Lower, lower, and stop in front of the playtime care, walking beside Harley in silence when you both walk by the toys, they cower or hiss. Kneeling down to their level to get a better look at the children, you hold one of the smaller critters. That was when Catnap came to view, he leaned in with a head tilt, you rubbed a hand over his head with careful poise, leaning into your hand the giant toy breathed out, Red...smoke...
"Enough." Harley orders and you both split apart, so the follow continues, "Who is that?"
"Theodore." It was quiet but he was prideful and held no remorse while you stared at each toy with a sad gaze, it was beside you. Any other time you held a gaze of firm animosity for every scientist who mistreated the toys. Scolding, yelling, even demonstrating the pain the toys experienced. But this is beyond you, Mommy and Huggy were easy access to your kind words and gentle touch. But these toys, these children, are out of reach.
Out of your hands, "Earth to my dear partner."
"Oh, sorry I was just spacing out."
"You seem to be doing that often." You both go silent knowing that this would wedge a rift if no one spoke, so you get ready to plead, but he cuts you off. "Listen, just because you cater to that bleeding heart of yours doesn't mean it'll save you from this moral veil you hide behind. You aren't the only one who had their moral compass challenged, and you will not be the last. I'm doing this because these orphans deserve better, I'm giving them better. Elliot didn't understand but you will soon enough."
He walks further ahead while your unshed tears begin to slide down your face, "......"
The walk was quieter than ever, the fight, flight, freeze or fawn triggers were rising in the head. All you can think of was, "Stop wallowing" or "Huggy is being patient for you." He was, wasn't he?
What have you done?
You first met Huggy, it was frightening, what happened to this toy? "What did you do?"
"We were training him; he's shown signs of complete obedience and respect.."
"Are you daft!? Damn it, he's practically seething!" You open the cell, bringing in a basket filled with fruits. "What are you doing!?"
Eddie tried to open the cell, but you continued your job, placing the basket down, holding Huggy's paw and then feeding the bigger toy. "You, okay?" He was quiet...
Unblinking, unmoving, he ate the apple, then the fruits after, and afterwards the giant toy was showing you his scars, so you wrap a bandage around them. "....."
It was irritating, to see these toys, above, below...
How much lower does this go?
That memory was so far behind, Eddie was furious, and you simply didn't care. Now that you know the truth, how dare he show signs of fury!? You're no better, the sinking feeling and the idea to manipulate Harley to be gentler. How stupid.
"Ya know, Elliot has a daughter. Poppy....she's further up, you and Poppy didn't meet yet, but I don't plan to let you both meet." Sawyer's words cut deep, he knew you well enough to know that if Poppy had any chance to whisper any form of the truth, you'd lose your mind.
What have you done?
That suspicion reaching your eyes, it made Harley shudder with excitement, he adores the reactions. The nights spent together, the breakfasts, or times you'd visit his place just to cook him some food or sometimes give him a loving break.
Spoiled is what he is, and he didn't even realize how badly this was hurting you and him both.
When you both went back up, the critters crawled up and you knelt down, hugging one of them. It was then Harley realized something, he noticed your gentle demeanor, somber smile, the way you cradled this critter...
"You're pregnant."
You try to avoid giving an obvious reaction, but the way his hands held your face, his fingers move to the back of your ears. He was searching for a pulse; you blink then chuckle out weakly. "Of course not, silly! I just really wanted to adopt Quinn, He's very sweet. Precious too."
He hums in thought, "Stella told me."
That made it skip two beats, and he was back to his calm apathetic demeanor. "So, when did you plan to tell me?"
"I...I don't know." You turn ahead as if that would even matter.
"You should have told me."
"Why?" Harley sighs as if he was tired of hearing you question his nuance, he suddenly snaps.
"Because it makes you more sentimental, your bleeding heart is already interrupting my handwork, because that simply means you're having our child, and it most of all means you are being a threat to yourself and this unborn life." You wince at each word, ignoring the rising tears that you blink away.
"I wouldn't have to put myself at risk if you weren't actively lying and manipulating me. But who am I kidding, I'm no better, those toys, those children. They were looking up to us, to Elliot. I'm not perfect but my worst mistake was letting you into my heart." The train stops, and you both go your separate ways.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
TW//bleeding, miscarriage, adoption plans, signs of depression (If you or a loved one is experiencing anything like this, seek help or call a trusted adult/loved one/ take the chance to therapy)
You were so stupid, it's all your fault, yes, your fault.
The metal floors clank with fury while you march past Stella, Leith, more scientists, Stella notices your angry tears and she follows.
"Hey- Hey!" She holds your face, while you sniffle weakly. "....Did..."
The woman looks at your stomach, then you while those unshed tears fall once more. "Oh..." She hugs you close, "It's okay."
"No, it's not..."
When you reach the door, her door....
"Poppy."
You open the door.
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
Walking inside this playhouse, you see the doll. "Poppy."
She turns with her giant doll-like eyes, staring in fear of being hurt again, but you merely kneel down and hug her close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Poppy didn't know what to say, are you a friend? Did Ollie....no.
You continue hugging her.
She told you everything, Elliot, Harley, Quinn, all these children...Ollie.
The stress was enough to create such a dark mindset, in the back of your mind you weren't any better.
Rich noticed the signs carefully placing a hand on your shoulder, "Hey, um...try not to let this place get to you."
"It's fine Rich, you don't have to comfort me. Especially with the privileges I have compared to you, yea." It was true but so what!? Rich knew that, yet he still cared, the idea was simply that you were grieving.
"Ya know, I loved that boy. Quinn, I cherished him as if he were my own. Then I stupidly...." You look at the cameras, letting more tears cascade down.
No amount of comfort could save you, even with how stressful things were getting.
Prototype acknowledged that the third time you visit him, "liFE gROwS wItHin....YOu, aRe not Happy?"
"No, I'm not..." His hand holds yours; a twisted form of comfort arises, he wasn't one of them and yet...his voice, Harley's voice.
You found comfort in them, ".....Catnap, in one of the files I read, he mentioned a further...down..."
"tHe pRIsOn..."
The prison, your eyes widen...No, no no..
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?
Prototype knew what he was doing, surely you didn't.
Harley slams his fist down, "What have you done!?" He shouts, "What did you tell them!?"
Prototype chuckles darkly at Harley's anger, thriving off his agony even if it meant you were the one suffering. To Prototype you were indeed, no different than the rest, which is why you needed to find out the hard way.
You stare at this creature, files on the side, holding your stomach while Yarnaby breathes heavily through his cell. Unable to recognize you, Quinn, could not see the person who was so excited to take him in. Share the sweet life of home with Harley, what a stupid naive dream!
As you move further, you see Doey, and your mind races back to things you brushed off. "Experiment 1322 A and B.." Then to the accident, you were here long enough to acknowledge the dough incident. "Jack.." What of his parents?
Doey looks at you in confusion while you feel sweat beads going down your face, sensing your stress he begins to knock on the window, as if to warn the scientist. But no avail, suddenly you were on the ground, cradling your now shaking form.
Scientists only stopped when you were on the ground, the immediate thought was to call Stella.
You feel something...pain...contraption, Stella was beside you, once more hugging your feeble form. She breathes heavily, "How far- Hey. How far along was it!?"
"......T-Two months." Stelle sweats, while she anxiously orders for you to be taken to a lab.
Hours would pass, and she was on the floor weeping, sniffling with self-loathing. She had this chance to send you to the hospital, hell frame Harley or give up the evidence...but Lieth remains on her mind, his words. Their miracle working goal...
Now all she could remember was the blood curdling screams of anguish you let out; they filled the room. Her ears keep ringing as they start to turn into cries and then voices of another scientist trying to comfort you. Whispers upon rumors fill the prison and laboratory.
"Why would he do that?"
"What was even going on in their head?"
They blamed him, then you, then they'd call you ignorant or naive..
Privileged, Stella remembered when you tried so hard to protect that sweet bliss of hers. Keeping a smile, even sugarcoating Harley's words while she was a bit offended by his remarks. She remembered when you placed a yellow daisy in her vase, she enjoyed those a lot.
Her mind then went to Harley's when he placed that Tuberose, that Poppy flower, you tried so hard to protect her, and she failed you.
Harley had to cover this up, he sat beside the medical examination bed, while you say nothing. "I- didn't expect you to.."
"Be so naive?"
He sighs with regret of spilling out those words, "You didn't expect me to want to adopt Quinn?"
Harley merely covers his face while you list out more things that contradicted his work, for you to acknowledge your own flaws merely simply made it worse.
"I love you." Harley weakly responds, now holding your hand. "I should've just transferred or-"
"Fired me? Or baby trap me?" No not that that was cruel and just, uncalled for. It would be disgusting; he's seen cases like those. So, have you and for you to say that it made him want to cringe at the idea.
"I don't hate you Harley, I'm just disappointed in myself for falling for the facade I made up about you."
Harley stays silent when he realizes his perspective didn't match yours, his...you...
he failed; you were his failed experiment. He'd have to live with that forever.
When he left, Stella came in and hugged your hand to her head with sadness. You both were silent; it was a sad comfortable silence.
One week later and a Peony was resting in your vase, Stella's had a Yellow Carnation and Harley's had a butterfly weed.
Things were tense as they should be, Leith expected this but to find out the reason. He was disappointed rather than snarky about the incident, so he placed a white rose in the vase. You look at him while he walks away.
To him you were the one scientist he despised, not because of envy, or hatred, or disdain, but because he knew someone of your caliber and heart would get torn apart by Harley. Whether Harley wanted to or not, that was what made Leith, and you clash, he was usually bemused with your interaction with the toys.
Had this idea after reading an old fic. Kokichi has a day where he’s not as clingy because he’s worried that his s/o thinks he’s boring. S/O notices something is wrong so they go up to him pick him up bridal style and give him kisses.
-🦭🦭
-ˋˏᥕіᥣᥣ ᥡ᥆ᥙ s𝗍іᥣᥣ ᥣ᥆᥎ᥱ mᥱ?ˎˊ-
┆Insecure!Kokichi x Gn!reader ; in which you reassure Kokichi you're not getting sick of him.
-ˋˏWarnings┆insults & subtle sh [lip chewing]ˎˊ-
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Reader centered! Non-despair AU! Reverse comfort cause hell yeah Kokichi absolutely sucks at feelings but luckily reader doesn't! He gets a little mean when he's embarrassed So sorry your request took forever anon </3 The state tests are inching closer and closer Kokichi is no longer my main f/o like he has been for the last 5 years guys.. I'm growing up.. It's p.ai.nter now if anyone cares May be ooc...
Not proofread cuz I suck :c
You hadn't realized it until now but you'd been seeing way less of Kokichi than you usually would. More often than not, he'd be glued to your hip; you'd either be trapped in a tight hug or he'd be following you everywhere and making an irritating amount of attempts at annoying you to death. Though, as you sat on opposite sides of the couch, you had come to realize he'd been much quieter over the last few days.
You stole quick glances at him throughout the movie, expecting some sort of commentary, anything but this awkward near-silent scene. You'd become so accustomed to his constant ranting that the silence began feeling almost unnerving. Who is this shapeshifter and what did he do with your Kokichi? It didn't help that the volume on the TV was so low, it might as well have been off all together.
Despite all of that, he still seemed entirely enthralled, leaning in and watching with intent. Though, you felt that something about his interest was off, almost artificial. Your suspicion was only further justified as you watched his expression, unchanging, even as an ad for some tax filing app came on. Nobody on earth is that interested in a god damn tax related ad..
He seemed to snap out of his faux hypnosis as the screen went black, quietly turning to you in confusion. You cross your arms, glaring at him in silence. Your attempt at intimidation only seemed to further confuse the poor guy. He raised an eyebrow, "What? Why'd you turn it off?" He tilted his head to the side but you could tell it was just for show, "You've been way too quiet for it to be normal." the stern pout on your face faded into a concerned frown.
"What's up with you?" You inch closer to him, your hand atop his. Kokichi only scoffs, turning his head away from you and waving his free hand in dismissal, "Nothing! I've just been tired.." You never thought you'd see the day Kokichi made up a terrible lie, "Bullshit! Even when you're tired you still bother me!" you slump over, a long sigh resounding throughout the room as you wait for an answer that won't come.
Kokichi's eyes occasionally dart over to you in the silence, hoping you'll just turn the television back on and drop the whole thing. Much to his dismay, his gaze met yours everytime, without fail. You, on the other hand, were running out of patience; foot tapping angrily on the ground, loud enough for him to hear.
You spared him just a few more moments before pushing yourself off the couch in one sharp motion. You stand just in front of him, your shadow cast over him like some villain, "That's it!" The awkward atmosphere seemed to disappear with the sound of Kokichi's abrupt yelp. You had wrapped both arms around his waist and thighs, pulling him away from his spot on the couch and lifting him into your arms.
"Put me down you stupid bitch!" Despite his protests, he didn't struggle very much against you. In fact, he clung to you tighter, arms wrapped around your neck and gripping at the back of your top. The most Kokichi does is little kicks of protests, "You fucking asshole! I hate you! Let me down!" You snicker as he gives you the reactions you'd been missing.
"Nope! I'm not putting you down until you tell what's wrong!" A few more minutes of struggling go by before Kokichi gives in, feet and arms dangling limply in defeat. Kokichi hides his face in your shoulder with a soft sigh, "Fine.." he grumbles, the vibrations of his voice making it's way throughout your ribcage; you giggle at the feeling. He pulls back just enough that his voice is a bit clearer, "It's just–.." there's a hesitation that was never there before, his smaller figure anxiously curling against you.
"Are you bored..? of me?" Well there's a shock. You couldn't recall a moment in your entire relationship where he'd been as vulnerable as he was being right now. His words came out in awkward, fearful mumbles. You would've told him there wasn't any need to be so terrified had you not already responded with a resounding no.
You run a hand through your hair with a sigh, "What on God's green earth made you think I was getting bored of you?" The two of you seem to immediately forget about your end of the deal as you sit back down on the couch, still holding him in your arms like a knight rescuing their damsel in distress. Kokichi shrugs, "I'm just–.. scared." you catch a brief glimpse of him chewing at his lip between , "Scared that my stupid pranks and gags won't be funny anymore.. and that you'll leave.." His hands reach up to the nape of your neck, fidgeting anxiously with your hair.
"Kokichi.." you let out a long exhale, depressed and just the slightest bit frustrated. You we're entirely upset with him but more at yourself for letting him get this bad. You don't notice when your arms pull him closer but he does, acknowledging it with a soft smile, "You know I love you, right?" you cock your head to the side in question. He nods his head in silence, "That means I love every part of you. Not just your humor, or your pretty face, or the way you talk, or how smart you are."
You tenderly press your forehead against the side of his head, "Even if you do– by some god damn miracle– start boring me, I'll still love every other part of you. I'm not gonna leave you just because your jokes don't hit the same way!" You let out a little snort to which he responds to with poorly hidden laughter. Another yelp sounds throughout the room as you fall back onto the couch with him. He squirms and protests as you hold him tightly, albeit weakly. He gives up even quicker than he started as you cup his cheeks in your hands, leaving kisses across every inch of his face.
"Hey–!" Kokichi's cut off when your lips press against his for only a fleeting moment, completely shutting him up. He lies back and accepts his fate with a crooked smile. You watch as his eyes shut, basking in the familiar warmth and relief that came with your love and affections. They remain shut, even as you cease bombarding his face with kisses, settling on top of him with a content sigh.
"Love you.." you almost didn't catch those little words as he said them so quietly under his breath that they had almost escaped you entirely. You smile and pick up the remote, turning the television back on and picking back up where you'd left off. As you set it back down, you look back up at him, "I love you too.." You turn back to the show just before his gaze flusters you beyond comprehension, focusing your attention on the show before you until the warmth of your shared body heat lulls you into a deep sleep. The rest of the night fading into obscurity.
Thank you for reading! Reblogs are appreciated! —🪻
i will be posting this as a chaptered series on my a03 linked here.
characters: zombie!Beel, gn!mc
word count: 4.8k
Summary: You're living in a zombie apocalypse where your current struggles have brought you to a small town where you meet a strange zombie.
"The zombie, which hasn’t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true. If anything, it seems startled by your presence."
Autumn leaves rustle on the ground, the wind blowing them down the streets as you walk hurriedly. You’d left your house, your very own sanctuary that you built with your own hands, to run into town to look for supplies. You were stocked on most things, but you found yourself running low on medical supplies (you had a bit of a nasty run-in with a handful of zombies a few nights ago) and ammunition (for the same reason you ran low on medical supplies).
For the last year, you were nearly sure you were one of the last remaining humans in your town. You hadn’t seen or as much as heard a peep from people, which was somewhat uncommon. If there were groups of armed people holed up somewhere, you would have eventually run into them when out on supply runs.
The echo of your steps is the only source of sound in the otherwise quiet town. You can hear the faint grunts and groans of zombies in the distance, but the sounds aren’t close enough to draw any sense of alarm. Still, you had your hammer ready in case you were surprised.
You weren’t feeling hopeful today with the potential outcome of your supply run. Medical supplies and ammunition generally were rare to find, but in a town where most humans were wiped out? Yeah, fat chance. You felt a growing pit of anxiety forming in your stomach. Never run low: that’s what you drilled into yourself whenever it came to medical supplies and ammunition. How could you let yourself get so careless? You should have never put yourself in this situation to start with.
Your eyes scanned over the abandoned and ruined buildings, moss and vines covering the exteriors and forcing their way inside through broken windows. Damaged bricks lay discarded and forgotten on the ground. Most places had already been ransacked by both you and other survivors. You knew markets had little to provide, and long-forgotten homes had been stripped of anything valuable they once had. There was, however, one place in town that most people avoided. The feeling of anxiety grows larger within you, threatening to break out. You didn’t want to go to that section of town, but you were low on options. You needed medical supplies and ammunition desperately; if you wanted to survive, you’d have to take calculated risks. Running a dirty hand through your hair, a shaky exhale forces itself past your lips as you head toward the town’s police station.
The police station was a place to avoid for several reasons. However, the most pressing one was that it was located right on the outskirts of town. You tried to avoid the outskirts of town as much as possible. Zombies always seemed to linger in groups that could easily overpower someone traveling alone. The police station also had a small jail toward the back of the building, which became an issue once people started dropping dead and turning. Many of the prisoners were still in their cells, turned years ago. It was just a place you didn’t like to be around, but you also knew many survivors shared that sentiment. If you wanted to get the supplies you were so desperately in need of, you knew the police station would more than likely have it. However, there was a risk that you may end up using all the supplies just trying to get back out of the station.
You stop short in front of the station. The building looks the same as the rest of the infrastructure in town. Something, likely a herd of zombies, had pushed in the front doors that were now barely attached to the hinges. Bloody handprints had been smeared on the remaining glass, and from what you could tell from where you stood, the inside didn’t look much better. You could see the center of the reception room, papers discarded and dumped on the tiled floor. Inhaling and giving yourself a false sense of confidence, you step inside the station.
The first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. No grunts, no moans, no shaky breaths. Your dominant hand grips the hammer tighter. It was rare for the police station to be empty; there were almost always zombies roaming around the building. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding away as you scan the room for any threats. The air held a musty and metallic smell, and you could see thick layers of dust on the plastic chairs that sat haphazardly in the room. Slowly, carefully, you walk behind the receptionist's desk, looking for anything useful. Nothing, but that didn’t shock you. Survivors brave enough to break into the station usually only made it to the receptionist area. Not many were brave, or for lack of a better word, stupid enough to push further. Luckily (or unluckily), you were stupid enough to do such a thing.
Moving through the reception area and toward the back of the station, you knew the likelihood of finding supplies increased. You swallow nervously, glancing around as you push through the building. Somehow, it became more nerve-wracking the longer you went without running into anything. The lights are out, thanks to the power outage from the outbreak. Still, you weren’t anticipating just how dark the building grew the further you pushed. You knew you had to be getting close to the jail based on the lack of windows.
You blink several times, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. You hated being in the dark, something you didn’t initially have a fear of until you found yourself living in a world full of blood-thirsty monsters. Your mind would play tricks on you, conjuring up distorted images of things lurking in the shadows, hiding behind every corner. Whenever you found yourself in the dark, it became incredibly difficult for you to stay focused, to separate reality and hallucinations. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to stay grounded in the moment. Losing yourself to panic would only cause more trouble. Opening your eyes again, you grab a flashlight in your bag. Once on, the flashlight illuminates the room with a narrow tunnel of light, giving you an idea of where you’re at in the building. You had been right; you were in the jail portion of the police station. Lifting your flashlight, you freeze when seeing the outline of something right in front of you.
Disorientated from the darkness, it takes your brain a moment to process that you are staring directly at someone or something’s chest. Before a scream can erupt from your lungs and you lose yourself completely to panic, you throw yourself back, trying to put as much distance as possible between whatever’s in the room with you. You aim your flashlight, the light revealing a zombie in the corner of the room, visibly startled by your sudden movement. You glance from the zombie to your hammer, noting that it’s of significant size for an ordinary zombie. It didn’t seem like a Griever, the deadliest zombie from the outbreak. That relieved you; you didn’t think you could take on a Griever of that size without a gun. It was the risk you carried when traveling into town; the sound of a gun firing could attract all types of zombies from all over. You were exposed enough as it was in town; you didn’t need to make it worse for yourself.
You didn’t want to fight the zombie with your hammer. It was large and could easily overpower you. Your pistol is in your bag as a last option, but you couldn’t risk alerting more zombies to your location. The palm of your hand is sweating as your grip around the hammer tightens, your knuckles turning white. Cautiously, you take a slow step back, desiring to add more space between you. The zombie, which hasn’t immediately attacked you, strikes you as odd. It doesn’t seem violent, but you know that can’t be true.
Without warning, the zombie lunges for you, its hands outstretched as it runs toward you. You force a scream down as you stumble back, unthinkingly swinging the hammer out in front of you, striking at the air. You back into something, feeling cool metal pressing against your back. It’s bars to a jail cell.
Making a rash and sudden decision, you yank the door to the cell open, darting inside and slamming the door shut behind you. You stumble back against the wall as you watch the large zombie trying to squeeze its arms through the gaps of the cell door. Your chest rises and falls, eyes dilated and wide as you try to make out your dark surroundings. You must’ve dropped your flashlight in the struggle because you were again thrown into darkness. You place a shaky hand on your chest, trying to calm your nerves. You were away from the zombie, but now, admittedly, you were trapped in a pitch-black jail cell. The full gravity of your decision begins to settle over you. You have no medical supplies, you’re low on ammunition, you’re without a light source, and you’re trapped in a jail cell with limited food and water on your person. Feeling panic welling inside you, you struggle to keep it at bay. Throwing yourself into a jail cell has to be the most impulsive decision you’ve made, and it may just cost you your life. You’re only lucky that you managed to pick a cell that wasn’t already holding a zombie.
“Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, watching wearily as the zombie continues its assault on your cell. You had no idea how long it would take before the bars would give out under the zombie. Sure, it was a heavy metal door, but this was also a larger-than-average zombie. You had no idea the strength it held. You watch as the zombie begins to slowly lose interest, another thing that strikes you as odd. Typically, even if a zombie couldn’t reach you, it’d try to get to you as long as it could see you. Hunger was not something that ever went away with zombies. It was what drove them to survive, what drove them to keep going. You were a free ticket to a hot meal as far as this zombie was concerned, and yet…
You observe how it still lingers by the door, its hands wrapping around the cool metal of the cell bars. It’s watching you closely, its eyes following your every move, no matter how small—the zombie’s groaning, something that sends a shiver up your spine. Regardless of how long you’ve been stuck in this hell, the sounds of zombies never stopped creeping you out. The zombie pulls weakly at the bars; odd. Why would it pull so weakly when you both knew it could easily apply more strength? You were at the mercy of this zombie, and surely you both knew that. Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you feel backed into the wall behind you, your back pressed flat against the cool, bricked surface.
You needed to plan your escape, but escaping while this monster hovered around your cell wouldn’t do you any good. You lost your flashlight, and while your eyes have been slowly adjusting, you were still at a steep disadvantage. You still have your hammer, but you ultimately knew it wouldn’t do much in a fight against this guy. You could lodge it in its eye and run for it, but then you’re without a weapon. As morbid as it was, your only hope would be if another poor soul wound up here and took its attention off you. You never prayed on the downfall of another human, but if it was the only thing standing between you and getting back home, then you just might.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when you see movement in front of you, watching in curiosity as the zombie slowly sits down in front of the cell door. It wasn’t like zombies to sit and wait for their prey; they usually just continued to groan and pound away at whatever was blocking them. This zombie was nothing like one you’ve encountered, and its odd behavior was only stacking up in front of you. “What are you?” You find yourself asking, knowing you won’t get anything in response. And true enough, you don’t, except for a grunt. If you weren’t so hung up on how to get out of this situation, you’d probably be taking notes on this zombie, trying to learn about its behavior and unnatural size and classify its type.
It’s still quiet in the jail, something that hasn’t gone unnoticed by you. You wonder if the zombie in front of you is the reason for the lack of other zombies in the building. That thought sends another shiver up your spine; if this zombie could keep other zombies out of this building, how strong was this beast? Your grip on the hammer tightens as you try to keep as much distance as possible despite the cell door acting as a barricade. You chew on your bottom lip anxiously, your stomach already growling. Pushing the thought of food aside, you look down at your left ankle. It was swollen, ballooning in your shoe. Your ankle was the main reason you were out for medical supplies. During your last run-in with zombies, you sprained it when fleeing. However, with the current state of your ankle, you’re starting to suspect that you might be suffering from a sort of fracture, and you’re even more sure that trying to escape this zombie earlier only made it worse. You should have waited until your ankle healed more; patience in a zombie apocalypse was vital, but it seems it was something you lacked.
Your ankle was throbbing as you sat, and you started to wonder just how fucked of a situation you landed yourself in. You glance back up to see the zombie still staring at you. It’s strange, but what’s even stranger, you think, is how you aren’t unnerved by its stare. You don’t feel anything. You shake your head, trying to steady yourself. If you get lost in your thoughts now, if you let your panic consume you, you are dead. There was no other way about it. So, instead of letting yourself get wrapped up in your head, you needed to focus on-
“H…el…p.”
Your head snaps up, and your eyes widen as you scan the area as best you can while stuck in the dark cell. Was someone else in here with you? Was someone also stuck in a cell? A prisoner, maybe? Or someone in a very similar situation to yours? “Hello? Who’s there?” You didn’t bother hiding your voice, you were nearly positive that there was only one zombie back here with you, despite you not fully understanding what kind of zombie this was. “Are you injured?”
You were met with silence, and you felt your eyes narrowing in the darkness as you tried to pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from. “Hello?” You try again, waiting on bated breath. After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear a response.
“Not… injured.” You’re confused by this. They’re not injured, but why are they replying as if they are? “You… injured?”
“What?” You’re straining to hear the person, and the more you strain, the more you’re uncertain that you might be going insane and hallucinating the entire conversation. You’re so absorbed in this conversation that you inch yourself closer to the cell bars, your fingers wrapping around the rusty metal, the zombie the last thing on your mind.
Suddenly, the zombie’s face is blocking your view, pressed against the cold metal bars. You let out a surprised yelp, throwing yourself away from the bars and zombie and back against the brick wall. The overly large zombie is pressing itself into the bars with its hands outstretched towards you. You notice it’s not moving aggressively but slowly and curiously. “In…jured.” Okay, now you know you’re going crazy because there’s no way you just saw and heard a zombie attempting to communicate with you. There’s just no way. The zombie points at your swollen ankle with its outstretched hand as if to prove a point.
“Yeah… injured.” You repeat slowly, not quite believing that this thing is speaking to you. Or that you’re responding to it. There’s a beat of silence as the zombie stares at you, its head tilting. You’re unsure if it's trying to speak or thinking of eating you.
“Why?” The zombie’s voice is rough and raw. You assume this is because its vocal cords are damaged, and possibly because it hasn’t spoken in who knows how long. You look down at your ankle, bruises blooming across your skin.
“Because I sprained it. Maybe fractured it. I don’t know.” You offer lamely. Why are you talking with a zombie? Are you really that desperate for some kind of human interaction, even if it comes in the form of a bloodthirsty monster? You look up when hearing the zombie grunt. You’re unsure if that was a response, or just the zombie grunting for the sake of grunting. It’s still pitch black, but your eyes have somewhat adjusted. You can see the outline of muscles and the torn fabric on its dirty and bloodied clothes. It looks like a type of uniform, but you couldn’t figure out what. The zombie has shaggy hair and strands of grown-out bangs covering its eyes. Its hand is still out stretched toward you, the other clutching onto a bar of the cell. There’s dirt packed under its broken and chipped nails. You spot what looks like a nametag on the monster’s chest. “What’s your name?” You don’t know why you’re asking. Maybe to give the zombie some human element, to make it less scary. Or maybe you’re trying to prove to yourself that this whole situation isn’t made up.
The silence stretches out, lasting so long that you almost forget the zombie is there. You begin to wonder if you did imagine the scenario. “B…Beelze…bub.” Huh. Odd name. You rub your hands against your face, crouching over as you try to comprehend everything. Odd name aside, the zombie answered your question. You asked for a name and it gave you a name. Which meant the zombie understood your question and has been asking you questions and responding in kind.
“How is this possible?” You ask out loud as you lean your head against the brick wall behind you. You’ve never heard of this happening; you never imagined this happening. A talking zombie that isn’t immediately trying to kill and eat you? It’s as if you fell into a completely different world. Were there others like it? Was it possible for a community of zombies to exist? The zombie, or Beelzebub, only stared in response. Perhaps it was letting you think things over, or maybe its vocal cords were on the verge of giving out. You could also be crazy.
You lean back against the wall again, your swollen and throbbing ankle nearly forgotten. “Will you eat me if I get out of here?” It was a question you did but didn’t want to be answered. You were stuck in this situation because of it, and it did try to attack you earlier. You also figured you’d ask this before asking if it would help free you from your cell.
“Y…es…”
Solid. You managed to find the only talking zombie in town, maybe even the world, and it still wants to eat you. You’re not sure how to feel about that. You needed to think of a way out of this. “What if you let me out, you know, find a key or something, and then you don’t eat me?” Beelzebub stares at you with an expressionless face. You’re fairly sure you see it blink one eye at a time. However, a lightbulb goes off in your head; bargaining with it might work. “Uh, if you get me a key and get me out of here, without eating me,” you find yourself emphasizing, “I’ll help you find animals to eat or something.” You haven’t seen humans in town for a long time, so you don’t know the last time Beelzebub ate. Could zombies last for periods without eating? “So? What do you think? Pretty sweet deal, right?” You fully intended on ditching this zombie as soon as it lets you out. Hopefully, it can’t tell.
Still, you don’t receive anything in response. It’s still staring. “Key? You know, the shiny metal thing that unlocks doors? Cells?” You make a gesture with your hand in the air, mimicking unlocking a door with a key. “You know? Key?” You’re starting to sound desperate; you’re also stuck in a cell with a talking zombie for company. Is desperation really that bad of a look?
The zombie grunts before pushing itself away from the cell bars and standing up. It turns its back to you, shuffling away quietly. Either it’s looking for a key, or it got bored of you. You’ll gladly take either option at this point.
You sit for several minutes, trying to brainstorm ways of escape with your near-useless ankle, while also being located in the back of the police station, possibly the most dangerous place to be in town. You were also without a weapon other than your hammer, and missing your flashlight. Maybe you could brute force your way out of here? Bang on the bars enough until they give way? No, that’s ridiculous. You could try lockpicking your way out; you’ve seen it done in movies before. Maybe if you found something like a paperclip or even your fingernail-
Clank.
Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel something hard and cold bounce off your forehead. You look to the ground to see a shiny metal key by your hand. Looking up, you see Beelzebub staring at you from the other side of the cell bars. “Really? You threw it at my head?” But most importantly, this zombie fetched you a key. You asked for a key and it retrieved a key for you. Whether it’s the proper key or not is yet to be seen, but still, you find this astonishing.
“Key.” It grunts out and leans against the bars again, its expression unreadable.
“Key.” You repeat and slowly lean forward to pick up the small object. “And you’ll let me unlock the door? Without trying to eat me?” You cast a suspicious look the zombie’s way. It only grunts in response, and you struggle to decide how to take that as an answer. Regardless, your options are limited, and you don’t have much in the way of supplies when it comes to food and water. Inhaling deep, you push yourself off the ground and force your way to the door. If it tries to attack you, you can always try to outrun it. Doing so might prove slightly challenging with your ankle, but adrenaline can do wonderful things for the human body. “Can you take a step back?” You ask as you approach the cell’s bars. Unlocking the cell with your hand outstretched, a feeling of unease washes over you. The thought of it potentially seizing your hand at any moment kept you on guard, emphasizing the need for caution. It could grab your hand at any moment and bite down, why wouldn’t you be hesitant?
You watch in slight relief as Beelzebub takes a step back, and you quickly reach your hand between the bars to unlock the door with the key. With a loud click the lock opens. You swiftly slide the door open and run for it. You don’t bother looking for your flashlight or even checking for other zombies. You just run. Your feet feel heavy as they hit the ground and a searing pain swiftly travels up your ankle with each step. How long you could keep going remained unknown as you raced away from Beelzebub. It was a relief to know that Beelzebub wasn't a Griever, but its true nature remained a mystery. Could it match the speed of a Griever? Possess greater strength? These were questions to which you had no desire to find answers.
Running down the hall, you suddenly hear loud footsteps approaching from behind. The light from the reception area is just starting to become visible. You refuse to look back and instead pick up your pace. Your ankle is screaming in agony, but you couldn’t afford to stop now. This entire thing was a bust, and you knew you’d be getting out of this situation more fucked up than you were before.
The light is an overwhelming assault on your eyes the moment you step foot into the reception. Your vision is white as you stumble blindly, your hands outstretched as you try to grab onto a nearby item for support. You had to get your shit together and fast. The police station was always a hot spot for zombie activity and you were completely exposed. You were blinded, your ankle was an absolute mess, and you only had a hammer to defend yourself with. As your vision slowly returns, a rough hand lands on your shoulder from behind, and you struggle to suppress a blood-curdling scream. You spin around, your ankle nearly going out in the process, only to be met with Beelzebub’s fogged-over eyes.
“Human… lied.” You swallow the growing lump in your throat as you stare up at the monster before you. Now in the light, you can see just what you’re dealing with. The zombie’s tall, but not taller than a Greiver. It’s muscular too, which oddly enough, brings some comfort. Grievers were not known for being muscular, but that didn’t mean this zombie couldn’t seriously mess you up either.
You noticed the uniform it had on was that of a police officer, and the nametag did in fact display the name Beelzebub. So, your zombie friend was once a cop and this is likely where it died and became a zombie. Interesting. “Human prom…ised… food.” You can feel a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as its eyes bore down into you. Hopefully, it doesn’t consider you to be the food. “Human ran. Human left. I let… human out.” It seemed angry, that much was clear. Your throat was running dry, and any and all words in your head died as soon as they reached your tongue.
“I, uh…” Could you seriously not think up any excuse? “Forgot?” On second thought, maybe it would’ve been better to stay quiet. The look on Beelzebub’s face tells you it doesn’t quite believe your words either. “Alright, look. I was nervous. Can you blame me? You’re a talking zombie and I’m your five-course meal. How am I supposed to believe that you won’t try to eat me the second my guard is down? What if you call your zombie buddies to tell them you found the hottest meal ticket in town?”
“Zombie… budd…ies?” There’s a look of confusion on Beelzebub’s face as it stares down at you.
“You’re missing the point entirely.”
“B…Beelze…bub hun...gry.” A sigh leaves you as the insistent zombie stands before you. You briefly check your surroundings. It was a risk standing in an area as open as reception. You were no stranger to the types of zombies that lingered by the police station, and you didn’t want to draw a crowd. You needed to hurry this up.
“Look, if I feed you an animal or something, will you leave me alone?” You don’t know why you’re even trying to bargain with this thing; possibly because you want to get out of here and can’t outrun it. The zombie nods its head, or at least the best it can. “Fine, fine. Follow me and I’ll lead you back to my home. I have food there. Meat.” The word meat seems to do the trick, as the zombie’s eyes widen and it seems overall more aware. “Attack me though and I’ll kill you.” It doesn’t look very intimidated by your hammer or you.
Once you two agree (if you can call it that), you look around the reception area. You don’t see any zombies lingering outside. It was just as clear as when you first came in. That was weird. Normally there are at least a dozen, and the fact that there were none when you first arrived or even now leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Uneasiness aside, you didn’t want to wait around for more to show up. “Alright, follow me. Stay close behind,” you turn around to narrow your eyes suspiciously at the zombie, “but not too close, and don’t get lost because I won’t come looking for you.” You couldn’t believe you were actually considering bringing a zombie home with you.
Could you write if you want cyrus smut theirs not enough of that man and we need some ?
Cyrus x Reader Smut
Working in one of Sinnoh's most famous and historical libraries as the librarian is a comfortable government job. You work with relative ease and little discomfort and effort to get through the day.
Doesn't take long to notice the man with the blue spiky hair sitting in one spot for hours at a time, extensively reading about something. Though your job is nice, there are times when you're left without any duties. So during those times, you help out the local staff put the books away.
The man with the blue hair never checks out the books. He stays in one spot by the tables, taking meticulous notes in a notebook, before leaving before the day is over. But one day, you decided to take him back home.
You didn't plan this ahead of time, you observing him wasn't out of malicious intent to sleep with him, but one rainy night on a day he forgot to leave on time to take the bus led you to offer him a ride back to his apartment when the library doors closed.
You made light conversation, making a few comments about the choice of books he was reading and instantly his demeanor seems to change a bit. He loosens up and starts to comment back. The two of you get engaged into a conversation of history, philosophy, and religion.
The ride home was pleasant and you bid farewell to your passenger and drove home, realizing on the way back you never got his name or number.
But pleasantly, he returns the next day to the library where he sees you. Though he's not very emotive, he does thank you for your generosity. He disappears for about five minutes before coming back with a coffee for you. You accept the beverage and finally exchange names.
Cyrus began to talk to you more often, since you were extremely knowledgeable about the research topics he was invested in. One day he asks if you could come over, to discuss history over dinner and wine.
Things got heated really fast after dinner was finished, you found yourself sitting on his lap, kissing his pale lips as he grinded his pelvis against yours. He has two firm hands caressing your ass, heat and tension rising until he stopped the kisses, giving you a half lidded, heavy look.
He takes you to the bedroom and stays his cool, collected, and analytical self. He watches as your clothes drop to the floor and you climb onto the bed. For once, he hesitates and asks if you wanted this, not wanting to hurt or endanger you due to the wine you both consumed.
So what you do next, is pull him in by the tie, kissing his cheek, his neck, as you unbutton his clothes and marvel at how gorgeous he is.
Cyrus is younger than your former partners, so you can see why he hesitates. Kissing him once more, you guide him into laying down as you undo his lower garments, letting out a light gasp and laugh of surprise of how long and slender his penis is. Turns out the curtains match the drapes as well.
Seeing his cock harden made your mouth water, so you indulge yourself in tasting him by swirling your tongue on the head of his penis first. He lets out a struggled breath as he relaxes in the warmth of your wet mouth. Cyrus tries to maintain composure but that's what you like about younger men. You like "breaking" them but in the nicest way possible.
You slide your tongue from the bottom of his base before sliding it back up before relaxing your jaw and taking as much as you could handle at once. Cyrus lets out a loud gasp, momentarily bucking his hips into your mouth. You can't help but to smile a bit at how cute he was as you sucked him off.
Cyrus does his best to stay quiet but he can't help but to groan and whimper at how good you feel. He lets out a shuddering sigh of contentment. It ends far too soon then he's ready for, you stop with a loud wet pop as you suck as hard as you can before stopping, leaving him wanting more than he can express.
You smother his cock with with some lube, the bed shifts with your weight as you line your hole to his cock before going in for the full plunge and taking him all at once. You bite your bottom lip as you feel deliciously full and Cyrus throws his head back against the pillow.
You had your intentions of going at your own pace, but Cyrus had other plans, his big hands grabbing you by your hips and fucking at a pace you hadn't expected from the younger man. Not your way anymore but his, as he used you like a pocket pussy.
His cock hit all the right places, reaching far and deep inside of you, abusing that tight little bundle of nerves at the end, over and over, repeatedly at a breakneck pace. You're surprised at his stamina and speed but are reduced to gasping moans and cries. You cum before he does, milking his long cock as your gummy walls clench around him.
When this happens, he loses all composure, somehow hitting you even harder than he was before, as many times as he could before he finally could reach his own release. He grunts loudly before plowing one last time, as far and deep as he could go.
For a brief moment, the two of you catch your breath, basking in the soft afterglow of sex before you grinded your hips against him. "Up for round 2?" you ask, watching his eyes widen , his face turning red.
Prompt: When Fred's childhood friend (gn reader) secretly gives him a late night visit.
Fred × gn reader (platonic)
Genre: Fluff, comfort (?)
"I am this close away from strangling you." + "You can sleep over, it’ll be like when we were kids."
Credits: @nightprompts for these lovely prompt ideas.
A window pane conversation
"G'night," said Fred, and left the sitting room― not before being taken in a bone crashing hug by Moran― with his book in hand. The voice of Bond bickering with Moran tuned out as he stepped up the stairs and made his way to his room.
With a sigh, he kept the book on his desk and sat on the bed with a huff. "Rose gardening: how to keep your blooms alive," to the book cover read. At first he hadn't really noticed but his Boule de Neige rose plant was slowly giving our wilting leaves and much smaller flowers. Fred had thought it was due to summer, but even if with enough watering and fertilizers there was no improvement.
He shifted and lied down on the bed, arm over forehead. He remembered the day when a tea party had been hosted in the Moriarty Manor. A noble lady had praised him for these very flowers. Fred had clearly blushed at the compliment, but not entirely because of it.
It had reminded him of someone.
Of how years back, when he had nothing of his own except for his scarf and a skill in gardening, there had a been a friend who complimented him just the same.
"Fred!" shouted a little kid running up a hill. Fred― then a little boy himself― turned towards the sound. His face radiated a soft smile as he extended his hand for the kid to grab and climb up.
"Hello to you too, Y/N," he said with a silly smile.
"Fred, it's been so long!" they said and gave him a short hug, "Now tell me what was the thing you wanted to show me?"
With a smile, Fred led them by the hand till they reached his house― a small brick structure with collapsing brick gaps and no windows. He opened the wooden gate carefully, not wanting to announce he was home. Keeping a finger on his lips, he gestured Y/N to follow him inside. There, Fred led them to a tiny corner and pointed his finger in that direction.
"Whatever is th- roses?" Y/N asked looking at the lush plant that grew in the corner. "Where did you get them?"
"From Lord Turner's garden," he said proudly.
"What? He'd have gotten you shot for entering into his property!"
Fred kept a hand on their mouth. "Y/N, do hush. I'm alive, aren't I? Don't worry, they've been here since a couple weeks, no one noticed."
"Not even anyone at home?"
"They don't mind till I don't get them in trouble," he said with a small, sad smile. They looked at him with wide eyes and quickly blurted: "Well, you have a passion for gardening, indeed."
"I didn't even grow these."
"But you kept them alive Fred," said Y/N holding him by the shoulder, "They're beautiful and I'm proud of you."
A little stunned, Fred just kept looking at them with parted lips.
"I'm proud of you."
The window rattled with sharp, thundering knocks.
A streak of tears ran down the side of his face. He missed Y/N a lot, regularly. They met often, sure, but it was very secretive and complicated owing to Fred's profession. It was difficult returning home with a box of chocolates and avoiding all sorts of questions. And it was much harder trying to explain to Y/N how he got these injuries. He just wished he could buy some more time, just the two of them and―
The window rattled with sharp, thundering knocks.
Fred quickly got out of bed, grip tightening on his dagger involuntarily. With short, quick steps he reached the window. It was getting dark outside, and all he could see in the glass was his own image. He waited there for a second, but when the knock came, he didn't hesitate much in sliding the window pane open.
He didn't know how long he stood there like that, dagger in hand, lips parted, eyes widened in surprised. "Y/N?" he whispered to the person in front of him. Outside his window. Feets above ground level. "Y/N, what are you doing here?!"
"Hello to you too," they said. "Are you going to leave me hanging here?" With a flicker of realization, Fred pulled them by the hand and let them in. Instantly, he was taken into his second hug of the day.
"Oh God, what if someone saw you?" He rushed back to the window and looked down. "And what if you fell Y/N?"
"Oh come on, you know I'm gifted with―"
"Excellent monkey skills, yes I know." He picked up a banana from the fruit basket on the desk and threw it at them.
"Don't be so sulky, Fred," they whined while holding their newly acquired banana.
"I'm- I'm being sulky? Yk this is my workplace my master is going to- ugh." He held his head in his hands.
"Fire you?" Y/N asked. Then, with a mischievous twinkle, added, "That means we'll have more time to spend together! Much like last time! You do remember when you worked for Lord Birkett and he―"
Fred shot his eyes wide open and pushed Y/N to the nearest wall holding their collar tight. "Y/F/N I swear I'm this close―" he gestured a pinchful with his fingers― "this close away from strangling you so if you don't stop―"
"I think stabbing suits you more," Y/N said a little breathlessly. They tipped their face towards the desk where Fred had left his dagger. He turned to look behind it and loosened his grip on his friend. "Well, that was embarrassing wasn't it?" they said with a hand on their chest as they walked towards the dagger. But instead of picking it up, they took the book Fred had left there.
Fred's ears were red by now. Surely, the events that had taken place at Birkett Hall were mortifying. "Do not mention Lord Birkett, God." But Y/N didn't hear him, for they were skimming through the gardening book. "You still love your roses," they said with a soft, fond smile.
Fred blushed anew. "Well, what's the use of love alone?" Y/N shot them a confused look. "My roses are dying, you see. And it seems that my love is useless so suddenly."
Y/N closed the book, but kept it holding for a moment before speaking. "Love isn't a small thing, Fred. It's a vast concept. Has its roots everywhere. When you water your plants, pluck out the wild weeds from the soil, upturn the soil, you show them love. Your love alone has kept them alive since so long, Fred. And I'm sure it'll keep them alive in future too." They smiled.
Fred returned a smaller smile. "I missed you, was missing you. Just now, before you came."
"Why do you think I came?" Y/N said teasingly. "I could see you wiping your tears. Baby Fred still cries. Just like when you cried when you spilled hot broth on Lord Birkett's pants and―"
"STOP!" He quickly looked towards the door to ensure nobody heard him. "I was just... Yawning. Yes, I was sleepy. I would have slept by now"
"Then you should sleep, Fred," Y/N said with a smile and turned towards the window.
"Wh- wait!" Fred held them by the arm. They looked behind at him, a little surprised. "Stay. For sometime."
Y/N's smile widened as they led their friend to the bed and tucked them in sheets despite protests. "No, we can talk even while lying," they said as they slipped under the covers next to Fred and kept their head on his arm.
"Oh- uh- I didn't... Well." His ears were turning visibly red.
"Why, Fred, you're suddenly shy of me?" They pinched his cheek. "Adorable, as ever."
They closed their eyes and began little topics on how they met a little dog on the way and a leaf fell right in front of their face making them sneeze. "I should leave, Fred. It's late," they said after a moment of silence.
When Fred didn't respond for a while they thought he had slept, so they gently started rising from the bed. But Fred quickly held them back and sleepily mumbled, "You can sleep over, it’ll be like when we were kids."
Y/N looked at them for a moment. Surely, it can't be right. But it felt so sentimental at the moment that they didn't have a word of refusal. So, quietly they slipped back into place and wrapped an arm around him. "I missed you too, Fred. I'm glad you're here."
And with that they slept in the faint light of the moon and the buzzing of the gas lamp in the room. And had it been not for tending the roses the next day, Fred would have wished for this moment to last a forever.
a falling leaf kissed your cheek as you opened your eyes once more, darkness pouring into your vision. as your eyes adjusted, you could make out the shape of kazuhas body next to you, his chest rising up and down as he slept.
at least one of you could sleep.
you wanted to move your head and rest it on kazhuas leg, but you knew that would wake him up. he was an incredibly light sleeper, a skill given to him by his years of traveling.
you sat up as silently as you could, and leaned against the tree behind you. a wandering thought led you to this morning, causing you to relive the memory.
not too long ago, kazhua was talking about how he loved to sleep outside, his voice filled with so much happiness and love that you impulsively suggested,
hey, what about sleeping outside together?
you didn’t regret it, how could you after seeing the way his face lit up, brighter then a kid opening their gifts on christmas? kazhua had grasped both your hands in his, a smile spreading across his face.
do you mean that? i would love nothing more.
he had led you to a breath taking meadow, where flowers had swayed gently in the breeze, dancing at your arrival.
kazhua had bent down and brushed his fingers against one.
this one reminds me of you
he didn’t pick flowers; he didn’t see the point in harming the nature like that.
his grip on your hand loosened as he stopped under a large tree, it’s branches sheltering the both of you like loving arms.
this is one of my favorite spots to sleep, do you like it?
you had nodded, and as night fell, you and kazhua had cuddled underneath the tree, your backs pressed aganist the bark, and as time passed, you felt kazhuas soft snores beside you, his breath tickling the top of your ear.
but over time, you failed to fall asleep. nature had flooded your senses, bugs trilled loudly and the itchy grass prodded you. your vision swam as the darkness changed shapes, and you weren’t sure if the objects you saw were real or a figment of your late night imagination.
you tried laying your head on the grass, using your jacket as a pillow. no luck either, and you just ended up staring at the stars, your lips gently mouthing numbers as you counted them.
soon enough you lost sense of time, and here you were, sitting up aganist a tree in a position mimicking kazhuas. an involuntary sigh left your lips and before you could register what happened, kazhua had woken up, his worried eyes searching yours.
are you alright? you look,, exhausted.
his face fell as realization overtook him.
you failed to sleep didn’t you? i’m so sorry. i forget that not everyone can fall asleep outside so easily. do you want to go home?
guilt colored his voice as he looked at you, his hands twitching to hold yours.
you shook your head. you didn’t want to spoil this experience for him, taint it with guilt.
he shifted in his spot, and then slowly got up. his hands fidgeted with his outfit and he slowly pulled off his haori coat, draping it over one arm. sliding back down, he beckoned for you to move closer to him, a comforting smile gracing his face.
you moved closer and he pulled you into his arms, the scent of him making you immediately feel as if you were at home.
your head rested aganist his chest, and your legs were curled up between his. the coat was draped over you gently, and the feeling warmed you, making you feel at home. his fingers coursed through your hair as a familiar melody filled the air around you.
kazuha smiled down at you as he hummed gently, not stopping his gentle administrations to your hair. the wind no longer whipped your skin, and you no longer felt cold, as kazhuas warmth in addition to his coat expelled any cool sensation that threatened to break your peace.
soon enough, you felt your eyes growing heavy; blinking becoming a difficult task for you. you yawned, and kazhuas hand brushed your cheek.
sleep, now. i’m here.
and your consciousness left you, but kazhuas hands never did.
additional notes: this is my first work here! i didn’t have anyone beta read it or anything so please forgive me if it’s bad. this was a request from @yinyinggie so thank you!
ps: i appreciate feedback and constructive criticism as well as reblogs!! ty for reading!
Ever since he met you, he knew he had to watch after you.
As children it wasn’t as easy for him to determine why he was so protective of you but as he matured it came into clear view that you needed someone to look out for you.
You were too open, too kind, you let anybody close to you and they repeatedly hurt you.
They’d lie to you, they’d steal from you, they’d take from you.
He became determined to stop that from happening.
At first he resorted to verbal threats, starting mild scuffles which upset you heavily.
You showed extreme distaste towards violence, especially when it involved him getting hurt, constantly reminding him that defusing a fight is more important than finishing one.
Fine, he could work around this, he'd do it for you.
You'd appreciate it if you understood the reality of the world.
As he gained more power over his quirk he used it to his benefit, cornering problems after school to show them how to behave.
It always worked, they’d leave you alone.
Of course he’d be there to console you when a potential love interest or ‘friend’ cut you off cold, he’d always be there for you.
But as you both got older, he had to get more serious in his deterrent strategies.
People learned to never cross you since you had a guard dog just waiting for the opportunity to sink his teeth into them.
It became widely known that anyone who gave you any trouble would be dealt with no matter how hard they tried to avoid it.
However, this didn’t stop boys from attempting to court you, as if that's even an option.
You’re not up for grabs, not by any one of those fucking losers.
Middle school is ground zero for budding romances and hormones to fluctuate wildly, boys getting more intensive about their own desires.
It made him sick.
The way they’d look at you, the way they’d talk about you among themselves, it was fucking awful. Someone as cute and precious as you would always be sought out by undeserving perverts.
He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. He had to do something when some bastard managed to sneak past him.
One day a boy gave you his number, and you actually put it in your phone.
Every message was like a knife into his gut, he almost didn't want to read through your chat logs.
But he knew that he had to pour through all of it to fully understand how far this disgusting monster would be willing to go.
How could you let yourself be manipulated like this? How could you be so misguided when the only person who’s actually looking out for you is so much better than this idiot?
He was going to handle it like he always had, but this guy was something else.
You weren’t supposed to see any of it. You really weren’t.
His original plan was to beat you to a meeting up point you’d established with that creep, somewhere secluded towards a wooded area, perfect for what he intended to do.
He’d just persuade him to get fuckin lost with some sparks along with a few choice phrases, and then when you arrive only for nobody to be there you'd learn that boys like that would always abandon you.
Just like always he would be there to pick up the pieces of your heart, pushing you towards the obvious conclusion that he was who mattered.
The plan was to show you that this loser was leading you on for shits and giggles, that other boys weren’t worth your time.
But this bastard wouldn’t budge.
He said he wasn’t scared of meager threats, and that you would soon be giving all your attention to him, that he was better for you and actually cared about you.
Then he said that he was going to ask you out, and you'd give your virginity to him.
The first punch didn't even register in Bakugou's brain until it connected.
Then he threw a second. And a third. And a fourth.
His palms didn't spark even once, instincts and adrenaline flooded his system, following his target to the ground and landing blow after blow as hard as he could.
He wasn't focused on the damage he was actually dealing, so infuriated and enraged that all he was thinking about was about how much this bastard deserved so much more than this, about how well he was doing to protect you from this absolute degenerate.
When a breeze rolled through, he could feel and really smell the metallic fluid slinging itself all over him.
He only stopped when his fists began connecting with nothing solid, the soreness in his arms and the lack of movement beneath him prompting him to take a break.
That was when he looked up, sensing another presence nearby, locking eyes with you from across the field.
It doesn’t matter when you started watching, what matters is the pool of gore beneath him, the blood splattered over his jaw and dripping off his school uniform, even staining his hair in places.
Both you and him know he can close the distance before you successfully run away.
He’s sure that if he can keep you from screaming he can explain how this was all for your sake.
After all, he loves you.
This is all for you, this should be proof that he loves you far deeper than anyone in the world.
Sometimes dirty work is necessary. You'd understand that. He just has to explain it to you.
Offering those poppy flowers as a treaty, it was cruel, but he assumed you wouldn’t do anything naive again…but to have them thrown at his face. Well, he was amused honestly, again…he held no grudges.
Flowers? He actually got you flowers, he seemed so proud of himself too, the irony to him being proud of something for once. "Poppy flowers?"
The scientist nods as if to expect your reaction of overjoy with his gestures of affectionate labors, it honestly made the tension in the room heighten while he still held the flowers. After the argument yesterday?
==
"Harley they are just children! They shouldn't be doing adult stuff! Just grab some criminals or people who could be dying- something!"
It made Harley scoff, for you to even suggest that kind of idea all the while they had such an amazing opportunity to create bigger bodies and more toys accessible or simply create life! Naive, very naive. "Elliot Ludwig was able to save his daughter, we should..."
"No, Elliot created Poppy! We don't know if- the accident...You can't hurt them. Please Harley, you already hurt prototype and Theo." He looks back at your pleading gaze, but you didn't understand the bigger picture here. "Everything I do, I'm doing for Playtime."
"No you're not! You only care for fame, money and proving those other scientists wrong." You look away and hug yourself, backing up when he tries to hold your face. "Please listen when I tell you this, my dear."
"What is there to listen to?"
"You simply don't understand, you're too sentimental. They're just orphans-"
"Sawyer- I was an orphan! You all knew that! Elliot hired me so I can work with the children! Not hurt them!" You push him aside after your outburst, walking away with anger boiling inside you.
==
Such outbursts shouldn't happen again, he gently pushes the poppies in your hand. "I'm sorry my dear, I should have considered your feelings through all of this. That is why I'm sending you-"
You move away and drop the flowers, "Don't try to insult my intelligence, what did you do to them."
"Who...." There was an unbearable moment of silence between you two, Harley wanted to believe that you didn't mean them. "Experiment...1322...?"
"NO! Kevin, Jack and Matthew!" You shove him again, now letting angry tears fall down from your already red puffy eyes. "You told me you wouldn't hurt them! I told you! They were just babies! Why are they working with those bastards who laugh at their pain!?"
Harley hugs your shaken form, listening to you sob against his chest, and he understood why Leith said he shouldn't have gotten so attached to you. "You're too emotional for this project....We have to send you back."
"......Why? Because Pierre said so?"
"My dear, you're simply, a threat to...myself and this project." You move from him after he says that.
"You had the audacity to give me these flowers. Knowing you ruined any chance of us ever clicking."
Harley groans then he starts yelling, "What can I do!? Huh? I loved you! Yet your face shows revulsion! You cannot handle the fact that I wish to play scientist for one second-"
"A scientist wouldn't harm others for his selfish needs! If you really love me, you'd stop hurting the children! Stop being such a damn fool!" The man just slams his hand down, you flinch, and he stares you in the eyes afterwards.
"What I'm doing is something your sentimental mind cannot understand...I've entertained your silly emotions long enough, you are dismissed and forbidden from seeing the children and the bigger toys... I know what you say to them. 'Stay brave' 'Stay strong' 'Don't let revenge be your only way to push forward' or my favorite 'You deserve better'. Do you think I enjoy being cruel?"
At first, you didn't answer his question, yet when he got close and caressed your cheek. His eyes meet yours and he could see the fear in your eyes, the anger that follows after and then the utter despair. "Of course you do, I love you, but you do not hold such regards because you think I'm cruel."
When the discussion ends, you left in silence. Stella walks over and tries to reach out, you simply pull your hand away when she does, not wanting to spare her a glance. "When things go to hell, I won't be here to clean his mess or comfort him.."
CW, slight NSFW// Minors do not interact.
Naked bodies, kissing, small forms of affection, arguments and slight signs of emotional abuse
(It's how I depict Harley Sawyer, he seems like the one who desires affirmation and gratification but will deny such affections when he feels he failed, knows he failed or can sense disappointment from others)
All those years you both spent together, when you first met it was of course a form a normalcy, curt talks, exchanging ideas and then experimenting on ways to help the toys become more marketable.
Then he made the first move and got declined, it was a simple decline that didn't affect him at first but then he asked again when you both became more comfortable. That was about five months later, you accepted. Then explained to him your reasoning for declining him, "I wasn't really sure what dynamic we had so I wasn't planning on risking our jobs."
You get it, and he was well enthralled with the idea of having a better half so you both hit it off well, chattering, talking about dreams. Sometimes you both would spend time over each other's homes, he lived in a nice house, it was obvious he really caters to his work in his spare time.
Meanwhile you enjoyed your comfortable apartment life, housing isn't cheap and at the moment you were comfortable with a couch, two bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen lounge room with a tv. Harley didn't mind either, in fact he ended up spending the night.
He was, simply enamored with you, your touches, his hands intertwining with yours the way you'd lean into his touch. Even when all you both did was admire each other's bodies, there was something about it from Harley that made you feel special.
When you made breakfast, he'd hug you with his tall frame looming over your frame even if you both were tall or if you were short, he was somehow finding a way to hug you by the waist. He kisses your cheek, jaw and then neck before leaning on you, it was comfortable.
While at work you both barely showed affection, he did find random ways to be caring, covering the corners of desks for example. Then you'd return the favor by grabbing him coffee, his favorite being a cappuccino latte with cream and brown sugar. Simple work partner stuff, but he had an ego, showing off his works, you'd nod in approval and then show him ways to do better.
While his ego was there, he still listened to you, but you'd tell him to take credit for it because you knew he could repay you later. A single chaste kiss on the lips or more if he was really thankful, it honestly bemused you how this so called "doctor" scientist was so fascinated by anatomy when it came to intimacy.
"Explain this to me, I recently tried to handle prototype, but he simply wouldn't cooperate. So I gave him a shock." Harley watches you freeze, ".....Harley you bought him to life, you...it's amazing but you cannot just hurt him for not bending to your will."
Harley scowls at your warning, "Spare me the sentiments, the prototype is nothing but a machine experiment."
You grab the file and leave to go see this prototype. "I'll talk to him"
When you opened the door and spoke with the prototype you at first thought it'd be terrifying but...this creature was simply scared and confused. Smart too, your gentle voice eased its weary hand. Then you point to the glass, it taps to signal its knowing knowledge of the see through glass. "I'll try to tell him to stop with the electrocution, okay?"
"dO nOt wOrRy mX- you simply want to help your= lOveR coRrect?"
You nod slowly, blinking in shock. "How did you..."
"yOuR eyes dilated when i uSeD h1s vO1ce."
Manipulative, just like Harley in a strange way...
When you leave the room, Harley was leaning against the wall. He then left in silence, "Harley...." You reach but he moves away, "Come on, you know I love your work-"
"Yet you hate how I handle it right?"
you sigh, of course Sawyer is offended. "No, I simply want you to not be cruel to them. You can depict what I mean however you want, you'll just hurt your own feelings that way."
He scoffs out a chuckle, "Of course, to think I actually let my guard down." You pause then hold his hand.
"Hey...." Harly pauses, not looking back to hide his knowing smirk before he turns with a tired sad gaze. "I'm sorry, you can visit mine and we can have some comfort food okay...?"
He nods then caresses your face, "Thanks for taking the risk for me hun, I'm sorry if I upset you.." he nods again, accepting your apology. When it should be him apologizing to you!
