#twd au

five in the afternoon. the hot georgia sun, beating down on the parking lot, your skin dampened with a sheen of sweat.

shane's big truck pulling into the parking lot next to you. pushing off the side of your car you wave at your son through the back window.

shane exits the vehicle and opens the rear driver's side door to unbuckle the squealing toddler from the back seat. mop of curls on his head, just like his daddy's is when it's grown out. the same big brown eyes.

"dinner and bath is all done, he's ready to chill and hit the hay at bedtime." shane reaches in to unbuckle him and pulls him out, tucking him against his chest.

"alright, little man, i love ya bubba. i'll see you in a few days, don't give mama a hard time." he squeezes the toddler into a hug and presses his lips to his head.

as shane hands your son to you, you do the exact same and squeeze him into a hug, pressing numerous kisses to his cheeks and face.

"he's actually gonna stay at mom's for the night, and i have a lot to catch up on around the house and mom offered to give me the night and tomorrow off." you turn to place him in his car seat, buckling him in securely.

"well, happy mother's day to you, girl." shane is on the passenger side of the truck, pulling flowers and a large gift bag out.

you stammer and cross your arms, "didn't have to do this, shay."

"from me and little man. we appreciate you." he pulls you into a hug.

"thank you. we appreciate you right back. you take good care of us." you pulled yourself back rather quickly, trying to make yourself remember that you and shane are in fact separated.

—

after your son has been dropped off at your mom's house, you're back home—in the house you used to share with shane—pouring a big glass of bubbly wine, standing your bathrobe, hair pulled up and slippers on.

you make your way to the master bathroom, dimming the lights. shane had done everything you wanted for this bathroom. heated floors, double vanity, standing shower and a tub, yellow lighting instead of white lighting. it was your sanctuary, connected to your bedroom, a space for you to treat as a getaway. pouring bubble bath under the running faucet suds begin to accumulate across the surface of the water.

pulling the bathrobe off of your form, sliding down into the hot tub, you sipped on your wine and let out a sigh of relief.

music playing softly from the speaker your phone was connected to, you sunk further into the tub, letting it wash all your worries away.

right as the last worry was leaving your head, your phone buzzed. you simply ignored it and laid your head back against the edge of the tub.

somewhere between your third glass of wine & being out of the tub you could've sworn you heard something directly under you in the kitchen. ignoring it, because you're certain you locked all the doors, you tie your robe before reaching down to drain the tub and hear another loud bang over it.

you tip toe to the bathroom door and lock it before reaching for your phone to call shane.

"what's up, mama?" shane answers.

"hey, i'm really sorry to bother you, i think someone is breaking into the house and i'm upstairs in the bathroom, can you swing over?" you ramble into the speaker with a whisper.

"yea, i'm in the house, i used my key. cooking in the kitchen. and by the way, if you think someone's in your house girl, don't drain the fuckin' tub, huh?" he hangs up as the lock is picked open with the pin key and he stands in the bathroom doorway, giving you a once over.

"what the fuck is your problem?" you clutch your chest and double over with a gasp.

"ain't got a problem, sweetheart, came over to cook mother's day dinner for the mother of my child, in the home we used to share." he croons at you, walking over to the closet to get you pajamas, as if things had never ended between the two of you.

"what if i had a man over here, and i was busy in bed?!" you call after him, arms crossed.

"you're so fulla'shit." shane laughed, returning with pajamas for you. "get dressed, dinner's waitin'."

"you're such an asshole," you snatch your clothes from him and shut the door to begin getting dressed.

"good to be home, baby!" shane continues laughing at your anger, making his way to the kitchen to plate your dinner.

—

half a steak and another glass of bubbly wine in your belly, you're teetering on the edge of tipsy. shane's had a few, he's feeling buzzed. it really is like things never changed.

you're sat next to shane, your feet kicked over his knee, leaning back in your chair, laughing at something dumb he said.

"thank you for my flowers, and dinner. you really don't have to do all that." you clear your throat as the laughter dies out.

"yes i do, and not because i feel obligated, er'nothin', just because i want to. always tellin' that boy that even if mommy and daddy live apart, that i still care about mommy more than anything and that it is our job to protect you. raising him to be a man, raising him with an influence i never had." he shrugs and lays his hand on your shin, rubbing his thumb back and forth softly.

"picked a good man to have him with," your hand reaches for his, fingertips grazing his knuckles, "would do it the same way every time."

—

you aren't sure if it's lowered inhibitions due to alcohol consumption or just the domestic feeling of being under the same roof as shane again that really did it for you, but the tops of your feet are resting in the pillow next to your head as shane is sliding himself in and out of you obscenely.

one arm above your head, the other hand holding steady next to your foot.

his forehead is resting on yours, pouring sweat, "pretty girl, so fuckin' tight, baby. missed this pussy so bad, y'r'sposed to be my fuckin' wife." his lips are whispering to you in a harsh tone, pressing hard, squishy kisses to your jaw.

tears are down your cheeks, you're making noises you've never heard from yourself before, all while shane is relentlessly pounding into you.

his teeth move to graze your neck, your back arching off of the bed as you wiggle your legs to lock around his waist, a moan slipping from your lips once more.

shane rolls you over so you're straddling him, his fingers digging into your hips with a delicious burn.

your hips wiggle forwards and backwards as you bounce yourself up and down the length of his cock, your thighs starting to burn as you pick up your pace.

his hands begin to paw at your chest, fingers rolling a nipple between them every couple of minutes, "gimme a kiss, mama. cmere." his hand is on the back of your neck, folding your body into his, his tongue immediately working it's way into your mouth to taste you.

between open mouth kisses and heavy breathing, he pants, "know you're right there baby, let go with me, c'mon. just one more." his hips stutter upwards, hands firm on your hips as he jackhammers himself into you, chasing his high, your cunt constricting around him intermittently.

"just one more, 'kay.." you sob softly, nails digging into his shoulders.

shane continued to curse as he fucked himself up into you, spilling himself inside of you. as you writhe through your orgasm you lay yourself down on him, as he softens inside of you.

—

and that's how you wound up holding up a pregnancy test a month later when shane is bringing the boy back home for the week, "happy father's day." you drop it on the counter and sigh, running your hand through your hair.

He didn’t arrive with declarations or empty promises. He just… folded himself into the rhythm of the place. Mornings smelled like strong coffee and toast. Evenings came with quiet routines—greasing squeaky hinges, changing lightbulbs, tightening screws on things that rattled. He didn’t ask for praise. He didn’t even announce what he was doing, he just noticed what needed doing and handled it.

And then there was the way he treated you.

Not like a kid. Not like an obligation. He remembered the little things—the way you hated the radio talk show host on the local channel, the way you liked your eggs for breakfast, that sometimes you just needed a minute to get things off your chest when you got home from a bad day.

When your mom would snap too sharply or come home looking to pick a fight, Shane would intervene with a steady voice and an even expression, “hey, cmon now, y’know that ain’t fair.” As if defending you was instinctive.

That alone would’ve been enough to soften you.

Unfortunately, he was also devastatingly handsome in a way that snuck up on you. Nothing flashy. Not even polished. Just broad shoulders and rough, capable hands and a smile that felt earned instead of practiced. His voice—low, drawling, unhurried—had a way of wrapping around words like he was taking care with them, like he knew the effect they had.

From the very beginning, there had been a current between you. Not sparks. Not fireworks. Something slower and more dangerous. A gravity you couldn’t quite explain. Glances that lingered a fraction longer than they should. The way his attention found you in a room without any effort. Inside jokes meant just for you two. A sense that he was always very… aware of you.

And you were aware of him right back.

Which was why you’d done the sensible thing and started dating a man who was aggressively unremarkable.

Evan was… fine. Evan was harmless. Evan was what you were supposed to want. He texted you good morning and good night every day. He showed up when he said he would. He thought romance was consistency and sex was something you completed rather than participated in. His idea of being spontaneous was getting Panda Express last Friday instead of the usual pizza.

You told yourself that was enough. You told yourself that passion had to settle down eventually. This was just part of growing up and you’d get over it.

But there were only so many nights you could lay there staring at the ceiling, your body pursed for a release with nowhere for it to go. Only so many you could sit awake at night thinking about how you felt so lonely despite the man sharing your bed.

That was when you decided to end it. Well, to make him end it. You hated breaking up with people. You hated how the guy would always make you out to be some kind of evil psychopath, all the while leaving out the many ways he fell short leading up to the split. So you’d put that burden on Evan, it was the least he could do.

It didn’t need to be dramatic or cruel, you just wanted him to lose interest. Simple enough, right?

So you built a plan.

Step one: stop being appealing.

No more effort.

No more flirting.

No more carefully chosen little sets with meticulously paired accessories. Oh no, Evan was getting loooooow maintenance. Messy, even.

The main issue you’re facing now is that you don’t own a single thing that would fit that category. This is glaringly clear as your hot-pink tracksuit clad reflection stares back at you from your full body mirror and, damn, does it fit you well. You almost hate to push your fashion sense aside, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

This was how you end up standing outside your mom and Shane’s bedroom. The door was ajar and there sat Shane, folding your mom’s laundry, because of course he was folding her laundry. He’s perfect. You bit the inside of your cheek as you knocked on the door frame.

His eyes lifted to meet yours almost immediately, brow lifting in mild surprise. “Hey, darlin’. Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, toooootally great,” you said brightly, forcing a reassuring smile to your lips. “I just need to ask an itty bitty favor. Can I borrow something?”

He set the sweater in his hands down on the comforter, standing from the bed. “‘Course you can. Whatcha need?”

“One of your sweatshirts.”

The pause was subtle—but it was there.

“…Mine? You sure you don’t want one of your mom’s cardigans or something?”

“Noooo, I definitely think I need yours,” you nodded. “The biggest one you have, if possible. Something that looks like it’s been through a war. OH- that police academy one you wore the other day, maybe? With the stains?” You tried to tamp down on the giddiness you were feeling at the thought of how frumpy you’re going look. This was going to be great.

Shane laughed under his breath. “That thing’s gonna swallow you, darlin’.”

“I know, it’s perfect.”

He disappeared into the closet and came back with a hoodie that looked soft and worn and unmistakably his. When he handed it over, your fingers brushed the soft, piling material. He cleared his throat.

“I hate to break it to ya, kid, but that things nowhere near fitting you.” He was clearly very amused with this whole occurrence.

“Exactly, that’s the point.” You tugged it on right there, fabric sliding down your arms, sleeves hiding your hands, hem grazing the hem of your shorts on your thighs. It felt absurd and comfortable and, strangely, a little intimate.

Shane stared.

Not rudely, but openly. Just long enough to tell you something wasn’t lining up in his head.

“And you’re plannin’ on wearin’ that out the house?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Shane knew you well enough by now to have picked up on the fact that you never left the house looking short of perfect.

“Sure am,” you chirped excitedly, unable to help yourself from primping in the mirror against the far wall.

“…Why? You going to some kind of themed party?”

And, for some reason, you didn’t lie.

You laughed first—too fast, too light—like maybe if you said it casually enough it wouldn’t sound insane. “Okay, well—this is going to sound terrible, but I’m kind of trying to get my boyfriend to break up with me.”

That earned you a real laugh—startled, loud, completely unguarded.

“You’re kiddin’.”

“I wish,” you blurted, and then it was like the dam broke and you couldn’t stop the words pouring from your mouth. “He’s just—Shane, he’s so boring. And I feel awful saying that, because he’s technically nice, but it’s the kind of nice where there’s nothing underneath it? Like beige walls. Or unseasoned chicken. And every time we hang out I feel like I’m doing homework instead of… I don’t know, living my life?”

You waved a hand, already spiraling. “And I keep telling myself that this is what being an adult is supposed to be like, right? Stable, predictable, whatever—but I’m just sitting there thinking, is this it? Is this what I’m signing up for forever? Because that feels like a trap.”

You sucked in a breath, face warm now.

“And—oh god—this is where it gets really tragic,” you rushed on. “He’s terrible in bed. Like not even awkward-because-he-cares terrible. Just… bad. Like he thinks effort is optional. Like he pats my hip after like he’s done a good job and I’m lying there staring at the ceiling wondering if I’ll have to fake a headache for the rest of my life.”

Shane turned his head away, coughing into his hand to cover the laugh that bubbled up.

“Alright,” he said, laughing harder despite himself. “That’s enough. Way more than I needed.”

You clamped your mouth shut, mortified, tugging the sweatshirt sleeves over your hands. “Sorry—sorry. I don’t know why I’m talking so much. I’m just so tired of feeling like I’m silly for wanting more.”

“So anyway,” you continued, lighter and matter-of-fact, “I figured if I stopped dressing like myself, he’d finally lose interest and break up with me.”

Shane leaned back against the wall, arms folding, gaze drifting over you again. Slower this time. Warmer. Locked in fully on you.

“Sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head, “that ain’t how men work.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “it’s not?”

“Nope.” His mouth tilted into a half-smile. “A man loves seein’ his woman in his clothes.”

Your stomach flipped, sharp and sudden.

“And,” he added, casual as could be, “he really hates seein’ her in someone else’s. Makes him territorial.”

“Oh,” you said slowly, glancing down at the sleeves pooling over your hands, “territorial is bad?”

Shane huffed a quiet laugh, eyes still on you. “Sweetheart,” he said, “wearing another man’s clothes doesn’t make you less appealing. It makes a man notice you more.”

You looked back up at him. “Meaning?”

“Meaning,” he replied, voice easy but unmistakably warm, “it makes a guy picture things. Wonder things. Start thinkin’ about you wearin’ his stuff instead. Maybe even start imaging you with nothing on at all.”

Your breath caught—just a little.

“Oh,” you said again, trying for casual and not quite landing it. “So this isn’t reading as ‘unattractive.’”

“No, ma’am,” he said softly. “Not even close.”

You tugged at the cuff again, suddenly very aware of how familiar the fabric felt. “Guess I picked the wrong strategy.”

Shane’s mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Guess you did.”

“Okay, well, I’ll… rethink things, I guess.” You backed away before either of you could say something worse, smile soft but pulse skittering. “Mind if I keep the sweatshirt for the day anyway?”

Shane didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink. “Be my guest, darlin’.”

Something warm flickered low in your chest. You turned and walked down the hall.

Behind you, Shane exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, voice barely audible—

“Lord help me.”

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Izuku felt his heart squeeze as he looked at his phone. “I know.” He said softly. It was his first day back at the station from parental leave and he was missing it more than anything. He loved his job, being a firefighter was great, however, he loved the three months he could spend with you and his new son. He moved his chopsticks around a bit. “I missed you both too, but don’t worry. I’ll be back home in 10 hours or so. You’ll barely notice it.”

You sighed with a frown but nodded. “I know but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“When we started this call, it was nearly thirty minutes ago. You’ll see me for breakfast.” Izuku said with a soft chuckle. He moved the screen closer to his face. You were the woman of his life, the star in his sky and the reason that he kept pushing. He would break his back to care for you. It was the entire reason he came back from paternity leave, to provide for you and the little one you had made with your own blood, sweat and tears. “I love you.”

He saw your face ease. “I love you.” You whispered. You moved the camera so he could see Toshinori. The green haired baby had already fallen asleep at your bosom, his head leaning against you as he breathed deeply, vaguely remembering that he had attached himself to you and only suckled milk every few seconds before tiring. You moved the camera back to your face. “He loves you too. Be safe.” You blew him a kiss before putting down the phone.

Izuku sighed as he saw you disconnect from the call. He looked up to the ceiling, wondering if he should have come back to work at all. As much as being a dad meant he got little sleep, barely remembered to shower sometimes and not to mention all the dirty diapers, he missed you both. He missed you both so much. Being away from you now, felt… suffocating.

“Finally done with your phone call?” The voice of the blond man made Izuku’s eyes open as he turned his head to look at the doorway of the kitchen. Bakugo Katsuki leaned against the doorframe, his hands holding his biceps as he raised an eyebrow at Izuku.

Izuku sighed as he moved his chair back to stand up. “Yes.” He stated simply as he picked up his bento and headed over to the sink to wash his dishes, keeping his back to Katsuki.

Katsuki opened his mouth to tease Izuku but hesitated. He furrowed his eyebrows before scratching the back of his head. “So… how’s the new baby treating you? Mochi-toshi, was it?”

“Toshinori.” Izuku corrected him. Katsuki made a grunt, showing that he didn’t really care (but Izuku knew he was teasing). The green haired man paused before chuckling lowly. The thought of his son made him smile, a warm smile that would appear anytime he thought about you or his son. Izuku developed a new habit while on his first day back of boasting and showing pictures of his little boy to anyone who would look or listen. “He’s good, we’re good. Y/N was born to be a mother. Everything she does seems so easy and yet she still insists she needs me.”

Katsuki’s jaw tensed slightly as he swallowed down hard but he smiles. He nodded his head. “Y/N is good like that. She’s always been good with kids.” He stated as he folded his arms over his chest, gripping his biceps. “Have you bonded with the little shit yet?”

Izuku put his bento box on the drying rack. “We’re getting there. We aren’t as close as him and his mother obviously. He’s listened to her heartbeat for nine months and more, I’m kinda just the guy who changes his diapers and feeds him every now and then.” Katsuki let out a chuckle at the difference. It was true and something that Izuku didn’t tell you about. He loved your son, but he just… didn’t click with him as well as he thought he would. He was on a high when you gave birth and brought your son home from the hospital together. But then came the question… now what?

“Are we talking about how newborns suck?” Both men turned to see one of their coworkers. Sato Rikkido leaned against the doorframe. The tall, large man let out a sigh and shook his head. “I’m so glad my son is out of that phase.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow surprised at that revelation. Whenever heard anything from you about Pony and Rikkido, the wonder couple that they are, it was always positive or just normal parental struggles. “Really?”

Rikkido nodded his head affirmatively. “Yah, don’t get me wrong, I love my son.” He stated as he put a large hand to the dark blue shirt that was part of their uniform. “But I just met that little sucker six months ago! I don’t know him.”

Izuku and Katsuki both chuckled at the statement. The baby boom that had hit Firestation 201A was of much fascination to some and criticism to others. Four babies had been born from the station so far in the past year, which considering Japan’s birth rate, was more than expected. Izuku was just glad that him and his closest group of friends, a family to him, were all in similar stages of life.

Sort of.

He opened his mouth to speak but then the siren went off. Quickly, on instinct all three men ran out of the room, down the hallway. Their heavy footsteps weren’t the only ones as every firefighter in the station ran out towards the red firetrucks. Men in dark blue work uniform ran towards the trucks.

“LETS GO, MEN! LETS GO!” The voice of Kirishima Eijiro was heard as he jumped into his boots and pulled up his turnout gear. The large redhead’s voice was loud enough that even over the blaring siren, he could be heard by others around him. His thick dyed red hair was tied back so that it wouldn’t get in the way.

Izuku had gone through this countless times before and the thumping of his heart in his chest, the exhilaration of being called on to help in an emergency, never went away. The thrill of putting on his gear was something he never took for granted, considering how hard he had to work to be qualified enough to do this.

Fire Sargent, Aizawa ran down the steps in his gear, heading into the first firetruck. “Alright, people lets go!” He shouted. The sargent was something of a tough nut and scared every single one of them to the bone, but he was a good man underneath the exhausted dark eyes and smell of smoke and coffee. He had trained every single man that was at his station, and had cultivated them into the firefighters they were today. “There’s a fire at station 200B! Todoroki and Jirou, ambulance may be necessary! Lets go!”

“RIGHT!”

Jumping into the firetruck and slamming the doors, soon the large engines roared as they streamed out of the station. Izuku slipped on his headphones to block out the sound of the sirens as they sped through the streets of Japan. Things seemed normal so far, his first shift back wasn’t filled to the brim with calls which was great. It was another normal night in the city, however Izuku noticed there seemed to be a lot of commotion around.

He looked outside the window, trying to focus on whatever it was but with the way Iida was driving, although being the safest of all of them to drive the truck, he was going too fast to focus on one individual thing. “Is there a sale going on?” Izuku asked into his microphone.

“None that I know.” Eijiro spoke into his mic as he sat opposite Izuku. He looked out the windows as well as they streamed down the roads, drivers making way for them.

A tsk was heard and Izuku’s green eyes moved to Katsuki. “The real question is, how does a fire station catch on fire? What were those idiots doing? Smoking near the engines?” He asked unimpressed, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Who knows. Maybe it’s a surprise party for us.” Denki said optimistically with a shrug, a smirk on his face. Every face turned to him with an unimpressed look, knowing they wouldn’t be speeding through the streets at this time of night if it was true. He looked taken aback, golden eyes going wide. He put his hands up. “Fine! Fine.” He took it back.

Eijiro chuckled. “Whatever it is, I’m excited to see Tetsu again.” He said as he leaned his head back looking up at the ceiling. “We got so much to catch up on. I haven’t seen him since gym two days ago.”

Izuku phased out the conversation as he looked out the window. As darkness fell and it was time for the nightlife to start, Izuku watched as people moved fast between one another. It was Japan, a highly occupied island and one that often than not was full with bustling people. However there was something off about tonight. Maybe it was the noise, maybe it was the odd bursts of people running, which was odd for Japanese culture, but there wasn’t much time to think about it.

Maybe it was foreigners or maybe they were shooting a movie or series.

Izuku leaned back, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the ride. The thought of coming back home to you was prevalent in his mind. He knew you must have put Toshinori down by now, he was an easy baby once he was tired and bed. You must be sitting in bed reading or pumping before bed. You’d always have this tired look on your face when you were in bed, a look that often told Izuku that his wife was one slow blink away from falling asleep.

Whenever he wasn’t home he’d come home to find you would place Toshinori in a bedside cot instead of in the nursery. You kept the baby close when Izuku wasn’t there almost as if the fifty percent that was him that made up your child would give you comfort.

He was silently counting the seconds till he could go home.

Soon the firetrucks pulled into the firestation that they were called to. Strangely however, there didn’t seem to be a fire. Actually it seemed… dare a first responder say… quiet.

Izuku jumped out of the truck, his heavy boots landing on the ground as he stepped forward to the huge, opened garage where the firetrucks stood still and untouched. His comrades of his station jumped down as well. Their boots making noise as they approached, entering the station.

“Firestation 201A is here! Anyone in need of assistance!” Fire Sargent Aizawa called from where he walked slowly, entering onto the floor of the station.

Katsuki scoffed as he noticed the lack of firefighters around. The station sounded empty with how quiet it was, which was strange. There were always supposed to be firefighters in a station, even if majority were on call. At least one. “Bunch of assholes are probably playing a prank on us.”

Izuku took a step forward but his boots squeaked. He looked down to see that there was blood on the white floors. It made the green haired man freeze at the sight. Blood was never a good sign. He looked down at the smear of it and looked to his left to see that someone was probably tackled into the firetruck, explaining the blood that dripped down the truck’s side. The crimson blood almost blended in with the truck.

Izuku crouched as he looked over, trying to follow the trail of blood as he it led deeper into the station house. “Bōsai-cho.” Izuku called and Aizawa walked up behind him before stopping. He turned to look up at the older man.

Aizawa scowled as he looked forward eyebrows furrowing. A deep grumble left him before turning to look at Tenya who paused at the sight of blood as well. “Eyes and ears open. This seems like a job for the police, not the fire department.” He said. He motioned down to where the blood was leading to. “Go and find whoever is injured. If you see any assailant or aggressor, do not engage. You come straight here before you are spotted, if you are spotted, shout for help. Silence for this circumstance.”

Izuku nodded as he looked to Tenya. Tenya gave Izuku a nod as well as both men started heading towards the dimlit hallway where the blood was leading to. Normally the two of them would be calling out if anyone would need help, but caution would be their approach for today. The lights were dim as him and Tenya walked side by side.

The hallway looked unnerving, making both men feel nervous. Anxiety bubbling up in their throat. Blood lined the hallway walls, a handprint covered in blood made Izuku stop to stare at it. Small, slender fingers. Female. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked forward. Tenya patted his shoulder, making Izuku look to him. The other firefighter motioned to his ear.

That’s when Izuku stilled so that he could listen. An odd sound he had never heard before. Something that sounded out of place for a firestation. Crunching? Almost as if someone was eating something. Izuku glanced at Tenya but the large man shrugged, clearly not sure the sound was either. Both men were careful not to step on any of the blood as they stepped forward.

Right as they entered the open area that formed the reception, Izuku froze. His body locked up as his eyes caught on where the blood led to.

Lying in a pool of blood was Itsuka Kendo. Her fiery orange hair was stained with her blood but the most haunting part was her eyes. Her green eyes were totally glazed over. She was gone, no sign of life or desperation in her. Yet haunched over her, where her stomach was opened up, was a man in the same uniform as her. The dark blue that symbolised the firefighters of Japan. Hands were soaked in blood as the person with dark black hair seemed to grab at her and…

And…

The crunching sound made Izuku feel sick. He had never- never seen such before. His eyes burned as he could barely blink at the scene. The dark disgusting scene in front of him. He had no words. He couldn’t even scream for help. The man beside him was no better either. Tenya was as pale as a sheet. His own body also as stiff as a board.

Neither man knew what to do in this situation.

There was no protocol for cannibalism. There was nothing in a handbook on what to do when firefighters turned on one another to such an extent.

He had to call the police. He had to call someone.

Izuku took a step back.

Suddenly a scream from behind them was heard. One of their comrades, Sero by the sounds of it. It was piercing scream. One of agony and pain which made both men nearly jump out of their bones.

At the sound of the scream, Awase stopped the crunching noise. He turned his head to look back at Izuku and Tenya. Eyes clouded with a fog, almost literally as his pupils seemed a foggy white and grey instead of their usual black.

Somewhere deep inside, Izuku knew, that something was deeply wrong with one of his fellow firefighters. The sounds and shouts from behind him were blocked out as Awase lunged at the two of them with a feral screech. The sound was more animalistic than human. Izuku quickly moved out of the way but Tenya was just caught by the other man Awase’s teeth clacked, hard bone against one another as he strained his neck to try and bite at Tenya’s neck. The glasses wearing man tried pushing him away, keeping his hands to Awase’s shoulders to stop him.

“Awase! What the-” Tenya felt a bite go to his arm onto his thick jacket. His eyes widened.

Izuku moved to kick Awase off of Tenya pushing the other man down onto the floor. Izuku quickly moved to grab a hold of his arms before he went lunging again. “Tenya! Grab his legs!” He called as the man struggled like his life depended on it. Tenya quickly burst into action as he grab onto kicking legs.

Awase screeched, his vocal chords sounding pulled and exhausted. Izuku wondered what was wrong with him. Rabbies? Some sort of disease close to it. With the help of Tenya the two of them moved to the side storage closet. Tenya opened it. Izuku looked over at Tenya, the two men tossed Awase inside the closet. Awase however didn’t seem deterred by their efforts. His signature blue bandana sat crooked on his head as his neck snapped to look at them. He pushed himself back up again but Izuku quickly slammed the door right as Awase slammed into it. The constant banging of the door made Izuku tug to keep it closed. Repeated body slamming against the wood. Tenya grabbed the side table in the hallway and put it behind the door.

Both men stepped back in shock at what had just happened.

Tenya quickly pulled up the sleeve of his jacket. His breathing was heavy, almost as if he was scared about something. He pulled to reveal his forearm, untouched, unharmed and normal skin. Tenya relieved a breath of relief, dark blue eyes closing as he took a second. “What the actual hell is happening here?”

Izuku didn’t know what to say. He looked down at Kendo Itsuka before quickly looking away from her. A sad look on his face. She was just his age too. Her and Tetsutetsu were to be married soon, both of them engaged. Izuku opened his mouth to speak.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” Katsuki shouted from where the two men had left their comrades.

Without having to agree, they both went running down the hallway again, leaving Itsuka where she was so that when they called the police they could see everything. However at the scene before them both men stopped again in surprise. Their fellow firefighters off the station they had come to help. Katsuki lay on his back, a broom in hand as he tried kicking Monoma who had the same clouded eyes as Awase.

Katsuki put his legs together before roughly kicking him off of him for his back to slam against the firetruck. A blow that was supposed to slow him down or hurt him enough to make him stop didn’t phase the other blond who had blood around his mouth. His teeth made that gratting sound. The crunching as his eyes were focused on Katsuki.

“BACK TO THE TRUCKS!” Izuku heard Aizawa shout as he supported Sero with Shoto. “EVERYONE LETS GO!” He shouted, ordering everyone, but there was a look in his eyes that Izuku had never seen before. Fear. Genuine fear in his dark black eyes.

Monoma ran to Katsuki but right before he could grab him, Eijiro swung the fire extinguisher at Monoma with all his strength. The muscles and power of a nearly three hundred pound man knocked Monoma through a glass wall. With Eijiro reaching down to grasp Katsuki up, Izuku and Tenya ran towards the trucks. Everyone was jumping in, in a hurry.

“IN! IN! IN!” Denki motioned as he offered a hand to help his fellow firefighters up into the trucks. His golden eyes moved up to look past Izuku. His pupils shrank at the sight behind them. “RUN!!”

Izuku didn’t look back as he jumped up into the truck, Tenya sliding up into the driver’s seat of the truck. Katsuki jumped into the passengers seat, slamming the door, stopping Tokage Setsuna from reaching him as she slammed into the side of the truck. Right as Eijiro started to climb in he felt a hand tug at his leg. He turned his head to see a civilian, someone who wasn’t dressed in the blue of a firefighter however was making the same shrieking sound and had the same eyes. Eijiro turned his body and with a hard kick to the face, the person went falling back. He scrambled inside right as Izuku reached over and slammed the door shut.

“DRIVE!” Eijiro shouted to Tenya who was quick to follow behind Aizawa who was in the ambulance of their firestation out onto the street.

Eijiro had his face to the window, watching the firestation they had all just escaped from.

Izuku sat in his own seat, his eyes wide as he tried to process what just happened. He didn’t know how to explain it. It felt like he was in a movie. A very bad movie. One that he refused to believe was real. He leaned forward and put his hands to his face.

It was painfully silent in the truck despite the loud roar of their engines as they started to speed to God knows where. Izuku didn’t know if they were going back to the station or following the ambulance wherever Aizawa was going.

“What…” Izuku could vaguely hear Katsuki over the roar of the engines. He reached to grab his headset, slipping it on automatically on autopilot. “in the actual hell just happened?” He heard the end of what Katsuki said but it wasn’t his usual aggressive loud. It was soft. It was scared. A layer of fear in his voiced as he didn’t look back to look at the rest of the firefights that sat in the truck with him.

“Maybe…” Denki swallowed as he forced a nervous smile to his face. “Maybe they were all just accidentally drugged by gifted cookies or baked goods. Maybe that’s it. A new drug that some pranksters wanted to pull on the fire department.” He said with a chuckle that not even Denki himself seemed to believe.

“A type of drug that results in cannibalism?” Jirou asked softly as she looked over to Denki.

Everyone was silent again as no one knew exactly what to say.

Izuku peered past a deeply rattled Eijiro who looked pale. The redhead held his arms around himself as he seemed one dime away from a mental breakdown. There were people everywhere. He wondered what on earth was going on today? What happened at the station? Were they sick? Was it a drug?

Suddenly the sound of a car skidding on the road made him turn his heard to the front. Suddenly a car went slamming into a crowd of fast-moving people. The sound of the crash being loud enough to hear over the sirens of their fire truck. Tenya immediately stopped the truck. Izuku was motionless as he looked out the car. Tenya grabbed the radio talker and lifted it to his mouth. “Are- are we to engage sir?” He asked, his voice slightly shakey revealing the feeling of the entire team after everything that had just happened.

The voice of their sergeant wasn’t heard for a while until finally. “Look outside for a second.” Aizawa said over the coms.

Izuku looked outside again. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed something. People weren’t just moving fast, they were running. Running from each other? His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to look closer. His eyes widened as someone in the crowd practically jumped at another person, grabbing at their arm and biting into their shoulder. Suddenly all he could see is blood. Bits of it here and there and everywhere.

“My God…” Eijiro whispered, ruby eyes filled with uncertainty as he started leaning back away from the window he was sitting next to.

“We don’t know what we are facing.” Aizawa continued from where he was in the ambulance in front of them all. “I’m going to take Sero to the ER with Todoroki.” That made Izuku furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “All of you, head back to the station, grab whatever you need and go back to your homes and stay with your families until I can find out from the higher ups whatever the hell is going on around here.” They listened to his orders wordlessly but relieved. Silently but very relieved.

They were first responders. Their job was to rescue people, to be the first line of defense to help out in any disaster and to risk their lives in order to save and help the public. That was what they did. It was the job they chose, and the lives they chose to lead. However, after witnessing all of this, one couldn’t really blame them for being hesitant. Whatever was going on in their city, it seemed like they needed a bigger plan than running in head first axes blazing.

It hurt Izuku to turn away from the crashed cars and people needing help, but Aizawa wasn’t wrong. He needed to get back to you. He needed to find you and Toshinori and stay in your apartment for as long as possible till things were sorted.

“Am I understood?” Aizawa asked.

“Yes, Sargent.” They all answered.

The drive back to the station somehow seemed longer than the drive out. Somehow it felt as though the long straight path was winding and going. They did have to change route, obstructions coming into the road and the panic of everything but they all luckily made it back to the station.

The moment the truck stopped, Eijiro opened the door and Izuku nearly ran past him to his locker. His steps were certain almost on autopilot despite the fact that he was so confused and his mind was in turmoil over what was happening. He stepped through the door to the locker room. He walked to his locker, opening it swiftly and taking off his gear. He was about to put it into his locker but paused. He looked down at his bare hands.

He was shaking. He swallowed down hard trying to push out the image, the thought of Itsuka. She couldn’t have been alive. There was nothing he could have done and yet… that’s just it. He did nothing.

The chatting of teeth. The gnawing of bone against bone.

He shook his head as he felt sick at the memories. He put his work jacket into his bed, stuffing it in as much as he could before digging out everything that he needed.

The locker next to him opened roughly as Katsuki slid off his gear. “You heading back home?”

Izuku nodded. “Yes. Whatever is going on, I don’t want Y/N or Toshinori near it. We’ll stay indoors until this all passes.” He answers swiftly. He grabs his phone, before putting it in his pocket. His hands moved fast as he tried to make sure he wasn’t missing anything.

Katsuki watched the green haired man with observant crimson eyes, the way he was so sure and so certain about what he needed to do next. It’s because Izuku had something to live for, something that made what he did all worth it in the end because he had someone to make proud, someone to provide for, someone to love. Katsuki’s eyebrows twitched. He opened his bag roughly. “Keep me posted. I’m heading to my parents.”

That made Izuku’s eyebrows raise. “Across town?” He asked surprised. Katsuki nodded, not adding more to it. Izuku hesitated but nodded his head. It made him think about his own mother too. A part of him wanted to check on her, his wonderful caring mother, but he knew that as a husband, a father, the moment he married you was the moment he committed to making you and Toshinori his first priority. “Tell them I send my regards.”

“Fuck no.”

The statement made Izuku scoff but it made him smile despite the tense situation. Izuku slammed the door of his locker and turned and bolted with his car keys in hand. He moved across the open floor heading down the hallway that would take him to the back parking. It was dark, late at night and Izuku didn’t think he’d have to leave work early than intended but he was grateful.

As he walked down the hallway, he heard his name. “Midoriya!” He paused in his tracks turning to see Tenya behind him. “Update me when you get home.”

Izuku gave an affirmative nod. “Same goes for you.” Izuku turned forward and bolted, pushing open the door was he entered the dark car park. The cold air touched his skin and instantly Izuku felt tense, to say the least. His dark eyes darted from left to right, making sure that as he approached his car, he wouldn’t be attacked by those people.

No, Not people.

Izuku wouldn’t call them that. He couldn’t consider them that. Not after what he had just seen. People didn’t act like that. Or at least, not under normal circumstances.

He quickly opened his car and slid into the driver’s seat. He threw his bag to the backseats. He moved to start the engine of the car and reversing out of parking. The only thing he could think about was you, making it back to you and his son. He hoped he would just find you both sleeping, blissfully unaware of what was happening.

His jaw tensed.

Izuku pulled out his phone, switching it back on. Whenever he was out of the station he preferred keeping his phone off. Less distractions in high pressured situations. However, now he was wishing for just the fastest way to get back in contact with you. Right as his phone switched on he noticed five messages from you.

He glanced back up on the road making sure the roads were still clear enough for him to just drive. He was pushing the speed limit but the pounding of his heart and his dry throat told him that he wasn’t anywhere near fast enough. He needed to get back to the apartment, back to you.

He tapped your messages.

The first one was an image of Toshinori sleeping. The little baby was asleep on your chest instead of his cot, his body still scrunched up as if he preferred a foetal position in his sleep. The photo brought some calm and a smile to Izuku’s face, however the following messages did not.

My Love<3: Izuku, I know you’re probably busy right now but I think that there’s something wrong with Mrs Fujihara next door. I saw her lingering around outside, she seems disoriented, (more than usual lol). My Love<3: I called Mr Fujihara and I think they’re arguing. There’s a lot of shouting. My Love<3: Izuku, please come back home as soon as you get this. I don’t know what’s going on but I locked the door and tried barricading Toshinori and I in the apartment. They’re trying to get in. I tried calling the police but the lines seem to be full. My Love<3: Call me when you get back home. I love you.

“Crap.”  Izuku cursed under his breath as he put his phone down and pressed on the accelerate.  Of course, on the worst possible night in your city of some drug outbreak, your neighbours seem to have it too.

It took what would be a twenty-minute drive back home, ten minutes. Was he speeding? Izuku would admit that he was, however, he didn't care much when the thought of you and Toshinori being without him was too much to bear.

Your husband pulled into the parking of the apartment building you lived in. For the most part, it was quiet, typical for around nine at night. Izuku straightened the steering wheel and let out a breath as he looked up. He had to be smart about this. You both lived on the tenth floor. If you had barricaded yourself that meant that there were probably the Fujihara's still on your floor, probably in the hallway. That meant fighting his neighbours.

Izuku put his head on his stirring wheel as he tried to think. He sighed as he took a moment, there wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for you and Toshinori.

Nothing.

Izuku drew in a breath. “Okay Izuku.” He said to himself as he straightened up. He nodded his head as he pulled himself together. He slapped his cheeks hard, his face stinging and that reminded him that he was awake, that this was real, that this situation was not going away. He nodded and grabbed his phone and his car keys. He moved to grab the multi-Tool, the heavy metallic tool resting in his hands. With a sigh he opened his car and got out. He grabbed his bag and locked his car making the lights flash.

Izuku walked to the front desk, his eyes scanning the perimeter but so far it seemed quiet. The cool breeze made his green curls brush against his skin as he walked towards the entrance foyer of your apartment building. The sliding doors opened automatically. The front desk was empty, which in itself was strange but Izuku didn’t want to think too much about it.

He moved to the elevator, which luckily was already on the ground floor. He entered it and pressed the tenth floor. The elevator closed and slowly began to rise up the building. Izuku tried his best to not let the stress of whether you and Toshinori were okay get to him, but his eyes stayed on the rising number at the top of the elevator door. He just needed to get to the both of you and everything will be fine. Tomorrow he would go to work again and all this would be sorted and you wouldn’t be scared at all.

Izuku released a tense breath out of his lips as he tried to keep his head on straight, but that’s when he noticed there was something at the bottom of the door. He did not notice it when he entered. It seemed like red… paint? Red was at the very bottom of the door and around an inch into the entrance of the elevator.

Suddenly dread filled his body with every second. He knew that was not paint. It couldn’t be paint. He knew what it was but denial was better than the truth.

Blood.

Izuku’s grip on his multi-tool tightened as his eyes flicked up to the number on the elevator door again.

8…

9…

The sound of the elevator stopping was one of anticipated dread. His knuckles were white as he gripped the spine of the mult-tool tighter. The doors slid open. Revealing the hallway to your apartment building. The first thing Izuku noticed was the quiet. The second thing he noticed was the trail of blood.

Thick running blood that ran down the corridor to the open door of your neighbours. The same neighbours you had worried about in your messages to him. Izuku couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of his own breathing and the silence of the night. It was not comforting. It was unnerving almost, like something was waiting for him out of the shadows.

The door was right there. His door was right there. It was less than a few meters away. Izuku stepped out of the elevator slowly, making sure not to step in any of the blood on the floor nor for his footsteps to be loud.

He carefully moved down the hallway stepping closer towards the front door. His ears strained for any noise. He reached for his home keys, moving to retrieve them from his pocket. He heard the elevator close behind him right as he reached the door. He moved a hand onto the doorhandle and put the key inside. As he turned the handle slowly, it felt as though his heart was right in his ears.

The click of the lock sliding out of place was like a siren in his head.

Izuku felt like he was being paranoid. He froze for a moment as he tried to open the door but it didn’t budge. He tried again with a thump but it didn’t open. You had put the deadlock from the inside. Smart for you and your son.

Terrible for Izuku.

Izuku sighed as he took out his phone and shot you a message, but then he felt his sixth sense go off the moment he sent the message telling you he was outside the door. Izuku froze and looked up. He turned his head to the opposite side of the hallway by the open door.

Mrs Fujihara, the old lady, stood there. Her light pink dress was stained red down the front, her mouth covered in red blood as she stared at Izuku with a blank stare. Her eyes… her once warm brown eyes that always looked at Izuku with maternal grace and affection, were now milky white, as though she had cataracts all of a sudden. Izuku didn’t move.

There was something eerie about how still she stood there in the hallway. Her shoulders didn’t move like she was breathing. She didn’t blink. It almost felt as though they were having a stand off and the first one to move lost.

Izuku didn’t move as he watched her. He didn’t want to move, a part of him wanted to run into his apartment and ignore what he was seeing but Mrs Fujihara, the kind old lady who got you warm food when you were postpartum and never mind when Toshinori cried at night, was standing there and she looked like she needed help.

Izuku was slow as he turned to face her. “Mrs Fujiha-” He barely got her surname out before she ran at him with a speed shocking for a lady of her age. Instantly Izuku stepped to the side, having her run and hit the wall. He quickly grabbed her shoulder and forced her against the wall. She was making a loud screeching noise, so inhumane that Izuku felt it run down his spine. Her fingers scrapped against his uniform. He frowned, somehow the drugs, or infection seemed to have found your little old lady neighbour.

Izuku heard the front door unlock. He saw you open the door a smidge. Your eyes widened. “Izuku?!” You let out surprised.

“Hey honey!” He greeted as he tried pushing the old lady back. “Give- Give me a moment!” He told you as he moved to sweep his leg, making Mrs Fujihara fall. He quickly moved to grab her legs and pull her towards her open doorway. Despite her struggling he used all his strength to push her into her own apartment and quickly slammed the door in her face. Suddenly he heard a loud bang as the door vibrated. She was banging against the door, by the sounds of it, it was with her whole body.

“Izuku what are you…” You stepped out into the hallway and instantly Izuku had you in his sights. He walked right up to you grabbing your arm and pulling you back inside. He slammed the door shut, locking it again, putting the deadbolt and the chair that you seemed to have put in front of the door before he got there. He took a deep breath as he realised he was finally in his apartment, safe. He was finally with you. You tilted your head as you stood in your apartment hallway, confused as to why your husband had pushed the sweet old lady into her apartment so forcefully. “Izu, what is going on?” You asked.

Izuku turned to you and quickly pulled you into a tight hug. You quickly eased into his warm embrace, burrowing your head into his chest. He smelt like your Izuku. Albeit a little sweaty but the smell of him was comforting and knowing he was back in your arms was all you needed to feel in this second. The feeling of the both of you against one another was what you needed to feel safe once more.

You felt him let out a shuddering breath. “Thank God you are okay.” He said softly. You felt his lips on your forehead tenderly. “Thank God. Oh, thank God, thank God, thank God.” He cupped the back of your head as his eyes closed. He tenderly held you, just so eternally grateful that you were normal, that you were in his arms and you were breathing.

You did not want to interrupt this moment, whatever he had faced out there you could tell it was enough to have your strong husband shaken. You waited for a while, letting him hold you and focusing on the sound of his beating heart.

“Izu…” You started again, you moved your head to look up at him again. “What on earth is happening right now?”

He stared at you for a moment before letting out a sigh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

-Glitch1d

The men are still inside the station. After they'd caught you, they'd dragged you outside and tied you to a fence post.

"Sit tight," the one with the scaly voice said, sneer stretched across his filthy face. "Don't go runnin' off now, the big boss'll love you."

You said nothing, just narrowed your eyes and set your jaw. The other one kicked your shoulder, hard, and grinned when you winced and grunted at the pain.

"Real pretty." He'd licked his lips and you'd felt sick to your stomach, the way he looked at you. And then they'd gone in to the station to scavenge supplies, circling around to find another entrance and see what was inside.

Now here you sit, listening to the growling and moaning grow closer and closer. The walker is probably... a hundred, hundred-and-fifty yards away? You don't think it's caught your scent yet, and the shuffling seems to be staying at a slow pace. Still, you feverishly pick at the rope binding your hands, fruitlessly hoping it will come undone. Your bag, carelessly thrown about ten feet from your bound feet, seems to be taunting you, beckoning you, so close and at the same time entirely inaccessible. If you could just get free–

But the knot stays strong.

You're wondering what the hell to do when you hear quick, quiet footsteps. You're not sure if you should be relieved or terrified. Head on a swivel, you try and make out where the steps are coming from... to your left, or–maybe your right–no, it's definitely closer to your left. Coming from the same direction as that same tiny farmhouse about a half a mile down. The one you'd passed on your way, the tiny old thing with a decrepit oak in the front yard, and a crumbling concrete walkway leading to a metal front door.

Should you call out? It could get you killed, but – there's a slim chance that maybe... maybe, the footsteps are someone who can help you. Heart hammering, you decide to speak. You haven't spoken aloud in weeks and your throat feels like sandpaper, so you try to swallow (it doesn't help).

"He–" your voice gives out on you. you take a deep breath and try again. "Hey." the footsteps slow. "Hello?" Then they stop. You whip your head around furiously, seeing nothing. "H-hey! Hey, is there... is someone there?"

The walker down the road is getting closer and closer. You hear it groan – maybe eighty, ninety yards away now.

"I–if anyone is there, please–i'm tied, i've been captured"–your head turns in the walker's direction as you hear its shuffling pace increase–“I just need this rope cut," you hiss.

Silence.

"I know someone is there," you implore. "These–inside, are they your people? No, no–please, i need out of my bindings. They tied me up and said they were gonna take me somewhere, I'm just–I won't, please, just help me get free, the walkers–"

So swiftly and silently you'd almost miss it, a sharp blade severs the rope around your wrists. Springing up, you lunge for your bag and fall onto your stomach on the concrete drive because of the rope still binding your legs. Your hand manages to wrap around the handle of your pack and you drag it closer, but before you can even unzip it the rope around your ankles is slashed, too.

Down the road the walker shuffles faster and faster, maybe fifty yards or closer at this point.

You scramble to your feet, looking around for your weapons and cursing when you see that they're gone, save for the spare carving knife you keep buried deep in your bag, wrapped in a shirt. Then you turn to finally get eyes on your rescuer.

The first guy stands closer to the fence. Probably in his twenties, if you had to guess. He's not too tall, but he's not what you'd call short, either. Taller than you, anyway. His unruly hair is a deep shade of green, almost black with soot and dirt; scars cover his hands and peek out of his collar with a long one vertically under his eye that looks pink in the sun; there's a wickedly sharp machete gripped in his palm and his other hand hovers near the gun at his waist; even in the baking heat, he wears long sleeves rolled up to the elbow, a dirty blue shirt with a faded print on the front that you can't make out, but it looks vaguely super hero related; a backpack is slung over one shoulder. The most striking thing about him is his eyes: they're emerald, almost the same shade as his hair, and piercing. He glances around uneasily.

The other guy hangs back, with a stance that says he's itching to move on. Also likely in his twenties, looks to be around the same age but he's taller, only slightly, with spiky blonde hair and a mean expression on his face. His lip is curled in disgust as he checks out the walker drawing steadily closer. He's dressed head to toe in black, with a baseball bat covered in nails in one of his hands and a rifle strapped to his back. There's scars on his arms too, and he even has one under the same eye as the other, only horizontal, stretching in the opposite direction. His other hand fidgets with a long bowie knife, and he shifts from foot to foot, grip tight on his bat. He adjusts the black baseball cap on his head with the handle of the knife and grunts.

"It's time to go."

The man with green hair looks back at him silently, and they seem to have some sort of argument with their eyes. Only, you don't care to watch and see who wins, shifting your attention towards scaling the fence you were tied to just moments before. You're near the top when you look around the station road and... it's bad. It's really bad. Walkers are slowly shifting towards the station, coming from both directions on the road – not a herd, but enough to make escape extremely difficult. And dangerous. The green haired man starts to say, "Are you–"

"Hey Deku"–the blonde spits with vitriolic urgency–"clock's ticking." He looks from the man with green hair (Deku?) to the closest walker closing in and back again.

You reach half-way down the other side of the fence and jump the rest of the way down, dropping into a crouch and unzipping your bag to see if you can reach your knife. There's no way you'll survive without something to use as a weapon. You grope around blindly, shoving your hand deeper your anxious search; your hand barely wraps around the makeshift t-shirt sheath when–

"Fuck," the blonde growls, hefting his bat in his hand. The walker is only ten yards away now, snarling and rushing forward at the prospect of fresh blood and tissue. The man steps forward and swings the bat down decisively in a punishing blow, and blood erupts from the walker's head. It stumbles to the ground, where the man drops quickly to his knees and stabs it through the eye socket with his knife. He shoots you a withering glance before shifting his attention to the one he called 'Deku' before. "Move, dumbass!"

Your hand curls around the handle of your spare–now only–knife and you pull it out before zipping your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Only now do you really have a solid grasp of your surroundings, and... well, you're surrounded. You have eyes on at least ten walkers, maybe fifteen, shuffling or crawling along with their signature wailing cries. 'Deku' looks back at the blonde and seems to decisively win their silent argument. Then he looks to you.

"Stay close to me," he says lowly, blade wielded in front of you both.

"Damn it!" the other man exclaims, striking out at another walker and taking this one down with one blow. The three of you carve a path and dart through the line of walkers directly in front of you. One reaches out to grab your arm and 'Deku' slices a wide arc with the machete, giving you the opportunity to take the corpse down with a swift stab to the face; your blade sinks into the flesh with a sickening crunch. You quickly move to shove it off and turn to keep moving forward. Once the path is clear of any dead, the blonde man breaks into a run, and 'Deku' looks back at you once, his message still clear, written all over his features: stay close to me.

"We need to get to the car!" he calls.

"The way back is full of 'em," the other man shouts back, cursing again when more walkers wander out from behind the fire station. Among them are two that look familiar, and with horror (and a twisted sense of satisfaction), you realize it's the same men who'd tied you up and threatened to take you back to some 'boss'. Looks like they hadn't been lucky inside after all.

'Deku' scans the scene with a discerning eye, face set in an expression of concern and concentration. He seems to be counting walkers, which now seem to be streaming from all directions, mumbling calculations under his breath before springing into action and cutting a zig-zag path through. He dashes fifty yards down the road to a car pulled over that you hadn't noticed before. You're quick to follow, running as fast as you can to the vehicle and yanking open the back door, practically diving into the seat. The blonde slips into the driver's side and takes the keys 'Deku' holds out, turning them in the ignition – to your immense relief, the engine purrs nice and smooth. He slams the gas, hurtling forward into a walker and sending it flying in the air, blood and viscera splattering the windshield. Then he turns on the wipers as you speed down the road, weaving around walkers at a breaking speed until you're free from the swarm.

The man in the passenger's seat twists around to face you.

"What's your name?" he asks. His voice is surprisingly melodic, now that you're slightly out of the fire and in less dire circumstances; it has this soft, lilting quality that makes you feel more at ease. Still, your guard is high, with your knife clutched in a vice-like grip.

You tell him and he nods, opening his mouth to speak, but the angry looking man in the driver's seat interrupts your introduction. "We can drop you somewhere once we get clear of this area."

'Deku' shoots him a look. "Kacchan–"

"No more strays!" 'Kacchan' barks accusingly, glaring at you through the rear view mirror. "Damn it, we said no more strays–"

"Where are you headed?" you cut in. 'Kacchan' wheels around like he means to chew you out and 'Deku' shoves at his shoulder lightly.

"Eyes on the road!" he looks back at you. "North. we're planning on skating around the city and following the road into the state over."

"Drop me there," you say, finally easing your grip on your knife a little. not enough to let go, just enough that your knuckles stop turning white.

The driver grunts. "Done–"

"–you don't wanna go there. It's been completely overrun, and we've heard the fighting in the city is brutal–"

"–Deku, stop trying to pick up strays!–"

"Drop me there," you repeat, more emphatically. "Or, I can figure a better landing spot once we're closer, at least." He nods. You pause, glancing at your knife before looking up at them. "Thank you," you say, "for freeing me back there, and for the walkers... thanks. I owe you one."

'Deku' smiles. "Don't mention it."

In the driver's seat, the blonde sighs. He mutters something about predictable and do this every fuckin' time, but you're not listening anymore, adrenaline starting to wear thin. A sense of deep exhaustion settles over your body and you fight to stifle a yawn. Last night's lack of sleep is catching up to you. 

You slide your pack off your shoulders and let out a deep breath you don't realize you've been holding on to until it's free. For the first time, in a long time, you just sit, chin in your palm, and gaze out the car window at the scenery whizzing by.

Not a walker in sight.