holding Makoto against his chest again.

“We’re both working on improving. I’m not upset that you got scared. Of course, I’m not happy with the fact I worried you so much, but the concern you show for me makes me feel appreciated. Does that make sense?”

A slightly delayed nod from Makoto, and Nagito glanced down at him with a curious expression. It was then he noticed how his hold on his shirt had loosened, and his eyes were beginning to droop. 

“You’re tired, my love. Get some rest. I’ll stay with you, okay?”

There was another pause, before Makoto spoke again.

“I love you, Nagito. You know that, right?”

A warm smile spread across Nagito’s face, and he kissed his head once more as he held him close.

“I know that better than anything. I love you too, my hope.”

With that, he leaned his head back against the wall he sat against, gently playing with the curls of Makoto’s hair until his quiet snores began to sound.

It wasn’t long before he too began to grow drowsy again; his sudden awakening catching up to him. He fell asleep quickly, arms never falling from around Makoto—holding him close, keeping him safe.

[stinkkyy]

the creator falls (out of a tree) for diluc

Now why the hell was Diluc back here.

There wasn’t a real reason other than he had taken a walk that had ended up with him at this big ass tree again.

As he stands at the base of the statue to Barbatos, he feels a tug at his heart. It had been happening a lot more lately, this pulling. The tug at his heart as if somebody was at the other end of the string, gently urging him to go somewhere or do something.

So here he was at a statue for a God he admired and a tree dedicated to a woman who now protects all of Mondstadt silently.

He crosses his arms and glares up at the tree. “Well? I’m here now, what do you want from me?”

Diluc stands there for just a moment longer, secretly expecting a response but of course nothing comes from it.

He sighs, looking away from the tree feeling rather embarrassed for having such a wish.

With nothing left to do but try and enjoy his day out, he goes to sit at the base of the tree. He slumps against it, one leg folded up and the other splayed out before him. Diluc rests his head along the tree as he watches the clouds in the sky.

He felt like a fool.

For the past month or so he had been.. Strangely content. Happier than usual. That in itself would normally be cause for celebration but with such happiness came an unease.

Jean chalked it up to allergies, his immune system never favored the summer weather.

Lisa suggested that perhaps he was in love. That was the last time he’d ever come to her for advice.

Kaeya had a certain look in his eye. It told him that his past brother likely knew the ailed him but chose not to answer truthfully, only giving a rather cryptic response.

Venti was the only one who had given something halfway decent but even then it was bullshit upon more bullshit.

“Follow whatever is pulling your heart along and go talk to it! That will solve everything and who knows, maybe love will consume you and everything will be answered!”

Diluc snorts haughtily at himself as he remembers the bards words. Sure he was a god but he didn’t have to sound so annoying about it, former crush or no.

Before he could have anymore time to think about it there was a voice calling out to him from above.

“Hey! Hey hey, you there, D-! D..... Theee stranger in red!”

“… Excuse me?”

“Yeah you! Hey uh, I’m in a bit of pickle right now so you think you can help?”

Diluc looked up to where the voice was located and felt his heart freeze. The tugging had become stronger than it ever had before, so sharp and pointed like it was going to rip apart any second now.

The owner of the voice was covered by the leaves and branches of the tree but if he focused he could make out the outline of their body but even that was hard.

Whoever they were just might be the answer he had been searching for.

More leaves and twigs fell down onto his lap and he grunts in annoyance when he flicks them away. “How can I help you, stranger.”

A pause. “How confident are you in catching a person?”

“Depends on how high up said person is and considering we’re practicing yelling at one another, I’d say you’re rather high up.”

Another pause followed by quiet, nervous laughter. Another sigh. “Yeah.. Right on the mon- On the mora. Yeah.”

Diluc resigns himself to his fate and slips off his jacket, letting it fall into the floor as he tries to coordinate himself to wherever they must be hanging out at.

“Let’s get this over with then.”

“Wh- You’ll help me? Seriously??”

He glares up at them, a bit offended. “You assumed I wouldn’t?”

“W-Well…”

“Get down already before I leave you stuck up there.”

“Okay okay! Gimme a second, okay? This is a really high fall!!”

“You’ll be fine.”

Diluc huffs as he listens to the rustling of the branches, gauging how soon this stranger would jump down from the tree. Really, he had better things to be doing other than attempting to catch somebody from a tree like-

“Huh..” The more he tries to think of what he could be doing with his time he realizes he can’t come up with anything. For some reason, all he wants to do is stick by this stranger and see this through to the end.

He places a hand at his heart, jaw clenching slightly as he thinks it over. And then there was that whole thing where the longing at his heart was pulling him closer to whoever this person was. 

Were the two connected somehow?

He doesn’t have time to think about it for much longer until he hears the strangers voice yell out something that has him on his guard.

“Wait-!”

“Aaand three!! AH-“

Diluc widens his stance and holds his arms out wide for them, grunting when they land in his arms at last, though he does falter back just a bit. That is the last time he will ever catch somebody from a tree ever again.

He growls lowly in his annoyance, a glare locked and loaded on his face as he looks to the person but whatever scolding he had ready to dish out die in the back of his throat when he lays eyes on them.

They’re smiling. It’s a big toothy grin with their eyes filled with stars, their entire being glowing the world up in a way he could never properly put into words.

“You’re Diluc,” the say with a giddy laugh. “The Diluc Ragnivinder!”

And yet he’s still just staring at them like a fish out of water

He comes to his senses and clears his throat, easing them into their feet as he fights a wicked flush off of his cheeks.

“It’s Ragnvindr, actually.” He finally says, not really caring for their incorrect pronunciation, eyes never leaving their form.

The tugging at his heart was pulled taut and it was headed straight towards them. This had to be why he had decided to come here. For them. Diluc swears he can recognize their face from somewhere but he can’t place it. 

All he knows is that he feels so unbelievably loved and cherished.

“Got a staring problem, Master Diluc? C’mon, lemme thank you for saving my tail somehow!”

Diluc snaps out of his daydream as a ghost of a smile breaks onto his lips, nodding. “You wear clothes not of his nation, dirty ones at that. I will have lunch prepared for us at my home..”

“Wh- Man.. You’re a lot more stern than I had expected…” They grumble but dutifully follow by his side.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest as the pieces begin to connect themselves and while Diluc was not the most devoted follower to the gods anymore, you would have to be a fool to not eventually realize that you are standing besides The Creator.

A god who had been absent for thousands of years and only now resurfaced.

A god that will cause a stir in the world if left unchecked.

A god that has his heart pounding, face flushed, and palms sweaty.

“The Dawn Winery?” They squeak out. “Really?? Aaah man Diluc, you’re amazing! I can’t wait!”

Yes, to keep them to himself for a little while longer wouldn't hurt. He’s doing this to protect them, nothing else.

[terrainofheartfelt]

What fic do you really want to write but have been struggling to put any words down with?

How much time do you have? Lol but really I’ve been feeling that way over pretty much everything I’ve tried to write lately, life, both personal and professional, has really been hanging heavy on my head and shoulders so not much writing has gotten accomplished. Like, I thought I would have finished all the prompts in my inbox by now rip. 

So there’s….a few weeks back I mentioned that I wanted to write/was trying to write a s5 au in which to get away from the toxic men in her love life Blair convinces Dan to lie for her and they say that her child is his. Friends to coparents to lovers. Angst abounds. I got like, an incoherent outline, a fraction of a scene with Blair & Alison, and the big italicized oh moment for blair (which consists of Dan writing letters to their kid ala the climax in Beach Read—except nothing like that, but kind of like that, you’ll see. Hopefully. I ran out of spoons because I was tired and I wasn’t sure if, upon finishing it, anyone would even care. 

Another is I started a Hart of Dixie-flavored au that sort of aligns with the last ep of s3 and the frist 3ish eps of s4 in HoD. the central couple that has the Zade journey would be Vanessa/Nate, and there’s of course van der humphrey shenanigans and a side-helping of Dair (I’m me I can’t help it), and Serena being the AB to Vanessa & Blair’s Zoe & Lemon (the bathroom scene in 4x02 is really what inspired me). It was coming along pretty easily but I just ran out of steam and it’s been on ice ever since. I know how I want it to go, it’s a matter of timing now. Hopefully talking about it helps?

Like I told S in her ask box last week-ish, I know where I want to take the MoF series next: it involves Dair coming out as a couple over Rufly’s fifth anniversary weekend, and there’s lots of Feelings involved on all ends, plus Dan’s last year of grad school and his sophomore novel coming out, plus Dair figuring out their future, plus the VDH gang and co. going to Scott’s wedding, plus more of dilf!Nate living his Lorelai Gilmore plot, etc etc. I’ve been thinking about it forever, but have put virtually nothing down, because I didn’t know if I updated the series if anyone would care? I put a lot of soul into the last multi-chap work, and it felt like the emotional heavy lifting I did for it didn’t really match the engagement I got in return. And though I write first and foremost for ME, idk it was still disheartening.

I think I mentioned this before, which is why I’m ok talking about it now, but for the holiday season I realllllly want to finally write the nancy meyer’s Holiday AU I’ve wanted to write for two christmases now. Dair & Natessa. With some Milo on the side. After I finish the last however many prompts I may just block off the rest of fall to work on it very slowly. Because I want! To! Do! It! 

And in that vein I have mentioned kinktober but tbh I have like 3 ideas on the smut stove that I haven’t been able to take anywhere. So who knows. You’ll def get the Dan/Carter I have banked but after that, possibly nothing.

[penny00dreadful]

So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.” 

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered. 

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.” 

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it. 

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

[mrsbarnesblog]

wakanda

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18 ‼️ smut, sex in Bucky's hut, he has one arm, woman on top, unprotected sex, dirty talk, insecurity.

Author's note: posting my old fic, while I'm working on that tattoo artist x bookshop owner one👀 If any of you have smut ideas (with some kinks maybe), feel free to write your requests

You finally got permission to visit Bucky in Wakanda again since he was permanently living there to get rid of the Winter Soldier program and learn how to live a normal life again. Unfortunately, Princess Shuri and Ayo insisted that too much contact with other people might distract Bucky, so you weren’t allowed to see him.

The last time you were there with Steve and, even if you loved him to death, you couldn't deny the disappointment that you barely spent any time with Bucky alone. He was your best friend since you and Steve saved him in Bucharest, and you had the biggest crush on him for about the same amount of time.

At first, you had to visit Shuri and TChalla to talk through some moments, and that whole time you were bubbling with nerves and anticipation to finally see Bucky. 

You jumped right into his arms as soon as you walked down the hill and saw him standing near the lake. He hugged you back, burying his face in your neck, and it was truly the moment that you never wanted to end. Bucky smelled like fresh air mixed with some kind of seasoning, not to mention that he looked fantastic. In traditional Wakandian clothes that were covering his missing arm too, a low bun on the back of his head with a few springs of hair around his face, and smooth and tanned skin from the work under the sun.

You two rushed to his hut with the food you had bought from a local cafe owned by a kind old man. And somewhere after that, when you were eating on the floor covered with many blankets and colorful pillows and talking about your lives, everything went downhill. 

Bucky talked about his goats and the way he felt better living in Wakanda, while you unconsciously moved closer to him, needing to fill the void that formed while you couldn’t see him. Bucky just stopped in the middle of the sentence, as if he realized that you were too close, looking at him with your big, pretty eyes. 

Food was forgotten. Somehow, you ended up sitting on Bucky’s lap while you were connected in the most passionate and hot kiss you had ever had. Your hands were tightly holding his face, and his right one had a strong grip on your waist to keep you close.

“Bucky…” You moaned in his mouth; your hips were grinding into his hardness, which was so obvious through the clothes. You both were so lost in the moment, sharing a desperate kiss. Bucky couldn’t get enough of your taste; he bit your lip, then licked it with his tongue to calm down the delicate skin.

It felt so natural, like it was meant to happen a long time ago, and now you could not keep all of your emotions inside.

Bucky couldn't help but groan under his breath when your hand slipped into his hair, completely destroying his low bun. Your nails on his scalp felt majestic, and his brain became fuzzy with your gentle yet confident touches. Bucky moved his hand from your waist to your thigh, squeezing the soft and warm skin a little bit lower than your shorts. 

When he pulled away, you tried to follow his mouth, almost addicted to the taste and feeling of his lips on yours.

“Fuck, doll, that’s not how I imagined it.” His face became sad and almost apologetic, and you saw that the corners of his red lips moved downward in disappointment. “Not here, not with only one arm... Fuck, I can’t even touch you the way I want to.” His hand tightened on your hip, and you gave him a sad smile. Not that those things mattered to you, but your heart still hurt because Bucky felt that way.

“I don’t care about it. I just want you, Bucky, if you want me too, of course.” Your voice was soft and gentle, soothing his nerves a little bit.

“You can’t imagine how much I want it, but I can’t do much with one hand; fuck, it’s so bad, I’m so sorry...” Bucky’s eyes closed and his head fell lower, but you could still see a pink blush on his cheeks.

"I want it, Bucky; I want you, and your hand is not a problem, okay?" He deeply inhaled when your hands took his face and your lips were back on his. The kiss wasn’t so harsh and desperate; it was more deep and passionate, like you both tried to express your unsaid feelings. “Why don’t you just lay back on the pillows, and I’ll do everything?” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, and put your right hand on his chest, pushing Bucky back on the pile of pillows behind him so he was sitting in a reclined position.

You saw the hesitation in his eyes, and you waited a few seconds, gently rubbing your fingers over his beard, so he could process your idea.

“Okay.” 

You got closer, sitting more comfortably on top of him. One of your hands pressed onto the pillows near Bucky’s body, and the other one landed on his firm chest, playing with the red clothes that he was wearing. Bucky lifted his hand, gently grabbing your face and kissing you again. His soft lips and slow movements of his tongue inside your mouth made you moan.

“Can I take it off?” You mumbled, slightly pulling down the red material. More of his soft, tanned skin was shown, and you tried to hold yourself together and not overstep the line. Bucky’s pupils were dilated, almost completely hiding your favorite blues. He was closely watching your moving lips, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

“Mhm, but— please, can we leave this on?” He pointed to his shoulder, covered in blue material.

“If you feel more comfortable that way, then we can. But we don’t have to, if you suggest it only because of me.” You started to untangle his clothes, still watching his face to notice any signs of discomfort. 

“Just leave it on, okay?” 

“Okay.” As you removed the clothes from his chest, leaving the cover on his left shoulder, allowing you to see his perfectly sculpted body, your lips left soft kisses on Bucky’s cheek, going down to his neck and to his abs. You stopped there, feeling how the body underneath you tensed, and his hand gripped the duvet so hard that his knuckles became white. “Bucky?” 

“‘M okay, it’s just been so long for me. Didn’t get used to feeling that way. And I want you so bad, doll, I can’t even explain it.” He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. You felt that his cock was painfully hard underneath you, and just thinking about touching it made you ten times wetter.

“You can have me, Bucky. Do you want me to take the rest of our clothes?” You moved your hips a little bit, getting an almost desperate whine from Bucky. He looked stunning with his slightly disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, red lips, and lustful and needy eyes. And he was completely yours, fuck.

“Yes, please.” 

You placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up. Bucky’s eyes were following your every move as you took off your shorts and t-shirt, staying in the cooling air only in your simple black underwear. But Bucky was looking at you like you were the most delicious and precious thing in the world, like he wanted to make love to you and completely destroy your body at the same time. 

“Doll– fuck, everything else too, please.” He licked his lips, unconsciously moving his hips from the lack of attention. Your eyes slipped to his crotch, seeing how his cock was very visible through layers of clothes.

You just smiled at his desperation but still reached to the back to unclip your bra and then slide your panties down your legs. You didn’t waste any more time, going back to Bucky and finally completely taking off his clothes. 

“Holy fuck…” Your mouth went completely dry when you pulled down his black boxers. You never found this part of a man’s body that attractive, but it was the prettiest dick you had ever seen. Thick and long, with a vein going around it and a slight curve towards his press. The shiny drop of pre-cum on the head made you instantly want to lick it, but the mumble of your name and calloused hand on the lower part of your back brought your attention back to Bucky.

“You’re going to kill me, doll. C’mere, please, I want– need to touch you. Need to kiss you.” Before you could even say something or move, his hand slipped under your ass and, without much effort, lifted you on top of him. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I want to worship you and make you feel good; I’m so sorry that I can’t.” 

“Bucky,” you said, laying down on his chest. “I promise that when you get your new arm, I’ll let you fuck me however and wherever you want to, okay? But for now, I want to take care of you.” The feeling of your hard nipples pressing against his firm chest sent shivers down your spine, and the hand on your back made you want to grind on Bucky like a bitch in heat. “Please, touch me, baby.”

“You shouldn’t say shit like this to me, doll. I won’t let you go until you can’t even fucking think straight. Shit–  how are you so soft…” Bucky's hand was now exploring your body, gripping your ass, tracing your stomach, and reaching for your sensitive nipples. He never wanted to have both arms as much as he did at that moment—to touch every curve of your body and find everything that makes you feel good.

“Bucky!” Your hands pressed against his chest, and your head fell back with a moan when he pinched your nipple in between his fingers. He chuckled softly before sliding his hand down, right to your dripping core.

“Doll, look at you.” His eyes were glued to the place where his fingers traced your folds. “Is this all for me?” 

“Y-yes, Bucky, please…” You almost cried at the feeling that he gave you. Even if it was a long time for him, Bucky definitely didn’t forget how to please a woman. Your legs desperately wanted to close from the stimulation on the clit, but since you were spread on top of him, you couldn’t do anything but whine and dig your nails into the hot skin under your hands. “Don’t tease me, just—fuck!” 

“Taking my fingers so good, doll.” You knew that he was smiling because of your reaction as two thick digits slid inside of you, filling you so well but not enough at the same time. “You’re already ready for my cock, huh? Wanna feel how this pretty pussy stretches around me. C'mon, baby, help me.” Bucky moved his hips upward, and you felt how his dick was pressing on your ass.

“You have a dirty mouth, Barnes.” You laughed before reaching behind you, grabbing his cock, and lifting your body at the same time. You put the tip at your entrance, running his length through your folds and letting the head bump your clit as he collected your wetness, until you both couldn’t handle the teasing anymore. Bucky placed his hand on your ass, pressing on top and allowing you to slowly take him inside.

It was too much. The burn of him stretching you was slightly painful, but it made you feel so full, as if the two pieces of puzzles finally added up. You both moaned, your head fell back, and you tried to go slowly and adjust to his size.

Bucky’s hand tightened on your hip, probably leaving red marks. He breathed deeply to control his fast-beating heart. You felt so fucking good, all wet and tight for him, that it was hard not to move his hips into you. But it was obvious that you needed some time based on your tensed body and slightly opened mouth.

“Bucky…” Your eyes were flattering, and you were not able to completely focus on his face. You thought that you could just fuck him and take control, but you didn’t expect to be this cock drunk before either of you even made a move.

“So pretty lookin’ like this baby.”

“‘M so full…” You moaned, gripping Bucky’s hand and interlacing your fingers. 

You found a comfortable position, holding yourself with one hand on Bucky’s chest. The first movement of your hips was shocking, sending goosebumps all over your body. You both loudly moaned when you moved up, until he almost slipped out of you, and then down, burying his cock deeply inside. 

Bucky’s lower half slightly moved up when his non-existent left arm wanted to grab your hips, and you must’ve noticed the disappointment and anger written on his face because you leaned a little bit lower and freed your hand from his grip, moving it to his face. 

“That’s okay, Buck, just relax, please? Don’t worry.” You cooed in the softest voice. Your hips started to slowly move at a stable pace.

“You’re so perfect, baby.” He mumbled, and you felt that his body started to thrust into yours, so his cock perfectly touched your g-spot.

It became more intense with every minute. The little hut was filled with the smell of sex and the sound of your moans, as well as skin slapping against skin. You were too desperate for each other, trying to reach your climaxes but not wanting this moment to end. 

Bucky tried to touch you as much as possible; he wanted to make you feel good, give you satisfaction, and fulfill his own needs in your presence. He moved his hand from your ass to your stomach and boobs, then to your face, drawing you in for another hot and passionate kiss. He was all over you, hungry to get more and to remember every centimeter of your perfect body. 

You two moved in perfect rhythm, meeting each other's movements.

“Please, Bucky– it’s so good, fu-uck, I’m gonna cum.” You cried out loud, feeling that your body was starting to go numb from your approaching orgasm. 

“Such a good pussy, takin’ me so well. ‘M close too, baby; ride my cock, c’mon. Get what you need.” He slapped your ass, encouraging you to move faster. “So pretty wrapped around me. Can I cum inside you, hm? Will you let me feel you up?” 

Your head quickly nodded while you didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of you. Bucky bit his lip, trying to control himself and get you to the finish first, but you looked so fucking good on top of him, with your boobs jumping up and down, that he knew he couldn’t hold himself any longer. So he brought his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit. 

That was the breaking point for you. You completely lost control over your body, barely being able to stay still when the waves of pleasure were breaking through you.

“Good girl. You can almost feel me in your stomach, yeah?” Bucky was feeling every thrust of his dick with the palm of his hand, and it felt fucking insane. “Fu-u-uck, you’re squeezing the shit out of me; ‘m not gonna last longer.” He moaned, losing his rhythm too, while you fell down on his chest, too overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

You felt the last movement of his hips until he froze, moaning into your ear, and emptied himself deeply inside of your spasming pussy. You unconsciously continued to squeeze around his cock, getting every single drop, as if your body was greedy to get more of his load.

“I don’t feel m’ body…” You mumbled, already feeling sleepy, and wrapped your hands around Bucky’s body. 

“Sleep, baby.” The soft material fell on your back, covering your naked bodies. You felt a light kiss on top of your head, and Bucky’s arm hugged your back, holding you closer to him. 

You weren't sure, but right before you drifted to sleep, you heard something that weirdly sounded like “I love you.” 

part 2

[mynamesaplant]

Forgiveness is Electric

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Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. This is between the Volume Control and Volume Control (Reprise). Just a tiny change, Emmet caught Tynamo bc I sort of forgot when he did... My bad. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

I lied about posting to AO3 last time with Yearning for Wood Floors, but I will update that soon along with this one.

Enjoy!~

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“I do not think she will like those.”

“Who doesn’t love sweets?”

Ingo argued, plucking a box of Snom-Caps and turning it over and over in his hands. He contemplated the choices of candy in the aisle, the teenage clerk puffing their long, purple-streaked hair from their eyes behind the counter as the two children agonized over their decision. The clerk, Dakota, saw Ingo and Emmet in here all the time, the former had something of a sweet tooth and the latter… Well, whatever the opposite of a sweet tooth was, that was Emmet. The kid just loved sour things.

It wasn’t unusual to see them, but it didn’t usually take this long for them to make their selection. They had been there for nearly fifteen minutes, painstakingly reading each and every label and discussing them in hushed undertones. That was unusual by itself. Ingo was not known for his volume control.

Although unusual, they weren’t worried about them doing anything shady like stealing or being careless and knock things off the shelf. Might as well let them go about their business. To pass the time, they watched the fretful newly acquired Tynamo circle around them faster and faster until Emmet snatched the Pokémon deftly from the air and soothingly stroked its back.

“I am Emmet. We do not know what she likes.”

“We must do something! I just feel so dreadful.”

Emmet could see Ingo working himself up over this, just as he had a few hours ago, and Emmet placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm. His smile and eyes softened as his twin turned to him, Ingo’s eyes glittering with emotion and whatever proclamation dying on the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t. He always got too loud when he was excited.

It had just backfired on him horribly.

Ingo cringed even now as he remembered the tears in her eyes, her hands slapped over her ears, and eyes huge with confusion and pain. She had run off before he could even apologize, and that knowledge was eating him alive all day.

Candy wouldn’t fix this. In his heart of hearts, he knew that, and maybe he had come here to grab himself some of his favorite snacks to ease the pain of losing a potential friend.

It was hard for them to understand others. Emmet and Ingo were so in-sync with each other that everyone seemed to be moving so much slower by comparison. It was like playing charades with someone who was underwater, the twins made perfect sense to one another, but it was unclear to everyone else.

This was not new to them, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

With their moms being busy with work and their uncle who didn’t have much interest with them most times, Emmet and Ingo came to rely on each other almost exclusively. Drayden would give them a little bit of pocket change, but never much. They had to be ultraconservative with what he gave them and had taken it upon themselves to run around Anville Town to take little odd jobs.

Leaves to rake? Oran berries to pick? Snow to shovel?

Emmet and Ingo did it all and saved what they could. They barely scraped together the money to purchase the Pokéballs needed to catch Tynamo and for additional balls to try and catch Ingo a starter.

Even though they knew everyone, they weren’t really close to anyone in town.

That could have been different if Ingo hadn’t ruined everything!

“Perhaps sweets are not the solution…”

Ingo finally admitted, setting the box down and rising to his feet. Readjusting his cap on his head and dusting off his knees to unconsciously tidy his appearance, Ingo’s frown deepened in thought. Even if he and Emmet apologized to her, Miss Elesa would not understand them. Drat! If only he had remembered her hearing aids, he had completely forgotten them tucked behind her black hair.

Emmet watched his face scrunch up, clearly having a long inner dialogue with himself where he alternatively berated himself and told himself that there was no crying over spilled milk. Gray eyes scanning the shelf, he took a bag of sour gummy-Bewear for himself, and chocolate covered pretzels for his brother, before hauling them to the counter where Dakota waited.

Tynamo drifted just below his elbow, still quite nervous around new people and often retreating to its ball when too anxious. Emmet’s soft encouragement was the only thing keeping the EleFish out while Dakota rang up both bags.

“Tynamo? Good for you, kiddo. I hear they’re not easy to catch.”

They rested their elbows on the counter, chin resting atop with a kind smile to the quieter twin. Dakota could see him beaming with pride, but he merely nodded, shuffling on the spot while he fished in the pocket of his overalls for some money. His Tynamo, like its trainer, seemed a little bashful at their words, and retreated into its ball.

“200… I think you brother is comatose over there.”

Dakota said not unkindly. Emmet jerked his head to where his brother stood motionless in front of the candy.

“Ingo!”

It was Ingo’s turn to jerk out of his, as Dakota had put it, “comatose state”. He trotted over to his side, staring at the bags of candies with confusion before it all seemed to click into place.

“You did not have to spend your pocket money on me.”

Emmet’s smile softened at the bashful note in his sibling’s voice. He wanted to. Ingo was feeling down, his twin often overthinking problems and burning himself out in the process. Emmet liked to take a step back to listen and reflect on people and conversations. A little break would do Ingo some good, so he insisted on the treats.

“I am Emmet. I wanted to. Yup!”

While Dakota bagged their treats in a small brown paper bag, they couldn’t help but lean over the counter to examine them. Although many people didn’t understand the secret code that the twins exchanged between glances, mouth twitches, and hand movements, Dakota could tell something was awry. Withholding the bag, they leaned over the counter with a faintly curious expression and a light tone.

“You guys alright?”

Unsurprisingly, the two exchanged looks, and a wordless conversation was held between them while Dakota waited. It was Ingo who swiveled his head back to face them, his face knit into a calculating grimace that seemed a little less friendly than usual, but only marginally.

“Yes,” he said slowly, eyes not breaking with the clerk, but they could see him shifting uncomfortably. “Emmet and I are attempting to right a wrong. However, we are encountering several roadblocks.”

There is a pause. Dakota still held the bag just out of reach as they gnawed on their lower lip. This wasn’t really their business, and they weren’t the type to stick their nose in where it didn’t belong… They thought of Drayden, who spent a lot of time in Opelucid and not watching his nephews – he barely spent any time with them.

They’re just kids.

“Do you need some help? It’s my job to help customers in the store y’know.”

Another pause. Another exchange of glances.

“I-” Ingo tries to being, already hard pressed to say anything and even less so when his sibling elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a look. He wouldn’t be allowed to take all the blame. “We upset one of our classmates with our carelessness. We think she was attempting to befriend us, but- uh… there were a few errors on our part.”

“And you’re trying to get candy for her to forgive you?”

“We thought about it, but it grew too complicated. We do not know what candy she likes, but more importantly, we do not think it’s a suitable apology.”

The clerk nodded, tapping the counter in thought as they tried to piece together some genuine advice for the boys.

“I think it’s a nice peace offering, but I think an apology would be better.”

“We broke her hearing aids… Yep…”

Emmet croaked suddenly, shrinking back in shame at the same time that Ingo grabbed the brim of his hat to tug it lower over his eyes.

“Ah,” Dakota hummed, tapping the counter even faster. They meant the new family that moved in from Sinnoh. They remembered their dads talking about the new signs that had to go all over town for the girl’s safety. Dakota couldn’t remember her name. “How did you break them?” They asked, already knowing the answer.

“Volume control.”

Ingo cringed, remembering his uncle’s warning about his naturally loud voice. Inside voice, Drayden had been emphasizing, and Ingo was trying to take those words to heart, but it was difficult. Since Ingo’s face didn’t emote well, he relied on his voice and his movement to articulate his emotions to others. They nod sympathetically.

“You didn’t see them?”

“No…”

The boy was squirming now, his shame and embarrassment with the situation reaching an all-time high. He felt Emmet moving to his side, reassuringly pressing against his arm, and resting his head on his twin’s shoulder. A flood of comfort helped Ingo release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Behind the counter, the clerk was rummaging through something – although tall for their age, Emmet and Ingo couldn’t see what they were doing. They heaved a box onto the counter, tipping it so the contents spilled out for them to see, and the boys were confused.

“Headphones?”

Emmet leaned forward on his tiptoes to look at the colorful array of boxes that ranged from normal headphones to ones that had Pikachu and Eevee ears topping them.

“Yeah, uh, maybe if she wears these, you’ll remember right away that she has headphones in.”

It was a half-baked idea. In truth, Dakota felt a bit sheepish about it now that the idea was out of their head, but when they looked up, the boys were beaming – well, Emmet beamed. Ingo reminded of them of their friend’s Purrloin in a way they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

“Bravo! What a marvelous suggestion!”

Ingo practically cheered, stepping beside Emmet to look through the headphones. It was probably going to cost them a bit from the tags on the boxes, but it would be worth it. The headphones would immediately remind Ingo that she had hearing aids in so he would be more inclined to get Miss Elesa’s attention in a different fashion, but it also might do the same for others who were unaware of her deafness.

“Sure – er, thank you…” Dakota was looking at the prices now and mentally smacked their forehead. They probably couldn’t afford the headphones. “I’ll-” They hesitate. It almost pained them to say what they were going to next. “I’ll pay for them so you can take them to her now.” The twins’ eyes went wide, both about to protest when Dakota interrupted, “In exchange, you can do a few chores for me at my place. I need to do some yardwork, but it always gives me hay fever. Sound like a deal?”

The answer was easy for them. Dakota told them to pick ones that they thought Miss Elesa would like.

“I think these ones are quite dashing.”

Ingo said, picking up the box with the Pikachu ears. Emmet pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Nope. Too big. Not a gamer girl.”

They continued to rummage through the boxes. They agreed that she must like Electric types. She had a Blitzle as her partner after all.

“I cannot recall, she is from Hoenn, correct?”

Emmet shrugged, unsure himself because they had both been looking through a magazine with an expose on the newest train lines running out of Nimbasa when she had been introduced. That just meant to them that, when the time came, going on their Pokémon journey by rail would be all the easier.

“Not sure.” He looked at the box Ingo had in his hand and his smile broadened, nodding in agreement to his brother’s unasked query. The perfect balance of subtle but stylish. “I am Emmet. Those are perfect.”

Plusle and Minun headphones.

[baptismbaby]

† GOD, FORGIVE ME

mean!ellie williams x innocent!reader a/n: i also posted this on my ao3: baptismsbaby warnings: reader is an extremely innocent christian girl, blaspheming, corruption, drug dealer!ellie, petnames (pup is used in case anyone doesn't like that), fingering (r! receiving), belittling, toxic!ellie, oral (r!receiving), virgin!reader

creds to elliesgalaxy on pinterest for the picture of ellie.

wc: 5.2k<3 part two here

You breathed a sigh of relief as you entered the gates of Jackson on your horse. You had just finished up patrol and was ready to collapse in your bed. You looked over at Dina and smiled. “Man, I’m happy to be home.”

“Me too,” Dina agreed with a laugh. “Things got too intense out there.”

“Yeah, luckily I was there to save your life.”

Dina scoffed. “Oh, shut up. I had it but of course, you had to show off.”

You hopped off your horse and led it to the stables, passing it off to the man on duty. “Here she is,” you said. “Get your rest, Ginger!”

Dina said goodbye to Japan, running to catch up with you. “Hey, I forgot to mention but Jesse said he wanted to throw a party tonight. It’ll be small, not too many people at all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A party? Really?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun! Jesse and his friends got some liquor and cups from Seth. Perfect timing too since everyone has the weekend off.”

“Dina,” you began. But before you could continue, Dina cut you off.

“I’m not saying you have to drink with us! I know you’re a good little Christian girl,” she joked.

You frowned. “Hey, that’s not nice.”

“Please come,” she begged. “It wouldn’t be fun without you.”

“What exactly do I bring to the table? It’s not like I can do anything,” you said. 

Dina stepped in front of you and placed her hands on your arms to stop you. “Listen, just please come and stay for at least half an hour. If you want to leave, you can. I won’t stop you or try to convince you to stay. I wanna have a good time with my friends and you’re one of my favorites. Please don’t let me suffer with all of Jesse’s friends. They’re… too male, almost.”

You sighed in defeat. “Ugh, fine! I’ll go if you really want me to.”

Dina clapped her hands in excitement. “Good! Come, I have some clothes you can borrow that’ll look real nice on you.”

You groaned as Dina pulled you by your hand, taking you to her place. She couldn’t contain how happy she felt. You never came to parties with her. They were rare and usually happened once every couple of months. Usually, you wouldn’t give in to Dina’s begging. You would just go home, curl up with a book and fall asleep before the party even began. Dina would come over the next day to tell you all the “sinful” things that went on. You didn’t understand what half of the things she said even meant, you were far too sheltered growing up and focused on reading the Bible most of the time.

“Who’s all gonna be there?” you asked as you walked inside her house.

“Well, I know Jesse’s whole group of friends are coming. Then there’s you, me, and…” she trailed off, looking away. You tilted your head to try and catch her attention. She fought hard not to look your way but you still kept trying to make eye contact until she finally looked at you. “Ellie,” she almost whispered. You sneered at the mention of the Williams girl.

“Ugh, I should’ve known,” you murmured. “Of course Ellie would be there.”

“Seriously, why do you two bicker so much?” Dina asked. “It’s like watching two kids fight over a toy. Or… really, more so like watching someone yell at a puppy for no reason.”

Your face fell. “Oh no… am I the puppy Dina? Please, don’t say I’m the puppy.”

Dina bit her lip and shrugged. “I mean… your comebacks are… something else.”

“What? Are you saying I can’t be mean?”

Dina couldn’t hide the smile growing on her face as she tried not to laugh. “You once said ‘bless your heart’ and that you’d pray for her.”

You scoffed as she broke into fits of laughter. “Hey, ‘bless your heart’ is the worst insult to receive where I come from! Sorry I felt bad afterwards and told her I’d pray for her!”

“Oh, I’m just messing. It’ll be alright. I’ll tell Ellie to cool it. I honestly don’t think she means anything by it. You’re just easy to tease,” Dina said as she made way to her closet. She pulled out a black longsleeve and extremely short shorts. “Here, wear this.”

You made a face at the outfit. “Is that not a bit… much?”

“Loosen up a bit! I think it’ll look real nice on your figure. Make the girlies pop out a little,” she said with a wink. 

You undressed and put the outfit Dina gave you on. She was right but left out the fact that the shorts revealed too much, your ass practically hanging out. The shirt fell just above your belly button. Dina gawked at the sight of you. “Hey, you should dress slutty more often.”

You couldn’t help but to admire yourself in the mirror. You were big on dressing as modest and comfortable as possible. You didn’t realize you had curves until now. “Wow… I think I kinda like this?”

“What can I say, I’m a genius,” bragged Dina.

-

You and Dina arrived at the party an hour later. Jesse opened the door and stopped in his tracks. Dina grinned. “I know right?”

Jesse looked you up and down then back at Dina. “Wow, I’m impressed,” he said, complimenting the both of you. “Come in.”

As you walked in, everyone stopped and stared. “Holy shit, you clean up nice!” one of the boys exclaimed. You shifted and looked down at the ground, too anxious to look at anyone. You were way out of your comfort zone but a part of you sort of enjoyed it. Your eyes wandered over to the couch where Ellie sat. She was rolling a joint, paying no mind to you. 

Dina walked over to her and leaned to whisper something in her ear. You stood there, watching Ellie’s face twist in disgust. You tried reading her lips, it looked like she said your name followed by the word “sensitive.” Dina smacked Ellie’s shoulder. Ellie began searching around the room until her eyes landed on you. Her eyebrows went up before turning to Dina. You couldn’t see her lips anymore but saw a smirk grow on Dina’s face.

Everyone took a shot and headed towards the couch. You followed, sitting on the ground next to Dina. You were kinda mad that to your right was Ellie, who now sat on the edge of the couch so the guys could sit next to her. She was so close that you could smell the soap she used. Ellie looked down at you, holding the joint out. Before you could decline, she passed it to the guy sitting next to her instead. “Shit, I forgot,” she said. “You’re too good to smoke.”

You glared at her smug face. “I don’t think I’m too good to smoke.”

“Well, you’re too good to drink.”

She reached over to grab an unopened bottle from the table. She grabbed two glasses and poured the liquor into each one. “I’m not too good to drink either!” you exclaimed, defending yourself.

Ellie chuckled. “Right,” she muttered. She went to grab the shot but you grabbed it first, downing it quickly. You coughed as it burned your throat.

“Woah,” Ellie blurted out sarcastically. “You took one shot, cool.”

You grabbed the other glass angrily and downed it too, slamming it back down on the table. 

“Jesus!” said Dina, grabbing your shoulder. “Take it slow, you don’t wanna get sick.”

At this point, the joint had reached Dina. She passed it to you to pass over to Ellie but you took a hit instead. You inhaled the smoke deeply and blew it out without coughing. You handed it to Ellie who had a playful smirk on her face. “Wow, I think I’m actually impressed.”

“Whatever,” you uttered, standing up to leave the circle. You went into the kitchen to take another shot. For some reason, you felt you had to prove to Ellie that you weren’t just a goody two shoes and that you could have fun. You knew that in order for the Jackson dealer to take you seriously, you would have to commit. 

After a couple shots, you slightly stumbled back to the circle. Dina looked concerned until you giggled. “Oh, boy. This is great,” you slurred, your eyes heavy from the weed. Dina laughed and wrapped an arm around you. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to let loose!”

You looked up at Ellie, who was looking further down than your face with furrowed brows. She looked back up and quickly turned away. “Lightweight,” she said.

“Oh, shut it, Ellie,” you snapped. “Just for a second could you please just shut up!”

Ellie laughed. “Good Christian girl suddenly thinks she’s the shit all cause she took a hit off a blunt and a couple shots.”

Everyone groaned, tired of the constant arguing between the two. Every time they were in a room with them, Ellie would make fun of you until you couldn’t take anymore and left. They knew Ellie wasn’t fully serious, she liked picking on you because she thought it was hilarious that you couldn’t take a joke. But part of her started to despise you without her knowledge. Everyone loved you. You were sweet and would pray with anyone who wanted to pray. You would give back to the community and greet everyone who walked past you. Ellie thought it was all an act and grew tired of it.

You, on the other hand, never liked Ellie. She was a dealer who spent all of her free time smoking pot and sleeping around. You didn’t think that was any way to live. You hated the influence Ellie had on your friends. Everyone thought she was funny. You couldn’t understand why.

“Let’s play never have I ever!” Dina suggested, an attempt to break the silence and to lessen the tension that built up in the room. Everyone agreed and put all ten of their fingers up. You followed along, waiting for someone to start.

“Okay,” Dina started. “Loser has to go streaking.”

Everyone cheered. You frowned, unsure if you still wanted to play. “But!” said Dina, causing everyone to be quiet. “Usually, you’re out if you put all your fingers down. But… whoever is left with the most fingers up is the loser.”

You nudged Dina, giving her a look. “You know I’m gonna lose,” you whispered. Dina shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Just lie.” 

“I’ll start,” said Jesse. “Never have I ever… made out with someone on patrol.”

Everyone put their fingers down except you.

“Never have I ever… had sex during patrol,” Dina said. Almost everyone put their finger down. They looked at you, waiting for you to say something. You decided to take Dina’s advice and start lying to avoid being the loser.

“Never have I ever snuck out.”

You put a finger down along with everyone else. Ellie scoffed. “Yeah sure,” she muttered. “Never have I ever had sex.”

You put a finger down, knowing that wasn’t true. Ellie kicked your knee lightly. “Wow, you’re getting some? Tell me, who?”

You looked over at Dina, your eyes wide as you tried to come up with a lie. Some girl who passed through Jackson? Some girl you met before Jackson? Your head started to hurt trying to come up with an excuse.

“Who?” Ellie asked again. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Girl,” Dina corrected. “She’s not attracted to men.”

You nodded, not really caring that Dina had outed you. You knew that you were surrounded by people who wouldn’t judge. Except for Ellie, even though she wasn’t straight herself.

Ellie looked genuinely shocked. “Really? Who’s the girl?”

You shrugged. “I’m not gonna name drop.”

“Because this girl isn’t real,” said Ellie. “Lying is a sin. You would know. You just don’t want to be the loser.” 

“Hey, it’s not fair to lie,” one of Jesse’s friends complained. Suddenly, everyone started whining about how it was against the rules. Either you say who it was or admit that you’re lying. You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment. Ellie was grinning but it went away when she saw tears in your eyes.

“I’m teasing, man. Chill… don’t be a crybaby about it.”

“Fuck you, Ellie,” you spat out. A few people gasped, including Dina. She turned to Jesse, resting her head on his shoulder. She felt guilty for suggesting to play the game and for telling Ellie to be nice. Dina realized it just made her pick on you even more. 

Ellie wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t mad but she wasn’t feeling good about the situation either.

“You’re a real piece of shit,” you continued. “Always throwing religion in my face, being mean, just… why? Why target me? I’ve always been nice to you even though I have never, ever liked you! So, fuck you, Ellie!” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I knew better. I shouldn’t have come here when I found out you were gonna be here too. Just give it a rest, Ellie. Grow up!”

You stood up and brushed your shorts off. You faced your friends who all sat back quietly, avoiding your gaze. “Sorry for ruining your fun, guys.”

You stormed up the stairs and into one of the spare bedrooms. You collapsed on the bed, your head spinning. You felt awful for how you reacted but felt she deserved it. You were worried you ruined the party until you heard music along with everyone singing loudly. 

You heard a knock on the door. You got up, cracking it open. You were expecting Dina but felt your stomach drop when you saw Ellie. You tried to shut the door but Ellie stopped it with her hand, shoving her way inside and slamming the door shut and locking it. “I’m not here to bitch at you, I want to talk to you.”

“You really want to make things worse?”

“You’re right. I am a piece of shit,” Ellie hissed. “I know I go too far teasing you but you take everything seriously!”

“You don’t know me, Ellie,” you mumbled, too afraid to speak up in case your voice cracked. “I won’t lie and say that I ever cared for you. I don’t like the way you choose to live your life but I still was kind to you. You never gave me a chance.”

“Because you act like you’re better than everyone!”

“How?” you shouted. “All I want is to make friends with everyone, spread a little peace and love in this shitty world! It’s comforting to me, Ellie! I don’t think I’m better than you or anybody. I enjoy making others happy and you enjoy making people miserable. Actually, just me. Because I have never seen you do this to others. You hate me and I wish you didn’t! I hear how Dina talks about you and I see how you laugh with your friends and I’m jealous. I know I could’ve liked you had you been friendly with me. Because I was angry at myself for judging you so quickly. It was wrong of me. But of course, I was right!”

You turned away from Ellie and sat down on the bed, your arms crossed over your chest. “I felt I had to prove that I’m cool,” you continued. “I thought you would stop for just one night if you saw how cool I can be.”

“You want the truth?” Ellie asked.

“You’re always truthful. So, I might as well say yes even if I don’t really give a shit.”

“I meant it when I said I was impressed earlier.”

You scoffed. “Sure.”

“I can’t even take two shots back to back like that.”

“Stop teasing, Ellie. I am convinced that being torn apart by infected is less stressful than dealing with you.”

“Just shut the fuck up and let me talk, okay? I’m leading into something.”

You flinched at her raised voice, slowly looking up to see her facial expression harden. 

“I’m jealous of you,” she admitted. “I’m jealous that you can still believe in something and that you still care when everything is so fucked!”

You stood up, walking towards Ellie as she spoke. “I’d give anything, anything, to be that way. I had bitter feelings towards you. I think I wanted to tear you down so you wouldn’t be so… sweet. Giving, caring, everything I never could be.”

You watched her face closely, trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. 

“I fuck girls like you and ignore them so they can hurt. Maybe I want the world to suffer with me,” said Ellie. “But I couldn’t do that to you. You’re too… good. I had to find another way.”

You paused as you connected what she said together. “Wait, you wanna…?” you trailed off, too shy to say it.

Ellie scratched her neck awkwardly. “Well, I did… but you’d never do that.”

“I might have,” you said, almost feeling ashamed of how bold you were being. You never would have thought this sober but Ellie was really pretty. If the circumstances were different, you knew that she would be your type. 

Ellie was taken aback by your statement.

“What?” Ellie questioned.

“Not now, since I know you would’ve ignored me.”

Ellie stepped closer to you, eyeing your body up and down. She thought you looked good tonight and couldn’t help but to peek at your tits when you weren’t paying attention, or your ass when you were turned away. 

“I… know I would’ve back then,” Ellie whispered, getting even closer to you. She stood above you, watching as your face turned red. Your heart sped up. You wondered why your panties started to feel a bit wet at the sight of Ellie looking down at you. You usually never got turned on. Ellie was right, you were just a good Christian girl who didn’t do anything. You never even tried touching yourself. Since you were breaking the rules now, you thought maybe you could break some more and pray for forgiveness later.

“I’m not so sure now,” Ellie continued, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I never knew you were hiding that under all those baggy clothes.”

“A-Are you saying that in a bad way?”

Ellie shook her head. “When I first saw you earlier, I told Dina I kinda wanted to fuck you.”

Your breath hitched. “What did… Dina say?”

“That if I was nicer,” she said, stepping closer so there was almost no space left between your bodies. “I just might get to.”

Ellie caressed your cheek slowly. “Am I nice enough now, pretty girl?”

Your panties were soaked at this point. Your body trembled, afraid that you wouldn’t know what to do since it was your first time. Even though ten minutes ago you didn’t like the girl, you suddenly wanted nothing more than to be underneath her.

“I really… was lying earlier,” you mumbled.

“I know you were.”

“You don’t care that I’ve never… had sex before?”

Ellie smirked. “I’m glad you’ve never been fucked before. I want to be the one who corrupts you. I want everybody who fucks you after me to be a disappointment so you come crawling back. You’ll never find better than me, not even your own hand.”

Ellie leaned down, her lips brushing against yours. You pulled away to speak. “I don’t even do that…”

Ellie chuckled. “Really? Little church girl don’t know how to please herself?”

Usually, you would get mad at Ellie for saying stuff like that. Now, her insults just made you throb even more. 

“Have you even kissed before?”

You bit your lip shyly and shrugged. “Not… really. When I was 13, a boy tried kissing me and I didn’t kiss back.”

“Aw, poor pup,” Ellie teased, running her fingers on the exposed skin of your tummy. “I get to teach you everything.”

Finally, Ellie collided her lips with yours. She was super gentle, placing her hand on your cheek and brushing it with her thumb. You melted in the kiss, pressing your thighs together to ease your aching cunt. The friction made it feel even better, causing you to release a soft moan into her mouth. Ellie pulled away, smirking at the noise you made. “I wanna hear more of that.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I can do anything to make you feel good.”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

You hesitated a bit before nodding. Of course you wanted that. You were just scared that you’d be bad at it since you had zero experience.

“Then let me fuck you. I get off to getting you off, understand?” asked Ellie. 

“Y-Yes.”

“Good girl,” Ellie praised. “Lay down, baby.”

You obeyed and laid down onto the bed. You watched as Ellie slowly took your boots off and dropped them onto the ground. “Lift your hips up for me?”

You lifted your hips and let Ellie pull your shorts off. Ellie bit her lip at the sight of your white cotton panties. She could see how soaked they were. “Look at that,” she breathed. You closed your legs to hide yourself but Ellie pulled them back open, holding your thighs down so you couldn’t move. “Filthy little girl,” she cooed. “What would God say about this?”

Your breathing started to grow heavier. “I-I don’t care what He would say,” you whined.

Ellie held back a moan that threatened to escape her lips. She pulled your panties off and threw them behind her.

“Fuck,” she groaned. “Your pussy is so pretty.”

She tugged at your shirt until you got the hint to raise up. She lifted the fabric over your head and dropped it on the floor. You were completely naked while Ellie was fully dressed. She rolled her sleeves up, her eyes never leaving yours. She crawled on top of you and started making out with you passionately. Without pulling away, she started to unbutton her jeans and took them off swiftly. She shoved her knee against your dripping cunt, eliciting a squeal from you. She placed her hands on your hips and guided them up and down so you were grinding on her.

“Just like that, baby. Good girl.”

You started to moan louder, Ellie covering your mouth and shushing you. “As much as I want to make you scream, you don’t want anyone to hear and interrupt us, do you?”

You shook your head no. “Will you be quiet for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper. 

Ellie pressed her knee harder on your pussy. You started to go faster, mewling and biting your lip to keep quiet.

“Such a good girl. You listen so well,” Ellie complimented. She took her knee away and brushed a finger up your slit. Your body jolted at the feeling. “You want me to taste you baby?”

“Please,” you almost cried out, desperate for whatever Ellie planned on doing to you. Ellie moaned at the sight of you squirming. She loved watching you unfold beneath her. To think she ever hated you was beyond her at this point. She wished she had done this sooner as she admired how beautiful you were. 

“Say it,” Ellie demanded. “Use your words, pup.”

“E-Ellie, please” you begged. “F-Fuck me.”

Ellie tutted, shaking her head no. “I plan on fucking you anyway. I want you to beg me to eat you out.”

You were confused. You’ve heard Dina say that Jesse would ‘eat her out’ but you weren’t sure what it really meant. Ellie saw the confusion on your face and laughed. “Wow, you’re too innocent.” 

You started to sit up but Ellie pushed you back down softly. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mean it that way,” she apologized. “It’s okay that you don’t know what that means. I’ll show you baby. You want that?”

You nodded. “Yes, please show me.”

Ellie leaned down between your thighs and started peppering kisses all over them. You reached down to grip her hair as her lips got closer to your pussy. She flicked her tongue across your clit once and looked up at you. “Do you understand now, pup?”

“Mm, yes Ellie.”

She smirked. “You want me to continue?”

“Please?”

Ellie chuckled as she went back down to your dripping cunt, licking it all up and swallowing. She savored the taste of you, going back down for more. You grabbed the pillow beneath your head to put over your face in an attempt to muffle your moans.

Ellie stopped and yanked the pillow out of your hands. “They turned the music all the way up finally. You don’t have to be quiet anymore. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

Ellie pressed her tongue against your clit and went back and forth between a circular motion and flicking it. You nearly screamed from the pleasure, your hands grabbing Ellie’s hair to pull her closer. She moaned against you, speeding her tongue up. She brought a hand up to play with your nipple, squeezing and pulling on it. Ellie used her free hand to gently push one finger in. You yelped, yanking Ellie’s hair harder. She pulled away and licked her lips. “Too much baby?” she asked, out of breath. You shook your head no and pulled her back to keep going.

Ellie loved how tight you felt. The feeling of you gripping around her finger made her want to bend you over and fuck you with a strap. She wished the party was at her place so she could have used all the toys she had on you.

A feeling began to build up in your stomach as you trembled harder. “E-Ellie!” you moaned, bucking your hips upward as you got closer and closer to cumming.

“Come on, baby. That’s it. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

All of the sudden, your body began to convulse as your orgasm hit you hard. Ellie slowly fingered you, riding it out until you pulled away from her. She brought her finger up to your mouth, forcing it open and shoving it down your throat. You sucked on her finger with a moan.

“Such a good girl,” Ellie praised, elated with how quickly you catch on.

“Wow,” you mumbled, out of breath from all the noises you made. “Never in a million years did I think I’d lose my virginity to you.”

Ellie sent you a sly smile. “I never knew I’d take it.”

You raised up slightly, leaning against Ellie’s shoulder. “Are you still going to be mean to me?”

Ellie sighed. “No, baby. That’s all over now.” 

“Good. Do I put my clothes on now?”

“Why do you have to ask for my permission?” Ellie questioned with a laugh.

You giggled. “Well, I like… asking you.”

“Well, then no. I think I want to fingerfuck you some more. Can you take that?”

You froze, looking up at her with a fucked out expression. You were exhausted but didn’t want your time with Ellie to end. “Mhm, I think so.”

Ellie leaned back a bit and grabbed you. “Come lay in my lap, baby. Ass up.”

You complied and laid down, arching your back in excitement. Ellie rubbed her hand over your ass, squeezing tightly as you moaned. “Tell me, did you pray for me?”

Before you could ask what she meant by that, she shoved two fingers into your dripping cunt. You yelped as she fucked you with them slow and hard. “That one time when you got mad at me for making fun of you, you said you’d pray for me. Did you?”

Ellie sped her movements up as she went deeper inside you.

“Fuck!” you yelled out, trembling and kicking your feet at the feeling.

“Answer me, pup, or I’ll stop,” Ellie threatened.

“Yes!”

“Yes what, baby?”

“Yes! God, yes, I prayed for you!”

Ellie went even faster as you got closer to cumming again. “Atta girl, such a sweet pup. Praying for a sinner like me.”

“Ellie! Fuck! I-I prayed for you everyday!” you babbled, unable to speak without getting interrupted by your own sounds of pleasure.

“Yeah? Told God how bad you wanted me? Told Him all your dirty thoughts, you filthy slut?”

You moaned louder, bucking your hips up towards Ellie . “Yes!”

“You’re gonna ask for forgiveness, aren’t you? Like the good Christian girl you are.”

“Mm, yes, Ellie,” you whined, your orgasm about to take over you.

“Then ask, baby, ask.”

“God, forgive me please,” you said in between moans as you finally came undone for her. The force of you cumming shook your entire body and made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You couldn’t help but to repeat Ellie’s name until you started to come down, your body almost collapsing onto her lap. 

“Good girl.”

Ellie helped you up onto your feet, your legs shaking. “Let me help you get dressed,” she offered.

As Ellie helped you into your clothes, you couldn’t help but feel awful. “Ellie? Did I… make God mad at me?”

Ellie stopped, placing her hands on your shoulders and staring deep into your eyes. “Who could be mad at an angel like you?”

You blushed, removing yourself from her grip and tugging your shirt over your head. You put your shoes on next and sighed, looking up at Ellie with a tired smile. “Do we say anything?”

Ellie shook her head no, quickly fixing your hair so it wasn’t obvious what happened. “Just say we talked and you forgave me. I had one hell of an apology,” she uttered with a goofy grin. You laughed softly.

“So, you’re not gonna ignore me, right?”

Ellie wrapped her arms around you for a second before stepping back, eyeing you up and down while heading towards the door. Your heart stung, wondering if maybe Ellie didn’t mean what she said before. 

“Come by tomorrow night,” said Ellie as she turned the knob. “I’ll fuck you so good that you won’t question me again.”

Ellie left you standing there, your mouth open in shock. You waited a couple minutes before heading downstairs to the party.

“Hey,” you heard Dina call out to you. She grabbed your hand and looked at you with concern. “I shouldn’t have said anything to Ellie. It just made her worse. I begged her not to talk to you but-”

“Dina,” you interrupted. “She explained herself and I explained myself. We’re all good.”

Dina looked surprised. “What? Really? You forgave her?”

You looked behind Dina to see Ellie back on the couch, staring at you with a grin as she puffed on her joint. You smiled at Dina and nodded. “Of course I forgave her. Her apology was genuine and…”

“What did she say?” Dina pressed on.

You shrugged. “I can’t remember everything she said but it was one hell of an apology.”

[milksuu]

Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers. 

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors. 

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

 EMAIL: yone123@riotstudios.com

TELEPHONE:  XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his  protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.” 

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.” 

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place. 

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.” 

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest. 

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute. 

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.” 

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn. 

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps. 

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness. 

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.” 

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool. 

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too. 

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.” 

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.  

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite. 

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.” 

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. &lt;3

[myfictionaldreams]

Merry Christmas // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, costumes/roleplay, rough oral (f and m receiving), rough sex, size kink, praise kink, choking, sir kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace, aftercare

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry, it's been a while since I've posted; I promise to get back to requests at some point. Until then, I just wanted to post a little something and to say Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Holidays to everyone else!

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Winter was one of your utterly favourite months just for moments like the one you were currently experiencing. The snow layered thickly against the outside of your home, causing a darkened shadow on the inside, which only meant that the blazing fire lit the sitting area in beautiful deep orange and red. The sweet smell of hot cocoa wafted from the kitchen, only making your smile grow as you pulled the fluffy blanket further up your body until the only exposed part of you was your face.

Your back nuzzled further into the soft cushions of the coach you were waiting patiently on, watching the movie with half interest as the comfort of the moment had you wanting to drift into sleep. What’s more was that the meetings that had been planned for later in the evening had inevitably been cancelled due to the freezing weather, which meant that you knew you could sit in with your two boyfriends without the fear of them being out on the dangerous roads, just to attend a threatening meeting.

They were home. Safe. With you.

Blinking open an eye and looking around the room, it dawned on you that they’d been gone from your side for so long that the parts of the cushions they’d been sitting on had turned cold. You’d been drifting between sleep and trying to cuddle closer to them for an hour when Bucky shifted, causing a groan to burst from your throat.

He’d simply kissed your temple tenderly, earning a much-deserved smile in return as he explained that he would make the three of you hot cocoa. Steve had then mumbled something about helping him, but you were too busy trying to reposition your body and get used to not having them squishing either side of you.

Sitting up slightly on the couch, you glanced briefly over the back towards where the kitchen was to see if you could spot either Steve or Bucky, but neither were in sight.

“What’s taking you both so long? I’m getting so cold and lonely out here without you”, you shouted idly with a hint of a whine for emphasis. As you stared up at the TV attached to the wall above the fireplace, you contemplated what film the three of you could watch tonight when you became distracted by the footsteps coming from the kitchen. Frowning, you began to shout, “What took you both so … long?”

Any words you were thinking of asking were swiftly forgotten as your view of the TV was replaced by both of your boyfriends, each standing in oversized Santa trousers, each held up by black suspenders over their shoulders. The red velvet material that covered their strong legs was cuffed with thick white fluff around the ankles and waistline. However, your attention wasn’t forced on this as your eyes squinted, not quite believing the detail; “Have you oiled your chests?” you asked quietly, throat suddenly thick with saliva.

Bucky smirked, tensing his pecs so that you could see the oil's gleam better in the fire's orange light. In any other situation, you might have laughed at the fact that they looked like wannabe Santa strippers, but your pussy was being a traitor with the deep pulse that had your thighs clenching with the desperate need to find some relief.

The baby oil that covered the top half of their naked body seemed to extenuate the god-like bodies they both had, the muscles over their arms and abs flexing with the subtle movements they were both making. Even Bucky’s metal arm was oiled, causing the silver shade to shimmer and gleam.

Your head swivelled between admiring the both of them, unsure what to say or how to act. Thankfully, Steve was the first to speak, his thumbs hooking into the base of the black suspenders as he asked in a deep, gravely voice, “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

Your lips automatically flicked up at the corners to a teasing smile, but the single eyebrow raised by Steve had you falling right into the trap. All the thoughts that had crossed your mind to laugh and joke with them had quickly melted into the submissive, needy girlfriend that they both wanted.

“Um, nice - I think, " you respond before biting your lower lip, a move that had both Steve and Bucky reaching forward, but the latter made first contact, his metal thump gently easing out the lip from between your teeth.

“Nice huh? You sure about that, Doll?” Bucky asked, his fingers firmly holding your chin so you could not look away from him.

You shivered as Steve eased away the blanket, and even though the room wasn’t cold, the sensations pulsing through your core had your body overreacting. Your eyes had drifted over to Steve, who had squatted to be closer to your height, but a sharp tug on your chin from Bucky had your attention back on him as you tried to form the words to respond to him. “Ye-yes. Yes, I’ve been nice”.

A sharp gasp left your mouth as a quick tug of your nipple from Steve had your body shifting upright. With your arousal building, your nipples had pebbled beneath the thin, oversized top that you wore. Bucky’s eyes seemed to darken as he watched your reaction, the subtle way your hips ground on the couch.

“Really? Because from what I’ve seen, it looks like you’re being a very naughty girl right now. Tell me, Sweetheart, what do you want for Christmas?”

“You”, your response was instantaneous, and it seemed to be the correct answer with the way Bucky smiled down at you before releasing your chin.

“Well, it still remains to be seen if you’ve really been a good girl”, Bucky emphasised the last two words, knowing just how those words stroke the deep praise kink that further warmed your pussy, your wetness beginning to coat your lips and drench your shorts.

“Pl-please let me prove it. I want to be both of yours, good girl.” You look between where Bucky still stood above you, and Steve knelt at your side.

“That’s the thing, Sweetheart. The boss down there seems to agree with you. He thinks you’ve been a good girl all year round for his treats, but me? I’m not convinced; I think I need you to show me just how good you can be”, Bucky explains with darkness lacing his words. “Stand up”, he orders, full of authority. You do, being careful not to knock into Steve as you stand with enough speed that you are somewhat lightheaded. Both of their hands were on you in a split second. Steve grabbed the waistline of your shorts, and Bucky pulled the shirt up and over your head until the two of them had you standing completely bare.

Ungracefully, Bucky pushed against your shoulder, forcing you to sit back onto the warm cushions, looking up at him with wide eyes. A gentle tremor was pulsing through your body with anticipation of what was to come. Your cunt would have been soaked just from the way they were both acting, but with the outfits as well, you were near feral with need.

Bucky’s warm hand gently wrapped around your throat, his thumb and forefinger on either side of your neck, feeling the galloping pace of your heartbeat as you stared up at him. “Will you do everything I say?” he asks with a more gentler tone than before.

“Yes, sir”, you say, voice laced with desperation.

“Good, then I need you to ignore everything that Boss is going to do to you. The only thing I want you to do is to keep your eyes on me”.

“Yes, sir”.

With great ease, Bucky pushed against your neck, forcing you to sit back correctly against the cushions as he began to stand on the couch, just as Steve moved between your legs on the floor, lifting them until your legs lay over his shoulders.

With the oil, your legs wanted to slip off, so his massive hands had to grip onto the flesh of your thighs, keeping them thoroughly in place as he lowered his face to the heat and wetness that was begging for his touch.

As his tongue caressed the length of your pussy, drinking down the juices you’d seeped in the moments of seeing them in the outfits, your moan was cut off by the light squeeze around your throat from Bucky as he subtly reminded you of his demand. Your eyes moved away from Steve and up to the tall, foreboding figure above you as Bucky’s metal hand drifted to his suspenders, pushing them off each shoulder.

“Remember what I said. I want you to ignore him down there and keep your eyes on me. Now, why don’t you prove to me why you should be on the nice list?”. 

You were unsure if, by ignoring, he meant for you not to moan or react to Steve’s tongue as it circled your swollen bundle of nerves, but it was damn near impossible to be silent as the waves of toe-curling pleasure sparked through your core. However, your mouth was now salivating for another reason as Bucky pushed the red velvet material down his hips until midthigh, and the thick, veined cock of your boyfriend was throbbing in the air before your face.

Resting your hands on Bucky’s thicks and licking your lips whilst also trying not to crush Steve with your thighs, you willed Bucky to come closer with a pathetic squeak. Thankfully, he removed his hand from your throat and rested it on the back of the couch, using it to lower his body and directing his cock to your mouth. You didn’t waste a second before licking around the tip, gathering all the precum into your mouth before swallowing the salty goodness down, swiftly followed by a few inches of his hard length.

Bucky’s sigh was praise enough to have you feeling sated and happy as you began to pleasure him with your tongue and mouth, almost matching the movements of Steve between your legs.

“That’s it, just a little more; I know you can take it”, Bucky encouraged with a firm hand on the back of your head. As his cock reached the back of your throat and the overwhelming urge to gag overcame you, you attempted to relax your throat to take him deeper, which thankfully worked, ignoring the tears that now lined your eyes from the stimulation.

It didn’t help matters that your throat kept spasming with the moans and whines from Steve’s treatment of your pussy. He was eating you like the man was starved. Devouring is the best way to describe the way he was licking you out. His tongue changed from delving into the depths of your soaking cunt, twisting and turning to stimulate all the nerves within, just to then pull out and his teeth to gently graze your clit, causing a throb from your walls which was the gently eased by his tongue once more.

It took almost no time at all before you were cumming into his mouth with a flush of heat and added wetness that coated his chin and cheeks. Steve didn’t stop, though, and used your overstimulation post-orgasm to draw you closer to a second orgasm.

Your nails digging into the soft material of Bucky’s Santa trousers helped to keep your ground and not drown in the overwhelming length that was still forcing down your throat. With all the time you’d been with Steve and Bucky, you’d thankfully been able to train your throat to be fucked and take more of their length compared to when you were first with Steve.

This feat was a minor miracle because when Bucky began to take control of the situation and gyrated his hips so that he was now just straight-up, fucking your throat, it meant that you were able to breathe through your nose at the correct times without panicking.

Saliva had filled your mouth from the fucking and was steadily dripping down your chin, causing obscene sloppy noises to come from you, but this only added more praising groans from Bucky as you knew he loved a sloppy blowjob.

“Fuck, you’re being such a good girl, Doll. Remember what I said, eyes on me only”. You tried to nod, but the cock in your mouth hindered your movements as your eyes remained focused on the buzz-cut brunette standing over you.

This became more difficult as you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye as you came for the third time. Steve was beginning to straighten his height but remained on his knees; however, your legs were lowered until wrestling around his waist, but his grip remained tight and firm, keeping them in place.

Without warning, immense pressure and stretching of your cunt began to contort your body as Steve began to fuck into your cunt. Thankfully Bucky pulled out enough that you could gasp without his cock filtering the noise as your eyes clenched shut from the welcomed intrusion. Inch after inch filled your empty hole until his hips were flush against yours.

As you and Steve both released a relieved sigh, the dominating hand on the back of your head began to firmly tug your lips closer to Bucky’s cock once more until you were full with both of them.

The two worked together like they did in every aspect of the word. One of them remained in your body as the other pulled out. In out, in out, they fucked you until you were a trembling, wet mess.

Thankfully, now, they were both heavily praising you, which was like sweet music to your ears.

“Taking my cock so well”.

“Fuck, you always make me feel so good. Yes, just like that”.

“Such a good girl, Doll. I know you wanna cum on Steve’s cock; do it. Cum for him”.

You did. Many times, in fact. Steve had you cuming so many times that you’d lost count as a sweet warmth wrapped around your brain, leaving you feeling like you weren’t in your mundane house anymore but amongst the clouds, floating endlessly in pleasure. Your hands had dropped to your side as all of your energy was now being reserved for sucking Bucky’s cock and taking the punishing pace of Steve’s.

Eventually, Steve was the first to cum with a harsh grunt and snap of his hips as heat and thick wetness flooded into your cunt. He remained in place, holding your legs around his waist as his cock began to soften.

Bucky’s chest was now glistening with both sweat and oil as his eyebrows pinched together, his cheeks rosy with a flush as he groaned deeply, “I’m cumming, holy shit-”. You did gag this time as his entire cock bulged into your throat, the whisps of trimmed hair on his pubic mount tickling your nose as he came.

You worked hard to swallow every drop of him down until your lungs were burning for breath, and he gently eased out of your aching jaw. Your mouth tingled as you licked your swollen lips, sure that if you tried to talk now, all that you’d be able to achieve is a dreadful, deep, gravely voice.

Bucky leapt off the couch, disappearing into another direction you were too tired to follow. Thankfully, Steve remained with you as he carefully repositioned the two of you so that he now sat in the middle of the seat and had you sitting in his lap. Your head felt heavy as it lulled against his slipped chest, but you still hummed in contentment as he kissed your forehead sweetly whilst wrapping his strong hands around your shoulders.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I need you to drink some of this; it’ll help your throat”, Bucky encouraged a few moments later as he sat next to the two of you with a mug of steaming hot cocoa. Steve helped lift your head as Bucky held the drink out, tipping it slightly so that you could drink a couple of sips, moaning at the chocolatey sweet taste and the warmth that did soothe your sore throat.

“Well done, just a little more”, Steve whispered against your cheek as he lay delicate kisses against your sensitive skin.

Finally, with the drink gone, Bucky leaned closer to you, giving your lips a much-deserved kiss before pulling away with a cheeky glint in his eye. “So, do you like the outfits? They were Nat’s idea. Pretty sure she meant it as a joke”, he wondered out loud, but your giggle and nod recaptured his attention.

“I loved them”, you whispered with a voice thick with tiredness and evidence from being thoroughly fucked.

“Good, because I can’t wait to see what you’ll look like in the outfit we bought you. We think you’d be the perfect match to be Mrs Clause, but I must admit, there was significantly less material”, Steve explained as his fingers massaged into your still aching legs.

“I can’t wait, but maybe tomorrow”, you admit tiredly, relaxing further into the arms of both of them. 

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Got a name?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

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

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

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

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

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

"You must be tired.” 

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

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

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

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

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

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

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

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

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

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

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

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

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

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

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

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

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

Mina laughs a little. 

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

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

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

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

“Can you blame me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

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

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

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

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

“Got everything?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

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

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

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

“How long are you staying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

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

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

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

There’s a pregnant pause.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

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

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

You tilt your head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

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

“You’re doing laundry.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You furrow your eyebrows. 

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

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

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

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

“Were you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

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

[naryrising]

So you like imaginary fandoms...

With the recent success of Goncharov, I thought I'd make a post to mention some of the previous times this has happened in fandom, and a brief explanation and some links on how you can find works for them. I don't claim that this is a comprehensive list, it's just ones that came to me off the top of my head based on several decades of fandom involvement.

Ghost Soup Infidel Blue. Originates from the annual Yuletide exchange, specifically a post by liviapenn in 2007 that used it as a default fandom to help explain how to write 'dear author' letters. The relevant quote (meant to illustrate the kind of letter that would be too specific) was "'Bad: "I would like a Ghost Soup story where Luke makes out with Angela's clone and Angela gets mad and seduces Moira just to make Luke mad, and then Ryan and Luke duel to the death with their lightsabers and it ends up in an Angela/Angela's clone/Moira threesome. And Ryan feels really bad and flies off to Mars forever."" Consensus is that it is a sprawling space opera anime series, something like Gundam or Macross, with many sub-parts and spin-offs. Part of the dynamic of Ghost Soup 'fandom' is people arguing in the notes and comments about the continuity or quality of these various spinoffs (e.g. Purple is reputed to be bad, but some people will staunchly defend it just to be contrary.) Deliberate wank and badfic is part of the humour. You can read the Fanlore post about Ghost Soup here and find works for it and its related fandoms here

Winterblumensaat. Again, this comes out of Yuletide, specifically a nomination in 2021 for what was strongly suspected to be a nonexistent German book. The nominator's sister found it in a flea market! It very definitely was real! They couldn't provide any evidence or a photo of the book, but they promise it was definitely a real book! Despite being rejected from Yuletide nominations as not having any basis in reality, it has nevertheless had some fics written for it. The AO3 tag is merged into Original Work, so you can find them by searching in Original Work for Winterblumensaat (results here). It seems to be a moody, dark mid-century European novel, with characters named Florientina, Mailia, Schnail, and Markus. A related non-existent fandom with the same origin story is Nur die Sonne - Maria Moßer, but this has only attracted one work so far (a crossover with Winterblumensaat).

Cordelia (Movie Poster). In 2020 a movie poster for the movie Cordelia came out that inspired fandom in ways probably not intended by the movie's creators. While the actual movie Cordelia is a contemporary horror/thriller, the poster gave people the impression that it might be about Victorian femdom with pegging. Needless to say, they were disappointed by whatever was in the actual film, and made up fic based on what they thought the poster was about instead. Currently ALL works in the Cordelia (2020) tag on AO3 are actually about the poster and not the movie.

Invisible Ficathon. In 2014 an exchange called Invisible Ficathon ran, which was based around "stories that never were". Nominated "canons" had to be nonexistent fictional works referenced in another work. Examples given included "The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes - Joan Watson" (from Elementary), "The Itchy and Scratchy Show" (from The Simpsons), the books in Lucien's library in The Sandman that only exist in dreams, and so on. The collections on AO3 contain 71 works for nonexistent fandoms. Alas that this exchange only ran once, because it was a fun concept. I think with the renewed interest in Goncharov, it would be ripe for revival.

[owliellder]

All Pent Up

MDNI 18+

Puppy Hybrid! Leon Kennedy x afab! Reader

Word count: 3.85k

Warnings: Porn w/ plot, unprotected p in v (stay safe), no use of y/n, spanking, crying, slight ass-play.

Description: After a long night at work, you come home to a very pent up Leon. A trip to the park to help with that energy turns a little sour.

Tags: Submissive! Leon, neck biting/marking, begging, cunnilingus, knotting, mommy kink, fluff, near illegal amounts of praise AND aftercare, a lovely creampie to end the morning

Not proofread. I am once again sat here bored at work. More self indulgence since I work the same kind of job aforementioned in this lmao.

Also VERY much inspired by @abp0rns art of puppy Leon, specifically the two I put below the crop. Please check out their art they gotta be one of my favorite doodlers out there.

Edit: cross posted onto Ao3 if it's easier for you to read there (cause it is for me)

It had been an incredibly boring night at work for you. Working graveyard at a gatehouse meant you did practically nothing. Easy money, sure, but you can only watch so many movies and doodle so much before it becomes redundant.

The only thing keeping you going was making sure your puppy, Leon, stayed happy and comfortable. You'd found him at the shelter a few months back, and though you never considered yourself to be a hybrid kinda person, Leon was just too damn cute at that shelter.

After adopting the hybrid, you quickly fell into a nice afterwork routine; come home, get jumped by Leon, make breakfast while he asked a plethora of questions about your night and made sure you knew just how much he missed you by licking and slobbering all over you. He was the sweetest boy, but man was he excitable.

Some mornings, you'd come home a bit more awake than others. It was random and you're not sure what made that so, but today was apparently one of those days.

~

"-sosososo glad you're home, mommy! I've been so lonely and bored without you!" Leon happily talked on after you'd walked through the door, his golden fur covered tail thumping loudly against the back of the couch. You remained quiet as you let him ramble, reaching up to pet through his messy bedhead with a smile. "I chewed on my toys, broke one of the squeakers though, but you've gotten me plenty of other toys for me to play with!! I really like this fluffy red pig you got me-!"

He continued to talk loudly about everything he did after you left for work only 8 hours prior, running around to grab and show you his chewed up toy and his favorite toy, tail continuing to wag avidly all the while.

"Alright, alright.. settle down, Leon.." You spoke up, cutting off his talk about laying in your bed so you could take a moment to shed your work clothes in favor of some more comfortable lounge wear; an old, faded graphic tee and a pair of soft sweatpants.

The hybrid followed you throughout the apartment while continuing to ramble, albeit a lot quieter now. Clearly Leon had a lot of energy this morning, which wasn't unusual by any means, but since you weren't all that tired this morning you decided that a trip to the dog park would be a good way for him to get some much needed exercise and enrichment.

After making breakfast, you dressed your puppy in a cozy outfit since it was always little chilly in the mornings where you lived, damn cold desert. You only had to reach for the leash for him to start jumping and yapping enthusiastically, making it rather difficult to hook it onto his collar.

You decided to stay in your comfy clothes, seeing as it would keep you warm enough until the sun warmed the air outside.

"Do you think Chris will be there?! Can you text his owner?? Who else is gonna be there?! I can smell the park from here!-" Leon rambled excitedly as he tugged you along to the park, smelling every bush and tree the two of you passed thoroughly. His tail never stopped wagging, those soft floppy ears perked forwards as he moved his head every which way, focusing in on every movement and sound while beelining to the park. He knew the way there, the leash was just to make sure you didn't get lost.

The air was cool the, sun beginning to warm you up. It was starting to bring out your exhaustion, but you wanted Leon to get at least half an hour of playtime in so he wouldn't bug you while you slept later. The thought alone made it easy for you to power through that brain fog that threatened to settle in.

You and Leon walked across the street once the tall chainlink fence that bordered the dog park was in view, the Golden Retriever hybrid practically dragging you to the other side of the street as his excitement grew. There were always other hybrids out early in the morning, the cool mornings were nicer for walks compared to the hot afternoons, at least in your opinion.

Leon was rubbing himself along the side of the fence, sniffing with a large goofy smile on his face. He had playmates that were normally here around this time, namely Chris, a German Shepard hybrid. Though Chris was a little bigger than Leon, they always played nicely, never having gotten into any sort of scuffle.

Chris was quick to notice Leon, running up to the fence so he could sniff him. They rapidly got each other riled up, so the moment you made it to the gate you unhooked the leash from Leon's collar. This wasn't so he didn't get choked out when he launched into the park, no, it was because the last time you forgot to unhook his leash first, you were yanked face first into soggy grass and mud.

The second you unlatched the gate, Leon pushed it open. He sprinted into the grassy park, Chris not far behind before tackling the smaller hybrid with a playful growl. The two roughhoused, chased each other, and played tug-of-war with a stick Chris had found.

You decided to sit on a bench not too far from where the boys played, looking up from your phone every minute or so to make sure their play didn't turn ugly.

Only 30 minutes had gone by before- "Mommy! Mommy!" Leon shouted from across the park, prompting you to look up from your phone. It only took a moment for your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head when you spotted a now brown Leon. His tail wagged, slapping loudly against the thick puddle of mud he was laying sideways in. "Looklooklook! Chris and I found a ball!" he yelled with a grin, Chris holding up the muddy ball high in the air so you could see it.

You sat there dumbfounded for a brief moment before letting your head fall back, breathing in and letting out a deep sigh as your eyes closed. You tilted your head forwards again, letting your eyes open slowly as your annoyance showed clear on your face.

Your puppy could see your expression change even from where he was, his ears drooping more than they were as the mud had weighed them down a bit. Seems like playtime was over.

Chris' owner wasn't all that happy either, walking over to the filthy hybrids only a few seconds sooner than you did. You pulled Leon from the mud by the collar since he seemed a bit stuck, glaring weakly at the now cowering puppy.

"Leon is always getting Chris into some sort of mess." Chris' owner huffed out, clearly irritated with the situation. You frowned, running your free hand over your face with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, Leon just seems to really like the mud lately. I can't help that Chris follows, but I'll try to keep Leon from the mud." You didn't really care for someone implying your Golden Retriever puppy was a bad dog, but the idea of confrontation mixed with your ever-growing exhaustion was enough to have you just let it go.

After apologizing again, you let Leon shake off the excess mud from his body before hooking the leash to his collar once more, beginning to pull him towards the gate. He was very resistant to leaving, whining and whimpering something fierce. "I'm sorry! ImsorryImsorry! Please I'll be good! Let me stay a little longer mommy! Please I'm sorry! Mommy!"

As pitiful as he sounded, you now had to squeeze a thorough bath in for the hybrid before you were even able to think about sleeping. You continued to drag him along as he fought against you, crying out softly as you finally got him through the gate, closing it before he could run back through.

Your exhaustion was making you irritable, and having to fight to get Leon back home was enough to make you angry. It got even worse when he growled at you.

You stopped walking, the entrance to your apartment building only a few feet away. Turning around to face him, he immediately shrunk down at your furious glare. "Bad boy, Leon." Your voice was harsh, yet also so calm, it scared him. He hated being a bad boy, he never wanted to hear those words together again.

After you started walking again, he followed obediently, staying silent all the way into your apartment. He stood stiffly by the front door once you closed it, watching you stomp away. The puppy was on the verge of tears, his muddy tail tucked between his legs and his ears flat against his head.

Leon's bottom lip trembled the longer he couldn't see you, his ears twitching a bit as he picked up on the sound of the bath faucet turning on. His hands were clasped in front of his legs, head down in shame.

"Leon!" You called out from the bathroom, your tone still laced with irritation, he could definitely tell that much. The hybrid quickly shuffled to the bathroom, trying his best not to get clumps of dried up mud on the carpet along the way.

Leon stood in the bathroom doorway before you gently dragged him in, making silent work of his clothes that were absolutely caked in mud. He knew what to do afterwards, quietly seating himself in the bath, shoulders slumped. The bath was silent except for Leon's weak attempts to apologize, his voice faltering every time once he looked at your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you just looked so disinterested.

After the bath, you shooed the puppy off with a towel draped over his shoulders, lazily washing off his collar in the dirty bath water before unplugging the tub.

Leon sat in the living room, drying himself off as best as he could with the towel. Even after, he shook himself off on instinct, the towel left discarded on the floor. He had sat himself on the couch, still slouched with a strong pout on his face.

He knew he was in trouble. His stomach sank when you walked out and stood in front of him with that same irritated look. You then walked and sat next to him on the left. "Lay across my lap, Leon."

The Golden Retriever hybrid whimpered, though he did as he was told, laying himself so his abdomen was laying on your lap, his tail still tucked between his legs. He yipped when you grabbed the base of his damp tail with your left hand, roughly untucking it so you could get a clear view of his ass. "Look at me, Leon."

He turned his head and tilted it back slightly so he could look up at you, his eyes sad and watery. He didn't have anything to say for himself. "You growled at me. You've never growled at me before." You sounded upset, and you were. You didn't want to punish your sweet boy, but him growling at you for something so insignificant deeply bothered you.

Sighing, you pulled his tail up away from his ass even further, grip tightening on it as you felt him try and tuck it back between his legs again. Wordlessly, you drew your other hand back, a sharp smack along with a cry from Leon ringing out in the quiet apartment. You hated having to do this, but he needed to learn.

A few harsh spanks later and the hybrid's ass was bright red and sore, tears spilling down his face as he sobbed out barely comprehensible apologizes in between loud cries every time you brought your hand down on his tender behind. His hands gripped the couch cushion tightly, those pitiful sobs of his tugging at your heart.

Once you feel Leon'd learned his lesson, you gently ran your hand along both his ass cheeks, soothing the hot and red skin while your other hand caressed the base of his tail. You waited until his crying quieted to talk to him again, listening to him sniffle wetly as you let go of his tail to wipe away his snot and tears.

"Okay, okay... there you go, sweet boy. All done. I'm all done..." you whispered to the whimpering puppy hybrid in your lap, shifting your body sideways so he could climb up and lay his head against your chest. You combed your fingers through his hair with one hand while the other stroked the side of his face, clearing the few stray tears that continued to fall.

Leon buried his face into your chest, hiccuping out muffled apologies as he brought his hands up to wrap around you. "I'm sorry mommy. So-.. sososo sorry... Didn't mean to, mommy..."

As he trembled against you, you couldn't help but feel terrible for punishing him that way. He'd never been bad before, the punishment really shouldn't have been so harsh..

You waited until he quieted to speak up again, tilting your head to the side slightly so you could see his face a little better. "...you took that so well, Leon. Such a good boy for mommy, huh?" Despite the suggestive undertone, you made sure to talk softly, careful not to upset the delicate puppy on your chest.

He lifted his head up slightly, nodding weakly as his eyes turned glassy once more. "Please.. I'll-I'll be a good boy for you m-mommy. I'm sorry- I'm so so sorry mommy- I didn't mean to growl- ImsorryImsorryIm-"

You shushed him, running your hand from the side of his face up through his hair as he began to cry again. "You're a good boy, Leon. I forgive you, baby.."

All Leon wanted to do was make this right. He never wanted to be a bad boy again. He hated the way you spoke to him, the way you had looked at him. It was so scary, he wasn't a bad boy, no, he wasn't.

His mind was flooded with everything he could possibly do to make it up to you, tears falling onto your shirt as he pulled himself up off of you. He crawled backwards and sat back on his haunches, giving you a wary look as he tucked his fingers under the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Oh, Leon, sweetheart, you don't have to-" "Please..." Leon's meek voice cut you off, making you pause for a moment before nodding with a smile. His hands trembled as he pulled your sweatpants down, taking your panties with them. The hybrid hiccuped again before bringing his head down between your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he cautiously placed his hands onto the points of your hips

It only took a second before he shoved his face into your cunt, whimpering at your smell and taste as he licked between your folds. You gasped, feeling his tongue eagerly lap up your slick as it leaked out of you, his low whimpers vibrating deliciously against you. "Leon~... oh~.. easy, boy..."

You reached a hand down to gently stroke his hair, attempting to get the puppy hybrid to calm down a bit still. He was obviously so eager to please, though he was still shaken up by the punishment; tears falling from his eyes, quiet sobs muffled by your pussy, eyes closed, and cheeks flushed a beautiful pink. His tail had started to wag again and you were relieved to see it sway slowly. You just wanted to see your puppy happy and excitable again like he always was.

Leon continued to lap at your cunt, keeping himself firmly buried in it. His breathing was a bit shaky but you just let him do what he needed to do, reaching your hand to the right a bit so you could stroke one of his soft floppy ears. He sighed at the feeling, his tail wagging a little faster.

"That's a good boy, Leon~... god- such a good boy for his mommy.." You praised the hybrid as he worked his mouth on you, the praise causing him to whine into your cunt. His eyes peaked open, looking up at you as small tears fell from them. "Good boy~..." You ran your hand down to stroke your thumb between his eyes, prompting him to close them again with a sigh.

Your words encouraged him further, sucking at your clit when his tongue wasn't buried inside of you. The puppy hybrid licked all around, making sure none of your sweet slick was left to waste. He eased his grip on your hips, partially worried he would hurt you, but mostly cause he adored the way you writhed when you drew close to your orgasm. He relished in how you pulled his head impossibly closer, practically grinding against his face, using him. What a good boy he was.

Leon was in heaven when you came, whimpering into your cunt as you gushed against his face. He made sure to lick up everything he could, even dipping down to your ass for a minute, tongue flat against the puckered hole. He'd be mad if he saw the couch got some of your juices.

After a moment, he pulled his head away, resting the side of his slick covered face against your thigh as he looked up at you with those puppy-dog eyes that you just couldn't resist. You knew what he wanted, and who were you to deny him?

"My good boy wanna fuck his mommy? Show his mommy what a good boy he is?" You whispered, to which he eagerly nodded in response, his ears perking up. You could hear his tail thump lazily against the back cushion of the couch, all the while watching him lick his lips. "I-I'll be a good boy for mommy. I'm a good boy-..good boy for mommy.." he mumbled quietly, hoisting himself up onto his haunches again after carefully laying your legs down off his shoulders. His thick cock was leaking pre-cum, flushed red at the tip while his knot was fully swollen. It was hard to look away.

Leon continued to mumble to himself, almost like he was trying to convince himself that he was a good boy. His breathing was still shaky as he watched you flip over, your ass up in the air while you rested your elbows on the armrest of the couch.

The poor thing was practically drooling at the sight of you, frozen in place, just staring at your glistening pussy. Your voice snapped him out of his trance, a hushed "Pretty boy..." causing him to lurch forward and mount you without further hesitation.

You cried out as he shoved his cock into you halfway, stopping only to grab the skin right above your collarbone with his teeth. He made sure he was positioned properly, shifting slightly before pushing his throbbing dick all the way. He whined at the way your slick walls gripped him, his knot pressed firmly against the outside of your cunt.

Leon's teeth broke skin as he began to piston in and out of you. He was drooling, whimpering, moaning, and his tail was wagging so fast. He loved the way his mommy felt, gripping his so tightly, sucking his thick cock in.

His let go of your skin to lick at gently, which was a stark contrast to his fast and rough thrusts. "So sorry mommy- sososo sorry.. never growl at you again- ah~..! I-I'll be mommy's good-.. good boy.."

The hybrid panted next to your ear, reaching his hands up and under your loose shirt to grip and massage your breasts. His fingers pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, causing you to moan loudly. You could feel every bit of his cock as he slammed it into you over and over again, the tip kissing your cervix which made you hiss at the slight pain it caused.

"Gonna- hnghh~.. gonna fill mommy up.. gonna be mommy's best boy again..." Leon whined, tilting his head to the side so he could nip at your neck, kissing and licking under your jaw. He sucked numerous hickeys down your neck, making quick work of the other side as well. He wanted you to remember how good he was for you, how much he was willing to do to make things better, what a good boy he was for you.

It didn't take long for him to near his own orgasm, his chin resting over your shoulder as his hands had worked their way back to your hips. He was so close; the sounds of your moans, the sinful way your pussy squelched with slick as he fucked into you, your smell, the lingering taste of you on his tongue, everything was just so overwhelming.

The puppy hybrid didn't have the words to give you warning, only a long drawn out whine as his hips stuttered forward, knot stretching you open. You came again from the feeling, barely being able to clench around his knot. It was just so big.

With his cum pumping into you, you could only groan pleasantly at the feeling of being so full, his knot having basically plugged you to the point that none of it could escape.

You could partially register Leon running his hands up and down your body, anywhere he could reach in his position, bunching up your shirt in the process. His large hands felt nice, helping you come down from your high. He was whispering something, you couldn't make out what, but it was probably the same thing he'd been spewing before.

~

After Leon was able to pull out of you, you made sure to reassure him over and over that he was your good boy, and he'd always be your good boy.

You made him a little snack once you'd cleaned yourself and him up, seeing as the park and your at-home playtime had influenced his appetite quite a bit. You loved to see him happy again; those beautiful blue eyes crinkled with a smile as that fluffy tail of his wagged.

Your body finally realized how tired it was once more, your brain catching up with that as well. You waved Leon, who was elated to follow you, into your room, practically bounding in like a deer. He begged to lay the way you two did on the couch, and again, who were you to deny him?

You laid back, head on your pillow as Leon nestled himself on top of you. He laid his head on your chest, turning his head to the left as he rested his arms on either side of you, his hands just barely tucked up under your pillow after pulling the blankets up over the both of you.

"You're the greatest boy anyone could ask for, Leon. Always taking such good care of me.." you whispered as his eyes closed, his tail going from a lazy wag to a stop as he fell asleep.

"I love you, my sweet boy.."

[thatdeadaquarius]

HELP I JUST HAD A THOUGH

WHAT IF

What if....

Blunt reader became a harbinger

I have NO idea how that would go but im here for the crack lol

I BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-

(and to use this gif more importantly they're all so hot here lol)

Sun: Reader (you/they/them), Blunt Language AU :D

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, crack treated srsly (yes im using ao3 tags atp)

Stars: Harbingers!

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

SO thought I’d update anyone missing out bc of the new year but-

I made this silly thing called Blunt Language AU, that was my 1st post for this blog/fandom actually! :D

I’ll link it here, but TLDR: it’s just our modern speech sounding “ancient” to the Teyvatians, who speak really flowery/fluffy/lots of context in comparison!

That’s all you rlly need to know to read this I think, so enjoy! :)

☆

u fall into Genshin Impact, and Snezhnaya is where you land first type of energy lol

weird golden star falling from the sky? that sounds like a prophecy the Tsaritsa knows abt alright

so they sent Childe, one of the friendliest (if not The Friendliest) Harbinger, to see if it was a valid claim you’d finally descended,

and ofc as soon as the redhead heard you try and talk to him, he knew the claims by the small village nearby (who had taken u in from the cold weather/taken care of you) were legit

pantalone did manage to squeeze some examples of what you’d possibly sound like into his head before he left so while Childe personally has a tough time talking to you, it doesn't mean he’s not willing to try!! >:)

he mostly just kept asking questions forever until he understood what you meant, and as soon he got u were asking abt the Tsaritsa, the other Harbingers, himself, even how to get Sneznayan-made clothes lol

he was like: 👀👀👀???!!!!

it wasn't so much recruitment at first as it was “omg the exalted one wishes to learn abt us, the Tsaritsa and her Harbingers? abt me?? well would your highness like to come to our palace perchance???!!!!”

= have u ever been seduced and worshipped by a god and her country?? would you like to- ??? ← Childe actually

and with that convinces you to come straight to the Harbingers/Tsaritsa’s very home

No, you’re not just spoiled.

No, you’re not just pampered.

You are cosseted and coveted.

The Tsaritsa makes her first in person appearance to the people in decades to personally announce your return, and to get a festival going to literally parade you into the capital lol

And tbh it was kind of shocking how quickly the people of Snezhnaya are able to whip out the party supplies, within days of traveling via horses/sleds/carriage/trains all kinds of transportation, u arrived at the capital in full swing of a parade for you

The Tsaritsa herself in what looks like a genshin-ified kokoshnik, the elaborate headress draped with a veil so thin it looks like frost covering her face,

flocked on either side by her harbingers in full (kinda goth) ceremonial outfits waiting on your arrival too

needless to say you are properly smitten intimidated

and you stay nervous around them for the first few days or so,

that is before you run into the weekly, what you would call “family dinner nights”, but they call “dinner reports”…

in which Childe, the only one you’d been comfortable enough around to be a bit more genuine to, and surprisingly the only one to quickly adapt to your speech after traveling with you for days, would translate for you what tf you were saying to them vs. what everyone at the table was saying to you/around you

you would also like to propose other titles for these weekly dinner meetings you’re invited to, aka “family feud dinner night/family fight night/harbinger on harbinger hate night/fruit on fruit crimes, if you will” 💀

the Tsaritsa is just peacefully talking to you abt any and everything, bc ofc Pierro’s on her right, and ur on her left

(she and Pierro are surprisingly soft spoken, very polite, and able to say something interesting/take an interest in whatever subject you all end up on)

u don't think you've ever been more comfortable and on such equal footing around ppl sm older than you (what are older ppl to you, but to them ur literally fucking eldritch with how ancient u are, and u can tell with how they treat u like it lmao)

hard cut back to the rest of the table:

an argument that just gets louder and louder has broken out between Childe, Dottore, La Signora, and Pantalone abt who should get free time with you first/get to do smth with you first as you get over ur adjustment period here, Childe has taken his butter knife to throw and just barely missed Dottore’s eye, and it is now embedded in the back of his fancy chair (the servants placing down dinner courses just move abt w/the most bored expressions on their faces)

(u send half the table if this group gets out of hand and u just: “Please shut the fuck up, each of ur comebacks take 30 minutes and it’s killing me” 💀 bc they're the most likely to understand u too, even Pierro/Capitano/Pulcinella chuckle a little, and u think the Tsaritsa smirked under her veil)

ur honestly too scared to see what Scarmouche, Sandrone, and Arlecchino are arguing about, because they're arguing so silently further down the table. They have murder in their eyes.

Columbina and Capitano are having a peaceful collab over weapons, armor, and clothing to offer you, Pulcinella is close enough to both participate in that convo and in you, Pierro, and the Tsaritsa’s convos too

by the 2nd week you've decided to choose chaos, and get them to play board games together sometimes (they cant all make it all the time, tbh u don't know if u can handle that either) but groups of them will play at a time

u remembered early on what a dick Dottore was, and sentenced asked if he’d like to play this new board game called “Monopoly” from ur world with Childe, Pantalone, Pierro, Arlecchino, La Signora, and Scaramouche all together :)

(so what ur trying to bring khaenri’ah part 2 down on his head as punishment?? u owe scara and collei that at least)

Columbina is more than happy to help get you Harbinger-like clothes to wear since ur so interested in the style!! (yes yesss get converted, she already has a title picked out for you)

she also giggles anytime u talk abt whether u like an outfit or not, bc u just “no thank you I’d rather wear a trash bag than that shirt, but lets try another?”

meanwhile the tailors in the background u could literally edit them to one of those videos where it just zooms in on their faces with a vine boom of shock

like Pierro, ur unranked, just above the other Harbingers really, as it wouldn't do to make you the 12th Harbinger or smth

the names they gave you being, “The Playwright” or “The Renaissance” or even “Drammaturgo”

(pls anyone who speaks Italian correct if I'm wrong ToT )

ok but the first time, unsurprisingly, one of them got snappy with you, likely Scara I would think,

Scaramouche, pissy: “And what shall we do if it appears our almighty god is perhaps a descender who is entirely human? Why I dare say you’d be transgressing on privileges that were never yours to begin with!”

Every other Harbinger, the Tsaritsa herself, the servants, the frost on the walls: 😶😦😨😶‍🌫️

You, unbothered, still eating and fully expecting this moment: “I don't want to hear it from someone who has god-mommy issues. You shouldn’t have an opinion about me, ur biased.”

yeah, so obviously, they’re emotionally all attached now whether they know it or not, and this was of course the moment they realized they're god would fit in so perfectly here

(the other nations are going to have to pry you from Snezhnaya from their cold dead hands, esp since u now have legal deniability to visit bc ur technically a Harbinger, only commanded by her majesty lol)

(Scaramouche, Arlecchino, and Sandrone were fighting about who gets the room nearest to your quarters lol)

(Capitano won, somehow??)

☆

sorry ive been slow lately guys, been just trying to work on alllll the fics these past weeks/days/however long its been??

anyway had the shift from hell last week so wish me luck with work this week if u see this 😭

hope u enjoyed this old ask/crack treated srsly post orah!! :D

Safe Travels,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

[planet-marz1]

my little love

post-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel welcome your baby girl into the world warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. no use of y/n, references to childbirth (non graphic), pregnancy, established relationship, reader does not have a specified age, no descriptions of reader's physical appearance, mentions of child loss (brief, non-descriptive), minor angst wc: ~750 a/n: After taking a very long (unintentional) break from writing, I was able to get this sweet little oneshot completeted after what felt like an eternity. It's meant to take place in the Our Little Sheep universe, but it can be read as a standalone. Thank you to @fhatbhabie for beta reading! baby name inspired by my lovely em @catchallfangirl (she bullied me into it shh)

| main masterlist | ao3 link | updates blog |

A girl.

Your little girl.

Any self-doubt of your capabilities is immediately washed away the moment you lay your eyes on your daughter. Ten little fingers, ten little toes.

She’s absolutely perfect.

A wave of joy and relief washes over the room as you and Joel share a glance of sheer happiness. You reach out, your arms trembling with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration, as the midwife carefully places your daughter in your embrace.

With a delicate touch, you cradle your daughter against your chest, feeling the weight of her tiny, perfect body in your arms. The room falls away, and time seems to pause as you marvel at the miracle of new life. Tears of joy stream down your cheeks as you look into her eyes, meeting the gaze of the little one you've carried for months.

Joel, equally captivated, leans in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead before turning his attention to your daughter. As you cradle your daughter against your chest, a flood of emotions surges through you. 

She has Joel’s eyes, but everything else about her appearance is all you. Every moment you spend looking at her is like staring back at your own reflection. You can’t help but fall in love with her. Brown eyes staring up at you, a pair you’ve fallen in love with once before.

“I can't believe she's here,” you whisper, your voice catching with a mixture of exhaustion and elation.

Joel sits beside the tub, sharing in your emotional moment and stroking your arm gently, but he’s quiet. More than usual. You glance up at him, and his eyes are starting to glisten with tears.

He’s brought back in time decades in the past. To the first time he laid eyes on her. Soft dark brown curls, and big brown eyes staring back at him. Little baby Sarah. The name he and Sarah’s mom had settled on last minute after months of going back and forth. Scared would be an understatement for his emotions. This tiny little human being, suddenly relying on him for everything. Love, affection, comfort, protection, guidance. The list goes on and seems insurmountable. He’s so young.

He can’t help but feel guilty for his life now. All the time that’s passed since that fateful night that he witnessed his daughter take her last breath. Now he sits next to you, watching yet another little soul who will rely on him for everything, be brought into this world.

He doesn’t want to fuck it up this time. He can’t. He won’t be able to forgive himself this time if he fails again.

“She's perfect, just like her mom," he manages to choke, his voice filled with admiration and love.

Your daughter, swaddled in soft blankets, nestles closer to your chest, finding comfort in the familiar sound of your heartbeat. Her presence is a miracle that unfolds in every breath, every tiny movement, and every flutter of her eyelids.

You can’t believe she’s yours. You and Joel combined into one tiny little human being.

As you hold her close, you become acutely aware of the weight of responsibility mingled with the sheer joy of parenthood. The fragility of her life, nestled in your arms, is a reminder of the trust and love that will shape your journey together.

You find solace in the gentle rhythm of your daughter's breaths. The tiny fingers that grasp onto yours create a connection that transcends the physical.

You, still teary-eyed, glance at Joel, and together you share a silent acknowledgment of the depth of the love that has brought you to this moment.

“What should we name her?” you ask quietly.

How exactly do you pick out a name? Something that will define someone, and follow them around for their entire life. You had given Joel several suggestions, all of which he quickly turned down, and any of the names he had suggested you couldn’t stand at all.

He shrugs, while stroking your arm gently. “You went through all the hard work of getting her here. Figure s'only fair if you pick her name.”

You glance down at the squirming newborn in your arms. “How about Emilie?”

“Emilie?”

You look back up at him and nod. “It’s simple, sweet.”

He smiles, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Emilie it is, then.”

You both know this journey won’t be easy, but you wouldn’t want to navigate it with anyone other than each other.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @honeyedmiller @bastardmandennis @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @alwaysmicado @cherubispunk @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @vee-bees-blog @josephquinnswhore @worhols @bluebeary-jay @pamasaur

[rottenaero]

AO3

Part 1

Part 4

Part 6

Part 5 of the roommates idea

Okay okay, so before this starts, a lot of people have mentioned me posting this on ao3, and my question is if you guys mean it as it is, or if I should make two or three new parts to make up for the first part.

Because in the first part, we miss a lot of possible moments between Steve and Eddie since it skips to the basic idea.

This whole thing was meant to be a messy and quick way to get my ideas out, but then people ended up actually liking it, and well, I just want you guys to like the outcome.

Basically, I wanna know if I should;

A.Post it on ao3 as is

B. Post it on ao3 with two to maybe four parts instead of the original post, and have me do part six after I make those. (I'm a decently quick writer when I'm motivated, all these parts so far have been within a day or two)

C. Make the parts instead of the original post, and have this be a big one-shot on ao3(meaning it wouldn't be posted on there until this is finished)

I am really leaning towards B, just cause I wanna do those interactions (one of which would be Eddie coming out to Steve), but I wanna see what you guys think first.

This whole thing is kinda a wreck cause I don't usually post fics on Tumblr but hopefully it will get better with time.

After Dustin explains the upside down, and Eddie talks about what really happened, they come to a sort of agreement.

Eddie was to stay at the boathouse, and someone would occasionally come over with a supply of drinks and food.

Steve, of course, despised this, because Eddie is his best friend-(And who was he kidding? Goddamn crush, too)-dammit, but he let the plan go on anyway.

Before they left, Steve turned to Eddie, brows pinched together.

“Stay safe, alright? If you get hurt because you do something stupid, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

Eddie laughed, loud and full, “Kinda counterproductive, aye sweetheart?”

He stopped when Steve didn’t laugh or make a joke back. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll walkie if things go to shit.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a little peck on the corner of his lips, “Don’t die, man. Can’t take care of these little shits by myself.”

He turned to face Max, and a gaping Dustin and Robin.

“Lets go, nerds”

-

Steve stared at the ground, unblinking.

One of his kids were gonna die.

Eddie had had apparently left the boathouse

Eddie was being hunted.

Two more students have been murdered.

He licked his lips, and his eyes flicked up to watch Powell talk about the town hall meeting.

They were royally fucked.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler? Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes widened and he turned around in time to see Dustin snatch the walkie.

“Eddie, holy shit. Are you okay?”

The walkie took a second to crackle back to life.

“Nah man, pretty uh, pretty goddamn far from okay.”

“Where is he?”Nancy asked, already halfway back into the car.

“Where are you?”

“Skull Rock, Steve knows it.”

Steve smiled, grabbing the walkie and clicking down on the button, “Hold on tight, Ed-stefer, we’re on our way.” He tossed it back to Dustin before turning to Nancy.

“I’m driving.”

She scrunched her nose, but didn’t question it and swapped to the passenger's side.

-

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re leading us the wrong way.”

“It’s North, I’m positive! I checked the map.”

Steve sighed and pinched his nose, “This is literally Eddie and I’s spot, we come here all the time.”

“That doesn’t have to do with it being a make-out spot, does it?” Lucas asked hesitantly from his spot in the back.

“Jesus, no Sinclair, this does not have to do with- Eddie and I are just friends.”

Robin scoffed, “Didn’t you kiss him earlier?” She asked.

“As friends. He doesn’t like me like that.”

“Right, but you like him like that, though?”

“Oh wow, suddenly we’re here, y’know, at the place you said we weren’t gonna end up at?” Steve yelped, gesturing broadly at the rocks around him.

Lucas has to physically bite his lip to keep from mentioning that he had absolutely picked that up from Eddie, or that Eddie had picked it up from him.

“See? You little butthead, I was right.”

Theres a rustle of leaves and then,

“I concur, you, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

Steve turned to face the man and almost collapsed in relief, hes not hurt.

“Jesus Eddie, we thought you were a goner.” Dustin sighed, as he made his way past Steve to hug Eddie.

“Yeah, me too man. Me too.”

The hug goes on for maybe ten seconds before Eddie’s pulling back and bringing Steve into a side one, you know, like some kind of dad. “I tried calling you guys, but uh…”

His face turned sheepish and he stepped back a bit to grab some water from a canister. “My walkie was busted, man.”

“Drenched.” He adds in after a second, laughing a bit.

He took another sip from the bottle before wiping and extra drops away from his mouth. “So, uh, I did the thing that I do now apparently. I ran.” He let out another laugh, this one was a little bit more self-deprecating.

“Do you know what time this was? The attack.”

Eddie perked up, and grabbed at his wrist, “ Yeah, no, I um, know exactly what time it was.”

He held up a watch, the dials on it weren’t moving. “My walkie wasn’t the only thing that got soaked.”

“9:27…”

“Same times our flashlights went kablooey.” Robin says, and her eyes light up like she connected the dots.

Steve hadn’t, “Which means what exactly?”

“That that surge of energy was Vecna attacking Patrick.”

Steve half-zoned out, silently going through the events in his head, while maintaining conversation.

“Skull Rock was North.”

“An electromagnetic field.”

“What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Steve tuned back in, a hundred percent now. He turned to look at Eddie, who was still crouching, and damn how did his back not hurt?

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor,” Steve perked up, he kind of knew this one, “-which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea.”

And Steve nodded along, because yeah, this was a terrible idea.

“But uh, the Shire, the Shire is burning, so Mordor it is.”

He whistled at Eddie when everyone got up, and he was by Steve’s side in seconds.

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you? Cause you don’t look it but…”He trailed off, and Eddie grinned.

“I am all-good Steve-O.” Steve nodded, “Good, good.”

Suddenly, there was a sharp gasp from right next to him, “Were you, perhaps, worried?!” Steve kicked a rock instead of answering.

It just made Eddie’s grin widen further.

“You totally were! Stevie Harrington, The-Former-King-Of-Hawkins turned sweetheart, worrying over lil-ol-Eddie-The-Freak-Munson!”

Steve scoffed, “ First off, I’d like to think I’ve always been a sweetheart, second off, keep it in your pants, dude.”

Eddie cackled, leaning into his side, “Yeah, yeah! You’re right. You’ve kinda been like that for the past two years, Mr.Eddie-Cant-Carry-A-Fucking-Hot-Pan-Anymore.” He laughed, ignoring the second part of Steve’s statement.

He huffed, “Just don’t want you getting hurt.”

Eddie booped his nose, “Yeah yeah, you’re just you like that.”

Tag List

@bxlthazar@i-have-three-feelings@leverage-ot3@mightbeasleep@badcaseofcasey@joruni@original-cypher@aceflavouredyougurt@flustratedcas@lovelylilbadone@labels-are-for-the-weak@steddieassheg0es@gregre369

[ateliersss]

Part 3 - He Shan‘t Lose

Pairing: Yautja x F!Reader Summary: Mere two months ago, you returned home after the incident on Earth. Now you were back, ready to indulge yourself and go on the weekly "date night" with your mate. If only your unborn pup had better timing… Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 6,716 Part 1: here Part 2: here

⇨ Oh, I missed my Mi‘ytiar.

⇨ I can't believe I finally got this done and I'm able to present this to you. Also, my birthday, guys! God, I'm 20 and I already feel old. Please spoil me with comments, re-blogs and likes.

“Toyou, go! Go! Good boy.” You laughed as you watched your four-legged companion chase after the trail he had scented.

Hell Hounds, they were called, and probably the closest thing to a pet you could get on Yautja Prime. You learned quickly, after your first encounter with them, that they were similar to the hounds on Earth, and like hounds on Earth, they had one purpose — hunting prey.

Unlike a curious Beagle, a devoted Pointer or a stubborn Basset Hound, Hell Hounds were more similar to Yautjas than dogs, both in looks and characteristics. But you still could recognize some traits that reminded you of your childhood dog.

You didn’t hunt with Hell Hounds often — it was more special and intimate when it was just you and Mi‘ytiar — but your mate had insisted that at least one of them should accompany you. As experience showed, the two of you had to split up at times; sometimes he also kept in the shadows, high on top of a tree, to watch you hunt on your own. It was simply a safety measure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle the prey on your own. The creatures you hunted were either as small as a cat or as big as a horse. They were insignificant opponents, laughable for a Yautja and not nearly on their hunting standard, but Mi‘ytiar felt different. He didn‘t care how tiny or weak the prey was compared to him.

It wasn't about him, after all.

Those hunts were solely for you, so you could be a part of his culture without him having to worry about endangering your life. 

He had been ecstatic when you voiced your wish years ago for him to teach you how to hunt, how to track and kill as it was custom on his home planet. And even now, after you had exceeded his expectations, he still was immensely proud of you every time you succeeded.

No, Toyou wasn’t only there for tracking or for flushing out his targets, but also for guarding. You were in the final stages of your pregnancy, and your strength, your speed and your stamina had decreased, leaving you more vulnerable should prey ambush you. 

Speaking of Toyou, he had been gone for quite some time.

“Toyou?” You called, whistled, and waited for a moment for him to return to you.

When you neither could hear him bark or see him running towards you, you tried calling him again, “Toyou?”

And again.

“To–”

The other half of his name turned into a strained whimper as a stabbing pain pierced through your body, coming from your stomach. You stifled a scream, but when something wet suddenly ran down your legs, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

You knew what this meant.

Your water just broke.

“Oh no. Not now, my sweetling.”

Clutching your stomach, breathing in and out, you slowly approached a tree and practically slumped against it. One of your hands gripped the meaty texture of the tree trunk for support, the other snaked down and between your thighs. When you pulled your hand back, it was coated with the clear substance of the amniotic fluid.

And blood. There was also blood on your fingers, but it was nothing too alarming. When you had been pregnant with Akail, there had been blood too, but it was still an unsettling sight to you.

“Ahhh!” You cried out as another wave of agonizing pain washed through you, your head thrown back.

As much as you had enjoyed the mostly perfect pregnancy, you had completely forgotten about birthing the pup at the end. Maybe you had just pushed the whole thing aside, since the mere memory of Akail‘s birth was still able to install that deep-rooted dread within your body.

You went into labor when both moons were at their zenith.

Mi’ytiar, who had slept peacefully next to you, was hovering over you the second you tried to wake him up. 

It took one panicked look from you and he knew what was going on. 

He got up from his lying position on your nest and knelt beside you.

You had already pushed the furs you used as a blanket to the side and he saw your legs shining with moisture in the moonlight.

“My water broke.” You faintly answered his silent question. “Our little one is coming.”

Mi’ytiar was on high alert as he knew what that meant. 

He tried to lift you into his arms, his mind fully set on bringing you to Cahrein, the healer, but unfortunately a contraction hit you right at that moment. The pain plus the one you felt as Mi’ytiar lifted you up ripped a heart-wrenching scream from your throat. 

It hurt so very much that you punched him out of instinct, an instinct telling you to do anything to stop the pain, hitting him right in the face.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh God, Mi‘ytiar. I’m so sorry.”

His heart clenched at that. 

You shouldn’t apologize. He’d barely felt the impact anyways, your human strength too weak to actually hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to not feel anything. 

He should have felt pain, should have been knocked from his feet.

He had hurt you, had caused you more pain than you were already feeling.

You noticed the guilty expression on your mate’s face and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay, tahní. It‘s o–”

You cut yourself off as you pressed your lips together while another contraction hit you.

“–kay. It’s okay.” You panted, “Just get Cahrein.”

Mi’ytiar shook his head determinedly as he placed his free hand on yours, which clasped his other hand in a death grip. 

“Cannot leave you.” He growled.

Another contraction made you cry out, “Mi’ytiar, please!”

It took a lot of persuasion for him to finally leave your side to get the healer.

You understood that he didn‘t want to leave you on your own, out of fear something bad would happen to you if he let you out of his sight only for a second, but you needed Cahrein to deliver your son safely.

The healer had gotten to work as soon as his eyes met your tiny, withering body. Putting aside the various instruments he had taken with him — you recognized them from one of your visits where he had shown you which ones he used for births — he helped you to remove the panties that you wore with the little piece of clothing you called nightie, which you had already pulled up, over your bulging stomach, and out of the way.

Usually, you and your mate slept naked with nothing shielding you from each other’s skin, but since you got closer and closer to due-day you wanted to be prepared. You wanted to keep at least a little of your dignity, not wanting to lie completely bare in front of Cahrein. 

Even though you knew he wouldn‘t care, taking his job far too seriously for that, your body in all its naked glory was meant for Mi’ytiar‘s eyes and Mi’ytiar‘s eyes only.

With your mate on one side and the healer on the other, you spent hours in indescribable agony.

Mentally, you were so far gone, blacking out for a second here and there. You barely caught how Mi’ytiar was insistently talking to you, or how Cahrein alternately injected you with a transparent and a bright green fluid.

It felt like a miracle when the unbearable pain decreased bit by bit, but not fully disappeared. Your fuzzy mind and your blurry view started to clear. 

With the pain now more bearable, you could finally focus on the natural instinct that told you to push.

What you didn’t know was that the following screams and cries woke up the clan in alarm, gathering almost everyone in front of your home, eagerly awaiting the new addition. 

This occasion was special, after all. Their fierce and mighty leader was expecting his first pup, something no one had expected to happen. Ever.

The tense uncertainty inside and outside of your home dissipated as soon as the whiny squeals of your newborn pup finally filled the air.

“Such a bad timing, my sweetling.” You mewled.

Tears were gathering in your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. You didn’t know if it was because of the pain of the contractions, which were now four minutes apart, or out of fear of being all alone in a hostile environment.

With your tongue between your teeth, you waited until the pain subsided, fully intending to call for your mate, but when you did, his name only escaped your lips in a short-winded whisper.

It was like you couldn’t breathe.

Biting back a sob, you formed your hand into a fist and hit your chest repeatedly, trying to get yourself to breathe regularly again. And when you thought you had enough air in your lungs, you bellowed, “Mi’ytiar!”

Your breath hitched and tears finally streamed down your cheeks. You bend your upper body forward and towards the tree, and pressed the palms of your hands against the tree trunk. With your head facing the ground, tears left your eyes, rolled down the bridge of your nose before dripping down the tip to the forest floor.

You were crying and panting, your body clenching every time another contraction hit you.

“Mi’ytiar, please, please… I need you… please, please.” You begged, your voice barely audible.

Contentment.

That’s all you could feel as you adjusted your lying position on the soft fur and the woolen and cotton fabrics of your nest. It was living up to its name as it reminded you of an actual nest, a bird’s nest; just as round but with more comfortable materials. Mi’ytiar had been very picky, something that amused you to no end.

That and the fireplace embedded into the floor, enclosing the round platform the nest was on, kept you warm and cozy.

You and the pup that was sleeping on your chest.

Little Akail let out little purrs while he enjoyed the warmth of his mother’s body that kept him tranquil and happy.

Only ten hours old and he already had such a significant place in this clan and his parent’s hearts.

You hummed quietly to your pup, only looking up from the endearing sight when Mi’ytiar entered your home and came to a halt in front of your nest, taking in the very welcome view of his (tantalizing naked) mate and his newborn son.

“Don’t get any ideas.” You warned him playfully when you noticed his heated gaze racking over your body.

“Back on Earth, some parents hold their babies like this. The skin and warmth forges a strong bond between them and the baby can get used to its parents’ touch.” You explained, your fingers slowly caressing Akail‘s back.

Mi’ytiar only clicked his mandibles in acknowledgment before he started to take off his armor and his traditional clothing as clan leader. 

You had to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself of your own scolding words only seconds ago, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. Your mate was a fine specimen, a strong and gorgeous Yautja. You were one hell of a lucky woman.

You watched him get on the nest, now only dressed in his loin cloth, and he moved on his knees towards you. 

You wrapped an arm around Akail — still curled up into a ball with his head tucked under your chin and his feet resting on your belly — and got up into a sitting position.

Mi’ytiar grabbed you by your thigh and hip, lifted you up and pulled you to him so you were sitting on his thighs while your legs were wrapped around the width of his hips.

He lopped his arms around you, drawing you into an embrace, so little Akail was now nestled between both of his parents’ warm bodies.

The smile that had grown on your lips since the moment Mi’ytiar had entered your home was now so bright and wide your cheeks started to hurt. 

But you didn’t really care. You couldn‘t hide the sheer happiness you were feeling right now at this moment.

You felt movement against your throat and above the valley of your breasts, and when you looked down as best as you could manage, you saw Akail nuzzle his face into your skin while his tiny hand was now lying on your chest where your heart was beating.

You wanted to cry happy tears.

You had never expected to become a mother, never planned on it, never even remotely wanted it if you were being honest, but having your baby now in your arms made every antipathy disappear. 

You placed a soft kiss on Akail‘s head, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t wake up.

“He’s perfect.” You whispered and looked up at Mi’ytiar who was already watching you intently. “Are you happy?”

He cocked his head to the side, his chest vibrating when he confirmed, “Happy.”

He felt Akail‘s small body against his own, felt his tiny body press against his every time he was breathing.

Breathing.

A beating heart.

Alive.

He loosened the embrace of one of his arms around your body to reach between the two of you and for his son, his fingers tracing from Akail‘s forehead to the back of his head — there, he had the same scale pattern as his father, only with reversed colors — and from his temple over the hints of dreads on each side of his little head with his thumb.

Akail was indeed perfect, just like his mother, and he loved him with all his heart already, but the price he almost had to pay for having him here…

“I thought I would lose you today.” He admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You lifted your head from where it had been resting on his chest to look up at him with a small smile.

“For a second, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would never meet our son." You nodded, thinking about the sharp pain and the feeling of life leaving your body as your pup fought his way out of you. “But Cahrein had prepared me as well as he was able to. He helped me through it. Who knows, hadn’t he injected me with your blood…”

You trailed off when Akail began to stir. You quickly started to rock him up and down, luring him back to sleep.

“He’s a very gifted male. I’ve trusted him with my life since the first time we visited him together after my arrival here so many moons ago.”

You adjusted your arm and its hold on Akail, the other reached up and cupped Mi’ytiar’s cheek. You let your fingertips glide over the scaly texture of his skin and dragged them over his jaw to his chin, down his throat to the middle of his chest.

“He also told me that I would be able to give you another pup in a foreseeable future…”

Mi’ytiar frowned, asking skeptically, “After what you gone through today?”

You shrugged and leaned your head forward, your cheek pressed against his pec. “I’m not talking about now or tomorrow, my love, but someday. In a few years, maybe.”

Mi’ytiar bristled, a loud rumble shaking his torso. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head, a very human gesture in your eyes. “You almost died.”

You smiled into his skin. Protective through and through, even when it came to his own offspring.

You were incredibly lucky to be chosen by a Yautja like him. 

It was rare for them to be interested in a human. It was rarer for them to treat that human like an equal instead of a slave or one of many lovers. It was the rarest for a human to be injected with Yautja blood to largely adapt to their DNA and enable life on their planet.

And Mi’ytiar told you himself — you were the only human ever being Life-Mated to a Yautja who carried his offspring and had a similar leading role as him as the mate of a leader; all in one.

You were the rarest of the rarest, a uniqueness, something completely new.

But humans had birthed Yautja-Human-hybrids long before you, most of them more than one or two.

“The next time will be different, Mi’ytiar. My body will be stronger and mentally I will be more prepared.” You told him and peppered his chest with feather-light kisses before you looked up at him again, a loving smile on your lips. “You shan’t lose me.”

You whimpered in relief when you finally heard the familiar growling bark of a Hell Hound. 

“Toyou!” You called, “I’m… here!”

You felt something move under you and fill the free space between your bend-over position against the tree. You opened your eyes, which you had closed to calm yourself and your breath, and looked down to see the Hound’s face already fixed on yours.

“N‘yaka-de. Get him.” You panted and watched as Toyou turned around to run.

When he suddenly stopped to walk hesitantly back to you, not liking the fact he was about to leave you behind who was obviously in distress, you stomped with your foot and yelled, “Toyou, fucking now!”

He darted off and you felt a tinge of guilt for lashing out. After all, he was loyal and a surprisingly good cuddle partner.

“Argh!” You cried out when another stabbing sensation almost made your legs give out.

Once again it felt like you were being torn apart, but at least you didn‘t feel like you were closer to death than life like at Akail‘s birth over 30 years ago. You were kind of proud of yourself, actually, considering you were still able to stand. 

Yeah, standing against a tree for support instead of lying in your warm and soft nest where you had actually planned to deliver your second pup. You didn‘t want to give birth in an unsafe environment, with no Mi’ytiar and no Cahrein. 

But who would have expected that your pup was ready to be welcomed into the world on a hunt?

You did. 

You had felt premature labor pains for two days now, but you hadn’t paid them any mind as Akail was born only six days after those pains had started. 

But even those pains had felt different in those two days, so why hadn‘t you just listened to your body when it undoubtedly told you “No!” while you answered Mi’ytiar‘s question “Hunt?” with an enthusiastic “Yes!” ?

You knew the answer to that, too. 

While women on Earth had to stop certain activities at one point in their pregnancy and were limited in their doings, Yautja females could still follow their everyday lives throughout their whole pregnancy. Meaning, they could still jump from one obstacle to another, chase their prey and kill it. 

Thinking that you were able to do that too had been utterly stupid and arrogant, but you just didn’t want to seem weak. Yes, the clan had accepted you and saw you as one of them, as the mate of their leader, but you couldn’t stop the suffocating need to prove yourself again and again.

It was unnecessary. Mi’ytiar had told you that, Cahrein had told you that, the Females you liked to spend your time with and considered friends told you that and, hell, even a few Males that were close to your mate told you that.

But here you were, crying and groaning, when another contraction cursed through your body. You regretted leaving your cozy home, regretted not being pampered by your loving mate in your nest, and regretted leaving your son behind, who had been by your side all the time, hovered over you in case he had to step in should you need anything in your state, followed you around like a lost puppy if you weren’t napping in your nest.

It reminded you of the time when he had been much younger and much smaller. He had been practically attached to your hip and everywhere you went, he was there. He had been such an adorable and shy little boy. Who were you kidding? He still was, but you missed those times anyway. He had grown up too fast.

You were nervous.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your body, you watched the hustle and bustle in the distance. They were preparing for the departure of the five Young Bloods who would soon leave for a faraway world to hunt and complete their initiation into Adulthood.

Among them was your son, your Akail, who would leave you for who knows how long to presumably search for the largest and most dangerous beast and kill it to prove himself.

Just like his father, you thought.

In the first year of your relationship, Mi'ytiar had told you everything imaginable about himself, and one evening about his own initiation ritual. He had told you how reckless and sure of himself he had been as a Young Blood, how he threw himself into danger to impress his clan.

Although that had secured his position as leader, he’d summoned his son the day before to admonish him to proceed with caution, to be logical and strategic, and to not let arrogance control him.

Lost in worried thoughts, you didn't notice as Mi'ytiar approached you, dropped to one knee and pulled you to his torso with his strong arms. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his mandibles running through it.

He loved your hair. It was just as soft as the rest of you.

“What on your mind, yawne?” He asked.

“I’m scared.” You breathed.

“On your home planet, oomans worry too when child leaves?”

You put your hand on one of his arms that was wrapped around you. “They do, but not like this. On Earth, human children leave the safety of their homes every day to go to school, to learn, and then they will return. In a few hours Akail will leave the safety of his home to finish school, so to say, but will he return?” You told him absentmindedly, your attention still fixed on the ship. “Human parents don't have to fear that particular day when their children go on a journey to possibly get killed just because of a custom.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Do not be scared.” He said.

“I can’t help it. I’m his mother.”

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle that sounded more like a growl than an actual laugh.

“And I his father.” He said and turned you around, not loosening the close embrace. “I trained him well. Made him strong and made him smart. Doubting my skills, yawne?”

Although he had already lowered himself, reducing his height to be closer to you, you still had to raise your head to look at him.

God, you loved his eyes. Even though there were rare variations at times among their kind — sometimes a lighter shade, sometimes a darker shade, sometimes more orange than yellow — the eyes of all Yautja had the same color.

But to you, Mi'ytiar’s eyes were different, even though one couldn’t possibly spot a difference when he was standing next to other Yautja. To you, they were brighter, more intense, more expressive. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, with so much gentle affection and love you wouldn't credit a beast of his stature with.

“Of course I’m not. I could never.”

You suddenly could feel large arms engulfing your body from behind, pulling you into an upright-standing position, and you just let yourself instinctively fall into their embrace.

You knew those limbs, knew their warmth and their strength.

“Mi’ytiar, the pup… the pup is coming.” You panted and dug your fingernails into his forearm.

You felt him move behind you. He lifted you up, his arms supporting your back and the back of your knees as he held you to his torso. He briefly registered how you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck before he took off.

He ran like he never did. At the same time, he was careful not to let your body jolt around too much as he jumped over fallen tree trunks and climbed rocks to reach the Scout Ship while you clung to him.

Every time a contraction hit, he could feel your body tense in his arms and your mouth press against his chest as you muffled another scream.

Oh, how he wished he could take away the pain, but at least it wasn’t as horrible as it was at Akail’s birth.

Mi’ytiar remembered your glistening tears and your little withering body, how you had squeezed his hand so hard that even he had felt pain and how you had begged both him and Cahrein to stop it. Especially the fear of death in your eyes haunted him to this day.

He had almost lost you — you, his precious human — all those years ago and it had been his entire fault.

The possibility of becoming a father had been zero, non-existent, and at one point in his life, he had accepted the fact that he may be not meant to be a father. He stopped caring and someday just forgot about it entirely. The wish to continue his line like any proud leader faded away and instead he settled for the idea of passing on his knowledge and experiences to the pups and Younglings of his people.

Then he met you, this petite beautiful thing, when he was lounging on a building near an alley. He heard you before he saw you, heard you and them.

They were calling you strange names and were whistling after you before they decided to follow you down the street. Trying to escape them, you took a left turn and quickened your strides as you crossed the alley.

Mi’ytiar, who was attracted by the noises, slid down the rooftop and soundlessly landed on the metal balcony of one of the apartments. Even from the third floor, he had a perfect view of what was happening down in the alley as the men grabbed you, pushed and pulled on you, and he felt mildly impressed when you started fighting back; kicking, scratching and screaming.

The men’s playful, taunting behavior quickly turned fatal when one of them, fed up with your attempts to flee, slapped you so hard across the face that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and fell backwards to the ground.

Your screams quickly turned desperate when one of them pushed up your skirt and tore on your panties, mumbling something about teaching you a lesson, while his companions held you down.

At this point, Mi’ytiar knew something had been wrong. Mating between a Yautja male and female consisted of fighting each other, too, but not like this; not with more than one male and not with the female resisting long after the male fought the female into submission.

Your behavior told him everything he needed to know — you weren’t even close to being interested in mating with those males — and before things could get any worse, he jumped down and killed those who forced themselves on you.

By the time four bodies in various morbid states of dismemberment were littering the alley, your whole body was trembling as you stayed on the ground, cowering.

He had crouched down to your level and one of his bloodied claws reached out to touch your face, your horror-widened eyes watching him with caution.

To him you were what a kitten was to a human. You were so small, he noted, so small and soft and pink. He also thought you were beautiful, contrastive to what Yautja usually thought about your kind. He took you with him that night and the rest was history.

Even though you weren’t a suitable mate, his clan begrudgingly accepted the idea of a human being with their leader. He couldn’t have pups anyway, so why not just let him indulge himself and let him seek happiness and pleasure in other things?

And then, one day, you told him about your wish to carry his pup. He had been excited, absolutely ecstatic, but not about the image of your rounding belly with his offspring — he knew he was unable to have one — and rather about the fact that you were willing to mate with him in a way that could lead to a child. The fact you loved him and trusted him enough was all he cared about.

As much as he loved his son, he should have done something the second both of you learned that you were pregnant. He had been so overjoyed his human mate was extraordinarily able to have his pup that he never thought about possible consequences.

Anyone would have had serious doubts and would have objected because there was no way a human would survive that, but Mi’ytiar didn’t, too blown away by the prospect of becoming a father.

That changed as the day of the pup being due crept closer and closer, and slowly worry and fear set in.

And to make one thing clear: if you hadn’t been injected with Yautja blood from the beginning — first daily, then weekly, then monthly, until it stopped years ago — you wouldn’t have made it and Akail would have torn you apart from the inside out.

He was glad that Cahrein had kept a cool head and realized that his blood would help you when all other means had failed.

It was like history was repeating itself as he tried to focus on the task at hand — getting you to the ship — and not let the fluid running down his arms and body distract him. He wished he hadn’t dared to look down, to look down and see the blood you were losing, coming from a source that was his fault.

Why did he let you convince him to have a second pup? Why did the mere thought of getting you pregnant again make him so ignorant of your near-death experience? Why did he listen to Cahrein when he told the both of you that another pup was possible? Why did he forget that you weren’t like his kind?

His heavy, thumping footsteps suddenly sounded different, and when you pulled your face away from his chest to look around, you noticed the soft earth of the forest had been replaced by the cold metal of the ship.

As careful and gentle as he could in his rattled state, he put you down on the closest surface he could find — the table used for planning, briefing and orientation with several holo-maps — and slammed his fist down on the surface. He growled and hissed a few words you couldn’t understand. Your translating earpieces were perfectly fine, but your brain was only picking up the pain shooting through your body instead of noticing any stimuli from your surroundings.

You were so out of it, the tears blurring your view, that you missed the conversation between Mi’ytiar and the holographic image of Cahrein.

“Mi’ytiar.” Cahrein greeted his leader in the customary way of placing his left fist on the right side of his chest while slightly bowing down his head.

“The pup is coming.” Mi’ytiar said without hesitation, straight to the point.

Cahrein rounded the table to stand next to him and he leaned over you to get a better look at you. He reached out to grab your calves to open your legs, but his hands went right through you.

“Pauk. I can’t help her like this. You have to bring her here.”

“No.” You cried out, answering before Mi’ytiar could even open his mouth. “The pup is coming now.”

Cahrein looked conflicted, contemplating about what to do next as he was restricted in his actions. He could already tell that this was going to be hard.

“Mi’ytiar, I packed a Medicomp for emergencies when you said you two would go hunt. Get it.”

You let out a whine when your mate disappeared from your side, which was quickly occupied by the healer who noticed your distress. “Calm, (Y/N), calm.”

“It hurts so much.” You cried out.

“I know.” He retorted and eyed the red fluid running down your thighs to your calves, dripping down your toes. “You need to take off your clothes.”

With trembling hands, you started to open the pants-like cloth that hugged your legs like a second skin and circled them from your ankles up to your hips. You struggled with the complicated lacing and cursed as you began to rip on them out of frustration.

Bigger hands replaced yours and when you looked up, you saw that Mi’ytiar had returned and stood between your legs. He used his sharp claws to cut the cords open and he pulled the rest of the garment down. He was more considerate with the bloodied panties underneath and tried not to rip them, although you believed that they were irreversibly ruined.

The first and last time he had torn your panties to shreds, you had scolded him for it after he was done fucking you from behind like a dog in his rut. You didn’t have much of your human clothes left — most of it had been replaced by self-made clothes of local fabrics inspired by their style anyway — but what you definitely wanted to keep was your underwear. So when Mi’ytiar returned to you one day from a spontaneous trip to Earth with a dozen new undies, you had been more than thankful.

Mi’ytiar grabbed your ankles, placed both of your feet flat on the table and spread your thighs apart, stepping aside for Cahrein to finally take a look at you.

The healer’s holo-image got down on his knees and peered between what was happening between your legs.

You wanted to hide and press them back together, but you knew that it wasn’t much of help and just let him do his thing. Instead, you let your head loll to the side and looked at your mate.

Mi’ytiar had his hands in fists, keeping them tightly pressed to his sides, and he watched Cahrein with concern and something else in his eyes. You knew he was worried about you. He tried to hide it, tried putting his true feelings behind the mask of a collected and strong leader and warrior like he always did in dicey situations, but you could see right through it.

“And?” He urged Cahrein to finally give him an answer.

“She is ready. She has to push.”

“What about the blood?”

“Incidental. She has to push.”

So that’s what you did.

Taking a deep breath and gripping the edge of the table for the support, you strained every muscle in your body. The resulting, blood-curdling scream even got the two Yautja to flinch and Mi’ytiar lunged forward. He pried your fingers away from the table where you had been holding on for dear life, and intertwined them with his. You instantly squeezed them and Mi’ytiar let out a surprised hiss.

After a moment, your tense body slumped down. It simply gave up after not being able to endure the pain any longer.

“You need to keep going.”

“I can’t.” You hiccuped, choking on your tears as you shook your head vehemently.

“You can. You did this 30 years ago. It was impressive. I never expected such a tiny creature to survive, but you did. You will again.” Cahrein turned to Mi’ytiar and pointed to the Medicomp. “Take the syringe, take your blood and inject it.”

Rather reluctantly, he loosened the hold you had on him and opened the Medicomp. He rummaged through it, found the syringe, and jabbed it into the flesh of his arm, uncaring of the following pain. You were far more important than anything else right now.

While he filled the syringe with his fluorescent-green blood, Cahrein was talking to you and encouraged you to keep going. He tried to distract you and keep your mind from drifting off to a place of no return.

“Something is wrong.” He murmured after a while.

He had watched Mi’ytiar inject you with three doses of his blood already, but you still were in agonizing pain. You even had lost consciousness twice, something that hadn’t even happened when you birthed your first pup.

You squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them again when the pain subsided a bit. “W-What?”

“You should have started crowning already, but you don’t.”

“Why?” You asked in a long-drawn cry.

Cahrein, for the first time in over thirty years, looked baffled and completely clueless. He couldn’t explain it as he had no idea himself. There had never been complications when the females of his clan gave birth. You were the only exception.

“What are typical problems that arise for oomans during childbirth?” He asked, not knowing what else he could do.

It took a moment until you became aware that you had been asked a question.

“Am-Amniotic fluid e-enters the bloodstream… the u-uterus tears… the ba-baby is in an abnormal p-position… it’s s-stuck…” You offered between pained huffs, trying to come up with as many options as you could think of. “In most emergencies, w-when a natural birth isn’t possible, they d-do a c-section… they cut into t-the woman’s belly a-and get the baby out... and then…”

Mi’ytiar wanted you to stop talking. He wanted you to stop putting images of your cut-open body in front of him. He wanted you to stop making him think of your lifeless form after the pup was pulled out of it.

“You have to incise into her abdomen. I will instruct you.” Cahrein finally said.

Mi’ytiar immediately straightened his back and let out a roar. “No!”

“If you do it, either the pup and (Y/N) survive, or just the pup... but if you do nothing, then they will both die.” Cahrein pressed and eyed you for a second.

You were running out of time.

“I… I can’t.”

He sounded defeated. You had never ever expected to see him like this — so vulnerable, so hopeless, so broken. He was the definition of strength, of courage, of accountability, of resilience, and now only a hollow shadow of the man he was was standing in front of you, thinking about the chance of losing his entire world.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

How could it be possible for him to live, breathe, without you?

He had a taste of a life he never wanted to leave, a life he wasn’t able to quit, a life only something as extraordinary as you could give him. Not because you were human, although that was probably one of the aspects, but because you were you.

He loved you.

You had taught him that love was the most valuable thing to a person. Love was worth more than anything else in life. It was such a strong, overwhelming feeling no one could put exactly into words until one actually felt it.

And he loved you.

“No, Mi’ytiar… you have to, you have to.” You urged him between panting breaths. “Save our… our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please.”

Mi’ytiar looked down at you as you begged him to do something he wasn’t willing to do in a million years. Cahrein would have hesitated in his stead, but he wasn’t your mate and would have cut into you. Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, could never do something that would harm you.

But he already did, though. He had doomed you the second his seed took.

“Mi’ytiar!” Cahrein barked and pulled the male out of his thoughts.

His body was on autopilot when his hand reached for a scalpel-like tool from the Medicomp.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried out.

The only thing you felt was relief as your body slowly went numb, tears clouding your view. Everything around you became blurry and Mi'ytiar started to disappear. The world around you grew darker and darker as he set the sharp blade onto your skin and slowly applied pressure, cutting into you until blood flowed onto the table, down to the floor of the ship, creating a red puddle.

You never even registered the feeling of him cutting you open.

Your body shut down before you could.