#it's not easy having long hair in the middle of the apocalypse

[punkshort]

to have and to hold

A The Way We Were/Look What We've Become one-shot

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader (established relationship)

Summary: You and Joel enjoy a quiet morning together the day after your wedding.

Warnings: language, fluff, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, brief mention of oral (m!receiving), an absurd amount of happiness and love.

WC: 2.2K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Was it what you always envisioned for your wedding day?

Certainly not.

No, you definitely didn't imagine finding the love of your life, who also happened to be your extremely intimidating boss, right before the apocalypse. You didn't think you would spend a year traveling across the country together, fighting for your lives and keeping one another safe while doing your best to deny your feelings for him, and he for you.

Yet somehow, it all worked out. After enduring unspeakable things in that year, you found sanctuary in Jackson, Wyoming, with Joel's brother. Tommy had a very different experience in that first year. He managed to find Maria, his wife, and create a beautiful community. The walls around the town were still being constructed when they found you both on the side of the road, on your way to Yellowstone to settle down together someplace safe. They took you in and you acclimated nicely, although it took a long time for you both to feel safe, to let go of that nagging feeling in the back of your head that said stay alert, keep one eye open, stay awake. But you did, and you each finally found peace.

Sure, it wasn't all easy. Old fears cropped back up when Joel mentioned starting a family and getting married. You said all the wrong things, anxiety driving you instead of your heart and it nearly destroyed you both. But with time, you managed to work through your fears and you came out on the other end stronger than ever.

And now you were married. Devoted to one another forever, said the words with tears in your eyes and smiles on your faces in front of your friends and family. Ellie never called you mom and dad, but you took on the roles for her, anyway. You fed her, taught her, kept her safe, kept her secret. She was just as much family as Tommy and Maria, who also stood by your sides as you exchanged vows.

As silly as it was, Joel still insisted on keeping the hair tie you had given him that night wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a makeshift ring, a symbol more than anything of your love and devotion to him, and even though you had since found a thin gold band for him to wear one day not too far outside the walls under Tommy's guard, Joel still never took off that hair tie.

It was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes the day after your wedding. Your cheek was pressed against his bare chest, his right arm wrapped possessively around your middle and his left hand resting on his stomach. The way the sun beamed in through your bedroom curtains made the gold band around his finger practically sparkle, or maybe you were just imagining it. Either way, it made you smile and nuzzle into his warmth even more, inhaling his natural, comforting scent.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising underneath your cheek, then you heard him grunt softly before his fingers twitched then left his stomach in favor of scratching his beard.

"'S'late," he yawned, voice thick and gravelly. The way it sent a wave of arousal through you, you would have thought he said the most filthy, depraved thing known to man.

"We were up late," you reminded him, biting your lip when you saw the slow smile spread across his face.

"Oh, I remember," he teased before his hands found your hips and shifted you so you were lying on top of him. You pressed a slow, lazy kiss against the center of his chest and you could feel his heart fluttering under your lips.

"What do you want to do today?" you asked him sleepily.

He hummed and you got your answer before he even had a chance to respond when you felt a familiar twitch against your leg.

"I planned on stayin' in bed with my wife all damn day," he said, making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that."

With Ellie at a sleepover, which was at her own insistence to give you some space on your wedding night, a gesture both thoughtful and embarrassing in nature, you knew you had at least a few more hours to yourselves.

"C'mere," he murmured, his chest rumbling underneath you. With a grin, you propped yourself on your elbows so you could reach his mouth. Pressing your lips together gently, you each sighed, feeling yourself relax even more in his arms.

His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you dropped your jaw, allowing your tongues to lazily reunite. One of his hands delicately traced your spine while the other cupped your cheek, cradling it like you were made of glass. You leaned your face into the palm of his hand, letting him hold you close. It felt like he had you completely surrounded, like your body was just melting right into his, and you couldn't be any happier.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Turned out, you could be a little happier. That became rather clear when your kisses grew heated, your hands began to roam and your hips started to shift. You didn't even bother to ask, you just pushed yourself up so your legs were straddling him on either side and reached between both your bodies, angling his cock so it lined up with your opening and slowly, oh so slowly, you sunk down. You watched through heavy lidded eyes as his face went slack and his brow furrowed, taking great pride in the way you made this broad, strong, beast of a man all pliant and soft underneath you. How you and you alone with one touch or look could stop him dead in his tracks.

"Yeah, sweetheart, that's it," he growled when you started to move. He pressed his head back into his pillow and groaned, watching as the evidence of your arousal smeared between you both with each rock of your hips. His hands gripped your waist, one set of fingertips brushing up against the shiny, but faded, scars on your ribs. His eyes focused on them for a moment, allowing his ego to inflate just a bit when he recalled what you would be willing to do for him. It was the same he would be willing to do, and have done, for you: kill anyone who dared try to do you harm.

His hands drifted over your stomach, rough palms gliding over smooth skin, until he reached your breasts. He squeezed one, then the other, then drew small circles over your nipples, flicking his nail against the hardening bud and making you whine.

It didn't take much convincing. Just one hand pressing lightly on your back made you fall forward, planting a hand on either side of his head so he could take your nipple into his mouth while you continued to ride him at a pace you seemed to enjoy best.

"Feel so good," you practically slurred, your mind growing numb as your pleasure built. He released your breast with a smack to his lips and pushed you back so you were upright once again. His eyes looked black when he met your gaze and he clenched his jaw before he muttered lowly, "fuckin' take it. C'mon, lemme see you work for it."

You took a deep breath and stabilized your palms against his chest before tilting your hips up and dropping them down quickly, over and over in a steady, fast rhythm that had your skin slapping together obscenely in the otherwise quiet house.

"Yeah, that's it. Fuck, what a good girl," he murmured. You could see the shift in his face now and it fucking thrilled you. Gone were the sweet, loving looks and chaste, gentle kisses. Now that his own pleasure was mounting low in his stomach, his cock throbbing and begging for release deep within you, he was growing impatient. He bared his teeth while you kept up your fast, tight pace, eyes flashing up at you hungrily, heat flushing his chest and neck and you briefly thought he looked not unlike an animal, the thought only spurring you on more.

"Keep fuckin' yourself on my cock, sweetheart," he gritted out. "Look so pretty like this, all stuffed full of me. My beautiful wife," he added, his voice dropping to an adoring whisper with his last words. It had you tipping you head with a deep moan, your gaze locking onto the ceiling while you continued to ride him as best you could with trembling legs.

And he could feel it. He could feel your legs shake, he could hear your breath stutter and he knew you were growing weak but fuck if you didn't try to push through it just to please him. The mere thought practically short circuited his brain, his senses dulling at the idea of someone as perfect as you wanting to do what he asked. But he knew you were tired and sore from the previous night. He hardly let you rest once you finally tore away from the festivities to be alone for the first time as husband and wife, but you both knew the desire was double sided. You couldn't keep your hands off him, either. After all, it was you who dropped to your knees in your beautiful fucking dress right on the other side of your front door, barely making it inside, to take his cock down your throat.

So he decided to help. His hands found their place on your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease of your thighs, and he bucked up into you, each movement paired with a deep grunt that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingernails digging into his chest.

When your body shuddered and your jaw hung open, a sharp gasp the only sound to leave your lips, he smirked because he knew what would happen next. Your perfect fucking pussy clenched around him so deliciously, squeezing and relaxing over and over again while each wave of your orgasm ripped through you. The sight and feel was unlike anything else, the experience simply incomparable.

He lifted you off him quickly, making you yelp in surprise, and rolled you over so you were on your back. He knelt between your legs and furiously tugged at his cock, his eyes fixated on your spent cunt. He groaned loudly and fell forward onto one hand as he came, painting your stomach with his release, and you watched in a daze as you continued to catch your breath.

"Christ," he gasped when he was finally finished, then collapsed next to you with a tired groan. "Gonna kill me one day."

You giggled and tossed your forearm across your eyes, and he grinned before reaching toward the ground for something to clean you up.

"Why don't I make you breakfast?" he offered softly as he wiped the rag over your belly. You hummed and dropped your arm to your side with a smile.

"I think Julia baked us muffins as a wedding present. The basket should be downstairs somewhere."

He was surprised his stomach didn't growl on command.

"You stay here, I'll be right back," he said before kissing the tip of your nose and lifting himself up with a grunt. He slid on his boxers, not fully convinced that Ellie wouldn't come bounding through the front door unannounced, before heading down the steps. While the coffee brewed, he rubbed his lower back with a wince. The last twelve hours wore him out, but he wouldn't ever let you see it. But by the time he got back upstairs with a tray full of muffins, coffee and apples, he could tell you were just as exhausted as him. You had hardly moved from the spot where he left you, but he couldn't deny you looked completely relaxed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, picking at baked goods and feeding each other pieces of apple until you were full. Afterwards, you took his left hand in both of yours and admired the way it now looked adorned with a gold band, marking him as yours forever.

"Looks good on you," you murmured. He smiled and cupped your jaw with his other hand, kissing your lips so tenderly it took your breath away.

"What do we do now?" he asked, nuzzling the side of your face.

"What we promised we would do," you said with a sigh. You leaned into him, head coming to rest on his shoulder while his arms circled your waist, holding you as close as he could.

It took him a moment, but he understood what you meant.

I promise to love and cherish you. To remain faithful, to protect you, to laugh and cry with you. To grow together and lean on one another. Until my very last breath, this I swear.

His chest swelled at the memory and he felt so happy in that moment, he thought he could float away.

He took a deep breath and kissed the top of your head before replying.

"Okay."

[donkeys-waffles]

One piece of DFO brain rot that has lived rent free in the back of my mind for days is their hair.

AFO has always cut his hair very short, to the point where you can barely see the definition of his curl pattern. He definitely did this for both convenience and safety purposes. Afterall, when you're fighting against people, especially adults as a small child, you have to be careful of things like hair because it's easy for your opponent to grab it and catch you off guard. And I'm sure AFO would have no idea how to care for his curly hair because he never had a parent to teach him basic hygiene.

He kept his hair short all these years because it wasn't a priority for him. But what interests me is Yoichi always had long hair, during an apocalypse his hair poses a big threat for him. If he were to be caught by his hair by an enemy, he could easily be killed with a weak body and no quirk to fight with. AFO never forcefully cut his hair, (I also find it surprising that AFO didn't do this to make them look more alike, I feel like he'd like that.)

Their differences in hair length really illustrates the difference in childhood experiences/exposures to the worlds affairs that the two had. We see AFO was in the middle of everything, he had to fight and kill people from a very young age to protect his brother, and while Yoichi was exposed to some of that. I feel that their key differences in perspective are a root cause of AFO hiding Yoichi away from the worst of it. Like that scene where AFO flies into their hideout and Yoichi is already there, I don't think he was a part of a lot of the fights. I think he was very sheltered after that one scene when they were children, and it looks like Yoichi was attacked.

Yoichi's perspective is very idyllic while AFO is more realistic (in ways.) Yoichi's hair in some ways reflects the innocence he still has while AFO, who was forced to keep his hair short for protection, is scarred and brittle from what he was exposed to.

Yoichi is childlike in his heroic admiration.

AFO is childlike in his admiration for the villain who was surrounded by followers. He's childlike in his need for what he believed was love, a sense of belonging, and calm (his childhood scarred him to the point of sabotaging all of that.)

Now with Izuku, I see it as being similar.

Izuku keeping his hair on the longer side is very important to AFO. I like to think that AFO only started to learn how to take care of curly hair when Izuku was born with it. He read all the books and bought all the products. He kept his hair short, but he wanted to make sure Izuku could keep his hair long. I like to think that baby Izu had the best curls, fluffy, shiny, and soft. I like to think that Izuku knows how to care for his hair even if he doesn't remember who taught him.

And I like to think that AFO did all of these things for Izuku in the same way he did for his brother. He wanted Izuku to keep that innocence. He wanted to make sure his ducky never had to fear getting grabbed by the hair in a fight, because he'd never be a part of any fights. It all travels back to his hatred for All Might, that safety and innocence.

It all travels back to his warning, about the 'thorny path' Izuku was following. Because while the paths between them aren't the same, hero and villain, they take with very little reward. And I feel AFO knows that very well.

[mariaxman]

PIETRO MAXIMOFF X READER

Resume: you made a bet with Jean, when you’d ask Peter out he’d turn you down. Easy made 50 bucks, right! Exept he beats you to the punch..

A/N: I really love this, I love the cliché of kissing in a Ferris wheel sm AHHH:33!!

Charles Xavier’s school for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester,1974.

The summer breeze hit your skin like a bird’s feather, soft and gentle, as you stood outside of the institute. A year ago, a man from the future named Logan came and knocked on the door, claiming he needed the professor to save the world from ‘sentinels’, some anti-mutant, killer robots. You were 15 at the time, already having mastered your mutation, came along with them to give a hand. That, is when you met Peter. As requested you had to break out Magneto from the pentagon, and Logan ‘knew a guy’. He was JUST your type. Sure, he was a kleptomaniac and all, but god was he handsome, and a charming in his own very-weird-way. Though, it didn’t last long, as he went home the moment you stepped out the pentagon, Magneto in hand . You never forgot the handsome speedster, even ten whole years later. Sure, it was kind pathetic. But hey! Can you blame a gal? He was flirting with you the whole time AND WINKED AT YOU WHEN YOU EMBARKED THE JET BACK, of course you fell for him!

Charles Xavier’s school for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, 1983

You never thought you’d ever see him again. Like, ever. But hey, fate works in a strange way. One second you were standing next to Beast as Havok wrecked shit, the next you landed surprisingly gently on the grass outside as the Institute blew up. You were dizzy and felt like you were about to blow chunks. Nevertheless, you stood back up on shaky legs and just stared at the mansion with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, not even noticing the speedster standing riiiighht next to you, staring intensely. Until he said a simple ‘hey’ and you yelped embarrassingly loud for a qualified X-woman. Atleast he laughed! Then you were kidnapped by.. what was their name? Oh well, then you escaped, fought apocalypse, Charles lost his hair, which is VERY pertinent, I know. And, well, you were back at the mansion soon enough, students were sat outside on lawn, huddled up as, mind you, it was totally broken down and needed SERIOUS repair. Which leads us to here, you and your friends(who are literally all teens which is.. yeah) went to the mall to pass time and buy new clothes after losing all of the old ones in the explosion, an activity you loved doing with Jean and Jubilee.. until now. You were browsing a store with said girls, grabbing a top, you held it infront of you.

‘’Is this cute?’’

You ask Jubilee, the top was simple in itself, a baby blue tank top with an embroidered yellow lightning bolt. It kinda reminded you of Peter..

‘’Yeah, that is really cute, BUT-‘’

Jubs says and snatches the top, putting it in your basket

‘’WHEN are you gonna make your move on Peter?!’’

The girls asks eagerly. Your cheeks immediately burn up in embarrassment

‘’make a move on him? W-what are you talking about?!’’

you chuckle nervously, looking away at the clothing racks. Jean chuckles from behind you, which startles you, just a little bit

‘’Come on now, Y/N. You definitely love him, you did since… 1973! C’mon!’’

The redhead exclaims, in the middle of the store, catching a lot more attention than your liking. Goddam telepath. You didn’t know what to say, really. You definitely wanted to date him, more than anything! But you just felt like Peter didn’t feel the same

‘’Okay, okay! Y’know what? I’ll tell him tonight, at the fair! But I bet you 50 bucks he doesn’t even like me a little bit!’’

You say as you walk to the cashier. Jean shoots Jubilee a look. ‘HE IS LITERALLY HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HER, GUESS IM WINNING 50 BUCKS’ she tells the other girl telepathically, which makes her vibrate with a giggle.

Now, at the fair, you were scared shitless. You made a promise, you gotta keep it now, huh? You’re sure Peter‘ll be sweet if he rejects you, yeah! You sigh, snapped out your thoughts when Jean and Jubilee dragged you to an attraction, giggling the whole way, which left Scott and Peter alone. The former elbows Pietro in the ribs, hard

‘’So, when are you finally gonna ask her out?’’

Scott teases, that irritated smirk on his face

‘’What? Pssfghhsss- what are you talkin’ bout?’’

the silver-haired man plays dumb, shoving his hands in the pocket of his silver jacket

‘’C’mon, dude. I know you like her— you’re literally staring her as we speak!’’

Oh, yeah, he was… it wasn’t his fault you were so gorgeous, for Christ sake! You were literally his dream girl come true, can you blame him?

‘’Okay, yeah, maybe I do like her a little. But she has great taste in music and a bitchin’ haircut! And.. pretty eyes’’

He mumbles the last part as he watched you settle in right between Jean and Jubs in the attraction, laughing your head off at something Jubilee said. God were you pretty

‘’Dude, I see the world trough a red visor and even I can see it’s definitely more than ‘liking’’’

Scott huffs, crossing his arms and looking ahead

‘’You should win her a prize, y’know, a plushie’’

The brunette shrugs. Yeah, he was right, he should

‘’Mh.. maybe I will’’

Peter grins. A few minutes later, the ride end and you stumble out with the other two, using Jubilee as support as you giggle, totally dizzy and giddy

‘’You’re not gonna throw up, are you?’’

Jubs quizzes and you shake your head no. Phew, that’d be embarrassing. You all continue walking as a group until Jean drags Scott over to the game booths. Scott grin in Peter’s direction in a ‘you go dude!’ Fashion. Jubilee catches on and lean closer to you

‘’I’m gonna go grab us a coke, okay’’

She pats your back and speed walks away before you can even turn around, leaving you with Peter. An awkward silence fall between you two until he speaks up

‘’hey, princess, want me to win you a prize? I’m pretty damn good at that game over there’’

He grins in his usual boyish manne— PRINCESS?? That was new, wow, why did that make butterfly flutter in your stomach..

You nod quickly with flushed cheeks and follow him when he grabs your hand and drags you to the booth. The game was easy, pop 10 balloons in one go and win a plushie. Easy enough. Peter walks up and pays the bored worker, who just hands him the 10 darts with a poker face. Shit job, huh. Surprisingly, he didn’t use his mutation. Which is pretty good considering the setting. He picks up a dart and shoot. POP, one balloon down. POP, two. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. POP. Yay! Free plushie, considering-all-the-ones-you-had-got-Fucking-cremated! You giggle and jump on the ball of you feet as Pietro gets handed the big stuffed snow leopard plush. He turns to you and hands it over

‘’There you go, N/N’’

He grins when you hug him tightly

‘’Thank you Pietro!’’

You pull back and turn around when you hear your name, running over to Jubilee with two bottles of coke in hand. She raises an eyebrow at you then look over at Peter, giving him a proud thumbs up and a wink of approval. Which— to him — was a little perculiar, but honestly… you wouldn’t expect less from a girl name jubilation. Jean and Scott arrived back themselves a few minutes later, empty handed. Scott shrugged, his excuse being that his visor was at fault. Though Jean whispered that he just sucked ass at the games. You continued walking around the park, going on rides, when 23:00 hit. Many people left but you decided to do one more ride, the Ferris wheel. You still had an hour before it closed, so why not? You all went in the line, and when it was your turn, the teen boy there let Jubilee, Scott and Jean in a carrier, but told you to wait for the next one because the people limit was 3. So now, you were stuck, alone with Peter. Your crush for the past TEN FUCKING YEARS! Great. You took a quiet, deep breath and slipped in the carrier next to Peter, setting your plushie on the seat across from you both.

‘’Hey’’

The speedster jokes, grinning ear to ear. You smile back, resting your chin on your knees

‘’Hi’’

You look to your right when the Ferris wheel starts moving. You had the view on the lake beside the fair, where fireworks’ll be lit in a few minutes

‘’So, enjoyed your night, N/N?’’

He asks, cocking his head to the side

‘’Yeah, I loved it. Thanks for winning me a plushie too’’

You grin at him, full teeth, eyes scrunched and lit by the moonlight

‘’Hey, nothing less for my favorite friend’’

You laugh and continue talking, the wheel slowly moving your carrier up and up until it stops, right at the top. As if planned, fireworks goes off and you shoot around, smile as wide as your eyes as you stare out the glass at the colorful beam of light, reflecting on your face. But Peter’s stuck, stuck staring at you in awe. You looked absolutely gorgeous. He couldn’t look away, not that he wanted to

‘’It’s so.. Beautiful!’’

You chirp in amazement

‘’ Yeah.. gorgeous, even’’

Peter mumbled, still very much looking at you. You turn to look at him with a crooked grin and a raised eyebrow

‘’You good, dud—!’’ Peter cut you off by grabbing your cheeks and leaping foward, pressing his lips to your so gently. You froze, arms to your side until you brain fully apprehended what happened. Peter kissed you… PETER KISSED YOU!! You melt against him, arms coming up to rest your hands on his gently, smiling into the kiss. You were content, stretch that, you were ecstatic! Even when he pulled away, and.. whooped, huh. Strange way to react to your first kiss with a girl.. why did you find that cute? You laughed aloud, along with him. He swept you in a one armed hug

‘’That was the best decision I’ve made ALL NIGHT, woo’’

He chuckled and squeezed you against his lovingly, silence falling between the two of you until the end of the ride.

When you stepped out you were greeted by your three friends waiting for you, Jean grinned and looked over at Jubilee, who’s jaw dropped. You glance at Peter to find a lipstick mark over his lip. You snort and quickly join the girls while Pietro joins Scott, who’s deliberately holding back laughter, much to Peter’s confusion. As you’re walking out the fair, Jean leans in and whispers;

‘’You owe me 50 bucks’’

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello, been rereading everything you posted on hair styles and was curious. What would be the on-the-go hair styles for say an adventurer, cowboy, or middle of a zombie apocalypse. Where there isn't much down time and an everything needs to be carried. And would that style vary by the weather? hot deserts compared to freezing snow covered landscapes. Afro is my guess, based on how you describe the maintenance verses other styles you have mentioned.

Context: working on a Eldritch Apocalypse comic that focuses on a Guide leading travelers across the wasteland that's environment changes wildly with the seasons, so the cast of characters changes often.

🤣🤣 you ain't have to read me like that, bc I was gonna say afro styles and locs. If they're traveling through any sort of marsh and don't want to get their hair dirty, afros are easier to clean and take less time to dry. Locs are interesting bc they're practically a second source of heat insulation during the winter, but are hot as hell in the summer. You get used to it, it's not unlivable (and there are styles that can keep you cooler, but you said they're traveling light). But if you feel like they wanna keep cool and get warm really quickly, yeah a short afro or short locs would be better.

If they have long enough natural hair, they could also do cornrows and larger braids! Ik you said they don't have much downtime, so this is the second string answer, but those both will be easy day to day maintenance if your character has the time to get it done one day every once in a while.

[beansricejc]

John Wick x F!Reader: Fake It

summary: AU, in a post apocalyptic world, John has assigned himself a daunting task. he buys you off of a group of raiders, and you don’t necessarily have a choice when he has you help with his mission. in fact, it’s either your help, or his wrath. 5382 words.

warnings: unprotected piv, NONcon, fuck or die, breeding k!nk, creampie, cursing, threats of violence, firearms, human trafficking, forced breeding, kidnapping. Dead Dove, Do Not Eat! Minors DNI. not proofread!

author’s note: here’s to my darkest yet, if you like this one, please support me by liking and reblogging, Ty!

The infection spread efficiently and ruthlessly. Originating at a scientific testing facility in Toronto, it didn’t take very long for the world to go to shit. Zombies made life a hell of a lot worse for everyone on the planet.

And 5 years later, the population declined by 70 percent. Everyone surviving now was either in some sort of encampment, a survivor in the wasteland, or, in John’s case, in a repopulation center.

About fifty miles north of Rock Springs, Wyoming, is a fortification built by John and as the group of men that all had the same goal.

Survive.

Soon enough, they made a name for themselves after trading with raiders who would snatch up female survivors. John was picky. They needed to be healthy, with good genetics, and the ability to carry a child. Just because you had a pussy didn’t just mean free access to the compound, there were standards.

So when a truck full of raiders pulled up to the large gates of John’s fortress and dragged you out of it, John’s immediately intrigued. You’re kicking and screaming into the duct tape gag over your lips, definitely not making it easy for the three burly men to hoist you over for John to inspect you.

Your eyes widen at the middle aged man with long hair, it’s slicked back in a ponytail and he’s got a full beard. He honestly reminds you of those vinyl hipsters before the infection, but meaner.

His sharp brown eyes scan your body, he likes what he sees. Of course you don’t know this, no one does, for John is a master at hiding his emotions.

“She’ll do.” John states plainly, standing up straight and facing the raiders. ‘She’ll do’ was the understatement of the year, he was absolutely attracted to you. Of course he can’t let that show, otherwise the raiders will demand more items to trade you for.

“100 rounds of 9 millimeter ammunition, and four medical packs. I’ll even throw in three gallons of gasoline.” John offers, the raiders immediately grunt in agreement, the leader shaking John’s hand to seal the deal.

You’re still kicking and struggling against your restraints, refusing to be auctioned off like a damn cow. Oh if only you knew what you were in for.

In reality, John has never used his own sperm for his repopulation project. It’s only been his own men, which he has plenty of. His fortification’s ratio of women to men is 1:15, which just goes to show how rare females are in the apocalypse. Women are a hot commodity, and no amount of feminist waves are going to stop that. Men will be men, thirsting over the opposite sex, and once they lay their eyes on one? They’ll stop at nothing to get a piece.

Revolting to think about but it’s just the truth. It is the end of the world after all.

“Take her to my quarters. Now.” John orders his group of men, which two of them scoop you up from the dirt road as you squirm and scream into your gag. John sees your futile determination, and it lights a fire within him.

If he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard in front of everyone at the gate.

John cleared his throat and walked ahead, trying to think of quite literally anything else as he attempted to get his mind off of you, and hearing your muffled pleas for mercy don’t help him in the slightest. A tingle trickles down his long spine, and the little hairs on his arm rise as goosebumps begin to form, just from hearing your voice.

“Shit.” He murmured to himself, as he books it to the nearest building, he needs to distract himself quickly.

-

John’s men heave you into his personal cabin, plopping you down on the comfy vintage looking couch in the corner. You grunt and the men scurry out of the cabin. They know better than to look at John’s new prize.

Little do any of them know, you’re a fighter. Surviving in the wasteland alone is an impressive feat. A feat you have only overcome because you’re tough as hell. You can hunt, scavenge, shoot, stab, whatever it takes to survive, you can do it. The only reason why you’re here in the first place is because 5 grimy raiders jumped you while you were resting in an abandoned building. You felt pathetic, now in the predicament of a lifetime.

There were a few options.

You knew this fancy trick where you could dislocate your own shoulder blades in order to force your arms to be in front of you instead of being bound from behind. Painful but quick, then you could take your gag off and then thrust your arms into your own torso. The fast motion and force would tear the tape from your hands.

But then there were all of the men outside. There was about, what? 30, 40 men from what you could count when the two guards brought you inside. There were women too, not very many though, and for some odd reason, they were all pregnant.

Noticeably so.

You were good at killing, but 40 all at once? You didn’t have a chance in hell.

So, either a suicide mission, or you could wait it out and see what the hell was going on.

You decide on the latter.

Not to mention, those raiders stole all of the equipment and weapons that you had. So that fucking sucks.

Waiting it out sucks too. You may or may not have dozed off on the old comfy couch, your taped face resting against the floral patterned fabric while you rested. Awoken only by the soft sound of the wooden door creaking open, you decided to fake being asleep. Maybe it would give some sort of insight on what the hell was going to happen to you.

John’s boots squeak over the wooden flooring, he groans and immediately goes for the large glass bottle that was sealed underneath the small sink in his cabin.

John’s living space is very nice compared to the other residents in his compound. It’s about 750 square feet of a cabin that looks like it’s straight from the 70s. The small home is of course run on a solar powered generator, providing semi luxury living in the apocalypse.

You noticed this when you were scanning the place for any noticeable weapons to use to your advantage. Unfortunately there wasn’t much.

Nothing out in the open anyway. You continue to fake sleep, laying down on the couch with your pretty eyes closed.

John grunts as he flips through a stack of papers, figuring you would be asleep when he arrived. He knows you’ve been tied up in here for about three hours. The man takes a few steps over towards the couch, looking over it and staring at your lying figure. His heart rate goes up by a few beats.

“Gorgeous, might have to keep you for myself.” John mumbles under his breath, you catch the comment.

John looks at his papers, scribbling a few words down. While he looks at your sleeping face, he debates on whether to wake you up or not. He does. John’s large and calloused hand runs through your hair for a moment, and now you can’t help but open your eyes. This gives you a good time to study your captor’s facial features, he’s towering over you at the moment.

His back bends over and his hand that rubbed your head is now ripping the duct tape off of your mouth as if it were a bandaid. Yelping, you glare at him and clench your jaw.

“Hey shithead, that fucking hurt!” You cough out, gritting your teeth. His stoic expression seemed to lighten for a whole three seconds before he jotted something down on that stack of papers, before sitting in a recliner that was against a wall.

His jeans rub against the leather of the seat, and his brown eyes never leave you, paying even more attention when you manage to wriggle your way up into somewhat of a seated position.

“You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here.” John’s voice is gravelly, and he even seems a bit awkward. “I’m sorry, I typically don’t do anything with intake. Made an exception this time.”

You frown, more confused than anything.

John’s hands fumble with the stack of papers that’s in his hands, as he goes over a few pages before looking up at you again.

“Can I start with your name?”

Blinking a few times, it wasn’t what you were expecting. You could tell him a lie but for some reason your conscious is screaming at you to tell the truth.

So you do, your first name falls from your lips as if you’re talking to a trusted peer. Last names don’t matter anymore in the apocalypse, it’s just one of those things that fell off of the importance scale.

John hums out loud, nodding as he writes your name down, crossing his legs.

“Age?”

You tell him the truth. His bottom lip sticks out a bit and he nodded, jotting that down as well.

“Still have some time left.” John breathes out, so softly that you can’t even hear him.

“Marital status?”

You frown again.

“Why does it matter?” you asked, looking at John with this dumbfounded expression. He sighs.

“Just, whatever it was before the infection.” John elaborates. Still. It was quite irrelevant. At least to you.

“Engaged.” You tell him, honesty is the best policy here. “Died a few years ago.”

John paused before writing anything down.

“Sorry to hear that.” John apologizes, his expression is quite somber, as if he’s recalling bad memories. His canine tooth is digging into his tongue. “Any allergies?”

This strange interrogation went on for about 25 minutes, with answers you provided and small talk in between. You don’t know why but you’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable around him.

“Let me get to the chase.” John sighed, he had told you his name in the middle of your conversation, and it’s been nice having a name to put next to his face. It was so simple and so fitting. John.

“You have two options. Both are similar but one is much nicer than the other.” John tells you, as the hairs on your neck stand up. Your fingers twitch from behind, it’s hard to contain your anxiousness when you’re bound.

“You’re a woman that’s in excellent health, a diamond in the rough, really. Your age is decent for it as well.” John mentions. “You’re also such a sight for sore eyes. I haven’t even seen anyone come in here that was close to looking like you.” He sighs.

Silence fills the room as we stare at each other.

“Our goal at my compound is to do our best to repopulate the country, and to inspire other groups to do as we do.” He explains further. “We have an extensive human breeding program in our compound. It’s a requirement for the females that are brought here to participate.”

During his entire ramble his dark eyes have been ogling your legs and hips.

“So, here are your options.” He starts.

You can’t even fucking believe what you’re hearing right now. The pure shock is causing a ringing in your ears, and you barely pick up what he’s telling you next. John stands from his recliner and takes a few steps towards you.

“I’ll assign you to a random member of our community. You’ll live with him, and he’ll be attempting to conceive with you, my men aren’t known really for being all too kind or gentle.” John says, clasping his hands in front of him.

Your heart is racing and John notices the panic running through your body.

“If they don’t take a liking to you after you reach conception, we’ll just send you to live with the other women on the other side of the fortress.” John shrugs, tapping his boot restlessly on the cabin floor. “Or…” his large hand grabs your chin and lifts it to force you to look up at him.

His rough feeling thumb rolls over your bottom lip, the gears in his head turning while he takes a deep breath. “I can keep you for myself.”

John’s taking in every aspect of your body language and face, he’s noticing the way you are just barely trembling under his touch. He’s really hoping you don’t notice his cock twitch in his pants. He’s gotta get ahold of himself, honestly, he’s a grown man. Why are you making him feel like a horny teenager all over again?

You’re going over the options in your head, while still attempting to find anything to bash John over the head with. But your arms are still bound behind your back. As it stands, you’re completely at the mercy of the long haired man who’s practically drooling over you.

Your pretty eyes blink up at him as your mind races, your heart thumps, it feels like you might even pass out. Was this even real? This had to be a nightmare, right?! Right. There was absolutely no way you were traded for some bullets, gasoline, and a first aid kit and dragged into a human breeding camp, right? All you had to do was wake up.

Wake up. Come on.

Fucking wake up.

Except it was all too real, proven to you by the lingering sting on your mouth from the ripped duct tape. Your lip was even bleeding a bit still from the injury.

Shit.

“I wanna show you how good I am.” John interrupts your rampant train of thought, and snaps you back into your hell hole of a reality. His hand clenches a bit harder against your face, thumb shoving inside of your mouth once you open it to respond to him. This move gives you no time to even create words, instead it gives off a risqué image. An image John is enjoying purely for himself, of his large thumb in between your pretty pink lips. John grunts.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” John asks rhetorically. “God you’re stunning, your parents really blessed you with good genetics.”

You have no idea what the hell you should do, so you do what you think would be best in this scenario.

You suck his thumb. The act in itself is suggestive, but with your pretty eyes batting up at him, your lips around his finger, and a slight bob of your head.

You have John in a frenzy. There’s a bead of sweat that even rolls down the back of his neck, as his breath hitches to the sight of you taking his finger into your lips.

“We could make such good looking children.” John groans at the sight of you. “Please, just, oh god.” His eyes roll to the back of his head. John pulls his thumb from your mouth as he catches his breath.

He’s been anticipating finding the right woman to come along. Delusional as he currently is, he thinks he’s been waiting all of these years just to meet you. It has to be fate, right? You’re just so perfect to him.

“Just, ugh, fuck it.” John growls, his right hand latched onto your throat as he forcibly kissed your dry lips. You gasp in surprise, as his grip on your throat becomes tighter.

“Wa-wait!” you choke out, it doesn’t stop him. He easily grabs your body and brings it to his bed, tossing you onto the mattress. You sit up quickly, but then hear a click, the feeling of cold metal pressing against your head makes you freeze.

Looking up, John’s smiling down at you, his heart fluttering at the mere sight of you. He’s holding a pistol straight to your temple, clicking his tongue at you while your pretty eyes widen at the sudden tension change.

“No waiting, sweetpea.” John grumbles as you notice the handgun safety is off. Shit. “You’re gonna cooperate. I’m not going to let you make that choice, there’s no way in hell I’m letting my men breed you.”

The gun is still being pressed against your skull as he grabs a book from his bedside table, he flips through a few pages and reads the contents over. You’re not able to see what he’s reading since you don’t dare make any sudden movements. His eyes are still on the book while he asks you a question.

“When did you last menstruate?”

You’re still in shock from everything he’s said so far, and this certainly didn’t help.

“Uh, what?” you can’t even comprehend the fact that he asked you such a personal question.

John pressed the gun to your head harder. “Answer me!” he yelled, frustrated at your stalling. John’s deep and frightening voice bellows off of the wooden walls of his cabin, making you wince.

“I think like, 2 and a half weeks ago?” you shakily reply, it feels like you’re about to pass out from the chaotic situation at hand.

He hums affirmatively and grabs a knife, flicking it open.

“No, no please! Please I-“

He goes to cut the tape off from your wrists, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it into the trash nearby. John chuckles at your sudden fear as he continues to hold the gun to your head.

“I haven’t made love to anyone since my wife died.” John croaked out, his eyes looking a little empty and off to the distance as he spoke. He shakes the firearm a bit to intimidate you a bit. As if you’re not already. There’s a gentle smile that plays on his lips and a crazed glint in his brown eyes.

“I never partook in the repopulation process, I just could never see myself making love to any of those other women.” He informs you. “But, you? You’re just,” he takes a sharp inhale and bites his lip. “I think I can manage to be passionate with you.” John whispers, rubbing the back of his neck and nodding to himself. “You're going to reciprocate. Like we’ve known each other for years. And you’re going to do a good job, if not,” he taps the barrel of the gun against your head. You’re trembling beneath him.

“Think you can do that for me?” John asks, looking back at his book and flipping through some pages.

You reluctantly nod, battling the urge to scream and fight for your life. He gives you that same deranged but soft smile, sighing in relief as if he was expecting you to say no, as if there wasn’t the threat of death in the air.

“By the way,” he sighs. “My name’s John.”

You nod awkwardly, as he looks over his book for a few more moments.

“The book says that missionary is the position that has the most success in conceiving.” John mentions, as the reality sets in. This is actually happening. You feel like your world is collapsing in on itself. “Really sell it to me; okay? I’d hate to shoot you.”

All you can do is force a nervous smile and nod, before he sets his firearm down on the bedside table. John continued to stare at you before he cleared his throat.

“Well? Take your clothes off for me, sweet pea.”

You’re slightly disgusted that you’re even listening to the orders that John is giving you. As if you actually have known him for years now. As if you loved him. Your stomach feels sick, you attempt to hide your disdain as you quickly peel off your long sleeve shirt, before John places his hand on your arm before you can pull it over your head.

“Put it back on.”

You let out a deep exhale through your nose, eyebrows furrowing, but you obey. Slipping the shirt back over your body.

“I changed my mind. Stand up.” John commands, as he switches positions, sitting where you were on the bed, as you rise. “Do a strip tease for me.”

He had to be fucking with you now. So you frown and grimace at the thought.

“You’re kidding.” you laugh.

John reaches for his gun.

“Okay! Okay, fine.” You grunt, sighing. You didn’t even know how to do such a thing. John smiles wickedly, leaning back a bit on his bed as you turn around from him. Your hands slowly lift your shirt up, and over your head, John’s staring at your bare skin while the shirt drops to the floor. He bites the inside of his cheek while his shaft presses against his jeans.

You undress to only your undergarments, and you quite literally have no idea what to do next. You really don’t want to wing it and anger him, but you have a feeling if he keeps guiding you through it he’ll lose his patience. So you turn around, surprised to see John with his belt and pants undone.

His large hand is giving his own cock a few long strokes. Speaking of long.

You’re terrified of what that thing is going to do to you tonight. The tip is thick in itself, that’s the spot John’s hand seems to give the most attention. He’s even bucking his hips and thrusting upwards into the grip of his own hand, his eyes never leaving your body.

“Sell it to me. Don’t make me question it. If you don’t, I’ll fucking kill you.” John moans, and your heartbeat races. You notice his free hand is gripping his gun that’s sitting on the mattress.

It’s now or never.

You’ve done this a few times before, it’s been years, but you can probably fake it pretty well. Right?

You saunter up to him, mustering up all of the energy in your body to act this out as realistically as you can.

It’s not like John was ugly. He had a handsome face, you can tell he’s in shape, with those brown eyes that seem to stare into your soul. And you have a thing for big noses anyway. Not to mention, his cock looks really nice.

Alright. You got this.

You straddle his waist, biting your plump lip and taking John’s shirt for him.

“Can’t just have me take my clothes off without you doing the same. Or it’s not fair.” You tease, giggling while your small hand grazes John’s lower shaft in a playful manner, pulling your hand away just as quick.

You were right. He is in shape. He’s lean with a muscular figure, alright, you’ll admit it, he’s attractive. This will help sell it.

“John, baby…” you mew, batting your eyelashes. His breathing gets heavier when you call him that. Okay, that’s good. He likes that.

“You should touch me instead.” you tell him softly, removing his hand from his cock and moving it to your breasts. John even lets go of his gun to unclasp your bra from behind your back. Your nipples harden from the cool cabin air hitting them, and John’s fingertips run over both of them.

“My pretty girl,” he grunts. John’s hands travel down to your hips and he grabs them with a killer grip. You try your best not to wince, but you know damn well there’s going to be bruises all over your after this.

“Our baby’s going to be beautiful…” he mumbles as his lips attach themselves to your neck, planting kisses on your throat. One of his hands trace down to your underwear, sliding it to the side a bit as his finger gently moves onto your clit. You jerk a bit from the sudden pressure, John chuckles at your reaction and from how wet you are, despite him forcing you to go through this.

“Oh yeah. You’re lucky that I make so much cum. It makes this process so much easier.” John tells you, and for some reason, it makes your stomach jump.

A whimper escapes you as he massages your sensitive nub, your head burying itself in the crook of his neck and collarbone, you’re instinctively grinding yourself against his finger.

You hate to admit it but this feels fantastic. It’s been years since you’ve even touched someone else like this. Shit, it’s the end of the world, the last thing that’s been on your mind was a good fuck.

That’s when you feel the gun against your chest this time. The barrel is ice cold compared to John’s flesh, and you look into John’s eyes as he continues to rub your clit.

“Say it.” John demands, finger on the trigger, with that same deranged twinkle in his brown eyes.

“S-say what?” You blubber out in between needy moans. John frowns.

“You know what I mean. Say it like you mean it.” He orders. He must get off on this. John’s gotta get off on having a helpless woman in his arms, with the threat of her losing her life, while also pleasuring her to the brink of euphoria.

You know what he means. But those three words, they’re important. You can’t just throw those around at every crazed man that insists on it. They’re reserved for people who actually deserve it.

Well, you are pretending after all.

The metal digs harder into your upper breast, and you grunt.

“John, I love you.”

He tossed the gun onto the floor and grabbed you closer, kissing you frantically as he took off the rest of his clothing, switching positions so he’s now on top of you.

You hate yourself for liking the way he smells. For the way you moan whenever he touches you in a pleasurable way. You don’t want a child, let alone want a child with an insane, breeding obsessed man.

John’s breathing is ragged while he lifts your hips up, yanking your thong off and sliding a pillow under the small of your back.

“Gravity, it helps sperm reach the cervix.” John musters out in between sloppy kisses between your neck, jaw, and mouth. “Won’t last long, it’s been years since I’ve done this.” he says, quickly moving his cock towards your mouth as you’re pinned down to his mattress. “Come on.”

You unhappily oblige. Opening your mouth to let his dick travel through your lips and down your throat. Swirling your tongue quickly around the shaft as he groans in pleasure from above, pulling himself out quickly. Strings of your saliva hang from his tip as he spreads around the moisture all around his erection. He lines himself up with your cunt, spreading your legs and even lifting each one onto his shoulders.

Fear sets in as you know he’s going to go deep. John shudders in pure ecstasy as he inserts his tip into you, the natural lube helps but it’s been far too long, your initial reaction is to dig your nails into his muscular back and wince.

It’s weird, John seems to actually care about your pleasure. Which in itself is odd since he’s a complete stranger, with only one goal in mind at the moment. He peers down at you, reading your facial expressions, before his thumb lightly kneads your clit once again.

His other hand goes towards your face, stroking your warm and flushed cheek as he kisses your calf that’s placed on his shoulder. Your cunt is now in a mixture of pain and pleasure, confusing you as grunts and whimpers leave your mouth.

“That better? When I do that?” John questions, his long hair draping over his eyes.

You nod.

John begins to thrust, slow and shallow, actually allowing you to adjust to his size. “Say it again, pretty girl.” he grumbled, pushing deeper into your tight cunt. You yelp from the sheer girth that is his cock, nails still making wounds into his flesh.

“I love you! I love you, John!” you cry out, his fingers moving faster on your clit while his thrusts quicken. You still have to sell it to him, so you reach your small hands up to his face and pull him into your own, slamming your lips onto his. You can help but moan loudly against his lips, since the slight repositioning of his body has given him even deeper access to your pussy.

But even this, you can’t fake. Your moans and pleads for more are all too real. And by the way John is wickedly smiling down at you, he can tell. Your tits bounce in rhythm to his movements, as he goes faster, chasing his own climax.

While he pounds into you, you can feel yourself getting close. Your legs instinctively tighten around John’s shoulders as you wheeze. John puts his large hand over your womb, feeling his bulge move in and out of you as he fucks you. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, drawing blood, going absolutely feral at the thought of his seed working it’s way inside of you.

“You’re gonna be my good little breeding doll, aren’t ya? It’s for the greater good, sweetpea.” John moans out, while sweat drips from his forehead. “For the greater good, greater good,” He’s repeating the phrase to himself as he fucks into you, his balls smacking the cusp of your cunt and ass. You can hardly handle the sheer overstimulation you’re experiencing, barely realizing he’s speaking to you.

“Tell me you love me, sweetheart.” John growls. “Be a good little wife, come on now.”

You feel your orgasm drawing closer the faster he goes. You’ve definitely had good sex but nothing like this. It was wrong. You didn’t want it. You don’t even know this man. Tears brimmed your eyelids as you made unhinged noises underneath him.

“I, I l-love you, J-John,” you manage to sputter out, suddenly, you’re seeing double since your eyes are crossing, your orgasm hitting you like a brick.

Your cunt clenched around John’s cock, sending him over the edge. He holds you closer to his large muscular frame, his arms swimming under your back and squeezing you tight. John grunts and moans as he cums, panting as he fills you with it.

“That’s right, baby doll, take my seed, that’s it.” John moans, keeping himself buried deep into your pussy as it finishes dripping out of him. Setting you back down on the mattress, John notices your body that’s completely limp from your cock drunk state. You can hardly move but that doesn’t stop you from feeling John’s cum shooting inside of you.

He strokes your cheek gently and smiles, sucking the blood from his lip and sighing.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” John asks, planting messy kisses on your bare chest and torso, caressing your stomach as he does so. He pulls out, keeping your thighs and hips elevated on the pillow beneath you.

You can hardly think, hell, you can hardly breathe. The weight of the situation sets in your chest but you can’t deal with the emotional repercussions of it at the moment. All you can think of is that gun that’s on the bedside table.

You hate that he made you cum so easily.

You hate the feeling of his cum dripping further into your cunt.

You hate that you didn’t just let him shoot you in the damn head.

You hate that he has a pretty smile and pretty eyes, no matter how demented they look.

You fucking hate that you’re probably going to miss your next period.

You swear you’re gonna be sick.

John is sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over to grab his underwear and pants. Against your better judgement, your arm thrashes towards the firearm on the table, and you graze the barrel against the back of his skull of long dark hair. To your surprise, he doesn’t budge, and when your small finger pulls the trigger…

Click.

Click.

Another damn click.

You frown, pressing the magazine release button, only to realize it has been empty the entire time.

Your hands shake with the hunk of metal in them, your jaw clenching.

You swear you’re seeing red, as John lets out a deep throaty laugh from above.

It’s that handsome shit eating grin again.

Pearly whites accompanied by his five o’clock shadow, he’s already tied his long hair back and is even giving you a nod of appreciation.

“Oh, now I know I chose the right woman to carry my child.”

[yanderestarangel]

☆Yandere!Edward Richtofen ☆

a/n: just using some posts from my old blog ( I ​​excluded it because I wanted to focus more on the things I liked and not stick to just one topic ) Anyway, enjoy.

Tw: male reader and gn, other than "you" no other names used, death, blood, manipulation, harassment, dark themes, non con.

This man met you when you unexpectedly fell into an intradimensional portal connecting realities.

You fell at his feet

Like a fallen, lost angel who needed to be held at any cost and when I say any cost, I mean literally anything.

Young Richtofen tries to hide his sadistic side from you, he will always give you a friendly and reassuring smile, but deep down he wants to see you in your most intimate and fragile state. If you are an independent person who likes to do everything alone, forget it my angel, Richtofen will simply cut your independence completely, whether you like it or not.

He will remind you of how he saved you when you were so lost in his world, the desperation in his eyes as he saw a horde of zombies chasing you, you literally begging a stranger to save you from death, how grateful you are it must be because he did it. the one who found you and none of your mates who would leave you there without a second thought.

He would use anything to see you grateful and fearing in a way. Edward hates this feeling that fills his chest and warms him.

The man hasn't had much human contact in his 30 years of life, the university was empty and cruel to poor Edward and the gods have sent you, their saving angel.

He trembled just listening to you talk, seeing you every day seemed like a difficult task, Richtofen controlled himself more and more not to grab you in the middle of everyone and claim you as his. But you haven't realized it yet. For you, richtofen was just a crazy doctor who had created the zombie apocalypse you were in now while still worrying about returning to your reality, you were afraid, like how much time had passed there, if your world would corrupt like that of Richtofen someday. To you, the innocent Y/N Edward was a friend or acquaintance you were uncomfortable with, but kept as a means of survival and gratitude, after all he set you up and saved you from being eaten alive by the undead. But in the rotten mind of the doctor. You were his. Only his.

Richtofen knew how to get him home, it was simple, easy and fast. But he never told you. Never. Every time you met him, the same thing was repeated.

You would enter his lab in an abandoned building a few meters away where you and the rest of your team slept, he would smile at you asking you to come closer.

You would ask the man again who would pull you into his lap and ask for a kiss in exchange for the information. "-My love..." Richtofen started with you in his lap passing his nose over your neck and hair, you felt uncomfortable with the man's big hands on your thighs going up and up, you could feel the man's breath on your skin . "-I have the name Richtofen, please don't call me that." -you said as you took his hands away and stared at him, the man smiled and lowered his tone looking at the notebook in front of him. "-Nothing so far, I'll see if I can do something else and send you home soon... But nothing my prince." - said the man while blatantly lying to you, he knew how to get you. But he wouldn't. You left the frustrated man's legs and went to his dorm again hearing Richtofen say something but you didn't even turn around to see him.

How long has he been saying the same thing? 2 weeks? 2 months? 2 years? You didn't even know what time it was anymore. In addition to Richtofen, no one in the group was interested in talking to you, which made him frustrated for having only the doctor as a support to not go crazy in this distorted world.

Edward was working on other things, the main one being how to kill more zombies so the two of you could live a little better in that horrible reality. He even thought of opening a portal and running away with you to another place, but that would be too risky and he hated risk. Then you and he would stay in that world forever, but the man saw that you were getting more and more impatient and that worried him leading him to a drastic and horrible measure, kill all his team members and succumb to total madness only you are he .

He waited for you to sleep that night and quickly took care of killing all your team members, Richtofen felt nothing. The warmth of someone else's blood just made him feel empty without any regrets.

He quickly disposed of the bodies giving zombies outside the safe walls of the city, you were quickly returning and showering cleaning the blood and gunshot marks on the gray building. You woke up with a weight on the side of the mattress and quickly turned around to see Edward smiling at you, bidding you a warm good morning.

After that you went downstairs seeing the silence of the dorm and asking the man where all the other members were.

And that's when the theater began.

Richtofen lied playing the victim saying that the men had found the portal to his reality, you smiled happily but everything fell apart when the brunette said that they had entered and placed a timed detonator so no one could find them, it seemed like a false lie and it was really, but the air there and the current loneliness made you hyperventilate with all that belief in your doctor “friend”.

You cried while Richthofen mentally repeated an apology, he blamed himself deep down for all of this, but there was no going back.

[darylspissslit]

Yay so I finished a fic that I kinda abandoned. I started it going in one direction and then switched like halfway through. There was also weeks in between writing because I started this in September. I did go back through a few times and change some stuff so hopefully that helped with the mess.

Also I try to keep y/n descriptions to a minimum so they can be inclusive to race and gender but this story is not. They are feminine, fat, and have short curly hair so I'm sorry for that. Its all easy to ignore though so hopefully everyone can still enjoy it ☺️

This is part of the Norman Whores Discord Prompt Challenge. Shout out to @theteasetwrites for making such a fun community 💖 Unfortunately this is a few months past due sorry.

September 2022 Prompt: “I don’t like them all looking at you.” “Remember, you’re the only one who can look at me all night long.”

Word Count- 2,033

A wedding in the middle of the apocalypse. Friends and family gathering, beautiful dresses, music, food, and even a wedding cake complete with bride and groom atop the smooth white icing. It was a beautiful site to see. Nothing you thought you would ever see again, everything seemed normal within the protective cold steel of the walls.

Maggie and Glenn were getting married. Sure they were already married back at the prison, but being in Alexandria gave them the opportunity to have a wedding. Was it impractical to have a wedding at the end of the world? Yes. Was it a poor use of people and resources to go out and raid bridal shops for dresses? Yes, yes it was. But it was okay because today Alexandria was going to be filled with smiles and love.

You looked in the mirror and smiled. Your hair was done properly for the first time since the apocalypse started. Your hair was short and curly only reaching the bottom of your ears so there wasn’t much you could do with it but you had the sides twisted and pinned back with sparkly hair pins leaving the rest of your hair down.

Smoothing your hands down your dress you smiled even wider. You were wearing a silky light green dress. It had thin straps and the chest was rather revealing. The dress stopping at the knees. The smooth tight fabric accentuated your stomach perfectly. What looked like a simple dress when lying on the bed, on you it looked like the gods took your body and dipped it in silk.

“Woah” you heard lowly behind you. Turning around you saw Rosita standing in the doorway. She was wearing a dark blue sparkly strapless dress down to her knees. “Woah yourself” you said back smiling. “We look hot” she said walking up to the mirror to check herself out. You let out a light giggle and nod “hell yeah we do” you said turning around to check yourself out too.

Your group gathered outside as everyone was getting ready. Michonne was adjusting Ricks tie while laughing at some story he told. Abraham and Sasha sat on the steps of the house talking about their last experiences at a wedding. You and Rosita sat on the porch swing talking about how excited y’all were to dance later.

You looked up as the front door opened, Daryl walking out onto the porch you smiled wide. A dark grey button up a nice contrast to his usual all black wardrobe, with black dress pants, with shiny black dress shoes to match. He looked over to you sitting on the porch swing. His eyes first meeting your face with a big lopsided grin. His eyes trailing from your face down your chest his smile gently fading and biting his lip as his eyes continued down to your thick thighs wrapped in the silky fabric of your dress, his eyes continuing down to your bare legs all the way to your crossed ankles and back up your body to meet your eyes.

You looked back over to Rosita and excused yourself. Standing up and walking over to Daryl you ran your hand down his arm “well don’t you look handsome” you said in sultry tone lacing your fingers together. He smiled and looked down trying to hide the blush quickly spreading, scuffing the toe of his shiny shoe on the porch.

“You look amazing” he replied kissing the back of your hand.

You walked down the steps with Daryl following the rest of the group to gather at the chairs neatly placed in rows lining a walkway to the gazebo. White lace ribbons and fake white and yellow flowers embellished the back and legs of the chairs. Leading up to the gazebo more flowers were scattered along the ground. The gazebo was decorated with white and yellow ribbon and flowers matching the chairs. Streamers with paper doves hung from the ceiling.

Before long family and friends sat chatting amongst themselves. Glenn, Maggie and the group stood under the gazebo. The group paired up and split on either sides of the bride and groom. Hand written vows were shared with a cheesy poem Glenn wrote for Maggie. Glancing over you even saw a tear roll down Daryl’s cheek. “You may now kiss the bride!” Gabriel exclaimed as Glenn and Maggie went in for a giggly kiss. Holding hands as they walked back down the isle. Hugging people along the way as people threw flower petals over them.

Music played through the house as people danced and talked. Plenty of homemade wine and moonshine passed around in place of champagne. Maggie and Glenn embraced as they danced. Maggie’s head resting on Glenn’s shoulder they swayed side to side. Michonne and Rick slow dancing behind them Michonnes bright smile never fading.

You left Daryl on the sofa to retrieve both of you a refill. Standing at the counter pouring some peach wine in the glasses you heard footsteps approach. “looking good” you heard sam the local douchebag behind you.

Choosing to ignore him you poured the second glass as he leaned on the counter next to you. “why isn’t your boyfriend getting your drink?” He asked in a smug tone.

You rolled your eyes and sighed “because I can do it myself” you replied.

“well you’d never have to lift a finger if you were with me” he said as he reached out to touch your arm.

You moved your arm away quickly and looked at him eyes narrow “well here’s one finger I wanna lift” you said as you raised your middle finger and picked up the glasses just as Daryl walked in.

“Everything alright?” Daryl asked walking over to you and wrapping his arm around your waist protectively as he eyed the guy. “yeah I was just about to bring you this” you replied handing him his drink. Sam rolled his eyes as he stormed out of the kitchen. You turned to Daryl and smiled “you alright?” he asked again looking at you. You nodded and smiled “he’s just being a dick again” you said nonchalant grabbing his hand and leading him back to the main room.

You stood with Daryl and a few people talking about how great the day turned out and sharing new decorating ideas for future celebrations. During the conversation Daryl’s arm slipped around your waist. You smiled and continued talking. After a few minutes you noticed Daryl had slowly inched his way behind you towering over you like a lighthouse on a cliff. You looked up at him and noticed he was staring over at a group of guys drinking across from you. You looked back at the person that was talking and continued the conversation. Daryl still standing behind you squeezing your side every once in a while. “Excuse us” he said in a gruff tone gently tugging your hand with him making your way through the house.

You grabbed his arm stopping him on the porch. “What’s wrong?” you asked looking up at him confused. “Nothin” he shrugged grabbing his smokes from his back pocket. You grabbed the matches from one hand while he put the cigarette to his lips. Striking the match and bringing it to his hand rolled cigarette he looked at the flame and then to your eyes as he lit the smoke. You blew the match out and tossed it on the sidewalk. Leaning against the railing of the porch you watched Daryl quietly smoke. “So you pulled us away from the party for a smoke break?” you asked crossing your arms. He gave a small shrug as he took a drag. Daryl took a few more puffs and shifted nervously “I don’t like them all looking at you” he spoke breaking the silence. You furrowed your brow and looked at him with a small frown “what do you mean?” you asked as you reached out to gently rest your hands on his arms. “Everyone. They all look at ya like you’re the most beautiful person in the room. And ya are” he said almost ashamed of being jealous.

He wanted to leave. He didn’t like the group of guys staring at you like you were the last drop of water in a drought. Daryl knew you were beautiful, probably the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He was scared of losing you. It took an apocalypse killing off half the population just for him to find someone who cared about him and, it took most of the apocalypse for him to even make a move. So now that you were his he couldn’t lose you. He knew you loved him but, there was still that angry little demon scratching at his brain and tugging on his heart telling him he wasn’t good enough for you.

You smiled wide your cheeks feeling warm from being called beautiful by Daryl. Its not that he didn’t do it often because he did. Daryl called you beautiful every chance he could, you just never got used to it.

Cupping the sides of Daryl’s scruffy cheeks you leaned in kissing him passionately. You pulled back and looked him in the eyes “Daryl I love you. You’re my best friend and the best partner anyone can have. You don’t have anything to worry about. I promise.” You stroked his cheeks gently with your thumb and pecked his lips.

“They can look at me sometimes but remember, you’re the only one who can look at me all night long” you said with a cheeky grin as you shook your hips side to side trying your best to be cute and bring out a smile. Successfully Daryl smiled wide pulling you closer to him. “I love ya bunny” he said his accent sounding thick and he rested his forehead against yours.

You closed your eyes for a second enjoying the contact. “Well when you’re done we’re going back in. I haven’t gotten my slow dance yet.” You said lovingly

You grabbed his hand as he snubbed out his cigarette. Leading him back inside you found an open spot in the house to stand. Grabbing his arms and wrapping them around your waist you looked up at him and smiled as you then wrapped your arms around his neck. Swaying gently side to side you started to slow dance. Fade Into You playing on the boombox the lovely melody carrying through the house.

Looking up at Daryl you smiled noticing the nervous look on his face. “Is this alright?” you ask starting to second guess making him dance with you. Maybe he was ready to go home and you were keeping him up. He looked back down at you with a little nod. You smiled and continued to dance to the sappy love song playing.

You rested your head on his chest as you danced to the music. Closing your eyes you let the music and Daryls warmth take over relaxing your every muscle, you felt so in love. He was your safe place and you were his. Nothing around you mattered in the moment.

Daryl ran his hands slowly up and down your exposed back from the backless dress enjoying the feel of the soft skin against his work worn hands. He was at peace.

A few songs passed before you finally stopped. The party had died down and people were starting to head home. You guys started to clean up a little deciding it would be best to finish cleaning tomorrow.

“Ready to go home?” Daryl asked as you threw a few empty beer bottles into a recycling bag.

You looked at him and nodded as you walked over to him reaching your hand out for him to hold. “I only wanna go home with you” you said smiling as you loved your fingers together and headed for the door. Daryl pulled you closer kissing your temple he smiled. He was insecure but you were never gonna let him forget that you weren’t going anywhere.

[thecoolerlucky]

I Got Roped Into Being A Hero

Chapter 1: Kidnapped by The Hero

Contents (Warnings/Mild spoilers): Introducing Matchbook and how he became a sidekick to one of the strongest hero in the world.

Wordcount: 3,300+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some believed everyone's sudden gain in unique powers or features was due to the next step in evolution. Others said it was a crazy attempt at making a zombie apocalypse. The work of gods, a meteor that changed their biology, or the results of a secret alien invasion.

No one really had an answer. As far as everyone knew, it just happened. 

It sent the world into chaos, and it took a long time for it to be calm again. Not that it was without turmoil, but they had systems in place for that. All mighty heroes watching over the cities all over the world, helping take down those that decided to use their powers against the less fortunate like...

"Hey, Match, can you give me a light before you go?" The grungy, pot bellied guy with a toucan head said as he wiggled the cigar in front of him. 

You can't even use them right.

"Sure," Matchbook sighed as he let go of the sandwich shop's back door. The heavy weight of it slammed it shut behind him.

He put his fingers together and in a single snap they created a flame atop his middle finger. He offered it to Little Oscar's cancer stick. 

Little Oscar chortled the best he could and lifted his cigar to meet it. "I get it, you hate me asking." He jested, poking fun at the lad. 

"It's the easiest finger to light," he explained  and saw himself explaining hundreds of more times in the future.

After Little Oscar lit it and nodded gratefully, holding it between his beak, Matchbook left. 

He shook his hand to put out the tiny flame. He couldn't make flames bigger than that of a match hence the nickname he had since elementary school. 

He wasn't as gifted as his parents or sister. His mom was a fire manipulator and conjurer, while his dad could heal from injuries at a near instantaneous rate. And his little sister was a fire breather. 

She created sparks much like their mom, except in her mouth. They learned this when she accidentally sneezed as a kid and set Matchbook on fire. 

On the same day, he learned he was immune to heat, just like his mom and sister.

He kicked up a pebble as he strode the sidewalk. He struck it as much as he could on his way home, avoiding the construction specialist setup repairing a damaged city block from a recent villain attack. Most people didn't have too many powerful abilities, but those that did didn't hesitate to make a mess. 

He lost the poor pebble on the way when he kicked it into the fresh and still drying cement. He picked up his pace after that.

It was a long hour walk before he saw his apartment in the distance. If I still had my bike I'd get home so much faster. He recently lost it during a jelly Villain attack and the collateral claim had yet to go through for a replacement. I should move closer. 

Matchbook worked at that shop for a year and enjoyed the mundane task of making sandwiches. It made it easy and gave him time to think about-

"HEY!" A feminine voice shouted far behind him. 

He thought about looking back until a nearby  RuuMmbBBleEe of the destruction told him to head home instead. He subtly picked up the pace. I'm not getting caught outside during a fight. 

"HEY, SIR!"

Sir. I'm barely 22. He pretended he didn't hear them but they were getting closer. He wasn't good at power walking. I can't break out into a full sprint.

A hand firmly gripped Match's left arm to seize his motion.

Oh great. He turned around, holding a forced friendly half smile like he wasn't trying to ignore them a second ago. 

“Oh sorry, I didn't…” He trailed off. 

She let out an exasperated huff in front of him and hunched over to catch her breath. The parts of her blond bob cut hair that didn’t stick to her face from sweat fell forward as she did. 

It wasn't that hot outside, it was a crisp cool sixty degrees, with a light breeze through the buildings. Has she been chasing me for a while? I didn't hear her. 

His eyes drifted to the notepad in her one hand, and as she lifted her head, she smiled. Her glimmering determination reminded him of his little sister.

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded, stood up straight, and adjusted her white blouse. “Yes, sorry, sir.” Do I really look that old? You look the same age as me!  “I’ve been chasing The Hero around all day, and lost him, have you seen him?” 

“Which one?” He mentally kicked himself when he asked. Why did I ask which one? I hadn’t seen a hero all day. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, “this always happens. Why did he pick such a vapid name?” She removed her hand from her nose, “The Hero is his superhero name.” Matchbook heard the hint of disdain for that hero's name. Although he recognized it, he didn't keep track of any other hero's besides his mother and sister.

She rolled up her sleeves, unintentionally drawing his attention to her forearms. He took note of her muscles. More defined than I ever had. She’s in pretty good shape for a journalist? If that’s what she is.

He guessed by her question and notepad. 

“He's one of the strongest heroes in the world, the one who..." she curled her fist, and much like an elderly man complaining about his lawn, shook it at the sky. "Somehow has a backstory that can’t be traced back past surface level research. A person born with a power like him would have been talked about for years, glorified in the media, but it’s like he appeared out of thin air."

She continued her spiel and Matchbook bobbed his head, trying to think of the best way to get out of this conversation. He didn’t know this woman, he barely said a sentence to her and she explained all the inconsistencies with The Hero’s story. I’m not big into hero scandals. 

Regardless, Matchbook politely replied. "It sounds like you have a vendetta against him." I want to go home and relax, no matter how nice you seem.

"I do." She held up her notepad, "I have been chasing that idiot all over the city! So again, have you-" There was another loud bang, and turning back, the two could see the furrow of smoke not that far away. "seen him…?"

He glanced back at her. She looked ready to run toward it.

She's going to get herself hurt. He tugged her attention back, "I haven't, but by the sounds of it, if you don’t live nearby you should get to a shelter.” He noticed the few people on the streets were doing just that. There wasn't one that far from his apartment.

"No way, it might be linked to the hero!" If she’s willing to run into danger, she probably has a power to back herself up. 

He lifted his hand and the next eruption stole his chance to say goodbye. On the fifth floor, overhead, an object crashed straight through the building and partially into the one next to it. They both instinctually ducked at the noise, Matchbook covered his head and saw whatever the object was, it brought some of the second wall down with it and landed in the alley a little bit further back from where they currently stood. 

The woman’s arm whipped up and grabbed at his shirt. She got him by his uniform and yanked him into her. She threw them both back. Neither of them fell, only stumbled as a few pieces of the apartment came down. They fell into the sidewalk where he once stood, exploding into dust upon impact near his shoes. 

That wouldn’t have been a fun trip to the hospital. 

The streets were empty, everyone either got home or went to a shelter. He looked up, seeing that was his apartment. So, unfortunately, he didn't have a room to hide in. He ran around her, expecting to hear her steps behind him. She didn’t follow.

You gotta be kidding me. “Lady, we should get to a shelter! If there’s a villain we can get hurt!” He wasn’t quite running yet—he was slowly moving toward the direction of the shelter a few blocks away. 

She ignored him. She went toward the alley. What is she doing! 

He followed her. His objective was to pull her like she did him. 

Matchbook barely caught her whisper. “Which hero is that?”

He felt his eyes drawn to the entity standing there. The man was in a luchador wrestling outfit, adorned with a sparkling cape. Though, Matchbook tore his eyes away as it looked very very ‘form fitting’ bright red suit. That's a colorful outfit, he's probably some hero?

The man smiled, leaned at them, and threw himself forward and into the woman. Matchbook couldn’t track the speed he moved. Nor did Match move fast enough to get out of the girl's way when she went to dodge. 

The man got the woman with both of his meaty hands. He squeezed at her waist and she ordered him to let her go. His muscles and body looked to swell the longer he held her. His uniform threatened to tear at the seams.

He cackled as he shook her like a toy. “You're gonna be my little hostage.”

What should I do? I can't fight him, he's huge. He was bigger than most body builders, muscles the size of Matchbook's head. 

When he got close enough to her face, she threw a punch. It connected with his nose, making him coil back and cuss.

She whined as he squeezed tighter. 

He might kill her. Matchbook thought, his heart pounded in his head, along with a giant whistle from farther behind him. What if it's another Villain? He didn't want to turn around and find out. 

I don't know her. He heard the woman whine out again as the man laughed, ignoring Matchbook's pathetic presence completely. 

He threw himself forward, snapping the fingers on his right hand, and moved his tiny flame near the villain's cape. It didn't take long for it to catch fire.

He jumped back and shouted, "OH NO, Your cape's on fire!"

The fire spread faster than Matchbook expected, bringing that man's attention off the woman. She took her opportunity while being dropped to hit the hulking guy with a firm blow to his crotch.

The man hollered, weakly undoing his cape from the ground.

The whistling behind Matchbook got louder, he ran to her and got her arm. “Come on!”

She followed his tugging and the two could hear the villain getting up. “YOU BRATS!” He shouted. 

His feet pounded against the street like he grew with their fear, or at least Matchbooks. 

“TO YOUR RIGHT!” A voice yelled.

They ducked to the left as another being slammed into the paved streets. His palms collided with it first and he ran on his hands for a few extra feet, making humongous hawk wings that protruded from his bare back melted quickly and rejoined his flesh. The helmet clad, muscle ripped individual threw himself up and into a standing position. 

He stood much taller than the average hero, more the size of a villain. He dusted himself off, unscathed after his theatrical landing. He pressed a button on the side of his visor, staring directly at the woman and Matchbook, as them and the Villain were motionless during the escapade. His eyes were a vibrant, shimmering purple with meshes of pink. 

He walked calmly to them.

“Are you two citizens, alright?” His voice carried the same sweet sincerity as a grandmother who happily overfed her grandchildren. 

Match nodded.

"The Hero! I need to talk to you." She declared, forgetting about the trouble behind them. Not that Matchbook was any better.

The villain snapped out of his trance. Matchbook didn’t look back in time for the hunched man to hook his arm around his neck. He brought him up, “you stay back or I’ll kill him,” He flexed his much smaller muscles. Dangled up, unable to move out of fear that the grip would crush his windpipe, he felt small and helpless.

The Hero put up his hands and didn’t move. “Put him down.” He advised, keeping his eyes tracked on Match. I gotta do something.

Matchbook snapped his fingers again and put the flame to the man’s arm. He had never used it against someone like this, but he didn’t see much choice. The man cried out, dropped him, and the Hero snatched Matchbook up and brought him to the woman. 

“Is your throat okay?”

Once Matchbook was safely on the ground, he rubbed it. “I’m okay.” He was lucky the Villain didn’t put too much pressure on it.

The Hero sighed with relief, “good. Now, you two, stay back.” His eyes shifted, though his head barely turned. His pupils looked to expand as they twisted in the villains direction. “I’ll handle the villain.” The tonal shift made him jump.

The Hero’s face rose in a smile, revealing sharp incisors that Match didn’t see before. The wrestler, or villain dressed as one looked thinner. Matchbook didn’t know if it was because he was being compared to the Hero, or because of something with his ability. 

“You destroyed property, attempted robbery, and threatened a civilian’s life.” The Hero’s voice boomed, silencing everyone's hearts and breath. His statement was followed by an air vibrating laughter. 

It knocked the man on his butt. His muscles were reduced so much that he looked like he had been starving for two weeks in the tundra. 

“I’m sorry- I’ll g-go quietly.” 

The Hero grabbed his helmet, he tossed it off. It bounced on the floor like a toy as his own size increased. His white hair flourished in the open. 

“You’ll go quietly?” The Hero mocked as he swayed like a drunkard. 

The fear-stricken villain tried to rise to his feet, he bumbled to stand. 

The Hero stood over him, crouched down to grab him. He got the villain picking him up with one hand, wrapping it around his waist. 

“They’re never quiet.” 

The villain pushed desperately at his hand as the steadily growing Hero brought him close to his head.

Matchbook’s eyes couldn't look away when The Hero's mouth opened wide. It made the villain frantically yell, and it was quickly silenced by The Hero's tongue at his face. It partially coiled around the man's head before bringing him inside his maw.

Matchbook’s mind was blank. He could only watch The Hero swallow down the villain, his throat expanding as he did, and what was left outside flailing helplessly in the air.

The act disturbingly reminded him of a nature film, where a snake slowly, surely, and efficiently gulped down its prey. 

Except this man was very much alive. He kept struggling even though he was pretty much fully inside him. 

Match didn't know how long he watched. It felt prolonged but in reality it took a minute. The last bit of the villain vanished and The Hero exhaled into the air afterward.

The Hero’s previous devilish demeanor dropped and he smiled, childishly. He glanced down at his middle, "Secured.” He said a loud, while his midsection was lively from the movement within it. “Calm down, Villain, I'll take you in soon."

Villains eat people. Not Heroes. Matchbook thought still awestruck by disbelief. 

His shoulders then rose when he saw The Hero was walking to him again.

The woman's voice, slightly perturbed, but determined to talk to him rushed forward, "YOU'RE GOING TO ANSWER MY QUESTIONS THIS TIME!" She bravely stomped to him, disregarding the massive height difference between them now. She barely came up to his knee, if at all. 

She got within a few feet of him, so his stomach wouldn't obscure either of them from seeing the other. How can she even talk to him like that? Did she not see him eat someone? Does she not see the human-like shape inside him?

Matchbook took the opportunity to start walking backward from the madness.

The Hero put up his hands, as if she held power over him and his smile wavered anxiously. “I think you have mistaken me for someone else…” He poked at his stomach, “and even if I was the right one, I need to finish talking to my sidekick and get this criminal to the authorities.” 

“Sidekick?”

The Hero looked over at Matchbook and so did the woman, he froze once they did. Why are they looking at me? Why is The Hero looking at me!

Matchbook hunched inward, afraid of the approach. He stumbled over the curve and The Hero loomed over him. He dropped into a squat, used to the moving weight, and harmlessly smiled at Match. 

They were nearly level with one another—it didn't stop Matchbook's eyes from continuing to trail away from his face. 

“I saw your heroics while I was overhead trying to find this dastardly Villain.” Matchbook didn't need The Hero to gesture anything. “You did great.”

His hand reached out to pat Match’s head. The best he could do was tap it with his finger tips. “Are you another hero’s sidekick in training?”

He heard his question, his attention was too drawn to the woman who willingly tugged at the pant leg of his stretchy costume. Why is she okay with this? It’s not like he hadn’t heard about another person getting eaten but never had he seen it outside of shows. 

“HELLO?” The Hero waved his giant hand before Match’s face. “You didn’t get hurt did you?” 

The concern shoved Matchbook from his thoughts. “N-no.” His brain processed everything that had been said. “To both questions.” 

The Hero’s hands slammed onto the ground, eagerly. “That’s perfect!” His hand came up and grabbed Matchbook before he could react. “I’m in desperate need of a new sidekick!” The Hero, leaving little room for Match to rebuttal, threw him over his shoulder and held his hand over him securely. 

What is he doing?! Matchbook could barely wheeze out a, “huh,” as the ground was farther from him. 

“Don’t you dare run off again!” She said, as The Hero hunched back down, his body tensing as he did. 

“Now, citizen, please stand back.” 

The Hero nudged her with his leg and she complained further. “Quit it!” 

Matchbook’s vocabulary returned, “Hold on, I didn’t agree to be your-” The next thing he knew, the air was knocked out of him as they shot upward. Matchbook couldn’t hold in his scream as the contents of his lunch threatened to come back up.

He sealed his lips, still held and feeling the incredible force against his body. His eyes, barely open, saw the beautiful city they flew over. Something he would have admired if he was looking at it through a computer screen on the GROUND. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, clutching as hard as he could into The Hero’s flesh. Please, please, PLEASE put me down nicely!

The wind whistling fast past his eardrums slowly dissipated and he finally heard The Hero’s voice. “Whoops, I overshot the docks again!” 

He opened his eyes, squinting, as they were across the water. The docks were in the distance and they were flying much slower now.

“Just fly us back there! You have wings!” Matchbook whimpered, still clutching what he could.

The Hero laughed, “Ha, you’re right!” Then the force shifted and Matchbook felt his body being pulled upward, away from him as they were falling. “How do I do that again?”

“WHAT!” Matchbook shouted. They were rapidly approaching the water.

The Hero twisted himself and Matchbook in the air, He swung Matchbook in front of him, pushed him with whatever force he could, and got his back ready to strike the water. 

And the last thing Match saw before they struck was The Hero mouthing the word, ‘sorry’.

…

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Next Chapter

Catch up, see some art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

I Got Roped Into Being A Hero!

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Two (Part 2)

We don’t really know where we are headed, but in the middle of the day in the dust and the heat we find ourselves halfway up a mountain with the sun belting down on us. Jude spins his hat around so that the brim is shielding the back of his neck while I ask him innocently if he thinks that the 90s are back. 

“You seem to be feeling better,” He smirks as I cycle ahead of him, creating S shapes in the dirt with my tires, and I angle my face up to the sun and breathe in deeply as the last of my hangover floats away. “Yes,” I say, “So much better.”

I wouldn’t have been able to do this trip a year ago, back when I barely moved around at all and had gained enough weight that my parents started to feel it was appropriate to comment on it. Now, thanks to Shane and our morning runs and our evenings in the gym I feel lighter, stronger, more energetic than I ever have, and while these hairpin mountain roads aren’t easy and my legs are burning, there’s a certain thrill in being able to do something like this without the taste of blood in my lungs. 

Jude, on the other hand, is wheezing after twenty minutes. “Do you think we should stop for a break soon?” 

“If you like.”

“I don’t know how you have the stamina for this, Evie.”

We pass a little sign that we can’t understand, but next to the Greek symbols is an image of a body of water, and an arrow that points down a narrow trail through a tangle of Aleppo pine, tantalisingly shaded from the sun. We leave our bikes in the underbrush and hike down the rocky trail together, stumbling over rocks and snapping twigs on the rusted earth. 

“Do you hear that?” Says Jude, and I stop. “What?”

“Water.”

“Well I hope there’s water, seeing as that’s what the sign said.”

“Yeah, but it’s rushing water.”

I listen, and sure enough I can hear the roar of it in the near distance, splashing, sloshing. “I think it’s a waterfall.”

And I am correct. Within five minutes we arrive at a clearing where an avalanche of water cascades from a rocky height into the lake beneath it. Droplets form into clouds around the bubbling, foaming point of contact, and I have never wanted to swim in something so badly. 

“I imagine it’s cold,” Jude says as I tear off my clothes, and it is. It’s freezing in the way that lake water always is, as I suck in sharply as the little ripples I’ve created lap up against the sun warmed skin of my belly. Jude drags his t-shirt over his head by the back of his collar, throws it onto the ground and then he rushes in to join me, diving beneath the water without issue. He accidentally splashes me when he comes up for air and I squeal.

“Come on, Evie, this isn’t like you, just get your head in.”

“It’s cold!”

“It’s actually fine, do you want me to help you?”

“Don’t!” I shriek, “Don’t splash me! Don’t dunk me in!” He reaches for my hips beneath the water, “Come on, it’s fine, it’s just that your skin has gotten warm.”

“I know that you’re going to drag me in if I don’t do this myself.”

He pretends to be offended, “I’d never.”

“Jude!”

“Evie!”

“Don’t!”

“I won’t,”

“You will! I know you, God, you’re just dying to, aren’t you?”

“Evie, baby,” His hands tighten almost imperceptibly on me and that’s all it takes for me to sacrifice myself and dunk my head in before I can give him the satisfaction. I come up spluttering and gasping and clawing my matted hair out of my face. 

“Jesus Christ,” he’s saying now, “Are you alright?”

“You were about to dunk me.”

“I wasn’t! I’m kind of wondering how offended I should be at your lack of trust in me.”

“I trust you,” I say, “I just like to have control over the things that happen to me,” I swim backwards towards the centre of the lake and he follows. “Life’s full of things you can’t.”

“Yeah well I’d like to control as much as possible. Like for example if there was a zombie apocalypse I would kill myself immediately.”

“You would? I think I’d try to survive for as long as possible.”

“And have what kind of life?”

“I don’t know, a hopeful one I guess.”

“You’d live in fear and filth and have to hunt and skin animals and always be losing the people you love, all while knowing that life would never go back to the way it was?”

He shrugs. “I think I could make it work.”

“I bet you think that. And you’d probably try to make the best of your everyday life, even when improvement is clearly hopeless.”

“You accusing me of being an optimist?”

I snicker, “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe that you’d leave me all by myself if the apocalypse happened, I think that’s selfish, Kilbride. We’re supposed to be a team,” He swims closer and hooks his arms around me, so close now that I could count the tiny droplets of water that punctuate his impossibly long eyelashes. “What if I killed and skinned all of the meat for you and all you had to do was cook it?”

“Oh, could you not cook it too? You know I’m not as good as you in the kitchen.”

“Okay, I’ll do everything then, all you have to do is stay with me.”

I consider this, “Hm. No. You know, I think I’d still kill myself.”

This shocks a laugh out of him, “So the gist of this conversation is that I will do double the work to keep you safe, and you’ll peace-out at the first sign of difficulty?”

“In a zombie apocalypse situation, yeah.” I smile up at him sweetly, “Does that worry you? I’d probably encourage you to do the same.”

“Nah I’ll fight until the end.” 

“Wow, the hero of the story.”

His lips are slippery against mine, our noses cold as they brush together but the velvety heat of his mouth feels like home, and warms me all the way down to my toes. Our warmth can’t fend off the cold water forever, though, and soon we’re shivering, blue hands and chattering teeth, and have to retreat back to the shore. He kisses me still as he wraps a towel around my shoulders, and some more when we sit on the ground, soft dirt sticking to our wet legs until we’re warmed and dried by the sun again. 

“I’m obsessed with your mouth,” He murmurs, and I let him trace the shape of it with his thumb, enjoying the look on his face when I gently bite down on the pad of it. I never really know what to say when he tells me things like that. It feels a bit awkward just to say ‘thanks’, so I just lie back on my towel and pull him over me so that he can more easily draw shapes on my face, down my neck, my chest, to my ribs. Of course I touch him too, because it is a privilege to be allowed to, and I smooth my fingers over all of the hard lines of his chest and his stomach, which sucks in sharply when I get too close to the waistband of his shorts like a warning. I enjoy the way that he reacts to me. 

“What are you thinking about?” He wonders, having caught the moment that my eyes drift away to watch the clouds, and if I was ready to be completely honest with him I’d tell him that I was imagining what he might look like without his shorts on. 

“Honestly, I’m hungry,” I murmur. “All I have in my stomach is this morning’s toast.”

He sits up, “Well thankfully I have something.”

“Really?”

He rummages around in his things and then grins as he tosses me a familiar, crumpled little paper bag. I can’t help but to laugh, “My peach rings.”

“My peach rings, excuse me. Those were a gift.”

“I’m sorry, well, may I have one?”

“Yeah, you may,” He slumps down next to me and we pick away at what’s left of the bag, and they’re still too sweet for me, but my stomach doesn’t care, it’s just grateful for something solid. 

We watch the waterfall for a while, in silence, the way that the light hits it and creates little rainbows in the spray. Fish leap and grasshoppers chirp. I rest my head on Jude’s shoulder.

“This is a nice day.”

“It is.”

“I’m glad you wanted to do this.”

“Yeah, well, everything I do is better when you’re doing it too.” He shifts to put his arm around me. “I’m going to miss you loads when I’m back in Berlin.”

“Yeah,” and I hesitate, “What do you think you’ll do after you hand in your assignments? Have you thought about it at all?”

“Of course,” He looks down at me, “Do you think I won’t come back? I thought that was obvious.”

“I didn’t find it obvious.” Silently I worry that we are bad at communication.

“There’s nowhere else I can be, and it feels right to be in Dublin. Jen needs me, and now that things are going well with us I’d just really like to be around.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. You really thought I was going to stay in Germany after all of this?”

“I don’t know what I thought.” 

“No, Evie, I’m moving home.”

“Well, that’s handy.”

He laughs and digs the very last peach ring out of the bag, “C’mere,” He lifts up my hand and splays out my fingers, and the ring is awkwardly large and the sugar is melting but he carefully places it onto my finger, “This is the softest thing I’ve ever done, but nobody is here to laugh at me except for you. Can’t we just admit that we’re together? I want you to be my girlfriend.”

I look down at the sticky ring, and he’s right, it is a soft gesture, it’s cheesy and embarrassing, but I don’t feel like laughing at him at all. Actually I want to break down in sobs. “I will,” I say. 

“Oh, that’s good,” He bows his head and carefully bites the ring off me. “Don’t tell Claire I just did that, because then she’ll tell Shane and I’d have to go into hiding and change my name if he found out.”

I laugh and throw my arms around his neck, “God, I won’t, I’ll never tell a soul. I’ll make up something really slick and sexy and say that you did that instead.”

“Good, my reputation is at stake here,” He captures my mouth in a sweet, sugary kiss, lowers me back onto my towel and covers my body with his. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[pedroscurls]

Title: One Drunken Night (Part 9.)

CHAPTER TITLE: The Truth

Character(s): Negan (pre-apocalypse), Joel Miller (pre-apocalypse, au), Reader (third-person POV) Summary: Negan tells Reader the truth. Word Count: 3,791 Author's Note: Stay tuned!  Warning: Mentions of death

(GIF source: @loregifs, @londoncapsule)

Joel felt terrible for a couple of reasons. One being that he knew how hard she worked to get to this point, to have her own art show, only to leave early to deal with Negan. The second being that he didn’t know how she was going to react if she ever found out that Joel knew Negan was married. The guilt was eating at him and when they finally made it back to the house, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. 

Both men were standing in the middle of the living room, staring at each other with their respective injuries due to their scuffle at the gallery. 

“So, you finally grew some balls and asked her out, huh?” Negan broke the silence.

Joel sighed, his jaw tightening. “My relationship with her don’t concern you.”

“Does she know that I was married?” Negan asked.

Joel shook his head.

“Wow. You actually kept that shit a secret?”

“Like I said, some things are best kept a secret.”

Negan shrugged, glancing around the house. He noticed more photographs of the little girl and he felt his heart leap at the sight of her. He couldn’t believe that he was a dad. 

“Lucille died,” he blurted out. 

Joel let his eyes soften for a moment, noticing how Negan had turned his attention elsewhere. “H– how long ago?”

“A year.”

“I’m sorry,” Joel replied. 

“Whatever,” Negan muttered. He glanced over at Joel, taking note of the sympathetic look on the other man’s face and it angered him. Instead of making another scene, he looked away and walked towards the photos that were displayed of the little girl.

“Are you gonna tell her?” Joel asked.

Negan shrugged. “Lucille’s dead now, so what’s the point?”

Joel sighed, glancing down the hallway to see if Y/N had come out yet. “Her name’s Mila.” 

Negan arched a brow, glancing over his shoulder at Joel. “That’s a very pretty name.”

“Means miracle. We almost lost her.”

Negan cleared his throat, standing up straight and pocketing his hands into his pants. “I was– I was being serious. I was in a very bad place and I know I don’t deserve to get to know her, to meet her, but–”

Joel interrupted. “She’s your daughter. By blood.” Despite their little scuffle earlier, Joel felt very sympathetic towards Negan. Joel knew about grief, about loss and it never was easy. Even to this day, while he was happy, it still hurt to think about Sarah and that one particular night. 

“I just–” Negan began, his eyes staring at a photograph of Mila. 

“Don’t wanna disappoint her?” Joel finished.

“Yeah. I’m not a good man and–”

“Then you change, for Mila.”

Negan nodded, glancing over at Joel. Though, his attention shifted to Y/N who was walking down the hallway, having changed into much more comfortable clothing. Her hair was in a messy bun and she was dressed in lounge pants and a tank top. Negan bit his lower lip, his eyes raking over her frame. It had been a while since he had been with anyone and seeing her brought back memories of the times they shared. 

Joel, on the other hand, noticed the way Negan was looking at her. He arched a brow and felt a sudden sense of jealousy wash over him. He nudged the other man and cleared his throat.

“Hey, that’s my girl.”

Negan shrugged. “I’m just looking.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Y/N walked over to them and leaned against Joel, her head resting against his arm as she looked up at Negan. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t think about the times she shared with Negan and seeing him here, standing in front of her, brought it all back. 

“What do you want to know, doll?” Negan asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“Everything.”

Negan and Joel shared a glance once more and this time, Y/N decided to speak up about it. She had a feeling they both knew something she didn’t. 

“Okay, why do you guys keep looking at each other like that?”

“Like what?” Negan asked.

“I’m not stupid.”

“We didn’t say you were, darlin’,” Joel added.

“Then what is it?”

Negan glanced over at Joel and sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. You agreed that you’d tell me everything, so… Tell me.”

“Darlin’...”

She looked up at him, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest. “What, Joel? Is it that bad?”

“I was married,” Negan blurted out. “Married when we met. Married when we slept together. Married the entire time until my wife died a year ago.”

Y/N widened her eyes, taking a step back from Negan and Joel. She looked over at the taller man, her view of him immediately shifting. It was just her luck that the father of her child was already married during the time she was conceived. 

“And I knew about it,” Joel added. 

She shook her head. “Are you– Are you both fucking serious?”

Negan sighed. “My marriage was basically over, before she got sick and–”

“That’s no excuse! You cheated on her… With me!”

Joel tried to console her, reaching out for her and she shook her head, raising a hand in the air. “I don’t even want to look at either of you.”

“But–” Joel began.

“You knew all this time… And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s not that simple, darlin’.”

“Oh, I think it’s pretty simple, Joel.”

“It’s not his fault,” Negan began. “It’s mine. I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah, you are. You know what? I’m just–” She sighed and pointed to the door. “I don’t even want to be around either of you right now.” 

“Where are you going?” Joel asked, his eyes softening at the sight of her grabbing her things. 

“Anywhere but here.” 

Joel didn’t get a chance to try and stop her before she walked out the front door, slamming it shut. He flinched at the sound and glanced over at Negan, his eyes narrowing as a tense-filled silence filled the air. Negan cleared his throat, shrugging his shoulders and dropping down onto the couch. 

“Want a cup of coffee?” Joel asked.

“You’re not gonna kick me out?”

He shook his head. “She’s gonna want to talk to you once she gets back.”

“And what makes you so sure that she’s gonna come back tonight?”

Joel shrugged. “I know my girl. Give her some space. She’ll come around.” He left Negan in the living room as he walked towards the kitchen. 

Negan sighed and stood, following Joel hesitantly. He felt out of place, like he was inserting himself in someone else’s life and while he knew that he deserved a chance to get to know his daughter, it didn’t lessen any of the concerns or worries that he was feeling. Instead, he glanced down at his left hand, his thumb running across the inside of his ring finger. 

Once Joel started a pot of coffee, he then grabbed two mugs and set one in front of Negan. He looked over at the other man and sighed. While he didn’t like him, Joel knew exactly what he must be going through. It was never easy losing someone you love. 

“Can I ask you something?” Negan muttered.

“Sure.”

“Mila… Is she–”

“Like you?” Joel finished.

Negan nodded in response.

“She’s stubborn, but I’m sure she gets that from both you and her mother,” Joel smiled. “She likes to have the last word. Loves to talk.”

“Sounds like me,” Negan smiled. “Does she like causing trouble?”

Joel chuckled. “Oh yeah. She can be a handful, but she’s got a big heart.”

Negan bit his lower lip. “Must have gotten that from her mother then.”

Joel didn’t respond, grabbing the pot of coffee and pouring the liquid into each of their mugs. He looked over at Negan, noticed the bags under his eyes and an almost permanent defeated look across his features. 

“You’re a lucky man, Joel,” Negan added. 

“Yeah, I am,” he acknowledged with a smile. 

Negan glanced around the kitchen, his mind drifting as he imagined the life he could have had with Y/N and their daughter. Negan always wanted to be a father, but when he and Lucille started fighting, that dream had vanished. He wondered what would have happened if Lucille never got sick, if their divorce was finalized, would he have gotten back with Y/N? Would he be the one in Joel’s shoes? 

Would Negan be happy?

He thought so. The short time Negan spent with Y/N had helped through some of the darkest and lowest of times; he would even go so far as to admit that eventually, he would have fallen for her. Even now, three years later, she was still as beautiful as the night they met. Even in the dark pit Negan was currently in, Y/N managed to bring back some light into his life. It gave him a glimpse of a life that he could have, where Lucille’s death wasn’t looming over him every second of every day. 

“Do you love her?” Negan finally asked.

Joel nodded. “I haven’t been this happy in a very long time.”

Negan sighed, glancing over at the fridge to see a polaroid picture of Y/N and Mila. It made his heart swell at the sight. Joel followed the other man’s eyes, taking note of where Negan was looking. 

“Just so you know,” Joel started. “You’re gonna be part of Mila’s life from here on out. I know Y/N hasn’t said anything yet, but just like Mila, she’s got a big heart too. And sometimes… People are deserving of second chances.”

Negan looked over at Joel, sipping from his mug. “You really think that? After everything you know of me? After our fights?”

Joel nodded. “I know what it’s like,” he sighed. “To lose someone you love.”

Negan arched a brow. “You lose your wife?”

“My daughter.”

Negan cleared his throat. He couldn’t imagine what that type of loss could have been and from the looks of it, it still brought Joel a lot of pain. Negan sighed, moving his attention to his mug. He never really did like talking about his feelings, but it brought him some comfort to know that Joel knew what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Negan muttered. “I didn’t know.”

Joel shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Right, I get that.” Negan said. He understood clearly and he felt the same way when it came to talking about Lucille. 

“This is your second chance,” Joel said. “With Mila.”

Negan sighed; he had always been a disappointment in his life and he certainly didn’t want to be that person for Mila. Or for Y/N. 

“What about Y/N?” He asked hesitantly.

“What about her?” Joel arched a brow.

“You think I can have a second chance with her?” 

“No,” Joel replied quickly.

“Not like that,” Negan chuckled, though his mind did deviate to her and their shared moments together. “I just mean… Do you think she will ever forgive me?”

“I think that’s up to her,” Joel replied. “As long as you stop being an asshole, I think she’ll forgive you.”

Negan chuckled, shaking his head. He had been in this dark pit since Lucille’s cancer diagnosis and the past few years had been hell. Seeing Y/N and knowing that he had a daughter, it brought back some light to his life. It made him want to become a better person, a better man. Not only for Mila, but for Y/N as well.

—

She walked into the house after being away for a couple of hours. She was holding a milkshake in one hand and a brown bag in the other. When she went into the kitchen, she saw Joel and Negan talking with one another. 

They actually looked like they were getting along.

Joel saw her first. He smiled at the sight, walking in her direction slowly. “Hey.”

“Still mad,” she replied. She set her food down and took a seat, sipping on her shake and glancing over at Negan. Still, his presence got to her and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it, about him. 

“I’m sorry, doll…” Negan’s voice came out as a whisper. A deep, husky whisper that caught her attention.

She took a big bite of her burger and glanced up at Joel. He was watching her carefully and she sighed. It was hard being mad at him. After swallowing the contents, she looked between both men and cleared her throat. 

“I’m sorry your wife died,” she told Negan. “I’m sure that’s been tough on you.”

Negan sighed, looking away from her. “Hm,” was his only response. He stood from his seat and motioned towards the hallway to the bathroom. 

“Go ahead,” Joel said. 

Once Negan left the kitchen, Joel walked over to her and gently turned her chair around so that she was facing him.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she replied.

“You okay?”

“No.”

Joel sighed. “Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know if there’s anything to talk about. I just– It’s my thing.”

“Our thing,” he corrected. “What do you wanna do?”

“It’d be wrong to stand in the way of Negan getting to know his daughter, but it’s just… He was married, and you also knew about it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Joel shrugged. “Didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, well, that happened regardless, didn’t it?”

“Didn’t expect you to ever find out… Or to ever see him again.”

“That makes both of us.”

Joel bit his lower lip, resting his hands on her thighs as he leaned forward to peck her lips softly. “I love you, okay?”

She sighed, leaning against him. “I love you too.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Hm?”

Joel pulled back to look into her eyes, tilting her head slightly. 

“Did any of your old feelings for him come back?”

She arched a brow, biting her lower lip. She dropped her eyes and took her hands in his, sighing quietly. “Do you want the honest truth?”

He nodded.

“Yes.”

Joel tried to pull away, but she shook her head and pulled him back to her. “But, I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

“You sure? Because that’s Mila’s father and–”

“But you’re also her dad.”

“Not by blood.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ve held her when she cried, made her feel loved and seen… You’re her dad just as much as Negan is.”

Joel sighed, resting his forehead against her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, turning her head to place a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. 

“How is this going to be from now on?” He asked.

“We’ll figure it out.”

They pulled away once they heard Negan clear his throat. Joel pocketed his hands, leaning against the counter as he looked over at Negan.

Y/N stood from her chair and walked over to Negan, feeling towered over by the other man. He looked down at her and tilted his head, a small smile lining his lips. His dimples appeared and she bit her lower lip as a response.

“First thing’s first, boundaries,” she said.

“Oh?” Negan smirked, his tongue darting out to run along his lower lip. “Like what, doll?”

Joel cleared his throat and walked over to them. Y/N looked between both men who were now staring at her and she could have sworn that at that moment, she wanted both of them. At the same time. One at a time. It didn’t matter. She wanted them both.

“Darlin’?”

“Right.” She cleared her throat and shook her head slightly to get her out of her mind. “Boundaries. Negan, we’ll have to have a talk with Mila first. She’s going to be confused, but–”

“I understand,” Negan replied. “As long as she’s comfortable.”

Y/N nodded. “We can schedule something for tomorrow. Dinner, maybe?”

Negan nodded. “I make really good spaghetti,” he winked.

Y/N bit her lower lip. Oh, she definitely remembered. 

Joel looked between the two and arched a brow, his jaw tightening. 

“Don’t worry about cooking. We got it,” Joel replied. 

Negan was staring at her, noticing how she was subtly squirming where she stood. “You okay with that doll?”

“Y–Yeah. Like Joel said, don’t worry about it.”

“Sounds like a plan then.” Negan said. Joel led them to the door and watched as Negan gently leaned down to place a kiss onto her cheek. “See you tomorrow night.” Negan pulled back and grinned, turning his attention to Joel. 

Joel narrowed his eyes and grabbed his keys. “I’ll drop you off.” He turned to Y/N and cupped her cheek, pulling her into a passionate kiss as he moved his lips with hers, determined to let Negan know that she was no longer his. 

“I’ll be back, darlin’.”

She nodded, looking both between Negan and Joel. It was intoxicating. She didn’t know how she was going to keep her resolve. 

“O–Okay, see you tomorrow, Negan. I’ll see you in a bit, baby. Drive safe.”

—

“I notice the way you’re lookin’ at her,” Joel said, interrupting the silence as he drove Negan back to his apartment.

Negan arched his brow, turning his attention to Joel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play stupid,” he said, gripping the steering wheel. “Like I said, she’s mine.”

Negan chuckled. “You act like I’m going to take her from you.”

“I don’t trust you, Negan. You’re Mila’s father and this is your second chance, but don’t mistake my friendliness for something that it isn’t.”

“Is it my fault that she’s just so beautiful?” Negan replied. “I mean, three years and a baby later and she still looks that good? Can you blame me?”

Joel tightened his jaw. “She’s off limits. I’m serious.”

“And so am I.” Negan shrugged. “I can be cordial with you, Joel. It’s like I said all those years ago, we’re literally one in the same. Don’t try to act like we aren’t.”

“We’re not,” he replied quickly. “I have never cheated on any woman I’ve been with.”

Negan narrowed his eyes. “Oh, shut the hell up. If it weren’t for me, you’d still just be her friend. I gave you the confidence you needed to ask her out. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

Joel scoffed. “You really are somethin’ else, aren’t ya?”

“You’re not gonna get rid of me, Joel. Mila’s my daughter. You’re stuck with me for the rest of her life. I mean, that’s considering that you and Y/N are gonna eventually settle down together and if not, then–”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

Negan laughed which caused Joel to abruptly stop. Negan jerked forward and braced himself against the seat. He turned to Joel and narrowed his eyes, a smirk lining his lips.

“Joel, come on…” Negan said. “I just like getting underneath your skin.”

“I’m serious, Negan. Anything you might be feeling for Y/N, it’s gotta end right here, right now.”

Negan tilted his head. “But do you notice the way she looks at you and me? I mean, can you imagine what’s going through that pretty little mind of hers?”

Joel sighed. Oh, he definitely noticed. 

“You ever think about it?” Negan asked. 

“About what?”

“Sharing her with another man.”

“No. I don’t like sharing,” Joel replied.

Negan chuckled. “Yeah, me too.” 

“Besides, I think it’d just make things more complicated.”

“Or not,” Negan replied. “Might just make us all stronger.”

“If that’s what she wants,” Joel said. “Then that’s what she wants.”

“You willing to step out of your comfort zone and do that for her?” Negan asked.

“I’d do anythin’ for her.”

Negan smirked. “Well, I suppose we’ll see if she even mentions it.”

Joel continued driving. The silence now consumed both men, allowing their minds to deviate. Joel thought about Y/N and Mila, wondering how this new dynamic was going to shift things. It had always just been the three of them since Mila was born and he wasn’t sure how things were going to be once they tell Mila that Negan was her real father. He would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t break when Negan said he wanted to be part of her life. It just felt like now he didn’t belong. 

Negan, on the other hand, thought about Lucille. It was hard not to. He wondered what would have happened if she beat the cancer. Would he even know that he was a father? Probably not. He vowed to himself that he would change once Lucille received her cancer diagnosis. The last few years had been draining, exhausting, mentally, emotionally, and physically. He had been by Lucille’s side throughout her journey and when she died, it angered him. He had gotten a glimmer of hope that things were going to be different, that his relationship, his marriage with Lucille was going to get better, but just as that hope settled in, she died. Now, a year later, seeing Y/N and finding out he was a father, it scared him. Despite the facade he put on, especially to Joel, Negan was screaming inside. 

He didn’t want to disappoint anyone. 

Once Joel stopped the car at Negan’s apartment complex, he glanced over at the other man and noticed Negan staring out the window. 

“See ya tomorrow,” Joel called out.

“Right,” Negan said, clearing his throat. He didn’t make a move to try and leave the car. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Joel sighed. “You don’t wanna be alone, huh?”

Negan nodded, glancing over at Joel. “That’s when my mind goes to dark places.”

Joel contemplated for a moment. He knew exactly what Negan meant. There had been plenty of days and nights where staying at home, surrounded by Sarah’s things, brought more pain. 

He took a deep breath. Joel was going to regret what he was about to say, but he suggested it anyway.

“We have a guest room back at our place. You can spend the night there.”

Negan whipped his head to look at Joel. “Really?”

Joel nodded. “Being alone… It ain’t the best thing in the world. Just promise me that you’re gonna be on your best behavior.”

Negan chuckled. “Can’t promise that, but you sure it’s okay?”

Joel shrugged. “It will be.”

Negan nodded. “I’ll grab some change of clothes. Thanks, Joel.” He left the car and walked towards his apartment, leaving Joel in the car, waiting for the other man.

Joel sighed to himself. Now he had to somehow explain to Y/N that he invited Negan to spend the night, probably indefinitely. 

Taglist (let me know if you want to be tagged!): @kaitebugg03, @a-girl-interupted, @igotbasicdrag, @darkshadow6200, @fandomoniumflurry, @xhannahbananax03, @quinnverses, @xojdmasf, @flippittygibbitts, @endofthexline​

[red-might-be-dead]

RAHHHHHH CAN YOU TELL ME THE SILLY LORE OF YOUR UNNAMED OC???!!??!?

EHEHEEEHEEEE :DDDD YESSSSS!!!!!!

okay okay so

tw for like death and murder and lab shit and stuff, got some mad scientist type bs going on....

none of this is really set in stone btw i have a tendency to change lore over and over and over ripp

basically i just really wanted to make some kind of apocalypse/secret lab type story because all of my ocs so far have been from the same fantasy type story, so far i only have three ocs from my silly little unnamed oc's story (and all of them dont have names! shocking i know!)

so this guy, (im gonna call him 1 for now bc bro remains WITHOUT A NAME) is the son of a pretty prestigious and well know genetic engineer (1's mum is one of the three characters so far and he doesn’t have a dad lmaoo).

1's mum was researching animal/human gene splicing and also developments of diseases and how they travel from animals to humans. yk like trying to figure out how sometimes humans will contract some diseases from animals but other diseases wont get passed on.

this is why 1 has his pointy teeth (bro got his genes spliced by his mother when he was younger) the pointy teeth definitely ALWAYS had lore and definitely DIDNT occur just because i like to draw pointy teeth... definitely

okay so further down the line into 1's mums experiment there was an accident, some kind of mutation she had created had got loose and attacked a bunch of the scientists in her facility, whilst trying to escape she ends up being killed by said mutation (im still undecided on if i should make her cold and cruel or kind but slightly crazy btw... but i'll figure it out eventually)

this facility is out in the middle of nowhere and 1 is pretty much used to not seeing his mum for really long periods of time at this point so he doesn't know anything is wrong for a while. he only realised about two or three months later when the news reported some kind of strange creature in a small town pretty close to the facility, he recognised the mutation and knew that his mum had created it.

later on in the story 1 realises he isn’t actually a human he’s just another of his mothers experiments but for some reason she got attached to him and raised him like a real child (that’s why he doesn’t have a biological father lol)

he has one friend (i’m gonna call them 2 bc i don’t have a name for them either sobs) and he spends quite a lot of time with them, i haven’t got their design down properly yet but i’m pretty sure i want to give them some kind of dyed blue hair…. maybe…….. idk

1 and 2 are the type of kids to just absolutely fuck up an easy task like to the max - they would set the kitchen on fire whilst trying to make a sandwich. 2 is actually pretty clever but as soon as they spend any amount of time with 1 it’s like all of their smarts just disappear.

i think the best way to describe 1’s personality is a massive puppy that likes to bite you but doesn’t really understand it’s own strength - he’s a bit clueless and slightly blood thirsty

2 plays guitar btw, not that that really means anything it’s just a fun little fact :D

AKSHKAJSJA THAT WAS A LOT IF I HAVE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING ILL MAKE ANOTHER TEXT POST LMAO IF THERE IS ANY SPELLING OR GRAMMAR ERRORS IM SORRY SLHDKSJDJSND

[loveandfictionforall]

Hi! First I wanna say how lovely you write, you have some talent.

I was also wondering if I could please request for Daryl Dixion x reader. Where reader and Daryl got married pre-apocalypse and they are together no matter what wherever reader goes Daryl goes etc. They are on a run and stumble across their old home and discover their wedding photos. Then reader and Daryl bond and make love ? You don’t have to make it smut if you don’t want to. You also don’t have to write about the wedding unless you want to :).

Could it also be a long imagine please if that ok ? Thank you x

If you like it, please be kind and reblog it. Thank you 🥰

I hope it is to your pleasing 🥰

As the world was going down, you always knew that Daryl was right beside you.

Your life was never easy but Daryl made it bearable. You met him when you were young, only 22 years old. Now you felt old and oh so tired. The Outbreak was not even two months ago, but the group was so damn annoying and not able to care about themselves. But you still cared. And this was maybe the only reason, Daryl, Merle and you were still here.

Merle was a hit or miss. He liked you, you liked him. Both of you hated each other. When shit had to be done, you all could be a dream team but you did not appreciate how Merle was treating Daryl. You often shoved Merle, gave him a kick in the balls and ao forth. But he never beat you back. And because of that, you appreciated him. After all, he was not as bad as their father. Wrong in his treatment towards Daryl but loving all the same.

Daryl and you though, was a whole other chapter. You could understand him without words and he could understand you just with your eyes. He knew how much you hated how the group treated you. Like you were weak, not able to kill a Walker. Shane always looked at you like you were a pice of meat and more often than not, you had to hold Daryl back.

Distracting him with kisses on his neck, massaging his thick arms and marveling at the unconscious flexing of them underneath your fingertips.

"Let's do a run.", You finally said as you watched how Lori and Shand came back from the woods. You knew what they did. Everybody knew it. Hopefully they were protecting themselves. A baby would never survive in this shithole until they had no true camp.

You watched how Carol began collecting the clothes from everyone so they could wash them. You leaned heavily against your husband, closing your eyes a bit as you let your mind wander. Daryl had after all still not answered, probably weighting the pros and contras of it. You smiled yourself. As some fingers began to thread through your hair, your smile deepened. What a fine husband you had.

"Where should we go?", he murmured softly in your ear, watching how the women wandered to the pond.

"Where we always go, when everything gets too much.", you said without a thought. You could feel how his fingers tightened in your hair, lightly tugging it. A cheeky smile appeared on your lips because you knew where his thoughts were going. "You little hornbug.", you added and lightly slapped his thigh. Daryl gave your hair another playful, but much harder tug before he let go. "You are not better.", he quietly answered and shifted so you had to lift your head.

Quietly he got up from the tree and gave you his hand to help you up.

"Where are we going?", Merle suddly spoke up. He looked briefly up towards you both, but concentrated mainly on the racoon in his hands which he skinned. "Daryl and I are going to our place. We will be back in maybe a week.", you quickly said so Merle did get the memo that he is not welcome this time round. And Merle recieved that memo. He stopped skinning the racoon and looked up again. A perverted smile grazed his lips as he waggled suggestive his eyebrows at you. "Don't forget to wrap it before you tap it.", he grinned. Annoyed you rolled your eyes while you presented him your middle finger. "Yes, Uncle Merle", you said sarcastically.

Behind you Daryl shifted on his feet. A quick look showed you that he had grabbed his backpack and was ready to go. All the while, you did not miss Loris intense gaze as she watched Daryl and you. As soon as you both turned around to go to the motorcycle, Lori set down her basket full of dirty laundry and walked briskly towards you.

"Here we go.", you mumbled lightly towards Daryl. You recived a low grunt from him and a light touch on your fingers as he gently grasped them for a second before he let go again.

"Where are you two going?", Lori immediately implored. You suppressed a sigh.

"Where we are going, is non of your concern because it does not affect the group. We are merely enjoying some quiet time alone. Something you tend to do a lot with Shane as well.", you evenly said. Without further ado, you grabbed your husbands hand and began tugging him towards the motorcycle. Instead of instantly sitting down, you two opted to push the motorcycle for a while until you were a safe distance away so no Walkers were drawn towards them. Something nobody else in this group thought of.

Behind you, you could hear how Lori walked with you and you knew what was to come. After all, you were going to walk past the pond where Carol, Andrea and especially Shane were and Lori was going to snitch.

"Shane!", you could hear Lori shout behind you. Just like you thought it would happen. "Do something! They want to leave!", Lori added.

Immediately the commotion at the pond stopped and everyone looked up. Shane waded through the shallow water towards you. The sun seemed to burn a bit too brightly on his head, because his face was really red and sweaty. As soon as you noticed it, Shane wiped his face with his arm absentmindedly.

"Ey, man. What's going on?", Shane directed his question towards Daryl, totally ignoring you after quick look from toe to head.

"Doesn't concern you.", was everything Daryl said before he pushed the motorcycle again. You quickly stepped to his side so they could not pester you. And as quickly as you were, Shane used his long legs to also catch up even though he was barefoor and everywhere were pebbles.

"Hey, man. Don't be like that. You two can't just simply go and leave.", Shane tried again but Daryl simply ignored him. But after all these years, you could see that Daryl was growing impatient. A tick in his jaw told you everything you needed.

"Honey, let's just drive.", you suddleny spoke up. Daryl glaced at you for a second, before he nodded a little and immediately set on his motorbike. You quickly followed and found your place behind him, your arms finding their way around his middle part.

Just as Shane began to speak again, Daryl let the motor roar to life. He quickly pushed on the gas and with a start the bike began to drive.

Exasperated, Shane threw his hands in the air as he looked after you two but you were already in your own little world. For the next hours, you two were driving quietly, just the rumble of the enging ringing in your ears. Sometimes you met a Walker or two but you always drove past them, with a goal in your mind.

The sun began to set as you two finally pulled on a pebbled small way into the woods. After another twenty minutes driving, finally the trees parted to reveal a small loghouse. As the rumbling under you bum finally stopped, you let out a loud groan. Daryl chuckled before you as he carefully dismounted his bike. With care and routine, he grabbed your middle and lifted you up, helping you from the bike. Your legs felt like jelly and at first, your knees gave up. Collapsing against Daryls chest, you found that his grip on you did not lighten and instead tightened.

"Careful, darling", Daryl rumbled in his low voice. A shudder worked through your body as you lifted your head to look into his eyes. His eyes stared right back, heavy lidded and with an emotion in it that told you what was going to happen tonight. A smiled played on your lips as you finally straightened yourself.

You wiggled out of his grasp and walked towards the door. After a second, you glanced behing you, sending a smirk towards Daryl as you cheekily asked: "You coming?"

~~

The fire in the fireplace crackle quietly. You watched it with heavy eyes, surrounded by the warmth of it and your husband. Your cheek felt numb from laying a long time on the bare chest of Daryl. Daryl quietly hummed a song while he played with a few strands of your hair.

"Statisfied?", he finally spoke up. Your answer was a humming response after you sighed deeply. Then you replied. "What do you think? I am bored to death, you know", you teased. A sharp tug on your hair made you hiss. Annoyed you got on your elbow so you could glare at Daryl. Before your could even say anything, Daryl put his hand into the nape of your neck and pulled your head towards him.

You sighed in content as your lips connected. The kiss was at first soft and tender but quickly turned more heated. You began to push more against him, nearly straddling him as you pushed him onto the ground again. A moan worked his way through his throat as you lightly nipped at his lower lip. It quickly became a growling as Daryl grabbed you at your middle and quickly turned you two around, topping you and losing the blanket in the process.

"Time for round two?", he askesld for consent as he studied your face for a second. You nodded but he still waited. A sigh escaped your lips and you jokingly rolled your eyes. "Yes.", you finally answered, your eyes gating lovingly up at his eyes. Your heart felt full with his love towards you. Even after all this time, he took the time to make sure you still wanted it. What an amazing man.

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Bittersweet

As soon as you wake that morning, you know what day it is, and the dread that has been following you for the past week sinks its hooks into you. Gentle snores stir you from the immediate daze of grief, your eyes travelling down to the man sleeping beside you. An angel, your love, but not your first.

Kicking your feet out of the bed, your gaze lands on yours and his leather jackets that are strewn on the chair against the wall. You shake your head and stand, shuffling over to the closet and grabbing the only dress you still own, the one you saved. On your way out of the bedroom you pick up your towels; the journey to the bathroom passes in a blur.

Running water is a normality that makes the day even worse. Such a simple bridge between the apocalypse and the world that lived before it.

Once you’re washed, you step into the dress and brush your hair. It isnt until the summer breeze meets your face as you step outside that you truly accept what is happening. The basket hanging from your arm is emptier than it should be, but that cant be helped; it isnt as easy to pack when supplies are rationed. There is a pistol and a dagger in there, which wouldnt have usually inhabited it, but that cant be helped either.

Saviours watch you, some with curiosity, some with concern, but none of them approach you. They’ve been instructed not to, not today.

You wander aimlessly for about an hour before you find a forest clearing filled with flowers. Crouching down into the soft grass, you take a deep breath and start picking them. Not all of them, just some. Enough to weave together and make a chain, which takes its rightful place on your head.

Lifting your gaze to the sky, the sun warms your face in a way that is wrongly familiar. When you force your eyes back down, the sound of children’s laughter teases your ears, an echo of a time that is long gone. That memory is enough for you to stand back up and begin your walk back to the Sanctuary.

You sense his eyes on you, watching from the balcony, but you dont have the strength to engage with him yet, and he understands.

Returning to your bedroom, you sit on the bed and stare out of the window, your empty basket sitting beside you. Slow, heavy tears begin to fill your eyes, straining them until you’re forced to blink and break the flood barriers. But you dont shatter, your expression remains vacant, your vision stays unfocussed, and the leather jacket you usually wear everyday is untouched.

By the time you’re brought back to reality, it’s dark outside. The sound of Negan closing the door surprises you, but your soul is in the middle of being forced back inside your body; you dont jump.

“Hey sweetheart, how’re you doin’?”

You dont reply, and he sighs. Negan picks up your basket and places it on the floor, before sitting down beside you.

“I knew as soon as I woke up without you and saw your jacket there.” He explains, but you know he remembered, he just doesnt want to admit it because he doesnt want you to know he’s been thinking and worrying about it.

You nod wordlessly.

“Did you hear them again?”

A stabbing pain pierces your chest and you squeeze your eyes shut, nodding again. The children. Your children. The ones you lost.

“Shit doll, Im sorry, I didnt mean-“

You cut him off. “It’s fine, they arent mine anymore.”

Negan frowns. “Of course they are!”

You shake your head. “No. When they died, when he died, the version of me that they knew died with them. She couldnt have lived with that pain.”

Negan wraps an arm around you. “Listen to me (Y/N), you can warn me as much as you like that today you’re gonna say shit you dont necessarily mean, but just because it’s your anniversary doesnt mean Im gonna set let hurt yourself like this. Those kids will forever be yours, that man will forever be your first husband, and they would be damn proud of you for staying strong through the end of the world!”

For the first time today, you turn to look at him, and you see the same adoration in his eyes that’s there every other time he sees you. Despite you dressing like your old self and acting completely out of character for the person you’ve become, Negan still recognises you. Of course he does.

“As a matter of fact-“ Negan continues. “-I know they’re all damn proud of you! They’re sitting up there-“ He points out of the window, up at the stars. “And they’re smiling down on you sweetheart, they always will be.”

You follow his gesture and stare into the night. “Is it wrong for part of me to be glad that none of them lived? They werent cut out for what the world’s become, they would have had to change just like I did, but they got to die as the pure, lovely souls they had always been.”

Negan shakes his head. “It isnt wrong. The fact that you can have a somewhat optimistic outlook on what you’ve gone through shows how strong you really are, and that is something you have always been.”

You lean into him and take a deep breath, taking in his scent and allowing his words into your head as the flower crown slips off it and lands on the sheets.

“Thank you.”

Your voice is quit, your tone even, and the tears have stopped falling. The peace that occurs at the end of this day ever year has finally reached you.

Negan kisses the top of your head. “You dont need to thank me doll, I know today’s never easy for you, I’ll always do what I can to take some of that burden off you.”

You sigh, smiling gently. A moment of comfortable silence passes.

“Lucille is incredibly proud of you too, y’know.” You pull away from him slightly to see his face.

Negan chuckles. “She’s laughing up there, wondering how I landed a dime like you, and so am I.”

You cant help but blush and laugh at him. “Who knew it would be possible to have two soulmates in one lifetime?”

Negan rests his forehead against you. “Not me, but Im gonna make sure you’re my last.”

[luckyshotwrites]

Chapter 1 - Kidnapped by The Hero

Contents (Warnings/Mild spoilers): Introducing Matchbook and how he became a sidekick to one of the strongest hero in the world.

Wordcount: 3,300+

Side note: ENJOY!

_______________________________________________

Some believed everyone's sudden gain in unique powers or features was due to the next step in evolution. Others said it was a crazy attempt at making a zombie apocalypse. The work of gods, a meteor that changed their biology, or the results of a secret alien invasion.

No one really had an answer. As far as everyone knew, it just happened. 

It sent the world into chaos, and it took a long time for it to be calm again. Not that it was without turmoil, but they had systems in place for that. All mighty heroes watching over the cities all over the world, helping take down those that decided to use their powers against the less fortunate like...

"Hey, Match, can you give me a light before you go?" The grungy, pot bellied guy with a toucan head said as he wiggled the cigar in front of him. 

You can't even use them right.

"Sure," Matchbook sighed as he let go of the sandwich shop's back door. The heavy weight of it slammed it shut behind him.

He put his fingers together and in a single snap they created a flame atop his middle finger. He offered it to Little Oscar's cancer stick. 

Little Oscar chortled the best he could and lifted his cigar to meet it. "I get it, you hate me asking." He jested, poking fun at the lad. 

"It's the easiest finger to light," he explained  and saw himself explaining hundreds of more times in the future.

After Little Oscar lit it and nodded gratefully, holding it between his beak, Matchbook left. 

He shook his hand to put out the tiny flame. He couldn't make flames bigger than that of a match hence the nickname he had since elementary school. 

He wasn't as gifted as his parents or sister. His mom was a fire manipulator and conjurer, while his dad could heal from injuries at a near instantaneous rate. And his little sister was a fire breather. 

She created sparks much like their mom, except in her mouth. They learned this when she accidentally sneezed as a kid and set Matchbook on fire. 

On the same day, he learned he was immune to heat, just like his mom and sister.

He kicked up a pebble as he strode the sidewalk. He struck it as much as he could on his way home, avoiding the construction specialist setup repairing a damaged city block from a recent villain attack. Most people didn't have too many powerful abilities, but those that did didn't hesitate to make a mess. 

He lost the poor pebble on the way when he kicked it into the fresh and still drying cement. He picked up his pace after that.

It was a long hour walk before he saw his apartment in the distance. If I still had my bike I'd get home so much faster. He recently lost it during a jelly Villain attack and the collateral claim had yet to go through for a replacement. I should move closer. 

Matchbook worked at that shop for a year and enjoyed the mundane task of making sandwiches. It made it easy and gave him time to think about-

"HEY!" A feminine voice shouted far behind him. 

He thought about looking back until a nearby  RuuMmbBBleEe of the destruction told him to head home instead. He subtly picked up the pace. I'm not getting caught outside during a fight. 

"HEY, SIR!"

Sir. I'm barely 22. He pretended he didn't hear them but they were getting closer. He wasn't good at power walking. I can't break out into a full sprint.

A hand firmly gripped Match's left arm to seize his motion.

Oh great. He turned around, holding a forced friendly half smile like he wasn't trying to ignore them a second ago. 

“Oh sorry, I didn't…” He trailed off. 

She let out an exasperated huff in front of him and hunched over to catch her breath. The parts of her blond bob cut hair that didn’t stick to her face from sweat fell forward as she did. 

It wasn't that hot outside, it was a crisp cool sixty degrees, with a light breeze through the buildings. Has she been chasing me for a while? I didn't hear her. 

His eyes drifted to the notepad in her one hand, and as she lifted her head, she smiled. Her glimmering determination reminded him of his little sister.

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded, stood up straight, and adjusted her white blouse. “Yes, sorry, sir.” Do I really look that old? You look the same age as me!  “I’ve been chasing The Hero around all day, and lost him, have you seen him?” 

“Which one?” He mentally kicked himself when he asked. Why did I ask which one? I hadn’t seen a hero all day. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, “this always happens. Why did he pick such a vapid name?” She removed her hand from her nose, “The Hero is his superhero name.” Matchbook heard the hint of disdain for that hero's name. Although he recognized it, he didn't keep track of any other hero's besides his mother and sister.

She rolled up her sleeves, unintentionally drawing his attention to her forearms. He took note of her muscles. More defined than I ever had. She’s in pretty good shape for a journalist? If that’s what she is.

He guessed by her question and notepad. 

“He's one of the strongest heroes in the world, the one who..." she curled her fist, and much like an elderly man complaining about his lawn, shook it at the sky. "Somehow has a backstory that can’t be traced back past surface level research. A person born with a power like him would have been talked about for years, glorified in the media, but it’s like he appeared out of thin air."

She continued her spiel and Matchbook bobbed his head, trying to think of the best way to get out of this conversation. He didn’t know this woman, he barely said a sentence to her and she explained all the inconsistencies with The Hero’s story. I’m not big into hero scandals. 

Regardless, Matchbook politely replied. "It sounds like you have a vendetta against him." I want to go home and relax, no matter how nice you seem.

"I do." She held up her notepad, "I have been chasing that idiot all over the city! So again, have you-" There was another loud bang, and turning back, the two could see the furrow of smoke not that far away. "seen him…?"

He glanced back at her. She looked ready to run toward it.

She's going to get herself hurt. He tugged her attention back, "I haven't, but by the sounds of it, if you don’t live nearby you should get to a shelter.” I noticed the few people on the streets were doing just that. There wasn't one that far from my apartment.

"No way, it might be linked to the hero!" If she’s willing to run into danger, she probably has a power to back herself up. 

He lifted his hand and the next eruption stole his chance to say goodbye. On the fifth floor, overhead, an object crashed straight through the building and partially into the one next to it. They both instinctually ducked at the noise, Matchbook covered his head and saw whatever the object was, it brought some of the second wall down with it and landed in the alley a little bit further back from where they currently stood. 

The woman’s arm whipped up and grabbed at his shirt. She got him by his uniform and yanked him into her. She threw them both back. Neither of them fell, only stumbled as a few pieces of the apartment came down. They fell into the sidewalk where he once stood, exploding into dust upon impact near his shoes. 

That wouldn’t have been a fun trip to the hospital. 

The streets were empty, everyone either got home or went to a shelter. He looked up, seeing that was his apartment. So, unfortunately, he didn't have a room to hide in. He ran around her, expecting to hear her steps behind him. She didn’t follow.

You gotta be kidding me. “Lady, we should get to a shelter! If there’s a villain we can get hurt!” He wasn’t quite running yet—he was slowly moving toward the direction of the shelter a few blocks away. 

She ignored him. She went toward the alley. What is she doing! 

He followed her. His objective was to pull her like she did him. 

Matchbook barely caught her whisper. “Which hero is that?”

He felt his eyes drawn to the entity standing there. The man was in a luchador wrestling outfit, adorned with a sparkling cape. Though, Matchbook tore his eyes away as it looked very very ‘form fitting’ bright red suit. That's a colorful outfit, he's probably some hero?

The man smiled, leaned at them, and threw himself forward and into the woman. Matchbook couldn’t track the speed he moved. Nor did Match move fast enough to get out of the girl's way when she went to dodge. 

The man got the woman with both of his meaty hands. He squeezed at her waist and she ordered him to let her go. His muscles and body looked to swell the longer he held her. His uniform threatened to tear at the seams.

He cackled as he shook her like a toy. “You're gonna be my little hostage.”

What should I do? I can't fight him, he's huge. He was bigger than most body builders, muscles the size of Matchbook's head. 

When he got close enough to her face, she threw a punch. It connected with his nose, making him coil back and cuss.

She whined as he squeezed tighter. 

He might kill her. Matchbook thought, his heart pounded in his head, along with a giant whistle from farther behind him. What if it's another Villain? He didn't want to turn around and find out. 

I don't know her. He heard the woman whine out again as the man laughed, ignoring Matchbook's pathetic presence completely. 

He threw himself forward, snapping the fingers on his right hand, and moved his tiny flame near the villain's cape. It didn't take long for it to catch fire.

He jumped back and shouted, "OH NO, Your cape's on fire!"

The fire spread faster than Matchbook expected, bringing that man's attention off the woman. She took her opportunity while being dropped to hit the hulking guy with a firm blow to his crotch.

The man hollered, weakly undoing his cape from the ground.

The whistling behind Matchbook got louder, he ran to her and got her arm. “Come on!”

She followed his tugging and the two could hear the villain getting up. “YOU BRATS!” He shouted. 

His feet pounded against the street like he grew with their fear, or at least Matchbooks. 

“TO YOUR RIGHT!” A voice yelled.

They ducked to the left as another being slammed into the paved streets. His palms collided with it first and he ran on his hands for a few extra feet, making humongous hawk wings that protruded from his bare back fizzle out and back into their flesh. The helmet clad, muscle ripped individual threw himself up and into a standing position. 

He stood much taller than the average hero, more the size of a villain. He dusted himself off, unscathed after his theatrical landing. He pressed a button on the side of his visor, staring directly at the woman and Matchbook, as them and the Villain were motionless during the escapade. His eyes were a vibrant, shimmering purple with meshes of pink. 

He walked calmly to them.

“Are you two citizens, alright?” His voice carried the same sweet sincerity as a grandmother who happily overfed her grandchildren. 

Match nodded.

"The Hero! I need to talk to you." She declared, forgetting about the trouble behind them. Not that Matchbook was any better.

The villain snapped out of his trance. Matchbook didn’t look back in time for the hunched man to hook his arm around his neck. He brought him up, “you stay back or I’ll kill him,” He flexed his much smaller muscles. Dangled up, unable to move out of fear that the grip would crush his windpipe, he felt small and helpless.

The Hero put up his hands and didn’t move. “Put him down.” He advised, keeping his eyes tracked on Match. I gotta do something.

Matchbook snapped his fingers again and put the flame to the man’s arm. He had never used it against someone like this, but he didn’t see much choice. The man cried out, dropped him, and the Hero snatched Matchbook up and brought him to the woman. 

“Is your throat okay?”

Once Matchbook was safely on the ground, he rubbed it. “I’m okay.” He was lucky the Villain didn’t put too much pressure on it.

The Hero sighed with relief, “good. Now, you two, stay back.” His eyes shifted, though his head barely turned. His pupils looked to expand as they twisted in the villains direction. “I’ll handle the villain.” The tonal shift made him jump.

The Hero’s face rose in a smile, revealing sharp incisors that Match didn’t see before. The wrestler, or villain dressed as one looked thinner. Matchbook didn’t know if it was because he was being compared to the Hero, or because of something with his ability. 

“You destroyed property, attempted robbery, and threatened a civilian’s life.” The Hero’s voice boomed, silencing everyone's hearts and breath. His statement was followed by an air vibrating laughter. 

It knocked the man on his butt. His muscles were reduced so much that he looked like he had been starving for two weeks in the tundra. 

“I’m sorry- I’ll g-go quietly.” 

The Hero grabbed his helmet, he tossed it off. It bounced on the floor like a toy as his own size increased. His white hair flourished in the open. 

“You’ll go quietly?” The Hero mocked as he swayed like a drunkard. 

The fear-stricken villain tried to rise to his feet, he bumbled to stand. 

The Hero stood over him, crouched down to grab him. He got the villain picking him up with one hand, wrapping it around his waist. 

“They’re never quiet.” 

The villain pushed desperately at his hand as the steadily growing Hero brought him close to his head.

Matchbook’s eyes couldn't look away when The Hero's mouth opened wide. It made the villain frantically yell, and it was quickly silenced by The Hero's tongue at his face. It partially coiled around the man's head before bringing him inside his maw.

Matchbook’s mind was blank. He could only watch The Hero swallow down the villain, his throat expanding as he did, and what was left outside flailing helplessly in the air.

The act disturbingly reminded him of a nature film, where a snake slowly, surely, and efficiently gulped down its prey. 

Except this man was very much alive. He kept struggling even though he was pretty much fully inside him. 

Match didn't know how long he watched. It felt prolonged but in reality it took a minute. The last bit of the villain vanished and The Hero exhaled into the air afterward.

The Hero’s previous devilish demeanor dropped and he smiled, childishly. He glanced down at his middle, "Secured.” He said a loud, while his midsection was lively from the movement within it. “Calm down, Villain, I'll take you in soon."

Villains eat people. Not Heroes. Matchbook thought still awestruck by disbelief. 

His shoulders then rose when he saw The Hero was walking to him again.

The woman's voice, slightly perturbed, but determined to talk to him rushed forward, "YOU'RE GOING TO ANSWER MY QUESTIONS THIS TIME!" She bravely stomped to him, disregarding the massive height difference between them now. She barely came up to his knee, if at all. 

She got within a few feet of him, so his stomach wouldn't obscure either of them from seeing the other. How can she even talk to him like that? Did she not see him eat someone? Does she not see the human-like shape inside him?

Matchbook took the opportunity to start walking backward from the madness.

The Hero put up his hands, as if she held power over him and his smile wavered anxiously. “I think you have mistaken me for someone else…” He poked at his stomach, “and even if I was the right one, I need to finish talking to my sidekick and get this criminal to the authorities.” 

“Sidekick?”

The Hero looked over at Matchbook and so did the woman, he froze once they did. Why are they looking at me? Why is The Hero looking at me!

Matchbook hunched inward, afraid of the approach. He stumbled over the curve and The Hero loomed over him. He dropped into a squat, used to the moving weight, and harmlessly smiled at Match. 

They were nearly level with one another—it didn't stop Matchbook's eyes from continuing to trail away from his face. 

“I saw your heroics while I was overhead trying to find this dastardly Villain.” Matchbook didn't need The Hero to gesture anything. “You did great.”

His hand reached out to pat Match’s head. The best he could do was tap it with his finger tips. “Are you another hero’s sidekick in training?”

He heard his question, his attention was too drawn to the woman who willingly tugged at the pant leg of his stretchy costume. Why is she okay with this? It’s not like he hadn’t heard about another person getting eaten but never had he seen it outside of shows. 

“HELLO?” The Hero waved his giant hand before Match’s face. “You didn’t get hurt did you?” 

The concern shoved Matchbook from his thoughts. “N-no.” His brain processed everything that had been said. “To both questions.” 

The Hero’s hands slammed onto the ground, eagerly. “That’s perfect!” His hand came up and grabbed Matchbook before he could react. “I’m in desperate need of a new sidekick!” The Hero, leaving little room for Match to rebuttal, threw him over his shoulder and held his hand over him securely. 

What is he doing?! Matchbook could barely wheeze out a, “huh,” as the ground was farther from him. 

“Don’t you dare run off again!” She said, as The Hero hunched back down, his body tensing as he did. 

“Now, citizen, please stand back.” 

The Hero nudged her with his leg and she complained further. “Quit it!” 

Matchbook’s vocabulary returned, “Hold on, I didn’t agree to be your-” The next thing he knew, the air was knocked out of him as they shot upward. Matchbook couldn’t hold in his scream as the contents of his lunch threatened to come back up.

He sealed his lips, still held and feeling the incredible force against his body. His eyes, barely open, saw the beautiful city they flew over. Something he would have admired if he was looking at it through a computer screen on the GROUND. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, clutching as hard as he could into The Hero’s flesh. Please, please, PLEASE put me down nicely!

The wind whistling fast past his eardrums slowly dissipated and he finally heard The Hero’s voice. “Whoops, I overshot the docks again!” 

He opened his eyes, squinting, as they were across the water. The docks were in the distance and they were flying much slower now.

“Just fly us back there! You have wings!” Matchbook whimpered, still clutching what he could.

The Hero laughed, “Ha, you’re right!” Then the force shifted and Matchbook felt his body being pulled upward, away from him as they were falling. “How do I do that again?”

“WHAT!” Matchbook shouted. They were rapidly approaching the water.

The Hero twisted himself and Matchbook in the air, He swung Matchbook in front of him, pushed him with whatever force he could, and got his back ready to strike the water. 

And the last thing Match saw before they struck was The Hero mouthing the word, ‘sorry’.

…

THANK YOU FOR READING AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!

Next Chapter

Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

I Got Roped Into Being A Hero! (Synopsis/Chapter List)

[oswaldsleftbicep]

the boys as weapons i sell at work

this idea came to me on a dark shift, pls enjoy. also guess who passed tf out at work today and had the paramedics come lmao

genre: other

cw: swords??, android quality pics, measurements in inches and price amounts in usd

Lucia

❧ left: 47 inch king arthur sword with a crown shaped pommel, retailed at $325

❧ right: deluxe historical tizona of el cid, retailed at $175

❧ both swords have red accents on them, matching lucia's aesthetic

❧ both are also very regal and elaborate, suitable for a king

Levy

❧ left: blue robin hood sword with a deep etched blade, retailed at $325

❧ right: excalibur with a gold enamel and blue fillings, retailed at $350

❧ both swords have blue, which matches his aesthetic

❧ both swords also have historical value, and i think levy would be very interested or even inspired by the legends of robin hood and the sword in the stone

Mefy

❧ left: 46 inch gold barbarian sword with a deep green gem on the pommel and depictions of goat heads and a winged scaly creature, retailed at $315

❧ right: celtic sword with a circular pommel and depictions of what appears to be a serpent, retailed at $175

❧ the one on the left has a green gem which obviously reminded me of him, and the rest of the design choices suit his vibe

❧ the one on the right was a bit of a stretch, but something about the serpent and the sort of mystical feel to the sword seemed to fit

Oswald

❧ left: 53 inch apocalypse rider long sword which features the four horsemen of the apocalypse, retailed at $525

❧ right: 53 inch william wallace claymore with brown leather grip, retailed at $325

❧ both swords are so big that only oswald would have the strength to wield them with ease

❧ the apocalypse rider suits his reaper side, and the claymore matches his simplistic, rustic side

Kaim

❧ left: colada of el cid with blue and silver finish and scabbard, retailed at $200

❧ right: 17 inch mercy dagger with metal sheath, retailed at $58

❧ kaim would definitely have either a colada or rapier of some sort, the crossguards just suit his style

❧ both weapons have a silvery/metallic finish to them, which reminds me of silverware, and i could see him polishing these swords

Mikael

❧ left: knights templar black temple master sword with a deep etched blade, retailed at $300

❧ right: 49 inch merlin the magician sword with orb pommel, retailed at $450

❧ both of these were kinda a long shot, but for the templar, i could see mikael enjoying their history and overall aesthetic

❧ the merlin sword has a very magical and intimidating, yet angelic image that suits mikael quite well

Ricardo

❧ left: lionheart sword of king richard with black leather scabbard and belt, retailed at $480

❧ right: black and gold conan the barbarian sword with hidden dagger in the pommel, retailed at $325

❧ king richard's sword is black and leather, what else could scream ricardo louder than this? the lion head pommel is a huge plus

❧ this barbarian sword is similar to mefy's, only more gaudy and with a secret weapon hidden at the top for close range action

Noel

❧ left: 23 inch knights templar brown short sword, retailed at $75

❧ middle: small viking dagger with a rounded blade, retailed at $75

❧ right: 10 inch silver bodice scissors with red gems and scabbard, retailed at $35

❧ noel isn't one to carry large weapon; with him being an assassin, he'd need something small, unnoticeable, and easy to transport

❧ the templar sword and viking dagger are simple and small, while still being tastefully decorative enough to match his aesthetic

❧ the scissors are just a shoutout to him being a hair stylist lol

Lucas

❧ left: roman gladius of julius caesar with wooden grip, retailed at $285

❧ right: gold secret love dagger with wooden grip and locket pommel, retailed at $145

❧ the simplistic yet elegant craftsmanship along with the gold and wood combinations scream lucas' aesthetic

❧ the different style of a gladius and the secret of the dagger match lucas nicely in that there's just something that sets him apart from the others

[soundwavemain]

We’ve Still Got Hope

Chapter 8: Chase

Before the apocalypse, Leo happened to be the first one awake most days. Chalk it up to his abysmal sleep schedule and chronic insomnia. He counted it as a good night if he went to bed before three o’clock. Considering the high stress that came with the end of the world as they knew it, he was lucky to get even a wink of sleep. That being said, he was simultaneously shocked and completely unsurprised that someone was awake before him.

Junior stretched in the middle of the cave, hair tied back with a sash. He didn’t appear to have any outward signs that he’d been crying which was good but it made Leo all the more curious as to why his nephew wasn’t sleeping at the crack of dawn. Junior turned toward his uncle like he knew the slider was observing him. For a seven-year-old, Junior seemed far too old and tired. Leo couldn’t exactly blame him for that, though. The kid just lost his dad.

“Hey, squirt,” Leo said softly. He ruffled Junior’s hair–a surefire way to get the kid to giggle–but it garnered no reaction. The turtle laughed it off, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re sure up early.”

He half-expected Junior to start acting sleepy then, tug at his pants even, and ask him to tell him a story so he could fall asleep. That’s what his nephew usually did whenever anyone pointed out that it was past his bedtime or too soon for him to get out of bed. Instead, Junior simply stared at him. That’s when Leo noticed the sword on the ground. It was his sword. The one that Raph hucked to save them. He had it by his bedroll the last time he checked. How’d it get out here?

“I wondered when you’d notice,” Junior answered, watching him carefully. “Snatched it from you last night. You didn’t notice?” Leo shook his head, dumb-founded. That must’ve been the response Junior was looking for because he lifted his chin and, with the straightest face a child could muster, said, “I think you should train me.”

That woke Leo right up. He brushed off his initial surprise. “Look, this is impressive but snatching one sword doesn’t mean… you’re, uh…” His argument petered out as he watched Junior reach into his pockets and pull out an assortment of weapons.

After a concerningly long amount of time, a pile had accumulated at his feet. Bewildered, Leo looked at Junior who was unimpressed. “I’m silent, fast on my feet, a quick learner–I have the makings of a great ninja,” he argued. “I just need a sensei.”

The kid had a point. Leo knew he had the humble beginnings of a ninja, yet… “Why not ask your mom to train you? She has more experience than I do. Not to mention the years of technical training and her combat skills with different weapons. Need I say more?”

Junior picked up a small cylinder from the pile, fiddling with it before hitting a button on its side. It triggered the release on the cylinder, expanding it into a six-foot tall bō staff. Donnie’s. Man, the kid was good.

“Mom said no.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

It went without saying that when Casey said something was off-limits for Junior, that was the end of the discussion. As her baby, if anything happened to him because someone else went against her wishes… Leo shuddered at the thought.

Junior remained unaffected. “Mama’s not the boss of you.”

Leo froze, standing ramrod straight.

This is a trap. This is a trap. This is a–

...

“You want to get a sword that is easy to hold and handle with two hands. At least to start off with.” Leo studied Junior’s form, fixing his posture and grip. “A longer blade means you don’t have to get as close to an opponent to strike.”

Junior followed Leo’s instructions with a narrow-minded focus. Still, the sword weighed heavily in his hands. He could see his reflection in it. Muddled and warbled by way of the blade. His brow was furrowed in concentration, creating a deep crease on his forehead. It made his face look unnatural. For a moment, it flashed like an image in his mind–two glowing, yellow eyes.

The sword clattered to the ground as Junior pressed the heel of his palm against his right eye. Leo hovered over him in an instant. He inspected his nephew for a minute or two before coming to the conclusion that the weapon was simply too heavy for the kid. Of course, it was. Junior was only seven.

“Maybe something else would suit you better…” Leo rubbed his chin in thought. “Something more proportional.” He made a rectangle with his fingers and looked at Junior through it. An orange flash of light came from behind them. “Miguel, what do you think would suit CJ? I’m leaning toward Donnie’s version of a cherry bomb.” He turned to see his younger brother’s reaction. Only an unimpressed expression greeted him. “What? You’re gonna stop me from cracking a joke? That’s how I cope!” He had a big grin on his face until he remembered that Mikey had been on patrol with Casey. “Where’s Jones?”

“She’s fine,” Mikey reassured, smacking Leo’s hand as his older brother checked his hood. Like he could hide a whole human in there. “She detected some movement on the horizon and wanted me to get the go-bags ready. Just in case.” He looked between Leo and Junior, his skeptical baby brother senses tingling. “Wait… You’re training Junior. Casey said that’s off-limits!”

Just as Mikey had begun tearing into Leo, he felt the cold pinpricks of a bond. He was being summoned. Closing his eyes, he could see the translucent orange chains that connected him to his family. He reached out, calling forth the energy drawing him to another. A chain materialized in his hand. With the other, he pulled until the very fabric of space gave way and he was able to snatch Casey. When he reopened his eyes, Casey seemed about ready to vomit. She glared at him.

“A little less turbulent next time wouldn’t kill you,” she grumbled. She stretched out, her back audibly cracking as she pointed at Leo. “We gotta move.”

“What? Why? Mikey just showed up. You can’t be making a call that fast–”

“The kraang are coming,” she cut in, effectively shutting him up. “I suggest having Orange teleport the heavy stuff to a new location while the rest of us travel on foot.” She walked over to Junior, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Can you wake up the others for me?” She spoke quietly so only he could hear. He gave her a stiff nod and left to do just that. Casey watched him for a few moments then turned back to Leo. Mikey had already disappeared to gather the heavier items. “Blue, I need you on your best behavior.”

Leo scoffed. What’d she take him for? “I’m not a kid, Jones,” he joked lightheartedly. He scooped up his sword. Casey stood too close for comfort when he rose.

“Then act like it,” she said in a low, even tone. “Junior is going through a lot. He doesn’t need a goofball. He needs someone he can rely on.” She shoved her pointer finger against his plastron hard enough to push him back a couple steps. “Set an example.”

They stared at each other in silence, neither refusing to give an inch. That’s how April found them. She watched them, her eyebrow twitching. Donnie, still groggy after being roused from his slumber earlier than expected, held onto Junior’s hand. He yawned loudly, breaking the tension. Casey took her eyes off Leo. She had an escape plan to prepare.

...

The team hadn’t made as much headway as Casey wanted by nightfall. It was safer to duck inside a building until morning than it would be to use flashlights at night. She surveyed everyone. They were preparing to sleep, setting their bedrolls down. Donnie hadn’t been much help planning hypothetical security details on the trek but she wasn’t surprised. When he didn’t get enough sleep, Donnie acted like a battery that’d lost its juice. Casey made sure to tuck him in, nice and neat in his bedroll with a kiss on the forehead. He mumbled his gratitude incoherently as she moved on to do the same with everyone else. Leo sat away from the others, fussing with his sword. He twirled it to form small portals that fizzled out after seconds passed. He scowled after the fifteenth failed attempt.

“You should rest,” Casey suggested, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s been a long day. Tomorrow’s gonna be even longer.”

He knew she meant it in a kind and caring way. Normally, he’d act like it was nothing or even follow her suggestion, but Leo had been on edge for hours. So instead, he shrugged her hand off and said, “I’m not a child. I think I can make my own decisions.”

Her eye twitched. He half-expected her to start wrestling with him right then and there. But she didn’t. Surprisingly, she took a deep, long breath, then sat down in front of him. It forced him to look down at her which was uncomfortable.

“I know you’re not a child. I just need you to take this seriously. We all need to be well-rested–”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Leo interjected.

“Like what,” Casey snapped back.

It was clear she hadn’t meant to but it was the opening he’d subconsciously been waiting for.

“Like you’re him.”

Pain flashed briefly across her face. It immediately gave way to anger. Just as she opened her mouth to officially cement that they were having this argument now, Junior snapped up into a sitting position on his bedroll. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he looked around frantically. The fury quickly dissipated to make room for concern. They both joined his sides, taking his hands so he had something to focus on.

“What’s wrong,” Casey whispered, brushing his bangs off his forehead. “A nightmare?”

Junior’s eyes widened further–if that was even possible. “You don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?”

As if right on cue, a shrill whistle filled the air, increasing in volume as a flare of red light crashed into a building across the street. April and Donnie startled awake.

“What’s happening,” Donnie slurred.

April rushed to get out of her bedroll, much more alert. She lifted Donnie onto her back. Another thunderous blast took out the building next to theirs. “We need to move. Fast.”

Casey snatched Leo’s sword off the ground where he’d left it, shoving it into his hand. “Blue, we need a portal,” she ordered.

He fumbled with the blade, producing a portal that sputtered and died immediately. He tried again. The same sad excuse for a portal formed and dissolved. “I– I can’t–”

“You can.” She grabbed him by the shoulders. “You have to! Your family needs you!”

Leo’s hand shook as he gripped the sword. It wobbled while he tried to draw a circle. Overhead, the ceiling trembled with the force of another blast. A blue portal swirled lazily into existence. It held its shape for a few seconds then collapsed in on itself. He watched in abject horror as their last hope to escape crumbled away. Suddenly, Casey grabbed his hand. Everything went bright.

The building disintegrated.

...

When Leo opened his eyes, he expected the translucent green light of Hamato energy surrounding him, welcoming him to the spirits of the clan. All he saw was the twilight sky, always slightly tinted red. He sat up, his muscles incredibly sore, and looked around. Everyone else was slowly coming to. Their groans signifying that they were alive. A sharp pain pinched his side as he tried to get up.

“CJ,” he called. “Where are you, kid?” Junior rolled out of a bush appearing no worse for wear. Leo sighed in relief. “Donnie? April?” Affirmative grunts were his only response. He slumped against a tree. “Jones?” Nothing. Fear shot through him like a bullet. He pushed himself to rise, using the tree as a crutch. “Casey!”

Finally, from above, Casey let out a wounded sound. She was stuck between a couple branches. Leo hacked away at one until she was able to drop down. Scratches and cuts littered her body but nothing too life-threatening. No, nothing to dampen the fury burning in her eyes.

“What the hell was that?”

“A kraang must’ve found us–”

“No, I mean you!” Casey was seething, her face turning red. “Why didn’t you make a portal?”

The same frustration from before reared its ugly head. “I couldn’t– I tried to– You saw–” Leo stomped his foot in frustration. “I am trying my best here!”

“We could’ve died in there, Blue. This is life or death.” She gestured in the vague direction of the city and accidentally smacked another branch. She hissed, clutching her hand. “‘s not something you can fix with a one-liner or a half-assed apology. When are you gonna get that through your thick skull–”

“Stop it!” Junior shoved his small body between them. “Stop fighting,” he shouted. “Just leave me here. If it means you’ll act like a family again, I’ll stay right here.”

Casey and Leo stared at each other, completely flabbergasted. Junior held his hands together, avoiding eye contact. Leo knelt beside him. “Hey, it’s okay. Your mom and I aren’t arguing because of you–”

“But you’re fighting because Dad’s gone.”

“Ah.” Leo spoke without meaning to, the surprise propelling him forward. “Yes. Well…”

Casey jumped in. “We’re all just stressed.” She smoothed her son’s hair. “That doesn’t mean it’s your fault–”

“But it is!” Junior pushed them away. He took a couple of steps back to separate himself from his family. “Don’t you get it? Why the kraang keep finding us–it’s because of me!” He had a wild look in his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. Maybe he hadn’t. “I heard them coming but no one believed me.” He pressed the heel of his palm against his right eye. “I see them everywhere. Whenever I close my eyes–when I sleep.” He let out a bark of laughter. “But none of you will do anything about it because I’m the baby. I’m perfect, you love me–open your eyes! There’s something wrong with me.”

The silence that followed his proclamation carried a weight. It felt like someone dropped an anvil on Leo’s chest. This was what his nephew thought? The entire time he’d spent arguing with Casey, he never stopped to consider how it would affect Junior. It wasn’t time for petty squabbles fueled by grief. His family needed him.

“CJ–”

“Don’t–”

“Just listen to me.” He stepped forward. “Please.” He waited for a moment in case Junior did something risky like run off. The kid remained still. “You’re probably right.”

“Leo–”

“Trust me,” he hissed. “I got this.” Casey held his gaze, searching for something. Whatever it was, she must’ve found it. She let go of his hand. He went closer to Junior. “You probably have a point. You were always smarter than we gave you credit for. We can blame Donnie for that.” Leo inhaled, releasing it in a long sigh. “We’ve spent years wondering what was wrong with you. Even when you were a baby, you’d spend days at a time in the medbay. But you know what?”

“What?” Junior asked weakly.

“Casey was miserable before you came along. We all were. In the apocalypse, all you can hope for is to survive. Then you showed up.” Junior peered at him from under his bangs. Leo shot him a grin. “What a game changer, you were. It was like everything got flipped upside-down in the best way possible. We went from a badass group of ninjas to taking turns cleaning shit off you.” He chuckled at the memories that came to the forefront of his mind. “Raph loved you. No matter how many times you peed on him, used his spikes to teethe–he was gonna love you to pieces.” Leo tapped Junior’s chin, forcing him to look up. “You gave him hope. You gave him a reason to keep fighting for a better future. It doesn’t matter what you are or aren’t. You’re family. We’re not leaving you behind.” Junior’s eyes watered, tears streaking down his cheeks. Leo’s heart clenched. “Oh, kid. C’mere.”

It didn’t take much coaxing to get his nephew to hug him. He scooped Junior up as best he could. He nodded at the others, silently beckoning them into the embrace. They joined immediately. Even Casey.

...

April walked ahead of them. She had taken Donnie’s tech brace and slid it on her own forearm to follow the pulse of light tracking Mikey’s location. Donnie fell further down her back. She jumped a bit to push him back up, her free hand holding onto Junior.

Casey watched them with a wistful look in her eyes. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she whispered. If Leo wasn’t lagging behind with her, he wouldn’t have heard it. “I know you’re trying. We’re all trying to… to fill this hole that’s left.” She tugged at her shirt, the fabric puckering under the tension. “I’m trying so hard to be him for everyone else. For myself. To make up for what I did.”

Leo kept his gaze forward. “You’re never gonna be Raph, Case. That’s okay. We want Casey Jones.” He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I need a headstrong, stubborn as all hell woman to call me out on my bullshit.” He sighed, watching Junior point down another path to follow. “You were right.” At her confused sideways glance, he added, “About me. Junior needs Master Leonardo and all he’s got is this guy.” He couldn’t even punctuate his sentence by lightheartedly jabbing his thumb at himself because his only hand was occupied. That made it less funny. More serious.

“He needs his Uncle Leo too.” Casey squeezed his hand.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat to mask the surge of emotions rising within him. Might as well bite the bullet and tell her now… “CJ actually asked me to train him.”

Leo expected yelling, explosions, Armageddon 2. Instead, Casey chuckled. Chuckled. “Guess he is like me.” She knocked her shoulder against his. “At ease, Blue. I knew this day was coming. I was just delaying the inevitable.”

“Then why tell him no in the first place?”

“He’s my baby,” she answered simply. “I wanna protect him from the world we see everyday. The moment he learns to fight–he won’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” This time, he bumped into her. “You’re gonna protect that kid ‘til the day you die.”

“Hey! We’re going under,” April called back to them. She was already lifting a manhole cover and instructing Junior on how to climb down the ladder.

Casey gave her a thumbs-up, her eyes shiny. There was a serene, almost peaceful smile on her face. “When you put it like that, Blue, I don’t think I need to know anything else about my future.”

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