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ohmyitsfaith · 7 months ago

Text

Little survivors

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Eight years later, you are visited by a very strange and violent lady, who makes a deal with Five to get you out of the post-apocalyptic world. With this comes the bonus of a comfortable life and a few calm years.

Warnings: The Handler. Think I said enough. Domestic life, but starts off with the Handler threatening people. Quite physically. Also in the middle it gets a bit steamy. Talks of pregnancy and birth.

Word count: 10.6k (shit this is long)

A/n: This was also a requested fic, as a part two to Little survivor. I tried to twist the storyline a little bit, hopefully you guys will like it. I like the idea that the Commission is a part of a society where everything is disturbingly perfect. Maybe I overthought this whole thing, but honestly, it birthed a kind of great story, so... Also, I was debating splitting this into two, but then the title wouldn't have made sense. Anyway, enjoy!

As the days passed, life became harder and harder. But that didn’t stop you from enjoying time with your husband and son. Max was the cutest little kid and you really lucked out with his temperament being so good. He was the calmest little toddler, who then grew up to be a quite docile child. Sure there were a few tantrums, but in the end, he was a kind and calm little kid.

“Max!” you yelled for him as he played in front of the camp in the sand. He was now 10 years old and smarter than you thought was possible in the post-apocalyptic world. All thanks to Five, who provided the teaching material needed for him. With him working on the equations almost non-stop, it was up to you to try to get the best out of the material Five gave you.

You suddenly became aware of the deafening silence outside.

“Max?” you dropped the stick that you were using to light the fire for dinner and hurried out with your heart beating heavily in your chest.

As you rounded the corner, you saw a well-dressed woman, holding your son by his waist.

“What are you doing?!” you yelled at her, and, ready to save your son, you advanced toward her.

“Ah-ah-ah!” she held up her free hand toward you. “I wouldn’t come closer if you want this sweet little boy to live.”

“Mommy” Max whimpered in the woman’s hold.

You eyed him with worry in your eyes, then looked up, glaring at the woman.

“What do you want?” you asked.

“Just an answer,” she started, “where is Number Five?”

Your heart beat even more anxiously at that question. Five went out to gather more resources for the week and he was supposed to arrive by dinnertime. You were only expecting him around the time when the sun lowered beneath the horizon and that wasn’t til later.

“I don’t- I-” you stuttered.

“Don’t lie to me. I know you know where he went” the lady said calmly and you watched in horror as a small pistol was raised toward Max. “Now, where is Number Five?”

“Please don’t! I’m begging you, I don’t know where he is!” you pleaded, now on your knees. “Don’t hurt him, he’s just an innocent boy! Please.”

In that moment, the man in question turned up. When he saw the scene in front of him, a wild fire lit inside his heart. Not only was he scared, but angry as well. Who dares to threaten his whole world?! He dropped his gatherings and grabbing his gun, he ran up behind the unfamiliar woman.

“Let. My son. Go!” he gritted his teeth, holding the gun up toward the woman’s head.

“Ah, Number Five!” the woman turned around, smiling widely. “Just the man I wanted to see!” she thankfully put the pistol away.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, still not putting his gun down, focusing fully on the woman, on every little move just in case she would hurt Max.

“Daddy” Max whimpered this time and Five’s eyes flickered over to him for just a fraction of a second.

“I’m here to help” the woman answered, still holding Max tightly.

“By holding my son hostage?” he asked, angrier than ever. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet right between your eyes!” he gritted.

“‘Cause…” the woman started, walking forward. Through your tears you could see Max struggling in her arms, trying to twist out of her hold. “If you did that, you wouldn’t hear the offer I’m about to give you” she said simply. “Which would be rather tragic, given your…” she looked back at you, “current circumstances.”

“What do you want? And be careful with what you say! My hands are quicker than you would expect” Five warned, his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot at any given moment. He just had to wait for when Max was safe out of her hands so he could shoot the woman dead.

“I work for an organization called the Commission” she started her explanation. “We are tasked with the preservation of the time-continuum through manipulation and removals.”

“I don’t understand…” Five’s eyebrows pulled together.

“Sometimes people make choices that… alter time” she shrugged. “Free will. Don’t get me started on that… When that happens, we dispatch one of our agents to… “she searched for the right words, “eliminate the threat.”

This caused Five to harden his shoulders, keeping the gun pointed at the woman, ready to shoot.

“No, no, no” she put her free hand up, chuckling. “You misunderstand me. You are not a target.”

“Then why don’t you let the boy go?” he hissed.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet. I need your answer to my proposal” she smiled. “I’ve come to offer you a job, Number Five” she said. “We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time. And we think you have potential!”

“What the hell are you on about?” he asked.

“Your survival skills made you quite a celebrity in the Headquarters” she explained. “The way you strive hard to protect what little you have and provide for them” she glanced back at you and then down at the boy in her hands. She reached out and caressed his head, which in turn made Five suck in a sharp breath. “That, and your ability to jump through time.”

“Don’t touch him” he hissed. “Tell me what’s in it for me? Why would I go with you?”

“You could get out of this place for one” the woman sighed. “And also go back to your family if you complete five years with us.”

“You… you’re saying we could be free?” he asked, glancing behind the woman, right at your still sobbing form.

“Once you served five years, your contract will be done, giving you a chance to retire to the time and place of your choosing” she smiled tightly.

Five thought hard about all that this woman was talking about. This could be his chance to save you, to finally give you and your family the life you deserved. He could live comfortably with you, have the domestic life you wished for and grow old.

“What about my wife and son?” he asked, which seemed to annoy the woman.

“You can bring them with you” she said and he could hear the distaste in her tone. “So, do we have an agreement?” she offered her free hand.

Five looked at you, lowering his gun slightly. You looked so scared, for him and for your son. He never wanted to see you like that. He didn’t want you to suffer. He wanted to give the both of you a chance at a normal life.

He looked at his son, who was sniffling in the woman’s arm, clearly scared out of his mind. The poor boy didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be so traumatized by this post-apocalyptic world, by this woman, who threatened his life. He should be better off, in school, with food to fill his belly, clothes that fit him well and a roof over his head.

He will do this. For you. For Max. For his family.

“Fine” he put the gun down and approached the woman to shake her hand. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful!” the woman lightened up, letting Max out of her hold and shaking Five’s hand.

The moment your son was out of the woman’s hold, he collapsed, his legs giving out underneath him. But in the next moment, Five reached out for him, pulling him up and lifting him into his arms.

“We shall leave momentarily. We have a lot to do” the woman turned away and walked into the little camp to sit down.

The second she was out of sight, you rushed to Five and Max and collapsed with the two of them on the floor.

“Five” you sobbed, your heart pounding in your chest. “Max, oh my poor boy.”

“Mommy, daddy” he cried, grabbing onto both of you.

“You’re safe now, you’re safe” Five tried to calm the young boy, who didn’t deserve all this. He pulled you in, close, so he could take in your features, making sure you were still there. “You’re both safe.”

The first day at the Commission consisted of Five being dragged away for orientation and basic training while you and Max were herded to a room to wait for someone who would show you to your new house.

You didn’t have to wait long: a woman with black hair and wearing a skirt suit opened the door. She had a kind smile on her face, and though she looked different and kinder than the other woman was, you still grabbed onto Max tightly.

“Oh, don’t be afraid!” she said quickly, her voice light and sweet. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m Dot, I work a desk job here. And I got the honor to show you to your new home!”

Still weary, but slightly comforted, you loosen your hold on your son, who looks at Dot in curiosity.

“I’m Y/n” you decide to introduce yourself. “And this is my son, Max.”

“Oh, what a cutie. How old is he?” her smile widens, a soft glow flashing in her eyes.

“He’s ten” you look down at him, still clutching your arm tightly.

“Aw, he looks a lot like Five. And his eyes! They look just like yours” she gushes.

“Thank you” you let yourself smile a little bit.

“Now, I’m sure you’re tired and in need of a good shower. Let us get going then.”

You nod, taking Max’s hand in yours and follow Dot out the door.

“We’re actually not far from the housing, you guys got a pretty adorable family home” she looked back at you as you walked through the entrance hall and then the doors.

It was a sunny day, colder than it was in the apocalypse, but the air was much fresher here. You didn’t know what year you were in or where you were for a fact. But you were just happy to be away from that hellhole.

“Do you know if…” you started and Dot looked back at you, curiously. “If that woman… will she bother us?”

“The Handler?” she asked and you shrugged. If that was her name… “Oh I don’t think she will. She only cares about agents, so you and Max should be fine.”

“And… and Five?” your heart raced. Was he in danger?

“That, I don’t know. I would assume no. She is a big fan of his, so if anything, she’ll make sure he’s fine” Dot hummed.

“Alright” you sigh.

Dot lead you through a small garden that was the Commission’s and you found yourself in view of a village-like assortment of houses. There were some smaller family homes and then there were a couple of huge buildings, which consisted of apartments.

“Do other agents have families?” you asked as you neared the main street.

“Field agents? No, most of them are either alone or only have a partner, no kids. But many of our people in filing or some of our security actually have families. Some smaller, some bigger” she explained.

You hummed and looked down at Max. Maybe he could make friends with other children. He wouldn’t have to be alone. And you could also meet some other moms…

You rounded a corner and found yourselves in a long street, filled with family homes and a playground.

“This is the street you will be living on” Dot smiled. “If you go down the road where we came, we actually have a clothing store and grocery store, so you can buy your own stuff. A bit further from the housing area, you can find an elementary school and a high school as well. Max will be enrolled by the end of the week. You’ll receive a mail from one of our staff.”

“He can go to school?” you asked, your heart picking up pace.

“Of course!” she smiled. “Only the best teachers there.”

“Oh” you nodded.

“Well, we arrived” she stopped in front of a beautiful blue house with white picket fence and a small garden. “Hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us. Five will be here any time he is free or has his day off. But don’t worry, Mary, the woman who lives in the house beside yours, and her daughters Betty and Lily are excited to get to know you guys.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. It was great to meet you” she stepped back and waved.

“You too” you smiled and waited for Dot to disappear down the street before squatting down in front of Max. “Are you okay?”

“Yes Mama” he nodded and though you could see a little bit of worry in his gaze, he seemed to say the truth.

“Alright darling. Shall we see what’s inside?” you caressed his cheek and he nodded, gripping onto your hand.

You stepped up the few stairs to the front door. There was a key in the door, presumably the one you were meant to use later on. You took the keys out and opened the door.

It really was a small and cute home. Everything aesthetically arranged, the walls and floors in beautiful contrast. It was a wild change from the apocalypse, where everything was very yellow most days.

Across from the front door was a kitchen and dining room with a door to the family bathroom. On your right was the master bedroom, which was painted in a similar light blue as the outside was. To the left, there were two rooms, one the living room and the other a smaller bedroom.

“Look, I think that will be your bedroom” you pointed to the open door. “Do you want to see it?”

“My… my room?” Max looked up at you, confused. “I will sleep alone?”

“Yeah” you nodded.

“But… I don’t want to” the boy’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Oh darling” you pulled him in your arms. “You won’t be alone. We’ll be right across from your room. We won’t be far.”

“But at night…” he sniffled. “The monsters will come.”

“Your dad will keep you safe from them” you tried to calm him. “We’ll never let them hurt you.”

But Max was crying, inconsolably. You tried to think about what you could do. How could you help him? His sobs were twisting your heart and you felt as helpless as when the Handler arrived in the afternoon. Where you were unable to move, unable to help your little boy, who didn’t deserve all that. You could only imagine what was going through his head in that moment and now, hours after it.

“Tell you what. You can sleep with us for the first few weeks, okay?” you pulled away a little, looking into his eyes. “You can get used to your room during the day. Would that be alright, darling?”

“Y-yeah” he sniffled.

“Alright, now let’s get you cleaned up and some food in your tummy, okay?”

Max nodded, still rubbing at his eyes. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked into the dining room, where the door to the bathroom could be found. There was a shower and bath combination in the opposite corner, with some soap and shampoo. It was all neatly arranged and you once again felt that jarring feeling of everything being just… off. But you just took a breath and looked at Max.

“Do you need help or can you wash your body and hair alone?” you asked gently.

“I can do it” Max squared his shoulders, trying to appear strong and you smiled. “But…” he looked up at you. “Can you stay with me?”

“Yeah, of course. How about you take your clothes off and pee while mama goes and sees if there are some clothes in your room?” you suggested.

Max’s hold on your hand tightened for a second and you could see the conflict on his little face. But then he slowly nodded and let you go.

“Alright, I’ll be right back, okay? If you’re done, then stand in the shower.”

Max nodded, looking toward the bathtub. You quickly walked to the smaller room, leaving both doors open, so you could hear your son if he needed help. In the room there was a dresser and a single bed. It was clearly meant to be a kid’s bedroom, what with the wallpaper having dinosaurs and birds on it.

You looked in the dresser to see different sized clothes, both for boys and girls. You sighed in relief and grabbed two different sizes from underwear, pants and a t-shirt, not knowing which one will be good for Max. It’s been a long while since you saw new clothes and not to mention that you never had the luxury for Max to wear the right sized clothing.

“You’re in luck” you stepped back into the bathroom. “We got some clothes here. I brought you two sizes, we’ll see which one will be good” you smiled and watched as Max nodded, stepping into the shower. “I’ll help you adjust the water” you put the clothes down on the sink and reached out to the taps. “See, this has a red dot. It means it’ll give you hot water. And on the other side is a blue dot. It means cold water” you explained to him. “Hold your hand out, underneath the tap” you instruct him, kneeling next to the tub. “I’ll start the water, okay?”

Max nodded and squatted down, holding his hand under the water.

“Tell me if it’s too warm or too cold, okay? We’ll adjust it.”

With your help, Max got the right temperature and he - albeit a bit clumsily - washed as much of the dirt away as he could. You helped with his hair a bit, but otherwise just kneeled next to the tub, so he could do most of it himself.

“Alright. That feel okay?” you asked as you helped him out of the tub and gave him a towel.

“Weird” he said simply.

“I know darling. But now you’ll get used to it. It’s going to be all okay” you promised, drying his hair. “Should we see which clothes will fit you?”

Max nodded and so you picked up the smaller underwear first. To your surprise it slid on easily, even loose around his waist a bit. You knew that Max was a smaller kid then others his age might have been and that’s all thanks to the apocalypse. But you didn’t think he was this small.

“Should I see a smaller size still?” you asked him. “Or is that comfortable.”

“It’s okay mama” he shrugged.

“As you wish,” you sigh. “Are you feeling hungry?” you helped him into his pants and shirt as well.

“A bit” he nodded.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do” you smiled at him. “Why don’t you grab a book that looks interesting to you and we’ll practice your reading while I cook?”

Max nodded and walked toward the smaller bedroom, looking back at you, to make sure you were still there. When he was reassured, he quickly went in and took a book from the bookshelf. In an instant, he was back in the corridor and taking your hand.

“Well, come on, then” you smiled gently and went up to the counter.

Max sat down at the small circular table, opening the book he grabbed. You watched him flip to the first page and looked at the words. He knew how to read, you and Five taught him. But it took him a little time.

“The story of… Doctor… Do- Dolittle?” he pronounced it slowly, then looked up for confirmation. You smiled at him encouragingly. “The first… chapter. Pudd-puddle-puddleby. O-once upon a time, many… years ago…” Max started reading slowly.

As he read, you started to look through the pantry to see what could be used to make a meal. You didn’t really know how to cook, but thankfully there were some cookbooks that you could use.

You always wanted to get out of the apocalypse, but never imagined what you’d do once you’re out. You never wondered about some of the simple facts of a normal life. Like how to cook. But you were ready to learn. Anything really.

You and Max spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen. He read slowly, page after page and you trying to put a meal together for your little family.

“Y/n, Max?” you heard the door opening and Five calling out to you.

“In the kitchen!” you called back just as Max sprang from his seat, running toward Five, yelling: “Daddy!”

You smiled as you walked toward them, seeing Five embrace the boy.

“Hey, little crumb. How was your afternoon?” he asked. “What did you do? Oh and what is that smell? Is that your hair?”

“Yeah! We showered! And daddy, you know, the soap smells so good!” Max rushed out.

“Does it now?” he smiled. “Well, I’ll have to see it for myself.”

“And I read a book about a magic doctor! He can talk to animals!”

“He can?” he laughed gently. “You’ll have to read it for me too, son.”

“C’mon!” Max stood up and pulled him toward the kitchen.

“Hey” Five smiled as he reached you.

“Hi, how was the orientation and training?” you asked, reaching out to him.

“Boring” he sighed and leaned over to peck your lips. “But I got my first assignment. I’ll be going there tomorrow.”

“For how long?” you asked, worried.

“Shouldn’t be long. It’s supposed to be part of the training, with a more experienced agent by my side, so maybe that day? Or two?” he guessed.

“Alright” you sighed.

“You’ll be alright?” he asked gently.

“I will” you nodded. “Just be careful.”

“I will” he promised.

You sighed and pulled away, turning to the stove, where the food was finishing cooking. As you prepared the plates, Max explained the plot of Dolittle to Five, excited about the story.

“Alright boys, it’s time to eat” you put their plates in front of them, full of warm food. “I hope it’s good.”

“I’m sure it is” Five smiled at you.

Truly, it was not so bad. It was definitely better than what you ate in the apocalypse, which was a relief. And even though you cooked the normal amount, there was so much left after you finished eating, you felt worried. You knew it would take time to get used to eating like normal humans, but you couldn’t help but worry about your son.

After dinner, you heard the clock chime loudly from the living room.

“What was that?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh, they didn’t explain it to you?” Five looked at you. “In the evening and morning the clocks chime to signal the end and the beginning of the day. We’re supposed to go to bed.”

“Oh” you frowned. “Okay.”

“We’ll get used to it” he comforted and turned to Max. “Well, little crumb, could you show me which soap was so good smelling?”

“Yes!” he perked up and jumped off his chair. “Come on daddy!”

You smiled at the two of them before picking up the plates and washing them. You once again marveled about the way water felt on your skin. You couldn’t wrap your head around the day you had. It was so far-fetched and such an outlandish idea, that your brain couldn’t accept it.

“Mama, could you read a bed-time story for me?” Max came to the kitchen, forcing you out of your thoughts.

“Sure thing, baby. Would you like me to read Dr. Dolittle?” you smiled gently.

“No” he shook his head. “I want to read it myself. Could you read something else?”

“Of course” you smiled. “Let’s go to the room and see what we have.”

You soon found a book called “The Wheel on the School”, which Max liked the sound of, so you gave it to him and turned around to look for some pajamas for him.

“What are you looking for, mama?” he asked curiously.

“Some pajamas” you looked back at him. “You know, when you go to sleep, you are supposed to wear some clean, comfortable clothes to bed” you explained to him.

“Oh.”

“Here you go, son” you gave him the pair you found.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“Will you wear pajamas?” he asked as you went to the master bedroom.

“Yes, but first I need to shower as well.”

“Okay…” Max nodded. “Will daddy stay with me until then?”

“Of course” you nodded. “Now get into bed, I’ll read to you, until daddy finishes showering.

Max climbed on top of the king-sized bed and lay down beneath the sheets, in the middle.

“Comfortable?” you asked and Max nodded. So you started reading to him.

When Five came out of the bathroom, he found the beautiful scene in front of him. Max, in the bed, lying sleepily beneath the sheets, fighting to keep his eyes open, and you, sitting in the armchair close to the bed, reading to him in a soft voice. Five’s heart jumped, filled with warmth and love. His little family, who survived so much and who deserved the world. The reason he was doing all of this.

You finished reading and put the book down, looking at your fast-asleep son. You smiled gently and walked over to him, pressing a light kiss on his forehead. Then you looked up at the door, where Five was standing. He was clean and shaven. You smiled at him and walked up to him.

“You look good” you said to him sincerely.

“Thank you” he smiled and put his hand on your waist, pulling you in. “I didn’t dare to shave it clean, so I left a little stubble.”

“It looks good” you leaned into him, putting your hand on his jaw. “It feels good.”

Five let out an airy laugh and hugged you properly. The day was crazy and he couldn’t be more thankful for your strong presence.

“I love you so much” he murmured.

“I love you more” you teased, pulling a bit away, so you could put your hand on his cheek again.

“Not possible” he smiled.

“Everything’s possible” you countered and then leaned in to kiss him.

He held you close, gripping your waist tightly. In the unfamiliar setting, he finally found something familiar: you. The way you taste was still the same, your lips reacting to his. He was glad to be kissing you once again.

“I wish…” you sigh against his lips.

“You wish?” he murmurs, not wanting to let you go.

“I wish we were alone now. If just for a moment” you finish your sentence, kissing him again. “But I need to shower and our son is lying in our bed.”

“Hm, maybe later then” he surmised.

“In a few weeks. He will get used to his own bedroom and then…” you smirked at him cheekily.

“Can’t wait” he smiled, warmth and passion glinting in his eyes.

A month later, Five finally got his first paycheck in his hands. And he couldn’t believe his eyes. When they said that the payout for a good performance was great, he thought that they would pay him good. But not this good! For weeks now he thought about what he could buy from the first paycheck. He could get more groceries, he could buy his son some clothes that would fit him and also could be his own choosing, he could buy you a beautiful dress, like the ones you fantasized about in the apocalypse and… Well… the most pressing one in his mind was a ring. So that you could wear the sign of your love.

And so, without much thinking, as his hours were done, he immediately blinked to the street of stores in the city. He found the jewelers and went in.

“Hi! I’m looking for wedding rings?” he smiled lightly.

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You were in the kitchen, making a fruit salad when the door slammed.

“Max, I told you, be careful of the door!” you yelled out.

“Sorry mama,” he rushed in.

“How was school, dear?”

“Good! Bennet played with me in recess!” he beamed.

“Oh really? And what did you play?” you smiled and Max took a deep breath before he started gushing about his day in school.

True to Dot’s words, at the end of your first week in Temps, a letter arrived in your mailbox. In it, they stated that Max would join class 4/B, which is right in his age-group and well within his skillset. They also sent over some paperwork, essential for securing his identity as a citizen.

The first week in school was… trying to say the least. But thanks to Max’s good temperament, it became easier and easier each day.

Now, in the third week of school, Max was starting to make friends. The left side neighbor’s twin daughters Betty and Lily were also in Max’s class, so them, and now apparently Bennet as well, became fast friends.

It turned out that Betty and Lily’s mother, Mary, was working in a café on the street where the school was located, so after a couple hang-outs with the three of them: a deal was made. She would take the kids to school on most days, and when she wasn’t working, you would walk them.

Mary was also very helpful with understanding the town’s rules. The chimes from the clock in the morning and evening were only the beginning. There were also some other things like: lunch was strictly at 12pm, at 3pm you had to have a coffee break (or tea break for the kids) and chat with either your neighbors or your co-workers and also, there was a curfew of 8pm being the latest you could leave the house. You also couldn’t work into the night (the only exception being the night guards at the Commission building) and couldn’t leave your house before 7am. There were some others as well, but they were not essential to your days.

Now, after a month, you were finally starting to get used to Temps’ weird rules and even weirder people. Still, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief whenever 8pm rolled around and you could be alone in the privacy of your home with your husband and son.

“…And can you imagine? Bennet said it was such a cool game!” Max was still gushing about recess and you couldn’t help but smile.

Since he started eating more and healthier, he started growing. Not much in a month, but his clothes now fit perfectly on him and you didn’t have to fold the bottom of his pants up anymore. There was also a healthy glow to him, his hair becoming fuller and shining brighter. You were so glad to see the change.

“Honey, I’m home!” you heard Five call out to you and you smiled as Max’s rambling stopped and his eyes lit up.

“Daddy!” he ran to Five as he reached the kitchen door.

“Hi little crumb” Five smiled and squatted down to embrace him. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes, the best!” Max beamed. “Bennet played with me in recess!”

“Oh really? Wow!” Five laughed, happy for his son. “That’s amazing, baby!”

“It was! And he invited me over for a sleepover!” he mentioned, which caused you to stop smiling and looked at Five, who also looked at you.

“Really? You haven’t said that yet” you put the spoon down into the bowl and walked to your boys. “Did he ask his mom?”

“He said he would once he got home” Max looked at you. “Mama, can I go?”

“I don’t know son, we haven’t talked to Bennet’s mom yet. We don’t know if she agreed to host the sleepover” you sighed and you could see Max’s face fall.

“Tell you what. If they show up, we’ll talk about it” Five tried to reassure the boy, but it didn't help much. He pulled away from both of you and turned to walk down the hall and into his bedroom.

You sighed again, sad to see your son so sad. Five stood up and you could see that he shared that compliment. But there truly was nothing you could do.

So you went back to mixing the fruit bowl together and Five went back to the door so he could take his shoes off before joining you in the kitchen.

“So, how was work today?” you asked.

“It was… fine” he shrugged. “I got my first pay-check.”

“Oh, yeah?” you looked up at him.

“Yeah and, I was surprised to say the least” Five sighed and got the paper out of his suit pocket. “Look at this” he walked up to you and showed you the paper. You almost dropped the bowl from your hands.

“What?!” you asked. “Is that real?”

“Apparently so” he nodded.

“Oh my God…” you blinked, looking up at him. “What do we even do with all that…”

“I don’t know” he sighed. “Well… this months’ I know, because I-”

But at that moment there was a knock from the door. You and Five looked at each other before walking up to the door. Through the glass, you could see a woman standing there. You looked at Five again before opening the door.

“Good afternoon” she greeted.

“Good afternoon” you greeted back with Five. “What can we help you with?”

“Oh my son, Bennet came home from school saying he wanted to invite Max around for a sleepover” she smiled.

“Oh, you must be Sharon!” you smiled at her. “I’m Y/n, and this is Five, my husband.”

Bennet peeked out from behind her and looked up at you.

“Good afternoon” he said shyly.

“Hi, Bennet” you smiled at him as well, then looked up at Sharon. “Would you like some fruit salad? I just finished making it.”

“Thank you so much” she nodded and followed you inside.

“Five, would you be so kind and tell Max that his friend is here?” you looked at him and he nodded. You reached up to take five small bowls out and turned back to Bennet and Sharon. “Bennet, a fruit salad?”

“Yes, thank you” he said just in time when Max came bounding out of the room.

“Bennet!” he shouted happily. “Good afternoon Mrs Meyer.”

“Hi Max” she smiled and let the boys sit together.

“Sharon, a fruit salad?” you looked at her.

“Thank you, I’ll take one” she agreed and you put some of the fruit salad in her bowl as well before placing it in front of the two guests.

“Max, Five?” you asked.

“Yes, thank you mama!” Max agreed loudly, while Five just nodded.

“Here you go, boys” you gave one to each of them. “So, Sharon. You were saying?”

“Bennet wanted Max over for a sleepover” she started. “I have no objections to Max spending the night if you are okay with it as well.”

“Yes, we…” Five started before rethinking his choice of words. “What I mean is, as you know Max had a difficult time adjusting to being away from us at night. We don’t wish to give you any trouble, should he get scared and decide that being houses away from us is too much.”

“I promise daddy, I won’t!” Max immediately said. “I’ll be good!”

“I have no doubt about that, sweetheart. We just don’t want you to feel scared.”

“But mama…” he looked at you sadly.

“How about we put down some ground rules?” Sharon suggested.

“What do you suggest?” Five asked.

So in over an hour, you talked it all out. You agreed that she could take the boys and there wouldn’t be a word about disobeying the Meyer parents’ words. If that would happen, they couldn’t go over to the other’s house for a week. The boys thought that over and then agreed.

“Max, come with me, we’ll put your clothes together” you told your son.

He eagerly followed you to his room, jumping around as he watched you grab a bag from the top of the dresser. You told him what to grab and he rushed to find it and give it to you. You neatly folded them into his overnight bag and once everything was in, you zipped it in and grabbed his hands.

“Listen son, this is the first time you’ll be away from us at night” you started. “But I want you to enjoy this. If you find yourself afraid, remember: mommy and daddy will always protect you. There’s nothing that can harm you” you told him and he nodded slowly. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, mama” he smiled and let you pull him in for a hug. You pressed a kiss to his head and smiled at him.

“Alright,” you stood up and walked out with him to the kitchen. “We’re ready.”

“Well, thank you so much for the fruit salad, it was really good” Sharon stood up, Bennet coming up beside her.

“Yes, thank you Mrs. Hargreeves!” he beamed.

“You’re very welcome. And Sharon, thank you so much for letting the boys have this sleepover. If this goes well, the next one is on us.”

Sharon nodded and herded the boys outside. You stopped in the doorway and Five came up to hug you from behind. You watched as Bennet and Max excitedly chattered, happy to spend time together. Five pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder as you sighed, filled with worry.

Though Max looked engrossed in his conversation with Bennet, he thankfully looked back at you two and waved goodbye. You forced a smile and waved back. You stayed out until the Meyers’ car disappeared from view and then Five gently led you back inside.

“It’s going to be okay, my love” he said gently, hand around your waist and his other hand leading you. “He’ll be okay.”

“I know” you sighed, sitting on the couch with him. “I’m just worried.”

“I know, darling” he pulled you in his arms, holding you close. “But look at the bright side.”

“Which is?”

“He felt up to going. Remember the first week? He couldn’t even let you go to the bathroom alone. Now he’s finally healing” he explained.

“You’re right” you nodded. “Still, it doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

“And it doesn’t have to. You’re his mom, of course you worry about him” he reassured you. “How about I take your mind off of it?”

“What do you have in mind?” you looked at him.

“Remember our wedding?” he pulled a bit away from you and turned you to face him.

“How could I forget?” you smiled.

“Well, we’ve been married for… about fifteen years.”

“Yeah?” you blinked. “It’s been that long?”

“Yeah” he chuckled. “And I finally bought the one missing thing from that day.”

“You did?” your heart picked up speed.

“I did” he pulled the box out of his pocket. “It’s not exactly what I imagined… and I wish we could’ve chosen it together, but… I just wanted to surprise you” he opened the box and the sight of the two golden rings in it made tears spring in your eyes.

“Oh Five” you sobbed, reaching a shaky hand out to cover his own.

“Do you like it?” he asked, slight worry in his eyes.

“They’re perfect” you sniffled, smiling through your tears. “God, they’re so perfect.

“I’m glad you think so” he smiled sweetly and reached into the box, picking up the smaller ring. “May I?” he asked, holding his free hand out.

You nodded and offered him your right hand. He pulled it on your finger, then raised it up to kiss it. You sniffled as he reached his hands out to wipe your fingers.

“My beautiful bride, the gorgeous mother of my child” he murmured. “Thank you so much for staying with me.”

You sniffled, trying to keep your sobs and tears in. You reached shakily for the other ring and took Five’s right hand in yours.

“You’re the love of my life” you whispered, not trusting your voice. “I love you so much” you pushed the ring up on his ring finger gently, putting your own right hand next to it. “I can’t believe we finally have these…”

“I couldn’t be happier” Five turned his right hand and took your hand, caressing your knuckles.

“I’m so happy” you agreed, wiping your tears and looking up at him. “Thank you. For everything you do for us.”

“I love you” he replied.

“I love you too” and finally Five leaned in and kissed you.

It was so soft, so full of love, you couldn’t comprehend how there could be so much love. But you just pulled him closer, your hand going up to his soft hair, grabbing a fistful of it. His hands went to your waist and pulled you in his lap oh so gently.

“Five…” you breathed into his mouth, trying to convey the message you couldn’t form with words.

“Y/n…” he sighed, pulling your lips back on his, while guiding his hand holding your waist down to your ass, so in the next moment he could stand up with you in his arms.

You yelped, but then you were back to kissing him, letting his tongue in your mouth as he walked with you toward your bedroom. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing your bodies together. You were in the bedroom quicker than you could’ve imagined, the door slamming shut behind you.

The sixth month of your stay at Temps became a huge deal. Not only was it a really long time that you could stay in one place and be perfectly comfortable, but also it became a big milestone in your lives.

Around the fourth month of staying in Temps, you found out something really big. Like huge. It wasn’t something you were expecting or hoping for, but you were still really happy. You still remember talking about this with Five.

“So… uh, Five?” you started the conversation one night after you put Max down to sleep.

“Yeah?” he looked at you, climbing into bed and pulling you in close.

“You know when we were talking about Max, way back when…” you tried to find the right words.

“Back when…” he tried to urge you on with your explanation. “In the apocalypse?”

“Yeah…” you nodded into his shoulder, trying to contain your anxiety mixed with excitement. “Specifically when he was just a little toddler.”

“Hm, still not sure which conversation you refer to” he hummed.

“Well it wasn’t just that one time we talked about this. But that was the first time. Actually we talked a lot about this, all things considered” you explained vaguely.

“Is it about his normal life?” he asked.

“No- well partly” you agreed.

“So… what is it, Y/n?” he caressed your shoulder.

“Okay, okay” you got up suddenly, kneeling beside him. “So… things have been going better for us, right?”

“Yeah” he nodded, turning to his side to look at you properly.

“And we’re no longer in the apocalypse…”

“Thankfully.”

“And, well… I know it’s a bit late and Max is so old now, but…” you stopped for a second, not sure if Five will be happy.

“But…?” he was holding his breath now, you could tell.

“I’m- I’m pregnant” you finally blurted it out.

For a moment there was silence. You could see the wheels turning in Five’s head. Then he was up on his knees as well.

“Are you serious?” he asked, shocked.

“Y-yeah” you nodded, afraid of his reaction.

“You’re really, really serious?” he grabbed onto your hands.

“Yes. Are you-” but you couldn’t even finish your question because Five grabbed you by your sides, pulling you close and squeezing you.

“You’re really pregnant” he whispered, though you couldn’t decide whether it was a question or a statement.

“Yeah” you whispered back, still a little confused about his reaction being happy or not so much.

“Oh my God…” he breathed out and that’s when you became aware of his shaking body and the sudden wetness at your neck, where Five buried his head.

You finally smiled and let yourself get lost in Five’s warm embrace and pure love.

And since then you tried to figure out Max’s stance on siblings. You haven’t popped yet, so you could hide it from him, even if that made you feel bad. You never really had secrets in front of Max, especially not big ones that concerned his future as well.

But you heard enough horror stories about kids reacting badly about a new addition to the family before, so you wanted to be prepared. You didn’t want Max to feel like he’s loved less just because there will be a baby in the house. And though you didn’t ask him right out about siblings, there were a number of ways you deduced whether or not Max was ready for a baby sibling.

Today, you noticed in the morning, while you were getting dressed, that your stomach seemed a lot… bigger. It took only a second to realize what happened: you popped. So it was time.

By some twist of fate, it was Five’s day off. And so, immediately as you noticed, you stalked out into the kitchen, where he prepared morning coffee and breakfast.

“Five” you whispered. It was still early in the morning and you didn’t want to wake Max up.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, looking up from his book.

“I popped!” you smile at him, turning to the side, so he could see the big change in your figure.

“Oh my God!” he put his book down, eyes filled with wonder. “You really did!”

He stood up from his seat and walked to you, so he could caress over the bulge of your stomach. You were looking up at his face, seeing him so focused on your belly, eyes full of wonder and love.

“You’re so amazing” he whispered, his free hand going around your waist and pulling you close.

“No, you are” you smiled, lifting his chin with a hand. “Without your hard work, we wouldn’t be here, safe. But thanks to you, Max could heal, we could build a life and also,” you put your hand on his, that was still caressing your baby bump, “expand our little family.”

Five smiled at you gratefully, then leaned in to kiss your lips sweetly. He pulled your robes in again, when he suddenly heard shifting from Max’s room and smiled at you encouragingly.

“Today’s the day.”

“Yeah” you sighed and sat down at the table, grabbing one toast from the pile.

The next moment, Max’s door opened and your son stumbled out, completely out of it from sleep. You smiled at his sleepy face and the way he sluggishly walked toward you and Five.

“Hey there, little crumb” Five smiled, embracing his son when he reached him. “How did you sleep?”

The only answer was a little grunt, which made both Five and you giggle lightly. Contrary to you and Five, Max was not a morning bird. While both you and Five got out of bed easily in the mornings, on most days you had to practically drag your son out.

“Darling, come, there is breakfast here for you” you said gently and pulled a chair out for your son to sit down on. “How about some milk, would you like some?”

Max nodded slowly and sat down next to you. You got up to grab the milk, pouring some for the young boy.

“Here you go” you smiled at him.

Breakfast went by in silence, Max waking up more and more as he ate. Soon, he was starting to chit-chat about the weekend and how you could go to the playground.

“We can, right?” he looked at the two of you and you shared a look with your husband.

“Not right now, son” Five put a hand on his smaller one. “Actually, mama and I want to talk to you.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, immediately scared about being told off.

“No, no” you said quickly, placing a hand on his other hand. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. There’s just something that’s… Well…”

“There will be some changes in our lives…” Five helped you out. “Soon.”

“What changes?” Max looked between you.

“Well… you know how mama has been feeling unwell for the past few weeks?”

“Is… is mama sick?” Max turned to you, his eyes filling with tears.

“No darling, I’m very healthy” you smiled gently at him. “The sickness has been caused by something else” you thought for a moment on how to approach the subject. “You know Betty and Lily, how they’re sisters?” Max nodded. “They were born on the same day. But you can have siblings a few years in-between.”

“Like Dean and Paul?” he asked, referring to his classmate, who had a younger brother.

“Yes, like Dean and Paul” you nodded.

“What we’re trying to tell you is that mama is now…” Five started. “Well, mama is carrying a baby. In her stomach.”

“What?” Max looked at you, his brain working overtime.

“Yeah, darling” you moved a bit around the table, so he could see your midsection and you opened your robes. “I’m pregnant.”

Max blinked a couple times, reaching out to touch your stomach as if not trusting his eyes. “There’s a baby in there?”

“Yeah” Five nodded.

“And… he is going to be my little brother?” he asked, looking up at you.

“Or sister, we don’t know their gender yet” you smiled. “Are you happy?”

At that question Max’s eyes filled with tears and moved in to hug you. He was gentle, steering clear from your belly. There, he nestled his face into you and nodded a little.

Around your one year mark of staying at Temps, you were about ready to pop. You ached everywhere, your feet were swollen and you were constantly tired. It was no longer fun being pregnant.

But in hindsight, it was a better pregnancy than it was with Max. There were obvious differences and not just because you were in an apocalypse then. Your stomach was bigger and rounder than it was with him and also, your feet had swollen more.

You were ready for the baby, more so than you were when you learned that Five was going on a longer mission in a few days.

“Come on, baby. I don’t want your father missing your arrival” you groaned as you tried to get off of the couch in the afternoon. “He deserves to be there to greet you. Please.”

But the only thing you can do is wait. Wait for the baby to feel ready. Your doctor said that from the 38th week, it can happen any day. And you couldn’t be more happy about that fact. You were ready for them to arrive.

But they didn’t arrive that day. Nor the next one. And Five’s departure for his mission just kept crawling closer.

“Don’t worry” Five tried to placate you every night. “They’ll be here soon. And I’ll be right by your side.”

You talked to Mary about this as well. She was nice enough to offer Max a place to stay, should your labor start during the day. Which was also a big question mark in your head.

“What if my water breaks during the night? After the curfew starts? What then?”

“Well…” Five looked up from where he was massaging your feet. “I helped deliver Max, so I don’t think we’re in any danger.”

“Yeah, but what if you’re gone by the time this little one decides to come to the world?” you huffed.

“That won’t happen” Five got up and leaned over the armchair to press a kiss to your lips. “Don’t worry, everything will be okay.”

“I hate this” you pouted.

“I know” he smiled gently and then went back to massaging your swollen feet.

On the last day, you start feeling worse. In the morning, you found some weird substance in your underwear, which at first weirded you out, then realized that it was probably related to your pregnancy. Your doctor was on a day off, so you couldn’t go in, but you could go to the payphone at the end of the street and call them.

They told you, after explaining what happened, that that was a good sign. Your labor was finally approaching. It still could be days but it could be only hours. They also told you to call them if any more advancements are made.

The whole day, you barely got anything done. You tried to do something as simple as sweeping the floor, but your back started aching almost instantly. You did manage to make some warm food for dinner, when your two boys showed up.

“Hi mama” Max came home first, but only a couple minutes before Five showed up.

“Hi darling” his smooth voice called from the hallway. “What did the doctor say?”

“To call them when my water breaks” you sighed, rubbing at your lower stomach.

Five hummed and came up to press a kiss to your cheek, then to Max’s, who was sitting beside you, caressing your stomach.

“The baby doesn’t move as much” Max voiced his sorrow.

“They’re sleeping more” you explained. “They’re getting ready to see you.”

“Really?” he looked up at you.

“Really” you smiled gently.

Time ticked by, slowly, even as you wished it would rush. You were in so much discomfort, you really wished that time would pass, so you could just FINALLY-

In that moment, a weird sensation ran through you and you felt a warm sensation run down your legs. Looking down, you saw that your previously dry pants were no longer dry.

Breathing hard and slightly panicked, you yelled out: “Five!”

In just a fraction of a second, Five blinked next to you and grabbed your hand, looking frantic.

“What happened?” he asked, clearly just as panicked as you.

“My… my water just broke!” you told him, still in shock. “What- what do we do?”

“Uh…” Five looked up at the clock. It was 7pm. He could try calling your doctor, but it was unlikely that they would be able to come and it was an hour til curfew. “Shit… I’ll go call the doctor, you… just try to breathe and lie down.”

He quickly made your bed, heaping the pillows, so you would be in a half-sitting, half-lying down position. He helped you lie down and then blinked into Max’s room, where he was reading his favorite book. Soon, Max was knocking on your bedroom door and then peeking his head in.

“Mama?” he asked, looking slightly scared.

“Hey darling” you breathed out, wincing at a sudden pain in your lower stomach.

“Is the baby coming?” he walked up to the bed.

“Yeah, I think they want to” you sighed.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah” you nodded, not wanting to lie. “It hurts really badly. But don’t worry, they’ll be here soon and it won’t hurt anymore.”

“Can I help?” he asked, ever the caring little boy.

“You could bring me a glass of water while daddy gets back” you smiled at him as gently as you could.

Max nodded and rushed out to fill a glass with fresh water. He was soon back, giving it to you.

“Thank you darling” you sighed as you took a couple sips.

Five was back within a couple minutes, but not with good news.

“I reached the doctor, but they can’t come” he sighed, frustrated. “He said your delivery could be an hour from now or even 24.”

“Oh God…” you sighed, dropping your head back down. “So I’ll just suffer here?”

“I’m here with you. We’ll get through this” Five took your hand gently in his, then looked back at your son, who was waiting by the bedside table, tears in his eyes. “Max, darling, I think you should go to bed. Mama will be alright” he said gently.

“But I don’t want to leave her. She’s hurt” he sniffled.

“Darling…” Five walked to him, but you interrupted him.

“Let him be here” you told him. “But Max, you have to do what daddy tells you, while you’re here, okay? Once the baby starts coming, mama will be in a lot of pain and you can’t stand in daddy’s way.”

“I promise to be a good boy” he nodded eagerly. “Please, daddy.”

“Fine” Five sighed. “I’ll get some towels.”

Your labor advances quite slowly and every half an hour you get up to walk around with Five’s help. You couldn’t be happier that he was there with you. And Max, he seemed to grow up quite a lot in the hours since your labor started. You of course wished you could spare the young boy from seeing you in pain, but you also didn’t want him to have to be scared in his room as he heard you scream through your delivery.

Which he instead got to experience right by your side. Though Five told him that he didn’t have to take your hand as you couldn’t control how tightly you hold onto it, he did anyway. His eyes were filled with tears, but he didn’t let go of your hand as you delivered the baby, his sibling.

It was quite a shorter process than it was with Max, but somehow more painful. But that all washed away, when Five finally handed them to you.

“It’s a little girl” Five said, tears in his eyes, looking at the crying baby. “I’m so proud of you, darling” he leaned down to kiss your sweaty forehead.

You sobbed as you held your little girl close, so small and fragile. Five disappeared into the bathroom to wash all the blood and other fluids away from his hands and arrived back to seeing Max on the side of the bed, looking down at his sister.

“She’s so tiny” he said quietly.

“Yeah. But you were smaller” you smiled at him.

“Really?” he blinked, his eyes big.

“Yes” Five agreed, grabbing a washcloth and cleaning up the area. “Max, how is your hand?”

The little boy seemed to only just notice his hand, too preoccupied by his sister. He lifted it and showed the red marks on it, that resembled your fingers.

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry” you teared up again. “Mama didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay mama” he smiled. “It hurts, but you were hurt more.”

“You’re such a strong kid” Five praised him, kissing his head. “But come on, I’ll get some ice on that for you.”

“But mama…” he started, but then just nodded.

Once things calmed down, Max was sitting on one side of you and Five the other. You looked at your husband.

“What do you think her name should be?”

“I was kind of thinking about flowers…” he hummed.

“What about Penny though?” Max chimed in, looking at his baby sister in your arms.

“Penny? Why Penny?” you asked him gently.

“I don’t know” he shrugged.

“Well, I like Penny” Five agreed with his son. “Not my first idea, but I like the name.”

“I do too” you nodded, smiling down at your sleeping daughter. “Welcome to the world, Penny.”

Days, months, years passed in Temps as your little family grew. Max was now 13 and baby Penny 2. They were the bestest friends, even when Max’s temper got the best of him. He was going into puberty, his hormones working more and more. But the one thing he never did was hurt his baby sister, no matter what. He was gentle with her at all times.

Five was working hard. Not just with the Commission jobs, but with the equations to get you back to 2019, back to his family. He was getting closer and closer to the answer every day, but didn’t know how close.

One day though, when he was waiting to finish his work for that day, he looked through his book again. There it was. The answer. His heart beat fast as he stared at the book. He could finally… they could finally go…

But before he could think more about it, he had to finish the job and get back home as soon as he could. He needed to see Y/n, the kids. So for the next few minutes, with his heart beating fast, he waited with bated breath, keeping his gun trained on where the target would be. It was only minutes, but he felt like hours passed. He never thought time could pass by so slow.

And when the job was finally done, he wasted no time in jumping back to the Commission, passing his briefcase down and blinking into your home.

“Y/n, get the kids, we’re going” he yelled immediately, pulling his book out.

“Going? Where?” you asked from the kitchen, where you were feeding baby Penny.

“Back to my family” he said lowly when he reached the kitchen. “Come on, before they realize what I’m planning.”

“Okay” you breathed out, anxiety coursing through your veins. You put the bowl from your hands and picked her up from the highchair. “Max!” you yelled from your son as you followed Five to the living room.

“Yeah?” he called from his room.

“Come on, put your shoes on. We’re going home.”

“Home? We are…” Max stopped as he realized you didn’t mean this home. You meant the home in another time. Without another word, he put his shoes on, also picking up baby Penny’s shoes and your own as well. “Here you go, mom.”

“Thank you” you smiled thankfully at him, taking Penny’s shoes first.

“Stand by the door. This portal will be big” Five instructed, stepping back as well, his hands curling into fists.

Max took Penny from your hands so you could pull your own shoes up. The living room was suddenly lit in a blue light and you could hear Penny coo at it.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Max asked and gave her back, when you finished tying your shoes.

Suddenly there was a… fire extinguisher? flying through the portal and you only just pulled Max out of the way from it.

“Woah…” Max looked at the objects now rolling on the floor.

“Take my hand” Five suddenly yelled, reaching back for Max. “And take your mother’s.”

Max immediately took yours in his right then Five’s in his left hand. “Dad…” he didn’t, couldn’t say more, but Five looked at him.

“It’s gonna be alright” he said as gently as he could.

With that, you all took a step forward, holding each other’s hands. Going through the portal felt like wading through thick mud, the energy around you almost forcing you back. But your strong hold on each other didn’t let it.

Soon you were falling, your hand letting go of Max’s as you curled your arms around Penny, to protect her from the fall. Five did the same thing with Max and you all landed in a heap.

Groaning, you got off of Five, Penny safe in your arms. Five stood up as well, looking at Max who was…

“Mama?” the word made you turn to… little Max.

“What…” you blinked, looking at your husband, who was…

“Does anyone see little Number Five and other kids, or is that just me?” a guy asked from your right, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Five.

“Five…” you whispered, confused and shocked, bouncing a crying baby Penny in your arms.

“Y/n…” he looked you up and down, then himself as well. “Shit…”

[Part 1] [Masterlist] [Part 3]

Taglist: @snixx2088, @piopoi87, @izzyj12119, @groovydazephantom

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy five #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x y/n #tua five #tua x reader #tua x you #tua x y/n

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bqu1nns · 2 months ago

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im sorry i havent been posting, i feel like shit because ive been sick but i wanted to post this fic still ! someone requested a jealous!brian + sal sister trope because they liked it so much (thank you!) so here u go! whomever u are, i love u and it was awesome writing this. love u guys, i hope u are all safe and if i dont see u guys soon, happy new year ! my request box is open still if u guys want me to write anything specific AND i am open to writing for people who arent brian quinn lol !! hit me up ! toodles xx

daddy's girl 𐙚 brian q.

3219 words! my biggest one :3

the party was absolute chaos, which was what the vulcano’s were known for. well, mostly what sal was famous for. his apartment buzzed with energy, filled with people laughing too loudly and moving in and out of the hallways like it was some kind of jungle. you stayed by the hall, nursing a drink you didn't even like, your eyes doing what they’d been doing the entire night: tracking him.

brian quinn. your boyfriend. or a friend you fool around with from time to time.

he was in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter like he owned the damn place. one hand holding a beer, his hand collecting liquid as his beer was getting warm, the other tucked casually into his pocket. he looked completely at ease. as if you didn't even exist to him. but you knew him better than that. you’d noticed the sparkle in his eyes when you walked in, the way his lips twitched like he wanted to grin but knew he couldn't. not here. not now.

not with sal just across the room, playing host like he was the king of staten island. no one knew about the stolen kisses in dimly lit corners, the late night drives when you just couldn't keep your hands off of each other, or the way brian’s voice softened when he whispered your name in private when you belonged to him. the secret felt like it was fraying at the edges, waiting to be ripped off at any given moment.

and then there was her.

she was standing almost too close, her body turned towards him like some damn flower bending to the sunlight. she laughed a little too loudly at something he said, her arm resting on his arm.

her arm resting on his arm. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

your stomach churned with something that you hadn't felt before, something that you couldn't even name, but it wasn't jealousy. no, that would be way too simple. it was something far worse.

it was possession.

it hasn't always been this way—those stolen moments when no one was looking, when hands lingered just a second longer than intended, when his lips brushed yours like it was a secret between the two of you and no one else’s (which it was). but tonight? tonight was different. his gaze flickered across the room, catching yours for just a beat too long, but he didn't even move. instead, his attention slid back to the brunette, laughing like it didn't matter. like you didn't matter.

you tried to look away, tried to focus on something—anything else. but the knot in your stomach tightened with every laugh he shared with her, with every gesture that seemed so familiar but so distant tonight. it made you want to scream.

“hey,” someone said, his smile wide. “i don't think we’ve met. i’m jason.” you couldn't help but smile back, even if it was a little forced. “hi, jason.” you didn't want to seem rude to a polite man.

jason extended his hand and though it was unnecessary, you shook it anyway. his grip was firm, the kind of handshake rich people would have. “you must be new around here. i haven't seen you around at sal’s parties before,” he said, leaning casually. “i don't come to them often, he's my brother but they aren't really my scene. i just wanted to come to support him, i guess.”

his grin widened, teeth almost disturbingly white and flashy. “ah, one of those ‘too cool to party’ types, huh,” he teased, his tone light. “let me guess–you were dragged here against your own will?”

you laughed softly, amused by him now. “something like that.” jason leaned in slightly to whisper in your ear. “i'm sorry but i actually already knew you were sal’s sister,” his tone shifted to sound smug. your brows rose in mild surprise. “oh really? then why’d you ask..”

he shrugged casually, taking a sip of his drink. “just thought i’d have a little fun. but, actually, sal told me earlier. he mentioned you’d be here tonight and, uh…” his eyes flicked over you briefly. “suggested that i’d keep an eye out for you. said something about you not being a fan of these kinds of things.”

you blinked, the revelation catching you off guard. “he told you to keep an eye on me? how pathetic. sounds more like babysitting to me,” you scoffed at the thought. “hey, honestly, if he didnt say anything, i probably would’ve noticed you anyway.” you tilted your head, “oh really?”

“yeah,” he replied smoothly. “you don't exactly blend into the background, y’know.” it was a compliment, sure, but it landed a little too practiced. you rolled your eyes but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips despite yourself. “thanks, i guess,” you said dryly.

“no prob. so, what's it gonna take to make sure you dont bolt from this party in the next 5 to 10 minutes?” before you could answer, you felt it—an unexpected pressure against your side, like someone had bumped past you with purpose and undetermined effort. without warning, you felt brian. his shoulder collided with yours, hard enough to send you stumbling slightly.

“mind if i borrow her for a few minutes, man?”

your heart skipped a few beats at the sound of brian’s voice—like warm honey mixed with something darker. he didn't even glance at jason, his eyes were on you, the intensity in them almost too irresistible to ignore.

without missing a beat, brian stepped forward, pushing past jason as if he wasn't even there. before you could even process what was happening, he had you pressed against the nearest wall, his hand bracing behind your head while his lips crashed into yours. the world seemed to blur all around you, the party, the noise, the eyes of anyone else—they all simply faded. it was just brian, the heat of his body against yours, the urgency in his kiss that made everything else matter significantly less.

for a moment, you forgot about the idea of sal seeing the two of you making out on his wall, about jason, about the fact that you were pretty much in a hallway at a crowded party. even though a small voice in the back of your head screamed that this wasn't the place, you didn't even care anymore. brian’s chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy but his eyes burned with something between frustration and want.

“you're impossible,” you whispered, but there wasn't a real bite in your tone. it came out much softer, breathless, as you tried to catch up with everything that just happened

“me? you're the one flirting with your brother’s idiot coworker,” brian shot back, voice rough, but his hands—one sliding up to cradle your jaw—was anything but harsh. “do you have any idea what that just did to me, sweetheart? watching him try to charm you, knowing damn well hes out of your fucking league? huh?”

you tried to come up with something clever, something biting, but all you could manage was: “then do something about it.” his eyes narrowed slightly, jaw tightening as if he didn’t hear you correctly. “let’s go,” you said, your voice steady as you grabbed him by his hand and started pulling him towards the hallway.

“where?” he asked, though there wasn't hesitation in the way he followed. you glanced back at him, biting back a laugh. “the bathroom. we need to talk.” he let out a disbelieving laugh but you didn't ignore the excitement in his eyes. “talk, huh?”

the moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind the two of you, the muffled sounds of the party fell away, leaving only the sound of your own raging heartbeat roaring in your ears. you turned to face brian, who already had his arms leaning back against the sink, a grin tugging his lips.

his gaze was relentless, dragging over you in a way that felt like he could see straight through every wall you’d built around yourself. “you're gonna tell me what the hell that was out there?” his voice was low, the kind of tone that left no room for denial. “what do you mean?” you shot back, though your voice came out more innocent than you intended.

brian tilted his head, his tongue running over his bottom lip like he was trying to stay cool and calm, though you could feel his restraint unraveling right in front of your eyes. “don't play cute with me, doll. you know exactly what i'm talkin’ about. jason.”

you bristled, stepping closer to him, your heart flaring up again. “oh, so it's my fault now? you've been busy charming every single girl in the room except me, but the second someone so much as talks to me, you act—”

“like you're mine?” he interrupted, his voice sharp enough to cut through you. he pushed himself off the sink, coming towards you. “yeah, i do. because you are.” your breath caught in your throat, but brian wasn't finished.

“do you have any idea what it's like to stand there and watch some dickhead try to put his hands in your pants?” his voice softened but his words burned hotter by the minute. “you smiling at him, letting him think he could take you home for the night? do you know what that did to me?”

his words hit you like a large swell, stealing the air from your lungs. “i don't want anyone else looking at you like that, touching you,” he continued. “not when i know what's mine. and you are, baby. dont even try and deny it.” you swallowed hard, his words making your pulse thunder in your ears. “brian i’m s–”

his thumb traced your delicate jaw, his touch gentle. “say it,” he urged, almost pleading. “say you're mine.” your heart pounded, all your defenses crumbling under one blow; under the weight of his words and the intensity in his longing gaze. “i'm yours. only yours,” you admitted, the confession falling from your lips like some secret you could no longer bear to keep.

you opened your mouth to respond even more but brian didn't give you the chance. his lips were on yours again, this time slower, deeper, like he was trying to memorize every part of you. the kiss’s tenderness made your stomach do somersaults. your hands found their way to his shirt, fisting the fabric as he pressed closer, the heat of him overwhelming in such a small space. his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you let out a soft moan that seemed to spur him on, his hand slipping to your waist to pull you even tighter against him.

“god, you have no idea what you do to me, baby,” he moaned against your lips, voice husky, laced with raw need. “do’ya feel that? it's all because of you,” he murmured, placing your hand on his hard bulge, grinding against your hand. his lips moved to your jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve until he reached your neck. the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head, letting him get more access as he nipped and sucked sweet hickeys along your sensitive skin just below your ear.

“brian.. i need you,” you whimpered, your voice trembling equally with desire and disbelief. he hummed in response, his lips curving into a smile against your sweet skin. “say it again,” he murmured, his hand unbuttoning your shirt, his fingers shaky.

you swallowed hard, your hands moving to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “i need you so bad right now.. do whatever you want,” you pleaded, the words barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat and shared breaths of desperation.

“fuck, youre so goddamn beautiful, baby,” he growls, his large hands cupping your breast as he takes in the sight of your heaving chest. you gasp at the sudden contact of his warm hands, arching into his touch as he kneads the soft flesh. “need to be inside of ya, doll. i need to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock. ”, he sounds desperate and needy. “m’gonna make you feel so good baby. not gonna stop ‘til you're screaming my name.”

he lifts you onto the sink, spreading your legs as wide as he steps between them. his hands tremble slightly as he unzips his jeans, his fingers fumbling with the button in his haste to get them off. i bet his cock hurts so bad right now. he shoves his pants down his legs, kicking them aside as he steps out of them. his boxers follow quickly, revealing his hard, throbbing cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

he wraps his large hand around his shaft, his fingers squeezing tightly as he pumped himself up and down, his eyes locked on your almost-naked form in the mirror. he spits into his palm, rubbing the saliva all over his cock, making it glisten in the harsh bathroom light.

his hands slide down your sides, fingers dripping beneath the waistband of your skirt. he tugs it down along with your pretty laced panties, letting them pool at your ankles. the cool feeling of the sink hits your bare skin, making you shiver with anticipation. brian steps closer to you, his rough fingers parting your slick folds. he rubs your clit in rough, quick circles. “fuck, how’re you wet for me baby? such a needy little girl, aren't you…me getting jealous, did that excite you or somethin’?” he chuckles to himself, his voice vibrating to my core.

“fuck– fuck no. was thinkin’ of taking him home, actually”, you moan softly as the heat spreads all over your body. his fingers curled deeper inside you, the squelch of his fingers fuck into you, fast and deep, the answer was quite enough. “mmph okay, tell me sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing past the corner of my mouth, he's teasing. “would he have you sprawled out on your brothers sink, already fucked out just by his fingers? would he have let you cum on his fingers?”

you're panting now, brian’s name leaving your lips in a wave of whines and moans. brian drinks it all in, his hand leaving your clit to pinch at your nipple. “c'mon sweetheart, you can tell me anything,” he says, cockily and sweet all in one.

“you–aah!–drive me fucking insane. you think i wanted that prick?” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “you think i was smiling at him because i wanted him to fuck me, to mark me as his? you–shit–couldn't be more wrong, brian.”

brian's fingers slow for a moment, twisting so he can thumb at your nipple before he continues his motions. you cry out, eyes shut closed, hips bucking forward. you want more, if that was even humanly possible. you're not sure if you can handle more. your eyes struggle to stay open, but when you open them, you catch the flash of brian’s pleased grin–fixated on your dumb-fucked expression before he focuses back between your thighs.

“such a pretty pussy,” his fingers never spotting their relentless thrusting on your clit, “i bet jason would've loved to see me pounding into this tight hole. hear you screaming my name, begging for me. fuck, i bet he’d cum so hard,” his words were filthy. he was marking you, claiming you as his own. god help you, you loved it.

“it's the fact that i can't stand the thought of anyone else touchin’ you, baby, lookin at you, even dreaming about you. you're mine. y-you've ruined me for anyone else. always you, baby. always.”

his words seem to steal your breath. you turn your head to kiss him. you both pour everything you have into it. he positions himself up, the head of his fat cock nudging at your entrance. he spreads your puffy lips apart as he slowly sinks into your heat. an inch, then another, until your walls were stretching beautifully around him. “fuck me… youre so tight. gonna take all of me, aren't you?”

you gasp at the sudden fullness, “brian… there's probably a line out there, they’ll hear us!”, you cry, tears bubbling. brian is quick to shush you, using his big hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. his hips snap against yours as he pounds relentlessly into you. the sink below you rattles with each powerful thrust, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with the distant music. “you did this to me, now you're goin’ to have to deal with it, princess,” he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes you go insane. your legs begin to shake, he can feel your walls fluttering as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

your cheeks burn fiercely as brian’s hot breath ghosts over your lips, you guys are practically forehead to forehead together, spewing filth as he rams his thick cock into your hole over and over. the squelching of your mixed juices has your ears ringing and your thighs shaking. just as you were about to cum, there was a loud banging on the other side of the door, none other than your brother. “whoevers in there, hurry the fuck up!”

“i’m busy here, sal!” brian called out, voice straining as he's too focused on making you cum. he knew you were close. “gonna fuck you so good, you’ll be feeling me for days.” you moan at that, arms sprawled onto his bare back. “fill this pussy up with your cum, mark me as yours, please” you seeth. your words are like a drug to him, spurring him on. you meet his thrusts, your manicured nails digging into his back as you cling to him, the pleasure building and building. “bri! oh god, brian, gonna cum on your cock!” he pounds into you harder, “let me feel this pussy squeeze me. fuck–fuck– gonna fill you up, make you mine. you can cum, you've been a good girl.” he’s talkative alright.

that's all it took before you're gushing around brian’s dick. you think you screamed, biting down way too hard on his hand that was covering your mouth. he lets out a low whimper, spraying your walls with his warm cum. he sinks his teeth into your warm shoulder in attempts to cover his sounds as he comes. he doesn't stop thrusting and bucking his hips into yours, riding out both of your orgasms.

he looks completely fucked. you both do. your hair is a mess and you just realize all the hickeys you left on his chest, bright and red. brian smirks at the state of you, noticing how you both have to get out of the party looking like this.

“i hate you,” you mutter as you try to catch your breath. he laughs, wincing when he pulls his sensitive cock out of you. “yeahhh sure,” he says as he puts his jeans back on and zips his fly back up.

“you need to wear this dress more often, baby.” he says as he presses a few kisses to your cheek, and also a light smack to your butt. you don't respond with words, only an annoyed huff as you get down from the sink to put your dress back on.

you hope this dress is long enough to cover up the stream of brian's cum traveling down your thighs for the rest of the night.

𖹭 happy new years !!! and thank u all so much for 200 followers <3

#impractical jokers #brian quinn #brian quinn x reader #sal vulcano #the tenderloins #brian quinn x female reader #james murray #joe gatto #brian quinn x female oc #impractical jokers fanfiction #smut #soft angst #fwb #new year #2025

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melodicvoidz · 1 month ago

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the way things go .

— 這 tw / gore , angst , sagau ( imposter au ) , imprisonment , descriptive gore .

. . YOU never thought you’d be in prison for a petty , pathetic reason. out of every horror sin you’ve committed on earth,you were imprisoned for. . looking like a divine being?

all you knew was that you were definitely not a divine being. But getting arrested for a foolish reason like this? you were no weak punk! . .

its been half a year. half-a-fucking-YEAR. you were sick of it. sending someone to beat you up? and for WHAT?

the only one you could ever like in this riddance was this.. blondie,she snuck some food into your cell every once in a while. but she would also get punished for it every once in a while..

she would exclaim that she just wanted to investigate on an imposter.

it was the day. you would do it.. instead of escaping. you would do it. what’d you have to lose anyway? you were already living in slums back on earth? who would care?

you got your daily food. you weren’t planning on eating before you’d commit. it was shit and im not gonna let that be the last food i eat before i meet the heavens. yea no.

you grabbed the un-sharp knife. it was to dull. you tried to grab the fork to sharpen it. you were at it for too long,you’d realise. but anything to fucking escape.

you poked the knife at your hand. it was sharp enough. you hovered it over your stomach. your hand was steady. you were unafraid. you were ready.

you plummeted the knife into your stomach a gut-renching yell came out unconsciously. you slowly looked down. you were still breathing.still alive. it wasn’t enough. you drove the knife deeper and twisted it. blood disturbingly oozing out as you felt your conscious slipping with a grin.

the blood dripping from your stomach was a disturbing..green? ( symbolizes ; new beginnings,peace and abundance )

you weren’t near unconscious. you thought you were near. no you weren’t.

“haagh…one .. last try” you murmured as you spat blood. . “one last fucking try . .” you hovered the dirtied knife over your bloodied chest. you were in a puddle of blood. your blood. you stabbed your chest repeatedly. as blood shot out.

your eyes blurred as you could barely see. but there was one thing you saw before you passed. .

“ hey! im so so so sorry i couldn’t come ear-“

a gasp followed afterward. lumine was devastated.

she ran over to you hurriedly as she dropped to her knees at your pale,lifeless body. desperately trying to find warmth as green blood coated her dress she tried to hug your body as sobs and sobs after each other she was conflicted with grief and sadness,as she loathed the archons.the nations. and- THE WHOLE OF TEYVAT.

she kept at it and tried to run out and call for a medic. once some guards checked on your cell they were taken aback. they knew they couldn’t be forgiven. this happened because of them .

#͜ ◞◟·̩͙◟ ◞◟·̩͙ ͜ ˳꣑୧ ͜ ◞◟·̩͙◟ ◞◟·̩͙ ͜ ˳#꒰͡ 𓈒 ♡̩̥ ˖ bloödied pen 𖥨 ᩠ׄ .#sagau #genshin impact #yandere sagau #gn reader #angst #cw: gore #blood and gore

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izvmimi · 11 months ago

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cw: heavy angst, talk of children, childbirth and death, grief, bakugou is miserable tbh, izuku has an unnamed wife

a/n: sorry lol. also repost.

Izuku’s infant son looks disturbingly just like him, Bakugou realizes.

A bit small for age height-wise, but chubby nonetheless, with a shock of green wavy-curly hair. Large, green eyes. The freckles haven’t settled in yet, probably because he’s still too young, but the features are nearly the same.

The kid also won’t stop kicking as Katsuki tries to fasten his diaper, and he’s getting a tiny bit frustrated. At least he’s not crying - thankfully, he doesn’t appear to have inherited the excessively soft disposition from his dad.

“You’re gonna have to be faster than that,” you joke from behind him. Bakugou finishes up securing the diaper, then glances at you and scowls. “Next time he’ll pee on ya!” you giggle while Bakugou gets the baby’s onesie back on then carries him so that he rests on his chest. He makes his way towards the bottle warmer - the baby isn’t crying now, but based on the guide Izuku’s wife gave him, this is about the time for his next feeding and he’s got a pair of lungs on him. It also doesn’t help that the toddler keeps nuzzling his face into his chest as though he’s trying to find a nipple to suck on.

He does have to admit the little kiddo is cute.

“Did you check the temperature?”

You watch him carefully as he shakes warm milk onto the back of his hand, perched on the counter and swinging your feet gently. Bakugou doesn’t keep his eyes off of you as he checks, child cradled in his left arm.

“I know what I’m doing, princess,” he asserts. He has a little pout instead of a scowl instead, the one you’ve always thought was cute, where he communicates his disappointment that you’re underestimating his skill.

“Of course you do, love.” You smile widely, sweetly, as if you weren’t just micromanaging him. Not that he minds - when you hop off the counter and walk towards him, hands reaching upwards to caress his face gently, he can feel his face growing warm, even if your hands are disturbingly cool to the touch.

You make your way to the couch first, nearly gliding along the linoleum that lines the kitchen, then along the impeccably clean wooden floorboards into the Midoriyas’ living room. It’s odd that you know this house so well, but you and Izuku’s wife had long been friends and spent many a night together in this very home when he and Izuku had been wrapped up in high grade missions and wouldn’t be home for days to weeks on end.

You flop onto the couch and point the remote to the television, even though it is already on, set to the news. Bakugou holds the baby in his lap as he sits down behind you and starts to feed him. You rest your head on his shoulder and to Katsuki, you are as light as a feather.

“We haven’t had time together in a long while,” you whisper.

Bakugou’s head tilts ever so slightly so that it rests against yours as well.

“You’re right. I’ve missed you,” he insists. There’s a quiet silence between you. It really has been a while that you’ve been able to sit together like this, despite being husband and wife.

“Are you fine with babysitting?” you ask. “Izuku was worried about asking you in the first place according to ___, and she had to convince him it was okay despite everything, insisting that it would be good for you-”

Katsuki interrupts your rambling with a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s fine,” he says, gruffly. Your lips pull into a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki, I wish things had been different,” you say anyway.

Katsuki can feel his heart breaking, and instead focuses on the child in his lap, monitoring his progress on the bottle. He had wanted a child. He had wanted a child so badly, one that looked like him and you, and what had it brought him?

The memory of you haunting him constantly, always there, but not really there.

When he looks back at you again, your form is starting to dissipate, as it does whenever he starts to remember you’re no longer on this plane of existence.

His hands are full so he can no longer cling to you - plus this has happened so many times before that he’s now nearly used to it - so instead he watches you go, numb, tears no longer falling from his eyes. After all, just for today, he has someone else to take care of, even if it’s for a short period of time.

The kid is falling asleep in his lap now, and it’s just the two of them as Bakugou watches, but doesn’t really watch the shifting pictures in front of him. Being a godfather feels like an incomplete substitute for being a father at times, but it’s valuable all the same.

“Guess it’s just me and you, kid,” he whispers as he rises to put the baby to bed.

When the Midoriyas never return, and Bakugou signs the last of adoption papers, it rings again true.

The child laughs a little more now, unaware that his godfather now turned legal father sees three figures that aren’t really there instead of one now. Bakugou smiles as he throws the kid up in the air, realizing that misery might have helped him mourn you initially, but won’t keep the two of them safe.

“Guess it really is just me and you.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mimi’s notes #daydreams: bnha #cw angst #cw death

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revelboo · 4 months ago

Note

Do you have any thoughts on Cliff jumper? I think he's neat in a totally healthy way 🫣

Never tried to write for him…

TKO

Cliffjumper x Reader-accident

Warnings: 18+ storyline 🌶️

• “No,” Cliffjumper growls, servos flexing against the urge to snatch the weapon back from the engineer, who’s not even listening to him. Hasn’t been listening this whole time. “I don’t want it improved. I just want it to stop overheating. That’s it.” From the corner of his optic, he spots the human. Wheeljack’s little…pet? Friend? He has no idea. It’s staring at him, though, that scrutiny unsettling. Why anyone wants something so squishy and just weird around is beyond him.

• “Sure. Right,” Wheeljack murmurs in that tone he knows too well. The engineer’s lost in his own world and is not only going to frag up his gun, he’s probably going to completely destroy it. “I’ve got this.” Sure. Swallowing a growl as he gives up and stalks out of the lab, he’s aware of the human watching and just can’t get why it’s kept around, allowed to roam the halls like it belongs. It’s just a weak, little organic from this miserable mudball they’re all trapped on.

• There is one thing he enjoys about this world. Leaning into a curve in the road later that day, he soaks in the quiet. Sometimes he just needs to get away from the noise of the Ark, let the solitude of this world sink into him. Prowl and Red Alert still insist on patrols even though he’s never seen any sign of the Decepticons this close to base, but he’s not complaining. It wouldn’t matter if he did. There’s so many Autobots stranded and he’s never been the biggest or strongest. Always there, always overlooked no matter how hard he works.

• He sees the truck on the side of the road ahead, the two humans standing outside it. The bigger one throwing his arms up as the smaller one walks away. Some petty human argument. He’s almost to them when the bigger one grabs the smaller human’s arm, wrenching on it as the smaller one struggles, longer hair catching the sun. Yanking loose as the other lifts its free hand in a fist and stumbling back. Falling into the road in his path.

• He transforms without thinking, peds leaving the road as he throws himself over that little body and slams into the dirt, rolling and swearing. When he lifts his helm, the bigger human is gone, that truck speeding away. The other one is still sprawled in the road staring at him with wide eyes and frag, he remembers Optimus’s decree that if they’re seen, reveal themselves to a human, they can’t let them escape. Can’t hurt them either. One of them is long gone, growing ever smaller in the distance. But the other? Frag him. One is bad enough, but he can’t let two of them see him and get away.

• Laying sprawled in the road in frozen horror, your brain just keeps bouncing from the fact that your boyfriend just left you to the giant, metal monster slowly regaining its huge feet. And you can’t move, can barely breathe. The sound of those heavy feet approaching finally breaks through your shock. Because a huge hand is reaching for you and nope. Not happening. Rolling, you’re scrambling to your feet, lunging to avoid those huge fingers swiping at you with a frustrated snarl. Then you’re running flat out in a blind terror, because that thing is chasing after you.

• Primus, it’s fast for such a tiny thing. Screeching nonstop as it races off into the desert. And oh, it’s tempting to just let it go. The sun’s baking him, surely a fragile, little organic wouldn’t last long out there. Problem solved and he wouldn’t be saddled with the thing. It’d get lost out there and probably never be seen or heard from again. Not his problem to deal with.

• He keeps chasing after it, anyway. Guilt spurring him on. He doesn’t want a human to look after. Doesn’t need this mess to deal with. Ahead, it stumbles and this time he manages to get a grip on it, almost dropping it again in surprise at how disturbingly soft that little body is in his servos. It screams out again, thrashing like a mad thing even though it must know it can’t win. That doomed, desperate struggling is impressive in a way. Refusing to give up. Wild eyes stare up at him as he adjusts his grip on it to make sure it can’t wriggle free and get accidentally dropped to its death. He can feel that little heart pounding so quickly against his servos as it keeps fighting, screaming out for help that’s not coming. “Sorry, but you’re not going anywhere,” he sighs. You’re both fragged.

#transformers x reader #cliffjumper x reader #IDW cliffjumper

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iratempestatis · 1 month ago

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Heyy! How are u? I hope you’re doing well i saw you wanted some requests for xiao and i thought of an idea so we know xiao’s true form is a bird right? How about xiao’s s/o one day discovers it by an accident? Like maybe the s/o is an adventurer and was exploring around liyue in the night and happened to hear the whistling sound we hear in the game in liyue (the one where xiao calls for his dead friends) and the s/o goes to see what the noise is the rest is up to you

Entwined.

Xiao x gn!reader, 5.5k words. Some angst and then all fluff, it may not have been exactly what you wanted but I do hope you like it! I love bird Xiao <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks! Rest assured I will write them even if it takes some time :3

Being an adventurer is hard work.

Find a suitable commission (which never happens), figure out any additional details (clients never provide enough info, especially the rich ones), plan your schedule, budget and equipment accordingly (it often falls short thanks to their unreasonable demands), finally carry out the commission (it often turns out to be far more frustrating and time consuming than you anticipated), get angry when the client stubbornly refuses to cough up the original sum of mora (this thankfully doesn’t happen as much), nurse your wounds (ouch) and worry nonstop about any sudden emergencies (what if you get injured? What’s going to happen when you get old?) You sometimes wish you listened to your family and became a scholar instead.

Anyway, you’re currently locked in a bitter battle with a rank one (1) asshole, so maybe you just have an unreasonably short fuse right now.

Some days past an old, rich Fontainian posted a commission at the Liyue branch of the Adventurers guild. And you were lucky enough to snag it. It was a stroke of sheer fortune, quite literally, too- if you could meet the client’s demands, you’d end up with a completely inane amount of mora. You planned on doing this mission solo- after all, any expenses incurred would be more than covered by the heaps of mora you’d be swimming in soon enough.

But some conniving liar told Katheryne you’d agreed to pair up with him- and she believed him before you could confirm it, so now you’re officially partners… which means you’re forced to share the spoils.

You’re so tempted to drop the commission altogether, but-

“But that’s what he wants,” you hiss, hiking up the trail along the beautiful mountains of Jueyun Karst. Normally this would be a soothing trip- Jueyun Karst is so glorious you sometimes wonder if the gods picked a random mortal’s preferences to model it after (yours), but today you saw only the bad, like the still smoking fires left behind by some careless brigands, and a dead mouse. You consider bringing it back to Changsheng as a twisted joke- no, she’d paralyse you. Best to focus on the task at hand. You go over the details.

The commission was vague (rich, old man), although a bit sad (old man). If you really did find what he wants though (unlikely, vague request, but if partially fulfilled, you get half the mora) you wouldn’t have to work at all for perhaps the next six months (rich man).

Apparently, a long, long time ago, the rich old man saw a beautiful apparition in the form of a woman. Lost in the foggy mountains on a rainy day, he saw her seated on a tree nestled deep somewhere in Jueyun Karst. She apparently rescued his life, by appearing on a different tree each time he got too close, leading him out the valley. When he asked for her name, she responded with a mere scoff, then vanished for good.

You’re pretty sure that’s either bull or some ghost. Sounded disturbingly like an Inazuman tale you heard once. Either way, she doesn’t exactly sound like a normal person.

And he wants you to find her.

How are you even supposed to do that? The old man is decrepit, according to Katheryne, who (bless her bionic heart) tried her damnedest to convince him it was something out of the ordinary, and that he should give up. You agree with her- you’re pretty sure it was either a ghost (no finding it), an adeptus (no finding them) or an actual mortal woman (Xiao’s influencing you too much. You could’ve just said woman. Also, if it really was just a woman, which she wasn’t, she’s probably dead by now.)

But you didn’t really have the heart to tell the old man that. Or maybe you got a little greedy. But hey, he can afford it! And you just might end up end up giving his broken heart some closure, right?

You figure you’ll ask around, look for the grave. So far you’ve had no leads, besides some blue haired kid (with the ugliest haircut, you think, then feel bad for thinking that of a kid) lying to your face in an attempt to prank you. It’s so strange, because you’re pretty sure you’ve seen her-? Him? With someone important, in silks and brocade. You just can’t remember who… but you digress.

You’ve checked everywhere you could think of in the past two, almost three weeks. Nothing. You’ve even been to Mingyun Village- again, nothing. Right up until a child in Qingce told you she saw a similar pretty woman, on a tree in Jueyun Karst. Really.

You’ve spent days in Jueyun Karst, craning your neck and nearly stumbling down mountain slopes, eyes throbbing from the light, spine burning. But nothing. You considered taking the easy way out and telling him it was Cloud Retainer, but you’re an adventurer with morals and besides, anyone who’s met her knows she never stops talking. But on the subject of your quarry, why did that bitch find a nondescript tree to sit in every time? Was it so hard to just go sit on the big, glowy one?

“Old hag,” you mutter. Your calves feel about as solid as almond tofu right now, and your brain just as smooth. You have no idea how you’re going to do this, but. The mora.

You glance at the note Katheryne gave you. It told you just a few things- a dark haired woman in a tree, with hair that fluttered like downy feathers in the wind (poetic old man. Also rich, you remind yourself), pale, in a tree, nothing more.

You sigh.

At least Jueyun Karst is pretty at night.

And comfortable enough to camp in, you figure. Granted, there’s some treasure hoarders and monsters, but it is the abode of the adepti after all.

You shrug, and trudge upward along the winding paths. Darkness is gathering, but your eyes adjust.

Eventually, the lingering shadows cease to lengthen and melt into the darkness enveloping the mountain as a whole. You’re disconcerted as you start to make camp in a copse, but reassured by the small blaze you’ve lit to warm yourself at some distance.

Upon making camp, you settle down on the grass with a snack. The wind rustles through your little copse and you see the moon emerge, denuding its robe of clouds. Silvery fingertips trail across the land, painting, muting Jueyun Karst beneath its touch.

It’s peaceful, yet haunting.

What’s more haunting though, is the soft, yet somehow piercing, keening cry that wafts through the air.

It’s slow at first, just a trilling hum that gets clearer and higher with every moment before lilting and fading away.

You blink. You’ve never heard such a sound before. Is it a musical instrument? A bird of some sort?

You hear it again. It doesn’t start slowly this time- it’s high, all at once, then a low humming before rising in a wail once more. It sounds like music. It sounds like weeping. And for some inexplicable reason, you feel your chest tighten and feel hollow, all at once.

This is a bad idea, you tell yourself as you scrabble to put out the fire. You remind yourself of the same once more as you pack all your things (after you just made camp, too), fingers trembling, dropping things. Perhaps this is it, the maiden you were looking for.

You sling the bag across your bag with a force that makes you stumble, then start making your way up the hill.

Maybe this really is it, you think. In the distance you see tiny glows, nestled away across the vale. Probably treasure hoarders. For some reason, your heart aches.

It feels like you’ve been sitting stagnant for too long. Everything around you has grown. When you pull your hand up to wipe away a tear, you see it shrouded in spiderwebs. They reach past your ribs, to your elbow, to the rest of you. Force their way gently into your mouth, into your ears. They’re in your nostrils. You cannot breathe.

Arriving near the source of the sound, you sit onto the grass for a moment, to rest. The webs are swaying, scratching uncomfortably across all of you. Tightening and loosening and tangling, keeping you in place. You cannot move.

You’ll cut yourself.

Get a grip. Oh, Morax.

There’s a lull in the cries and your head feels lighter all of a sudden. You blink, then start to get up- utterly nonplussed, what are you doing here-

A sobbing, recoiling cry abruptly sounds from before you, the maker contained away in the hurst right before you, overlooking the valley. The moon skips ahead, weaves between the clouds.

Steeling yourself, heart racing, you enter the thicket peek, behind the tree and look up towards the sound.

It’s a… something. A mess of tattered wings and bloodied feathers and too many eyes. In the night they all look black and silver, but realisation hits you with the force of a thousand spears- this is Xiao.

It’s Xiao.

Keening, weeping, alone. Seated on a tree, cradled in its branches. Shielded by its crown. He’s crying.

He’s crying.

He sheds no tears in his avian form- large gold eyes turned to the moon, muscular neck lain limply across a branch. You see his throat move and his eyes shut- eyes that are still gold, even in the dark- as he lets out another cry.

You can see his back and tail- the rest is covered by multiple sprawling wings. They’re dark. Looking at them feels as though looking at a human bruise on an oil painting. Disconcerting. The smoke coming off them makes them smudge into the dark, become one with it.

He’s beautiful.

But he’s crying and you’ve never known you could feel such anguish at someone else’s grief. Pain, sure, but this is something eyes. Tears well in your eyes to compensate for his current form. One runs down your cheek and it snaps you to your senses- what are you doing, just standing around?

You step towards him, arms outstretched, his name on the tip of your tongue. Your mind’s a mess. Vaguely, you can tell there is something amiss. Voices slither inside your head, voices that don’t belong, filling it up with murmurs in a tongue you don’t understand. Full of vitriol, they ignite emotions within you you didn’t even know existed. Grief so intense you feel as though your heart really is bleeding into your chest. Fury so immense you can’t help but slam a palm into the trunk of the tree next to you and gasp. They twine and twist into shapes and colours you cannot see. For just a moment, you’re blinded, agony blooming across your body. You shudder, gasp.

Something is wrong.

Your vision turns hazy- you glance up to see the bird descend before you, wings magnificently spread, beak- no, mouth now- open, crying out in alarm. You collapse into his outstretched arms and it feels like too much and nothing all at once. Warm water- warm tears- fall onto your temple as your knees buckle. You feel vertigo when he instead has lowered you gently to the ground. Just as you faint, you see him- mouth open, gritted teeth, face damp with tears. You say his name- at least you try-

When you come to, you’re in Bubu Pharmacy.

You feel so unencumbered all at once- the flames across your skin extinguished, the voices silent, the webs gently spooled away. Thank Baizhu. And you can see again, see normally, blind once more to the auras and colours mortals mustn’t see- or perhaps you hallucinated it all.

The old man from the funeral parlour- Zhongli, you recall- is seated on a chair next to you. His posture is a little slack. Sitting up with some difficulty, you see that his eyes are shut. The harbour is silent.

You glance out the window only to see the cheerless night sky mirror the inky ocean below.

Oh no.

You cannot delay. What are you doing here? How long were you asleep? You’re wearing loose, white clothes- who changed you? No matter. You need to find Xiao, because he was crying and your lungs feel like they’re folding in on themselves, and by Morax, he’s probably all alone once more, and you’ve added to his pain by being foolish and interrupting him as he vents in a moment of catharsis-

You stumble out of bed and look around to gather your things, then decide to just come collect them later. You’ve no time to waste. You hear Zhongli inhale deeply as he suddenly awakens- why was this guy in here with you anyways- and quickly bolt, locking the door behind you as you do so.

Sorry, Mr. Zhongli.

You regret not taking his talks about Karmic debt as seriously as you should have. You’re not worried for yourself- you feel much better already (you lift your vision up to your heart. You’re beyond grateful- it’s the only gift the gods have ever given you, their only gift that matters) but Xiao must feel abominable guilt right now. You must reach him, tell him you’re fine, tell him it’s not your fault.

You’re halfway across the main bridge on the northern side of Liyue harbour when you realise it’ll take way too long to find Xiao like this. You could call out his name, of course, but you don’t want to accidentally make him teleport and exert himself in the middle of a breakdown.

You run your hand through your hair, almost pulling it out as you do and glare out at the sea. From the corner of your eye you see the Millelith guards standing by the gate shoot one another unnerved glances, then turn towards you. What’s their problem?

Now irritable, you make your way towards them to politely ask what the matter is- but they clutch one another in terror and immediately start shrieking. You yelp and duck, looking around frantically for the danger. The guards continue babbling and pointing, then screech again as you panic and frantically crawl towards them. Maybe you’re a bit more disoriented than you thought you were, because the only people you see on the bridge are you and the guards pointing at you- oh.

You stop crawling and look at them, pushing back the hair from your face as you stumble to your feet. The buffer guard has the smaller one planted firmly before himself like a shield. You sigh and they squeak. Then the bigger one cries out-

“Adeptus Xiao!”

This bitch. You probably are delirious because by now you’ve lost any semblance of self control and feel nothing but fury. Xiao’s going through something right now! You’re not a ghost! Isn’t this supposed to be an era of mortals?

“COWARDS!” You howl, launching yourself at the duo and throw aside the shorter guard with strength you didn’t know you possessed. Before you can grab the bigger one and clamp his lips shut with your bare fingernails, however, you feel slender, firm arms wrap around your waist and tug you gently back against a warm torso.

Xiao’s long, elaborate sleeve drapes over your front as he holds you. You feel his breath against your neck. You’re immediately consumed by worry so potent you can barely recall what you were even angry about. He leans into you a little and you press your palm against his cheek.

He seems exhausted.

✦—————————————✦

You ended up taking Xiao home that night- or was it morning? You wish you knew. All you do know is that he slumped against you and you half walked, half dragged him home, providing no explanation to the Millelith guards (they didn’t demand one either.)

Xiao drowsed off as soon as you got home and once you’ve sufficiently fussed over him, cocooned him in layers upon of blankets (it’s cold out) and put copious amounts of snacks and water on the bedside table, you make your way over to the couch and crash out.

Just in case.

Sleep takes you easily, pushing past your desperate, incoherent rambles, bringing your body some much needed rest. You awaken when you feel the sun jab rudely at your eyes with its bright, unswerving fingers.

It’s nearly afternoon.

You push yourself up slowly till you’re seated, checking for tiredness or any injuries. None. You’re positive this time- you’re in your right senses.

Your face flushes when you recall what happened yesterday. Or was it today? No matter. Praying to never see those guards again, you slide off the couch and make your way towards your bedroom.

Xiao’s upright, alert and giving his ungloved hands a glare so severe you nearly flinch. When he turns towards you, though, his eyes soften to a degree that might make one doubt him even capable of anger. You can’t help but mirror his softness.

You also can’t help feeling a bit downcast, however, and you suspect it shows. Racking your brains for something- anything- to say, you part your lips, but only end up exhaling. You’re having trouble meeting his eyes. You suspect he feels the same.

You stand at the threshold for several moments before finally making your way in, and Xiao’s off the bed in an instant. You feel hands grip your heart and twist when he moves wordlessly across the room, away from you, gesturing towards the bed.

You hate it.

Xiao lives in terror of losing his loved ones- paranoia makes him check in on them from afar, gift amulets, slay any evil that might hurt them. Scores of times he’s caught you before you fell, warned you of danger, reminded you to take care of yourself before you even noticed something amiss.

You know him keeping his distance is him ensuring your safety. Him showing you he cares. It serves only to heighten your anguish.

This has been among your worst fears since the moment you began to care for him- that he’d consider himself a danger to someone he loves.

“Xiao,” you whisper, and your voice wavers more than you wanted to, is softer than you intended. He meets your eyes at that, finally, finally and your chest constricts at his wary gaze. You’re tempted to make light of it- tell him you’re fine, banter a little- but you know that’ll only leave him with a heavier heart, wondering when he’d hurt someone next. You need to address this now, for his sake.

“Hey.” You smile. Good, your voice didn’t waver this time. “Are you…” You trail off. How do you even begin to talk about this?

This isn’t awkward, this is a minefield, except it’ll blow up in his face if you mess up somehow. Your heart quickens.

You try to calm yourself. What does Baizhu say? Don’t borrow anxiety from the future? The future is in motion right now, Baizhu! Useless man.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink rapidly, nonplussed. “What—”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, in a tone so repentant you almost respond with a hurried ‘it’s okay’ despite him having done nothing wrong. Despite it all, a tiny laugh bubbles up in your chest.

Baizhu, that silly old man (he’s your age). You suppose he is right sometimes. (Always.)

You’ve both lived too long, have survived too much to worry about something as small as this. Sure, in a vacuum, it is scary- but truth be told you feel fine- in fact you think you have an even better understanding now of the agony that has become his everyday, that he has endured for eons. This is something you can fix.

You smile and make your way towards Xiao, draw him into your embrace. He makes a quiet sound of protest that’s promptly muffled by you pushing his head affectionately into your shoulder. He exhales, then kisses it and remains in your arms but makes no move to wrap you in his.

That’s fine. You exhale . Xiao feels your breath waft over his ear, your warm, chapped lips as they brush over his face, landing tiny kisses. Your heart continues beating.

You’re there, right with him. Safe. Alive. Alright.

You sway gently, just holding him until eventually he places his palms on your waist and draws you a bit closer, ever so gently. As though you were the soft, powdery wings of a tiny butterfly in the dry summer months.

Before he can apologise- you do. You’re composed at first when you murmur an apology and explain how you came across him- but quickly become teary eyed when you recall how he looked up in that tree, mourning, all alone. His heart hurts. He hates seeing you cry, hates that he caused it- but he finds it difficult to dwell on anything else but the fact that you saw his monstrous, contaminated form and thought him beautiful. That you instantly wanted to hold him close. He feels dizzy.

“And,” you continue, sniffling, “I couldn’t think of anything else. I just felt overwhelmed. I just wanted to- to comfort you.” You’re not going to mention the voices and the pain. Maybe in a few decades. Maybe on your deathbed when it won’t matter anyway. You hear Baizhu’s ‘tsk tsk’ in your head and some vague speech about trust and communication, but you don’t care enough about that right now.

“And then I fainted.” You shrug. “Then I’m guessing you brought me to Baizhu? But I’m so sorry. It’s not your fault at all. I should’ve known to be more careful-“

“Please don’t lie to me.” His voice is soft, strained. He wishes you’d tell him the truth. Was it that much worse? “Tell me what else happened. Did it hurt? Do you feel better now? I’m so-“

You clamp a hand over his mouth. “It’s not your fault!” You protest. “What if some Inazuman wrestler guy threw me at you and you broke your arm, that wouldn’t be my fault- shh don’t interrupt me.” You put your other palm over the first and he exhales, warm breath wafting over your knuckles. You feel calmer already. The wonders of Xiao’s hugs never cease to impress.

“And… yeah, it hurt a bit. There were voices in my head.” He looks stricken. You consider making a garbage joke to cheer him up, but remember you were trying to be a mature adult and sigh. “My body hurt, too. Is that what it’s like for you? All the time?”

He hesitates, but nods with a sigh. “I’ve had centuries to get used to it, however.” You wait for him to draw you even closer, but he’s just looking, taking in your features. He looks as though he’s reassuring himself but not with much relief in sight.

You draw closer on your own instead, with a snort. “It all happened so fast, though. And it… it sucked honestly, even if it was just a couple of minutes. I’m sorry it’s like that for you every day.”

“It lessens with good company.” He finally looks relieved- apparently enough to even jest a little. “Which is likely why it worsens with you.”

You gasp in mock outrage. Maybe Baizhu was right about this whole communication thing. This is going well so far- or maybe not, because the next thing to come gently out Xiao’s mouth is a request to not approach him if he’s having a breakdown henceforth.

“Sorry, no can do. Nuh-uh.”

You swear you see question marks form over his head. “This is not a ‘nuh-uh’ situation, (Name). You could die or develop chronic health issues.” He frowns. “I don’t think-“

“I grasp the gravity of this situation,” you retort, a bit frustrated too. “I’ll stay away if I see or sense the Karmic debt- I will make some other adeptus come to you, though-“

“You cannot make the adep-“

“I will.“

He sighs.

“And,” you continue, “I’ll keep an eye. From afar, but I’ll keep an eye on you and wait for it to be over, before I can come to you again. And if you’re ever sad in a more ordinary sort of way, I will not leave your side, no matter what.” You press your forehead to his with a quiet sigh. “Because I love you. And it hurts when you’re in pain.”

There’s a pause, with neither of you moving. You hear a group of teenagers laugh outside and run past the house. You wonder if that blue haired brat from earlier is with them.

Xiao exhales, then finally (FINALLY!) wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, impossibly so. You rest your cheek against his as he gives you a rueful smile. You’ve won! Ah no, what was it Baizhu said? There’s no individual victor in relationships? Damn, you’re a good student.

But seeing Xiao so close once more… you’re certain you’ve won regardless.

✦—————————————✦

The next couple of hours are spent relaxing, unwinding and examining one another for injuries (this is why you’re perfect together. Mutual respect? Mutual affection? Yes, but also mutual anxiety). A worried Baizhu also comes to pay a visit. He’s angry about you vanishing without notice but cools off quickly as you and Xiao assuage his worries. Changsheng is not so easily mollified and turns even more furious upon being called an ‘angry little noodle’ by you.

Come noon, you and Xiao make your way to Wanmin- neither of you are in much of a mood to cook.

Besides, your consolations have worked wonders and Xiao looks considerably calmer than he did in the morning. Not exactly cheerful, but a happy display is a rarity even on the best of days, so you acquiesce. He’s still careful and is being extra-gentle with you, but you’re glad he’s not blaming himself for not noticing you sooner anymore.

Unbeknownst to you, though, his eyes are on you constantly. Truth be told, he’s only really agreed to dine out in order to observe your movements, reactions to light and the crowd to check for any lingering effects of his Karma. You’ve decimated his morbid expectations though (much to his immense relief)- cheerier than ever, you buy bread and meat for any stray animals you come across, happily greet the friends you bump into and tilt your face upwards to bemusedly watch the clouds form increasingly obscene shapes (what are you up to, Retainer?)

He's a little stunned at how quickly everything happened- he expected his culpability to haunt him for much longer and feels guilty for getting over it so fast. It’s not that he doesn’t care- you matter to him more than anything in Liyue and were anything to actually happen to you because of him, he would truly would have lost the strength he used to cling to his brittle life.

It's just… a bit absurd. You haven’t raised a fuss at all about yourself, besides complaining a little initially. You comforted him instead, and were confused when he tried to reciprocate because “it happened, but it’s over. It’s not your fault and I really am okay now.” You seem to have meant it when you told him it was a terrible but distant memory. In your defence, the ordeal did take only a couple of minutes before he teleported you abruptly to Bubu Pharmacy (he still owes Baizhu an apology for dropping a whole human being into his arms and bolting).

So he allows himself to relax (the voices in his head tell him to split himself on his spear. He hurt you once, he’ll do it again. He imagines you screaming at them to piss off and ends up smiling softly instead).

He shakes his head when you ask what he’s amused about, bright eyed and curious and he gives you the fondest of expressions when you glance away and up at Katheryne. Xiangling teasingly gags at him from behind you, then yelps and runs into the kitchens to dodge Shenhe’s glares.

Xiao wishes you picked a table in the back- the Adventurer’s Guild is plainly visible from where you’re seated and something up there clearly has you distracted. No matter. At least now he can take you in without interruptions.

You look invested- eyes narrowing with amusement first, then further to slits with annoyance. Startled, he turns to see exactly what evoked such disdain from you, and his eyes meet that of a dark haired man, presently engaged in conversation with an elderly gentleman dressed in Fontaine’s fashions. Maybe. Those shoes aren’t fashionable anywhere, he’s pretty sure. Menogias would’ve wept.

The man that’s earned your ire happens to appear quite exquisite by mortal standards- handsome and tall and- Xiao shoots you a hurried glance. Yes, that’s anger, thank the skies-

“You see that guy over there?” You bring the glass to your lips for a sip before lowering it with more force than is necessary. “He’s the jerk I told you about. The one who’s stealing half my commission.”

Xiao blinks. “But he hasn’t found anyone according to the description, has he?”

You frown. “Obviously not. If she really did- hm?”

He turns in his chair to see Katheryne and the men approach- one barrel chested and tall, the other slight and elderly, shuffling along with the pace and gait of a caterpillar. When they get a bit closer, however, the old man stiffens, then breaks into a rapid hobble, before pausing right before Xiao and bursting into tears.

What the- this is fine. He’s not too close. Xiao is still and wide eyed like a startled deer. You bite back the urge to kiss his face all over, then fight the momentary urge to punt the old man as he reaches out to touch Xiao’s face, still bawling. Xiao jerks and stands. The man turns to you as you grab his arm and try to gently sooth him, smacking you away.

“Oh,” he blubbers. “So many nights you’ve haunted my dreams. How I’ve waited all these years. I knew- I knew-“ he coughs, vehemently shakes his fist to keep the rest of you away. “Don’t come closer! I know her- that’s the love of my life!”

Mortals.

The lovely maiden in a tree being Xiao did not surprise you in the slightest. It was a bit startling but you feel incredibly foolish for not connecting the dots earlier.

Pretty maiden up in a tree.

“Really, who else could it be?” You bite into the muffin you bought on the way home.

“Xi- Cloud Retainer.”

“Oh. Is she pretty?”

Xiao tilts his head. He’s adorable. You resist the urge to haul him back down the road for another meal- what a miserable date, that was.

After finally catching Xiao the old man first wept into his chest (he reminded you of an unused hair tie with how scrunched up and tiny he was. The old man, to be clear, not Xiao. Xiao is tiny but firm), then clasped his clawed hands within his own soft, wrinkly ones (you’re glad Xiao didn’t forget his gloves and you can tell he’s even gladder) and begged Xiao to go with him to Fontaine.

Xiao’s answer being an alarmed, emphatic ‘no’ only succeeded in making the man cling tighter and cry harder.

You did start feeling terrible for the poor guy by that point, so you gave him a handkerchief and some water, sat him down and once he was finally calm and lucid, you explained to him that this was not the maiden he saw all those years ago, but in fact, your beloved.

Your kindness evaporated fast though when he smacked you in the face with your own hankie and swore to never pay you your commission. You left to eat elsewhere at that point. That sounded like a problem for your (rather distressed) ‘partner.’

Presently, though, you’re waiting for Xiao to tell you more about Cloud Retainer. You’ve surmised two things from his slip ups; she lives in the harbour nowadays, and her name starts with “Sh.”

You’re honestly convinced it’s Shenhe, and even more so when Xiao tells you she’s more imposing than pretty. When you tell him your guess, though, he gives an uncharacteristic laugh, so bright and warm. You want to store it in a bottle to sip at on the cold days.

When you tell him so upon reaching home, he just laughs again (!) and kisses your entwined hands. He prays you won't let go.

#xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #x reader #xiao x gn reader #xiao #entwined #slight angst #but then #fluff #xiao fluff #iratempestatis #bird xiao but a liiiitle monstrous #i hc his bird form can either be fat finch or #a lovely regal eagle. think ellona from afkj #or The Creature #i love both the hmc book and movie can you tell #genshin x reader

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maeby-cursed · 1 year ago

Text

KISS ME, TRY TO FIX IT…

𓂃 COULD YOU JUST TRY TO LISTEN ?

a/n: starting a new series of songfics ! this one is very obviously inspired by sad, beautiful, tragic, so you can see where this might be going. enjoy the results of my brainrot ♡ (also, i’ve never written for gojo before, please have mercy)

✧ synopsis: you’ve been waiting for satoru gojo for ten years, but there’s no trace of the man you fell in love with when you were sixteen years old. it’s time to let go, but he might not want to.

✧ pairings: satoru gojo x fem!reader

✧ wc: 2k

✧ rating: angst. so much of it, angst to drown in. might get suggestive at some points.

✧ cw: mentions of drinking, of the great jjk tragedy of 2006 and its aftermath, implied cheating, gojo may be ooc, toxic relationship ??

An ice-cold wind blows through the window as you wait.

It’s not even December yet but it’s already snowing.

Soft snowflakes the size of stars, far away in their firmament, enter your living room. When they land on the sofa, they dissolve, leaving in their wake thousands of specks of water that look disturbingly like tears.

It doesn't matter. You don't think he's going to notice anyway.

It's been ten long years of waiting. Ten long years of fighting, of fixing what's broken and denying that it's ever been broken.

It's over. Let winter freeze everything in its path.

When Satoru walks in through the door, you hesitate for a moment. A moment of madness when you see his hair, as white as the snowfall that has invaded your home. Just a moment when you see him in his burgundy turtleneck sweater, his tight-fitting coat. One single moment when you recognize the cold in his pink cheeks.

But it's all over when you meet his crystalline eyes. The fault is theirs.

"Is the window broken again?" he asks, dropping his keys on the entryway’s table.

The window has been broken since September.

You nod and he grunts, running a hand over his face.

"I'll call someone tomorrow, although you could have said something," he says. This is your fault. Of course.

You keep your eyes fixed on the snow. From the living room you can see the sidewalk across the street, covered in a blanket of white that sparkles under the street lamps. It's so painfully beautiful it makes you nostalgic.

You and Satoru moved into this house three years ago, when he got his teaching position, and you can't quite get over the fact that it's time to say goodbye.

You've spent three years of solstices here. You've seen the sidewalks covered with dead leaves, with thousands of little flowers that broke the pavement in their wake. But it’s never snowed.

It’s not fair, not one bit.

Satoru says no more. He goes to your room and undresses; he replaces his street clothes with a black outfit that seems very appropriate for the occasion. Since you’ve known him, he always takes off his glasses when he crosses the hall of your building, but for once, you wish he'd put them back on.

When he returns, his hair is dripping over his forehead. You hadn't even noticed that he was taking a shower.

But he hasn't noticed that your bedside table is empty, either; that your slippers are missing, that there's a seeping coldness in the hearth of your house, and it's not coming from the window.

"What's for dinner?" he asks, plopping down on the couch with his cell phone in his hand.

You get up.

9:26 p.m., November 8. This is where it ends.

"I don't know. I'm going out to dinner," you say.

He doesn’t even bother to look up.

"Hmm, where are you going? Are you bringing something back or should I order myself a pizza?"

It's painful to watch as nothing seems to touch him. He’s infinite — always infinite.

"I'm going to a work friend's house."

"The one with the lovely curly hair and those pretty hazel eyes?"

Christ.

"No. I'm moving in with Rhea. Dark-eyed, blonde, leggy."

"Hmm, how nice."

A moment passes where he just keeps staring at the screen, and you despair.

"Satoru."

"What's up, baby?"

"I'm moving."

At last – at last – he looks up. In his eyes you see nothing; two blue marbles that have sworn you two to an unjust fate.

"You're moving out? Why?"

Where to begin? Because you have been loving a man destined to save everything and everyone for a decade, because you have been trying to fill a void that is not your size for eight years, because the windows are broken and the bed is cold and Satoru arrives several nights smelling of anisette and the perfume of another, because you don't want to live looking at the Strongest, the possessor of the Six Eyes. Because you thought that in some hidden corner Satoru Gojo was still there, and he isn’t.

"Because it's killing me to live like this.” You settle for that as your explanation and try to keep your stare unwavering.

"Like this how?" he questions, suddenly irritated. "In a luxurious house?" He gestures around him with the cell phone in his hand. "Comfortably, with your dream job? Knowing you'll never have to worry about money?"

"No, Satoru. Like this, without you loving me."

That chills him to the bone.

"Of course I love you."

"Do you? Do you want me for anything other than to warm your bed and your cock? Do you want me here, as your partner? Do you need me for anything at all?"

You don’t gesticulate, you barely move from your spot in the middle of the room. Everything in this fucking place is white and uncannily clean; the sofas, the coffee table, the walls, even the snow; but you and Satoru. He’s in all black, you’re in all red. It’s almost dreamlike, and you struggle to stay grounded.

The only thing you could remove from this house that would grab his attention would be you.

"Yesterday you weren't complaining about any of this, what the fuck is the matter with you today?"

And you can't stand it anymore. The winter current lifts your hair, soaks the back of your neck and disguises your tears.

"THE MATTER IS THAT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR TEN YEARS. WAITING FOR YOU. WAITING FOR THE MAN I MET AT SIXTEEN TO COME BACK, SLEEPING WITH A MAN OF ABSENT GAZE WHO STAGGERS INTO MY BED WHEN HE'S TIRED OF BEING IN EVERYONE ELSE'S. I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR DOG, SATORU. I DON'T WANT YOU TO COME HOME AND FEEL OBLIGATED TO GIVE ME A WALK, A PETTING."

The words come spilling out of you without remedy, every wound bursting open through the stitches. He just looks at you.

"You think I don't love you?"

It hurts to hear him say it, it fucking hurts. You were prepared for the yelling and the coldness, even for a quick vulnerable stare. But never for his trembling voice and soft frown.

You inhale deeply.

"I don't think your love is of any use to me any longer."

Satoru stands up at that.

He's tall, tall and beautiful like Michelangelo's David. All your life, you've been feeling like you had no right to touch him. His infinity assured you that was the case.

He takes a step in your direction and whispers:

"Then what should I do now?"

Your eyes, fixed on the ground, rise to meet his. There's something in the void and you're not sure if it's just your reflection.

"What?" you mutter.

"How do I fix it? What do you need that I can't give you? Do you want me to quit work, for us to leave, for me to come home and kiss your temple, to cook for you, to listen to you, to cherish you in bed?” A heartbeat. “I will."

There’s something about the desperation in his tone, you aren’t sure of what to say next.

Satoru knows how to lie, but you don't know how to tell the difference.

"I don't want anything, Satoru. I'm tired," you whisper back, eyes full of water. "I want it to end. I want you to let it end."

He shakes his head, frowning, and through the mist of your tears you recognize that he is crying too.

"There has to be something. Anything. Something I can do, I can do it all."

It's partly true. He's Satoru Gojo; all-powerful, all-knowing. Eternal and young and beautiful and tragic as a poem.

You are just another person. You cried when Suguru left, when Haibara died, when Kento gave up the Jujutsu world and when Ieri locked herself in her office. You clung to Satoru, who resembled an empty seashell more than a person.

You remember those nights back in 2007. You remember blindfolding him so he wouldn't activate infinity by accident, by reflex, out of overstimulation. You remember cutting his hair when he couldn’t and looking for him in his old antics. You remember taking care of Megumi – always reluctant – and Tsumiki – who you felt was too mature for her age. You remember the burden of being eighteen and having lost a world.

And, above all else, you remember Satoru under the rain. Under the pressure of the world you had lost, the one that he was trying to put back together. There was a month where he seemed catatonic; no smiles, drinking anisette as if it were his one source of life. A thirty-day period followed by the rebirth of a person who looked like the one that stood before, but who seemed cold and alien to you.

"Don't you love me, my darling?" he seeks for you, reaching out a hand to brush against your cheek.

Of course you love him. You love him even like this, like you have loved each and every one of his versions.

"I adore you, Satoru. But I can't stay; you can't fix it."

"Of course I can," he reaches out to you, holding your face between his fingers, "Of course I can."

His lips connect with yours — one last attempt, you don't know by whom.

Snow fills the room and it's cold, but you drink from his mouth, from his everlasting warmth; everything in him lasts forever.

Between kisses, you show him everything you have been for years. Ten years of kisses, of hands looking for hands and flesh searching for flesh.

He moves backwards, keeping you between his hands and guiding you towards the hallway and from the hallway to your shared bed.

This is where it ends.

"Satoru..." you whisper.

"I'm here. I'm here, beautiful, my favorite girl. Talk to me."

A sob escapes you as he utters those words. My favorite girl. That’s what he used to call you. Talk to me, he used to plead, that year at sixteen, when everything was about to start.

Isn't it beautiful that it ends the exact same way?

"Satoru, I'm leaving," you press a farewell kiss to his jaw.

"No, you're not leaving," he murmurs, smiling against your mouth, searching for your lips.

You back away and look at him one more time. And you smile, because there's nothing left.

"I'm already gone. Just let go of me, please."

"But..." he starts, his smile hesitant, "But I'm going to fix it."

You take one of his hands between yours and kiss it as it presses against your cheek, before lowering it to your lap.

"Satoru..." You pronounce each syllable of his name carefully and he stifles a cry. "I'm not going to go any further. I've already made the move and Rhea's expecting me at her house in an hour. I love you, I’ll love you until I run out of kisses, but it does me no good to love you. It is of no use to me, this love. I wanted to tell you. I wanted you one last time. Wasn’t it my turn to be the selfish one for once?"

He watches you, and his mouth shuts close. You've never seen Satoru lose.

No, that's not true. There was a time, one time, where you saw him lose everything.

His eyes fill up with you one second and empty the next.

This is his second time.

He lifts his chin with an arrogance that no longer means anything and lets go of your hands.

"Go then, if you want. I'm not going to do anything to stop you,” he drags the words with feign disinterest. “I can't do anything."

That's the last gift he can give you. An honesty unbecoming of him, a truth that will never belong to Satoru Gojo ever again.

From god to human in three kisses and a goodbye.

"Thank you," you say to him. Then you get up, heading for the living room, where your coat and your escape door await you.

He stays in the bedroom – with himself as he always is – after you leave.

And he hides you where he always hides the things he breaks, in the back of his eyes, where no one can reach to see anything.

(reblogs are appreciated !!)

#🎐 𓂃 mae’s typing !#jjk imagines #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you

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traincat · 3 days ago

Note

i’d pay you real money for that “maybe baby” fic.

You can have it for free, but I do have a ko-fi if anyone is interested: https://ko-fi.com/traincat.

Anyway, the baby fic! Based on Fantastic Four Annual 2010, set nebulously post-Secret Wars (2015). I started this in 2016, so we didn't have any definitive answers for the Fantastic Four's return, but it's not really relevant to the fic anyway. I'm still putting together a list of the other WIPs I'm willing to release, but this is one is easy, so here it is.

Baby fic!

***

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h well this is still less complicated than the time i rescued a highlander

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h aw she likes her uncle benjy @clobberintime #rockstar

a torch for you @JSTORM 1h good thing about this is @peterbparker never checks his phone so he's still gonna be surprised

The first thing Peter registered was the vaguely defensive look on Johnny's face. The second was the baby.

"Wherever you found it, you put it back right now," he said.

The look Johnny gave him was venomous. "Oh, sure. Let me just toss the helpless infant back where she came from! What a great idea, thank you, Peter!"

"I'll get the portal ready," Val said. She was sitting crosslegged way on the other end of the room, holding a tablet computer like a shield and eyeing the baby like she might try to bite her.

"Shush," Johnny said, but it wasn't clear whether he meant it for the baby or Val or possibly for Peter, whose jaw had started making a strange grinding noise of its own volition.

Peter leaned forward to get a better look. The baby had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes and she was squirming in Johnny's arms even as he hummed and hushed and bounced her up and down, still dressed in his costume. She was so small, wrapped in what looked like one of the shock blankets from the Fantasticar's emergency kit.

"If I put her down, she starts to cry," Johnny confessed.

Peter's heart was doing something disturbingly close to melting. He tugged off a glove and reached out with tentative fingers, stroking soft cheek and wispy dark hair. The baby yawned, barely batting an eye.

Peter looked at Johnny and said, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Johnny wasn't looking at him, though - his gaze was fixed on the baby, eyes soft.

"Look, Peter, you need to know before this part gets out - Reed ran all the tests. She's mine, Pete."

That threw Peter for a loop, but looking for traces of Johnny in the baby's face - yeah, he could see it.

"How? And don't tell me the usual way. Where did she come from?"

Johnny told him: the club, the girl, the supervillain. Peter hissed in sympathy when he hit the part about Psycho Woman spending two months hanging around in Johnny’s brain, touching his fingers to Johnny's temple. Johnny's voice wavered as he got to the end: the fall, the jump, Amy's disappearance through time.

"But time travel's weird. And we've torn everything apart and rebuilt it so many times… Amy never came back after she made the temporal jump," Johnny said, sliding Peter a cautious look, like he thought he might - what, upset? "I've gone looking for her before, but if she was out there, she didn't want me to find her. And then today we were just looking between dimensions, you know?"

"Just your typical Sunday," Peter said, mouth on autopilot while the rest of him was stunned. Johnny's child, here, safe in Johnny's arms - and to think Peter had swung in to ask about dinner and beating up the Shocker.

"Reed found traces of a familiar cosmic radiation signature," Johnny said, shaking his head. "Mine. And then we found her."

"So," Peter echoed, feeling lost. "She's yours. Really yours."

"Yeah," Johnny said, nodding. "She was all alone and in between. But she's alive and she's mine."

Peter leaned his head against Johnny's. "She's a little small for the Future Foundation."

"Well, the weird thing is," Johnny said, smiling, "they don't stay that way for long."

Val put the tablet down and said, "Oh come on, are we seriously not going to throw her back?"

Peter Parker @peterbparker 15m he promised me life would never be boring…

It had been at the end of the world. The incursion had been fast approaching, and this time - this time Peter could feel it in his bones. The end, just over the horizon.

It had scared him more than he ever wanted to admit.

"You're coming with us," Johnny had told him in a voice that brooked no argument. He'd caught Peter's hands in his own inhumanly warm ones, squeezing. "Reed says we'll have time once we're beyond. We'll work something out. We can fix it."

Peter had wanted it, so badly - but. Always the but.

"I should stay with the city. You've got room for, what, a hundred people?"

"Sixty," Johnny admitted, forehead creased in worry. "Peter - you're one of the big brains. You belong with us."

"One of, but not big enough," Peter said. "You need my spot for someone smarter, someone who can help fix this -"

The kiss had been unexpected, a tentative thing, just the soft press of Johnny's lips against his masked mouth, Johnny's fingertips careful as anything underneath his chin.

"You're family," he said, breaking apart, his forehead resting against Peter's. "And you're coming with us. We'll have time."

Peter took a deep shuddering breath and said, "Okay."

He let himself have this one selfish thing, standing on top of the Statue of Liberty with Johnny Storm the day before the end of the world.

He let himself be selfish, and then the raft split apart and Johnny paid the price. He knew it deep in his bones, every second he watched Johnny fall away. Maybe that was why he didn't say anything when they were returned safe and sound to their own world. Or maybe it was cowardice, him waiting for Johnny to make the first move a second time. Maybe it was the way he still remembered blinking the spots from his eyes down in Battleworld, staring at the sun in search of a familiar face.

It didn't matter. He had Parker Industries, and Johnny had moved on with Medusa. Peter had gotten one kiss at their usual spot - if that was all he was granted, well, it was more than enough for two lifetimes. He could live with it.

Except he lost the company, Medusa worked it out with Black Bolt, the missing members of the Fantastic Family returned with a fairly literal bang, and Johnny and Peter ended up crash landing in a rooftop hotel pool.

Parker Luck, doing its very finest.

He'd taken the brunt of the hit, thankful for it - he was more durable than flamed-off Johnny - but the rush of cold water made him gasp, fighting his way to the surface. Johnny surfaced beside him, gasping, and Peter grabbed a handful of his collar. He dragged them both to the shallow end as tourists scattered left and right.

"We're fine, thanks for asking!" Peter shouted after them. "Can anybody grab me a towel?" Johnny was laughing by the time Peter collapsed against the steps, languishing in knee deep water. "New Yorkers. What's so funny?"

"You," Johnny said, looking at Peter with shining eyes. He started laughing again when Peter groaned, shoulders shaking with it. Peter slid a hand over the back of his head, checking for bumps.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Peter said. He told himself to take his hand off Johnny, but he didn't. He just kept touching him, pushing Johnny's soaked hair up off his forehead. Johnny was staring at him, all traces of humor gone from his face. Now or never. Peter swallowed hard. "Johnny, you know I -"

"Just shut up," Johnny said, climbing into Peter's lap. He shoved Peter's soaked mask up over the bridge of his nose, twining his arms around Peter's neck. "Shut up, shut, god, Pete, why don't you ever say anything important?"

The kiss made Peter's head spin -and he had to grab Johnny by the shoulders and put some considerable strength into prying him off just long enough so he could talk.

"Me? What about you?" he said. "I thought - you never said anything when we got back."

"What about me?" Johnny said, pouting a little when Peter wouldn't let him lean forward again. "You're supposed to be the smart one."

Peter couldn't argue with that without walking straight into a trap.

"Dammit," he said, and pulled Johnny back on top of him until security showed up.

May Parker-Jameson @mayparker 3m When you learn important family news from TWITTER of all places

"May - May, I am telling you, I did not know about this," Peter said, standing in the doorway with the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear, one hand in his hair, the other on his hip. "Because I'm pretty sure you knew before me, is why. No, I don't know - I got home and he was holding a baby, okay, that is the extent of the story. He found her. Yeah, like, with a dog - I'm not calling your grandchild a dog, your grandchild, what, whose side are you on?!"

Johnny was laughing at him from the other room, which he thought was completely unfair. Peter threw strangling motions at him, scowling. Johnny stuck his tongue out. The baby cooed.

"Can I put him on the phone? Can I make him explain this to you?" he said, listing to the side until his head hit the doorframe.

"Hi, May!" Johnny called cheerfully, making the baby wave. He was a monster and Peter deeply hated his coalition with his aunt. He zoned back in time to hear "- you're my nephew, I want to hear it from you."

"I'm your nephew, yeah, but he's the one who went time hopping and found his kid." He sobered, rubbing at his forehead. "Honestly, May, I'm telling you, I know as much as you do."

"Well, I could do with knowing her name," May said, clucking her tongue.

Peter blanked. He cupped a hand over the receiver and leaned forward. "Johnny. What's her name?"

Johnny blinked, then looked down at the baby. "Um."

"Yeah, May?" Peter said into the phone. "We're actually going to have to get back to you on that one."

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Some days it's just not worth your custom ordered MAC foundation. "Crocodile” btw.

Jennifer Walters @jenatlaw 30m Told the woman I was really more of a shark. She didn't laugh. It's not easy being green, folks.

Jen dropped off paperwork with a lot of eyerolling, a threat of resignation, and an order that the baby be kept away from her.

"This is Stella McCartney," she said, gesturing to her blazer. "You keep that thing out of range."

"Hey!" Johnny protested.

(...)

Jen gave the baby one last warning look and then whirled out on her heels, moloid kids flocking in her wake.

"Auntie Jen is a scary Hulk," Johnny told the baby. The baby gurgled in agreement.

"Auntie Jen heard that!" Jen yelled from the hall. "Start with picking a name! Jennifer's a great one!"

"Have you considered Petunia?" Ben asked nonchalantly.

"I have never and will never consider Petunia," Johnny said blithely. "Next suggestion."

"Howzabout Benjamina?" said Ben.

"No," Johnny said. Peter made a hemming noise and he repeated, forcefully, "No."

"Benita?" Ben said, rocky brows raised high. Peter stifled a snicker with a fake cough, ducking his head.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Johnny asked Ben, scowling.

"I came back from space for this family and this is the treatment I get," Ben grumbled, getting up off the sofa. He paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. His gaze went all soft at the sight of Johnny and the baby. Peter couldn't blame him. "Hey, kid. I'm really happy for ya."

Johnny looked up at him and smiled, tired and real. "Love you too, Rocky."

Ben heaved a great sigh like Johnny's love was some kind of terrible life sentence - Peter knew the feeling - and left the room.

"This is hard," Johnny said, throwing his head back. The baby was asleep in his arms, blissful in her ignorance. "Can I conference in Victor?"

"Please don't," Peter said. He stroked the baby's soft, downy hair with one gentle finger, feeling an equal mix of awe and terror. "Marie?"

"Like Mary?" Johnny said, contemplative. "My mom's name was Mary."

Peter shifted. "Uh, sure. But also like - Marie Curie?"

Johnny looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you serious?"

"She discovered two elements!" Peter said, defensive.

"She died from radiation poisoning!" Johnny said. "I don't care if it worked out for you!"

(...)

"Just in the grand plan for my life, this is not how I thought it'd go," Peter said.

"And then you got bit by a radioactive spider and all the rules went out the window," Johnny said, yawning. "Old news. Pete, you know I'd never ask you to do anything you're not ready for. I want this, but if you don't -"

The sincerity on his face was unbearable. Peter cupped a hand to his face and shut him up the only way that ever really worked.

"Aimee," Johnny said at last. His head fell to Peter’s shoulder; Peter curled a hand in his hair. "After her mom."

"I like it," Peter said, watching her sleep. "Aimee it is."

Aimee Benni Storm was what was written on the birth certificate in the end. Johnny looked Peter straight in the eye and said, "You tell Ben and you're a dead man."

(...)

"See?" Sue said, humming. "Living with the in-laws has its perks. I remember this age - it's a good one. Just wait 'til they can talk back."

"I love you," Peter told her. "Leave Reed and run away with me to Majorca."

Sue smirked, leaning over to palm his cheek. "You're adorable."

"Whoa," Miles said, flipping out of nowhere and matching his swing with Peter's. "Is that a baby?"

"Here," Peter said. "Why don't you hold her for a sec?"

"Oh, I don't, um, okay, wow, hi, baby," Miles stammered when Peter didn't give him much of a choice. Aimee was a sucker for anyone in webs, so Miles ended up making alarmed sounds when tiny hands tried to grab his mask. "When did you get a baby?"

"She's the Human Torch's baby, technically," Peter said, stretching.

Miles looked down, clearly alarmed through the mask. "Is she gonna light on fire too?"

Aimee cooed.

"Nah," Peter said, arms high above his head. "Probably not."

"Peter!" Miles said.

"I am like 98% sure she will remain flame free," Peter said. "But fine, give her back."

Peter was pretty sure the only reason Miles didn't thrust Aimee back was because he was too afraid to make any sudden moves. She made a sleepy, annoyed noise when Peter lifted her from Miles's arms.

"Why do you have the Human Torch's baby?" Miles asked, a very quiet version of shouting.

(...)

"Last chance to keep her," Peter said.

"I'm good," Miles said.

“Okay,” Sue said when she found them in the kitchen at three in the afternoon. Johnny was still in pajamas; Peter was wearing half his spider-suit. Aimee was wearing brunch. “Enough is enough. When was the last time either you left this building?”

“Carjacking,” Peter said, yawning. “Guy dressed like a possum knocking over a Chase. Do I need to go on?”

Johnny was trying to get mashed banana out of his hair. “I don’t know, I think I did something - Tuesday? Was it Tuesday? I had that interview.”

“You cancelled that interview,” Sue told him.

“Huh,” said Johnny, then made an outraged squawking noise when Sue swept in and grabbed the baby from him. “Hey!”

“You’re going out tonight,” Sue said, eyes narrowed. “Together.”

Johnny and Peter stared at each other.

“Together, like, him and me?” Peter said, gesturing between them.

“I think we used to do that,” Johnny said faintly.

“Save the comedy routine,” Sue told them, bouncing Aimee in her arms. All the mashed banana didn’t seem to bother her. She jerked her chin first at Johnny, then at Peter. “You, put on something nice. You - try to do the same. I’m making a reservation for you someplace nice, without supervillains or babies.”

“Do we have to?” Peter asked.

“Can’t we just sleep instead?” Johnny said.

“No,” Sue said. “It’ll be good for you.”

“This is not paying me back for all the times I babysat for you!” Johnny called after her as she carried Aimee from the kitchen down the hall.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sue said. “Ben owes me a favor.”

Johnny scowled at her back. “She took my baby.”

“Aw no,” Peter said, plucking at his spandex. “I’m going to have to wear a dinner jacket, aren’t I.”

Peter came through the door so tired he couldn't see straight, only to have a baby shoved into his arms. Aimee gurgled happily when Peter's arms came up around her automatically.

"Oh no," he said. "Johnny, I'm about to fall over -"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Johnny said, not sounding very sorry at all. He leaned into kiss Peter - that Peter kissed back was muscle memory, he was pretty sure, because the only thing he felt towards Johnny in that second was the sleep-deprived urge to strangle. "I've got that photoshoot, remember? I'll be back soon, I promise. Love you!"

Peter watched him go with narrowed eyes.

"Should we tell him his shirt's on backwards, Firebug?" he asked Aimee. She put her head down against his shoulder with an annoyed sounding little sigh. "No? No." He hummed to her, heading for the couch. "I'm gonna go evil and I'm gonna kill your dad, yes I am. This is my supervillain origin story."

(...)

"Peter? Are you awake?" Franklin whispered.

"M'just resting my eyes," Peter replied.

"Okay," Franklin said hesitantly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Peter cracked an eye open. "Do you have a Galactus stashed in the basement?"

"No," Franklin said, looking a little put out about it.

"Then go for it," Peter said, yawning.

Franklin was quiet for so long Peter had almost drifted off when he spoke.

"When Dad and Mr. Reece and I were putting the universes back the way they should be… I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I knew Uncle Johnny was going to be lonely without us, and I think I maybe accidentally gave him Aimee back."

Peter rolled over onto his back, fully awake now. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, thoughts tumbling - how unfair it was that any kid in the universe should be able to do what Franklin could. How glad he was that if any kid could, it was Franklin.

"But I think I messed up," Franklin said. "She didn't end up where she was supposed to."

(...)

"Okay," Peter said, "I know this might not be the best kind for this conversation -"

"You are gifted with the understatement!" Johnny shouted as he streaked by a little too close for comfort, a rush of flames and heat.

"Spidey," Johnny said, swooping down to hover in front of him. "Get to the point, please."

"My point," Peter said, as best as he could with Johnny so bright and so hot and so close, "is that we might need a nanny."

Johnny turned his face towards him, his eyes glowing embers and his face barely more than an outline in flickering flames - and then he burst out laughing.

"Oh," he said, darting away. He circled a group of bugs, leaving them huddled together and clacking while Ben bagged them. "Now he wants a nanny. Do you believe this?"

(...)

Ben Grimm @clobberintime 1m when you wanna watch the game and the marrieds + kid are asleep on the couch. what a revoltin development.

Peter woke slowly, drifting in and out of consciousness, too warm and content to care.

"Ben took a photo of us and put it on the internet," Johnny said, waving his phone.

***

And that's the WIP! Not much action, just Johnny and Peter being cute with a baby.

#*replies #spideytorch #myfic

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4zahara · 1 month ago

Text

01 | A stranger is stargazing

←Prologue. Masterlist. Next→

Word count: 3.1k

A/N: English is not my first language. This was going to be way longer but then I saw the word count and chopped it off. I have zero imagination. Used chatgpt to translate some Spanish phrases because in English they use similar terms but different meanings. Also, my birthday falls is coming up so it's gonna be a funny last week of vacations.

The knock on the door pulled you from your daze, snapping your attention away from the stains on the ceiling.

Outside the only window in the apartment, barred as all must be, the sky hung a deep, polluted red, with clouds stretching far into the distance. Blue-ish if you squint your eyes. You, as one far too used to the sights, needed not to look at no clock's way to know this to be an unholy hour to bother someone. The thing was broken anyway and the lack of light filtering through was telltale enough.

It was clear, however, that someone disagreed with the concept of appropriate visiting hours. Despite your irritation, you silently hoped it wasn’t who you thought of first knocking at the door—because reliving another nightmare firsthand was the last thing you could handle after an already exhausting day. The familiar fear of being alone at night when an unexpected knock shattered the silence wasn’t something you’d grown up with instinctively, as others might. No, this was a fear learned the hard way, carved into you by mistakes you committed.

Alarm bells rang deafening while you stare frozen. You found it almost cruel when everything stayed as still as you at the faintest reminder of the last time you heard knocking. Like a punishment to yourself the shelves and mess had been kept neat, framing a stop in time on your doorstep. Back then, one of the other residents had barged in, leaving you shaken—hunted by the tickling feeling of his breath on your neck when you hadn’t turned around soon enough.

You forced yourself to push the thought away, though it lingered. A ghostly feeling clung to you, far longer than you were willing to admit to yourself, when another knock shattered your fragile composure. The sound was louder this time, sharper, snapping you back into the present. Startled, you leapt to your feet, knocking over the ashtray on the armrest with your rushed and unsteady movements. An horribly loud clatter echoed against the walls for seconds too long after falling to the floor, scattering ash and ceramic across the oppressive silence. The noise startled a hiss out of you, as though the sudden disruption physically hurt.

Out of the corner of your eye, an aluminum baseball bat tucked neatly among the umbrellas by the door. It waited in its place—only silent and steady reassurance for your burning hands.

Had the thought not been so disturbingly visceral, you would have entertained the idea of describing what you felt as a hand twisting your guts as you marched toward the door. But the imagery was too grotesque to entertain, so you buried it and kept moving.

Two locks clicked open unnaturally loud. The third lock, a flimsy chain, dangled just in front of your forehead. Not much of a safeguard, but it gave you the illusion of control even knowing the thin wood wouldn’t hold if it came to a struggle.

But what you braced for never came.

On the other side of the door, the menacing face you dreaded wasn’t there. No menacing glare from fish-like, ogling eyes.

Instead, a boy. Smaller than you.

Even more fragile-looking.

It was almost embarrassing how much taller you had expected the visitor to be. Instead, you found yourself slowly—almost comically—looking down at a face twisted in a grimace, like the boy had just sucked on a lemon.

If there was anything that could have thrown you off more in this moment, you couldn’t think of it. Then came like being hit by a train the realization of your own disheveled appearance: some pale, sickly, and worn thin girl. For looking less like a witch had others been burned. Still, you forced a smile—awkward and out of place in your face. Apparently, not beating those imaginary witch-allegations in your head, smiling wasn’t the right move in a dimly lit hallway in the dead of night.

Wonder why the boy’s expression shifted almost instantly from startled surprise to wide-eyed panic as your gazes met. Both pairs of blue eyes locked onto each other, mirrors to one another.

He was drenched, water dripping from a hoodie too big for him, which clung awkwardly to his small frame. The soaked fabric looked heavy for his noddle arms. A busted lip stood out starkly for being the kind of injury that screamed ‘street-kid’ in this side of the country. Easy—normal, even—to assume a fight was the cause. Maybe at home. Maybe over food with other kids.

Wait. It was raining outside?

“I... I’m your brother,” he stammered, words tumbling out in a rush. His face crumpled almost immediately, tears welling up as if he wanted to cry. You guessed from cringing so hard.

His words, anxious and unsteady, made it hard to process what he’d said, let alone empathize. This you blinked dumb-ly. Once. Twice. Then squinted, trying to focus your tired eyes on him. Because it couldn’t be.

Your brother was hardly a toddler.

It hadn’t been that long... just a couple of years. Maybe.

It wasn’t immediate—far from the clarity you might have preferred—but recognition did dawned the longer you looked. His mop of wet messy curls struggled under its own weight, stubbornly sticking out in awkward directions, much like yours often did after a shower. And those eyes.

Willis had definitely had a thing or two for coloured eyes in a woman.

This time the realization felt like a sharper pain; a slap. Older now—maybe nine or ten—your brother was standing in front of you, the spitting image of his father like you were of your mother. That thought anchored you, rooted you in place as the silence grew, filled only by static.

With it, the questions began to tumble through your mind like dominoes:

How the hell did he get here?

Obviously, he walked, right? But in the rain?

All the way here from Crime Alley, in the dark?

You stared at him for far too long. So much you could've started to feel uncomfortable too. It was socially inappropriate even. But so it was disturbing people at this hour, so you bet you kept staring. Thoughts clashed and raced, refusing to settle.

“Yeah, kid, I don’t know about that—” The words came out hesitant, weak. Perhaps speaking them might dissolve the truth in front of you. But the longer you denied it, the clearer it became.

Of course, this was your brother.

It just had to be, because why the hell not?

Your baby brother.

He had to be about ten now. You hoped he was still nine, but his birthday had long passed if you had it right.

How in the hell did he find me?

Is his lip okay? Clearly not—but how had it gotten busted?

Did he get into a fight?

Where are mom and dad?

The thought of him walking alone out there, so small and vulnerable, chilled you to the bone. The idea of walking the streets alone terrified you being his senior. Out there, death would almost feel merciful compared to what could happen.

At least the monster living down the hall was a known evil. The streets, though? They hid horrors far worse.

People often said you could sense being watched, when they weren’t alone in a

room and danger loomed nearby. Whatever that underdeveloped sixth sense was, it stirred in you, pulling your gaze away from Maybe-Jason—who, judging by his oblivious expression, has proudly evolved past any shred of survival instinct—and toward the hallway.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

The very last, or first, of the apartment doors down the hall stood slightly ajar, its shadowed outline warped in the dim, flickering light. Large portions of the space cloaked in suffocating darkness by burned-out bulbs, but even through the haze of your blurry vision and growing dread, you could see him.

There he was. Standing just within the frame of the door, his silhouette barely illuminated. He didn’t need much light to convey what he was—a predator, coiled and waiting. The sight almost froze you in place with chills one after the other. It was like watching carnage step into the light dressed in colours to deceive.

You yanked on the door handle without thought, The lock chain vibrating sharply. The frame rattled under your grip as your restless hands itched to do something—anything. Every instinct screamed at you to grab Jason, drag him inside, and slam the door. Brother or not, scammer or not, it didn’t matter. All you wanted was to get him out of sight. Out of that sight.

From the neighbors.

From the world.

From the danger now standing on your threshold.

Of course, although you had never meant to shut the door in his face, it wasn’t hard to see why Jason probably thought you were doing just that. Looking up from frantically searching his pockets for whatever reason, only to look up and see you disappear behind the chipped wood and flaking varnish must've been disheartening. Desperation etched on his young face perfectly mirrored the ache pounding in your chest—a feeling only a boy his age could wear so openly, and one only you could understand. You knew what could happen to him, to both of you, and the weight of that knowledge crushed you. His desperation laid elsewhere, as he was yet to become aware of the danger. But the feeling was mutual. Fear smells salty.

His small fist struck the door again and again. He called for nobody, babbling something about proving his claim instead. Maybe he’d forgotten your name in the haze of his nerves, or time had scrambled the syllables and their order.

It has been a while.

His pounding made you flinch, and in your fumbling to undo the chain, your ragged nails scraped against the surface. The accidental movement sent a sharp pain stabbing under your nails, but no time for whatever that was. Not as the metallic screech of rusted hinges sliced through the air.

The sound sent your heart into overdrive.

Before let-this-be-Jason could strike the door again you grabbed his arm and yanked him inside, shoving him behind you. Behind safety. That's where your brother belonged.

Then, before your dizzy, unfocused self could register how close it had been, you slammed the door shut.

══════════════ • ✧ • ══════════════

Even before stepping out of the house, Jason knew to be digging himself into a hole. He accepted the fact for what it was; his desperation guiding him down a path of poor decisions. He just hadn’t realized a shovel was in his hands until the hole’s depth exceeded his height.

Grabbed, tossed, pulled. Weren't the walls of his vertical tomb collapsing in slow, suffocating ruin, lovely? Beautiful, even.

He would have liked to think the inside of what he hoped was his sister’s apartment might be better than the place he’d come from.

It wasn’t.

It smelled of cigarette smoke, and shadows pooled in every corner. The darkness clinging to the space, thick and uninviting, might have made Jason feel at home—dragged around and overwhelmed—if the situation hadn’t spiraled out of his control so quickly.

Sure, they were family, and blood was supposed to be thicker than water, but none of that mattered if she didn’t even know he was her brother. The memories he’d clung to, distant and blurry, painted his sister as gentle and caring.

You? didn’t match that picture.

In retrospect, he realized you weren't much taller than him, and so thin he couldn’t understand why he felt so threatened. If you did try something, he figured, he could probably win in a fight—especially if the bat he somehow now held in his hands came into play.

He couldn’t remember grabbing it. Or when it had reached his hands.

It was on the floor and he had tripped with it.

You had your back to him now, tense and uncertain, seeming just as out of it as he was. For all his distrust, Jason couldn’t tell who, between the two of them, was more afraid of what might happen next.

You were frantic, scrambling to lock all four bolts, including the padlock. Each metallic click seemed to drive Jason’s heart deeper into the pit of his stomach, where it churned in acid. But he was too far gone—trapped in fight-or-flight mode—to cry about it.

Your hand hovered near the floor, near the umbrellas scattered there. Groping blindly for a handle, probably searching for the bat’s. Or maybe, fingers crossed, an umbrella to pity him.

Call it hopeful thinking.

Jason heard you curse under your breath, blaming yourself for throwing “it” too hard behind you. Still, you didn’t dare take your eyes off the door, as if you believed your unrelenting stare could alone hold it in place, as if sheer willpower wasn't already the only thing keeping that piece of wood standing. From this side, the door looked even shoddier, barely more than splintered wood and peeling paint. Jason stared at it, and you, his mind buzzing. For a fleeting second, he thought he could probably bring it down if he wanted to, so clearly the adrenaline was getting to his head.

“I think… I think it’s safe,” you muttered. Your voice shook, but the words didn’t sound like they were meant to reassure anyone but you.

Your trembling hands dropped to your sides, and you stepped away from the door.

“Safe?” Jason barked, his voice sharp, teetering on the edge of hysteria.

That’s when he learned the first thing about his so-called sister. Other than the assumptions he’d already built in his head, you were jumpy. You flinched, almost as if you hadn’t expected him to speak or still be there. To what he had to ask; Where else would he go?

His hands tightened around the bat, frustration bubbling in his chest.

Right. He had a weapon. Maybe that explained your jumpiness when facing him.

“Wow.” Your hands shot up in surrender, in a reflexive, almost lazy gesture of defeat. You didn't want to appear threatening, but your wide eyes just ticked Jason off. “So that’s where the bat went.”

“Why did you drag me in like that?” Jason barely hides the accusation. An unspoken ‘Why can’t you be normal?’ wail hung in his mind. He decided against saying it outright—better to avoid sounding desperate or offended, even if both ships had sailed.

“Because the Boogeyman was about to get you? Obviously?” you shot back, your tone spoke to a child far younger than him. Your grimace wasn’t for him though.

“What?” Confused.

“What?” You mimicked. Jason felt whatever hope he had for your help steadily slipping away.

“What— are you doing?!”

“How about you put the bat down, buddy—back with the umbrellas? I’m not going to attack you,” Jason cut you off, his frustration boiling over. “You pushed me into your apartment! If anything, you’re kidnapping me—”

“There was a man outside!” you cut him off yourself with a sharp exclamation and throwing your hands in the air, sounding genuinely offended at being called out. Good. Jason couldn't be the only one losing it here. “And stop shouting,” you hissed, lowering your voice but glaring at him. “Other people live here.”

Jason glanced around. “This place is disgusting.” Home wasn't better, but he was pissed.

“Thanks,” There was a sharp edge, more venom in your tone than you’d intended. It startled Jason enough to make him take a step back.

Seeing your little brother back away from you should've tug on your heartstrings. It did. Almost tearing them off at the memory of a toddler gleefully making a mess of his food, yet looking so utterly blameless.

You couldn't be angry at Jason—if this was truly Jason. You had to remember who you were getting angry at and would/could cry.

Still, you should’ve been ashamed of the mess. You looked like you knew you should.

The apartment was tiny, cramped, and barely livable. The peeling wallpaper was stained yellow. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, a leaning tower of neglect, and discarded takeout containers dotted the counters like forgotten relics. The lone couch sagged under its own weight, covered in a mismatched patchwork of old blankets, and the floor—God, the floor...

Jason, once a master of breaking down your stubborn resolve with those big, pleading eyes, probably for the best, didn't seem to remember his power over you even having already made you back down. You sighed and leaned against the door. Slowly, you slid down until you hit the floor. The movement felt pitiful, like a defeated video game boss collapsing after the final blow. Only there was no triumphant music playing in the background and it looked sadder.

You stared at the floor, head tilted slightly forward, shoulders slumped. “It’s been a while,” you muttered, your voice strained, “since I talked to actual people, okay? Sorry for… the mess. I guess.”

And Jason reluctantly lowered his guard.

The bat still clenched tightly in his hands, eventually lowered, no longer pointing at you. Even so, he kept it close as he sat down on the floor, mirroring your posture.

“S’okay,” he mumbled.

“You look battered,” you said before a ten year old could take pity on you.

“You look high.”

To what his sister gasped, hand flying to your chest in mock offense. “I don’t—do I?—” And stopped abruptly. A pause, a sigh, and then you scratched the back of your neck, avoiding his gaze. “Okay, fair enough. ‘m not like that, but they cut the water off Monday morning so...”

“...It’s wednesday,” Jason saw you wince.

“What are you doing here anyway? How did you find me? Or even get here in the first place?”

“I walked…” Jason admitted, trailing off. He’d wanted the silence to stretch a little longer, but…

“(Name)?”

“Hey,” you cut in, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Glad to know you remember my name.”

“I came because of mom… Was there really someone in the hallway?”

“Yeah... Some creep. I'm 80% sure he’s a pimp too.”

“A pin? What's that?”

“What's what?” Suddenly remembering the limits and implications of talking to a ten year old. Even if the streets were more home than Catherine and Willis, Jason was still a child. You too, but you have literally lived in the streets for some time.

Wonderful times.

“Doesn’t matter. Just be more careful, Jason.”

He hesitated, the weight of his next words sinking his shoulders. “Mom 's bad.”

Your face fell. “You shouldn’t have left her alone with Dad if she was already—”

“Willis is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Jail.”

“…Huh.” You slumped back against the door, your hand rubbing at your temple. “Well… you shouldn’t go back out at this hour,” you muttered, your tone softening. “Especially not in the rain.” You pushed yourself to your feet with a groan. “I’ll grab you a towel… Food?”

His stomach grumbled, betraying him entirely.

“Yeah. Food too then.”

#jason todd #batfam x reader #x reader #batsis!reader #batman #kid jason todd #batfam x batsis #batfam #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #stephanie brown #duke thomas #barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth

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disappearinginq · 27 days ago

Text

I'm calling this Febuwhump Day 3 prompt fulfillment (read: I need validation) because it was, conveniently, written yesterday. Prompt: Pinned Down.

It's long, so it's going underneath the cut:

“What is that?” River pushed himself further away from the man, eyeing the hypodermic in Frank’s hand, but there was nowhere to go. Not with his hands cuffed behind him, looped around the headboard of the bed frame, or his feet bound together with thick rounds of duct tape.

Frank sat down on the frame next to him, almost gentle in his movements, his face solemn and somewhat wistful, and he reached a hand over to pat River’s thigh, and for a disturbing moment, Frank seemed almost human.

Except for the part where he still had a needle in his hand, staring at it in a way that made River’s heart rate spike, the sudden wave of nausea threatening making him swallow convulsively.

When he was first dropped at his granddad’s house, Rose had a dog, Errol, an ancient terrier mix who much preferred a childless household, his quiet days filled with napping in the sun on his favorite spot on the carpet or making the rounds through Rose’s gardens - more out of habit than chasing vermin. But River had never been allowed a pet before. Isobel hardly wanted him around, never mind an extra mouth that couldn’t be left alone to figure out a cereal box while she was gone for hours or days at a time. He adored the cranky animal, enduring several nips to fingers to be able to stroke the wiry hair, even when prudence said he should leave Errol well enough alone. He liked to think he eventually appealed to Errol’s better half by sneaking him scraps from the table despite multiple warnings from his grandparents, and eventually, he and the dog were rarely apart. It wasn’t like Rose or David knew anyone with young children, or perhaps they did, and didn’t want to explain how River came to be dumped in the garden like a stray animal, so Errol was the only one around for River to play with. Even if that play was mostly reading in the garden under the shade of the trees while Errol stretched out beside him on his back, feet in the air, snoring loud enough to scare away birds.

But Errol was already old by the time River showed up. They had exactly one summer and three months together until two days before Christmas, Rose called the vet because Errol couldn’t stand anymore, and would only lay on his pillow near the fire, shaking and whining from pain.

Rose stayed with Errol while David ushered River upstairs, perhaps more to do with giving Rose a chance to say goodbye to her companion of 16 years, than sparing River the harsh realities of death and dying.

The last thing River saw before his granddad gently pushed him out of view of the parlor was the vet holding up a hypodermic that looks suspiciously like the one in Frank’s, and his expression was disturbingly similar to David’s when he’d sat with River on his bed, explaining as best he could that what they were doing for Errol was for the best, a kindness and a mercy borne from love for the old dog. He’d patted River’s leg ruefully, and sat with him in silence while River cried for the only friend he had.

River did not like the parallels.

“You are making this very difficult, son,” Frank sighed. “Pups are easier to train - that’s why you get them when they’re young. Once they’re eight months, a year - you have to break them down, start from scratch. Get rid of all the bad habits they’ve picked up before they came to you.”

River didn’t think it wise to point out what a load of shit that was, and more importantly, he was not a dog he was a person, not when Frank was still staring at the needle in his hand like maybe, maybe he wouldn’t have to use it.

“I should’ve come for you earlier. I see that now. If I’d known Isobel was going to dump you anyways, I would’ve just picked you up from your grandfather’s before he could really get his hooks into you. You and I - we could’ve made a real difference. I’ve been unreasonable, expecting too much of you too soon. I see that now. I’m not too big a man to admit my mistakes. But I am willing to try and correct them. You have potential. So much potential. But you’ve too many bad habits getting in your way. Habits that need to be broken.”

River twisted his hands against the cuffs, feeling the scabbed over skin break and bleed anew as he quietly tried to pull the unyielding metal over bone and tendon.

Frank sniffed, and clapped a hand on River’s knee, at first like someone might clap someone on the back in congratulations, but then his grip tightened, fingers digging painfully into already bruised skin in warning that River had better stop fidgeting while Frank was talking to him, or this almost civil conversation was going to get much worse, very quickly.

“But what defines a man, son, is how he learns from his mistakes. How he takes his weaknesses and makes them his strengths. Understand?”

River shook his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I do. I do, son. Because you’ve made me,” Frank said, turning to face River, offering a small smile that held no warmth. “Don’t worry. It’ll just put you to sleep.”

That was what the vet told Errol.

“You don’t have to do this, Frank - you don’t…” River shoved himself as far back as he could manage, but it was useless. He could go nowhere.

Frank’s hand came up, vicious and quick and slammed River’s head back into the wall before shoving him violently against the bedsprings, Frank’s meaty hand pressing down on the side of River’s face with such brutal force River could feel the metal biting in his other cheek even as his vision reeled from the blow.

“I don’t want to go to sleep!” It was embarrassing, to have to beg, to be a fully grown man with MI5 training, pinned down like some kind of animal, but River didn’t care. He could feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t budge, not with Frank’s weight pressing down on him, the awkward angle he forced River’s neck into feeling like at any moment, it would snap. “Don’t do this, Frank - sir - Dad,” he said the word in desperation, without thought, grasping at straws for anything that would keep his own father from putting him down like a misbehaving pet.

The needle sunk into his neck, and River closed his eyes, maybe in denial but mostly so that Frank couldn’t see the tears as whatever was in the hypodermic was injected, freezing cold but somehow burning all the way, and River knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, he wasn’t getting out of this.

Patrice stood in the corner, eyes cast down, arms folded across his chest, as unmoving as a statue, his warning that River had no idea what Frank was capable of echoing in his head.

River expected Frank to leave once he’d injected the drug, but he didn’t, and that was worse. He didn’t let up his bruising grip until River felt his muscles start to relax, and his vision swam dangerously. His heartbeat slowed, his breathing became shallow, his stomach rolling violently. When Frank finally lifted his hand, River tried to turn his head, but he couldn’t move, even as the metal dug painfully into his cheek and he could feel blood starting to well in the shallow cuts.

Frank’s hand came down, and River couldn’t flinch away from the expected slap, but instead, Frank’s hand brushed his hair away from his face, running a calloused thumb across River’s dampened cheek as River fought against the encroaching darkness, terrified that if he closed his eyes, he would never open them again.

He was going to die here.

“There’s a good boy,” Frank soothed, shushing him gently. “Good boy.”

River had never considered how much he hated that phrase. Hated it to his very bones, and felt a surge of rage so strong it momentarily beat back the black tide of unconsciousness that was dragging him down, and stupidly, foolishly, thought of the Slow Horses, and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Lamb warned him not to comply in advance.

It took every ounce of will that remained for him to force out the words, “They’ll find me.”

“He will look for you,” Frank agreed, his voice echoing distantly, “endlessly. But he’ll never find you. You’ll just be another ghost to haunt him.”

And River knew no more.

#slow horses #river cartwright #frank harkness #pinned down #tw animal death #mentioned only off screen #it's for the parallels #river cartwright whump #whumpuary 2025 day 3 #look I haven't written more than a drabble in ages #and then I saw the gifset from too many rooks #and here we are #borrowed excessively from The Tunnel which I will never watch beyond this scene

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advisorykitty · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do Yashiro nene! Reader x Randal headcanons and Randal is like Hanako? Please

Yashiro nene! Reader x Randal Headcanons

I had to search this up a bit so my apologies if it isn't as Canon!!

Randal is always causing chaos around [Y/N], popping up at random moments to scare or prank them. He finds their reactions endlessly entertaining.

Randal insists that his coffin is the coziest place in the world and often invites [Y/N] to hang out inside, which freaks them out but makes him grin.

He constantly compares [Y/N] to his beloved dolls and sometimes even dresses them up in clothes similar to his dolls. It’s hard to tell whether he’s joking or being serious.

Randal shows his affection through dark humor and weird gestures, like gifting [Y/N] black roses or scaring them right before swooping in to save them.(how heroic)

His way of affection is unique: giving [Y/N] strange gifts, pulling wierd jokes, gifting what he said is "rat" liver.

Randal constantly shows up out of nowhere, scaring [Y/N] half to death, only to laugh it off and call it "quality time." He thinks spooking [Y/N] is the best way to show his 'affection'

He’s oddly protective of [Y/N]. If anyone messes with them, Randal’s smile stays, but his tone drops a few degrees colder. He’ll play tricks on the offender until they’re begging for mercy, all while [Y/N] is left wondering what just happened. (One of the few reason people avoid him tbh)

Randal loves to tease [Y/N] about their superstitions, or whatever they belive but , in reality he thinks its kinda cute/cool.He’ll listen attentively when they talk about legends or scary stories and later try to bring them to life—just to keep them entertained, of course.

Whenever [Y/N] tries to study or do something productive, Randal will pop in, hovering upside down in front of them. He’ll do anything to distract them, from telling wierd anime stories to pulling silly faces. It’s his way of keeping the boredom away.

He’s weirdly good at remembering little things about [Y/N]—their favourite snacks, how they like their tea, or the exact way they roll their eyes when he says something stupid. He’ll use this to his advantage, pulling pranks or surprising them with thoughtful gestures.

Whenever you Hyper lucidate, he always makes to find you and you meet new friends on the way! (It's his world so it's not to difficult to find you!)

If [Y/N] ever expresses frustration with him, Randal will sulk like a kid. He’ll sit in a corner, pouting dramatically until [Y/N] forgives him. Once they do, he’s back to his cheerful, chaotic self, acting as if nothing ever happened.

Randal sometimes gives [Y/N] weird gifts—like a doll that looks disturbingly like them or a necklace made out of buttons. He insists they’re meaningful. (You don't have much say in throwing it out)

When [Y/N] gets mad at him, he’ll lean in close, with that same mischievous grin, and whisper, “You know you can’t stay mad at me forever.” And, annoyingly, he’s usually right.

MINI INTERVIEWS!!

Nyon: “They… are okay. Do not talk much, but fine to be around. Better than the loud one.” He’s neutral but appreciates [Y/N]’s calmness compared to Randal.

Nyen: “Don’t care. As long as they don’t get in my way, whatever.” He’s not bothered by [Y/N], as long as they don’t interrupt his day.

Randal: “They’re perfect. Couldn’t ask for a better person to spend eternity with. They keep things interesting.” He’s clearly attached, seeing [Y/N] as his forever companion.

Sebastian: “Why would anyone willingly put up with that? They must have the patience of a saint.” He’s both impressed and baffled by [Y/N]’s ability to deal with Randal’s antics. Still grateful he has time off when you're around

Luther: “They fit in well enough. It’s nice to see Randal have a constant distraction.” He’s amused and watches from the sidelines, happy that Randal is behaving (to his standards anyway)

(Shorter then usual sorry, got alot of exams >_;

#ranfren x reader #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #nyon ranfren #fanfic #nyon and nyen #luther von ivory #randals friends #sebastian ranfren #randal ivory

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the-writerwoman · 3 months ago

Text

So my baby kept me awake last night and I had that 4am brain hit.

Here we have Wade accidentally getting into a deal for his soul for 4 wishes by a Demon Logan. Yay!

Hope you enjoy. Definitely nobody try and convince me to write the fic. That would be terrible 😬

———————————————————-

Wade paced around the warehouse, crunching glass underfoot as he gestured wildly at the glowing summoning circle. “Okay, let me get this straight, kitty-cat demon guy—Logan, right? You’re telling me these robe-wearing weirdos summoned you, and because I had the gall to show up, shoot first, and ask questions later, the whole deal got dumped on me?”

Logan, still standing in the middle of the circle, arms crossed, sighed. His hazel eyes, which had only just calmed from their previous fiery red glow, fixed on Wade with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

Wade threw his hands up. “So now I have a literal demon butler with abs for days, and I get—what was it? Four wishes?”

“Yes,” Logan said, his tone clipped. “Four wishes. No catch. No consequences. Whatever you want, you get.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wade said, spinning around to face him. “You’re telling me I can wish for anything, and I mean anything, and it’s mine? No monkey’s paw bullshit? No ironic punishments?”

Logan gave him a level look. “No strings attached. You wish, you get. That’s the contract.”

Wade’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“And you have to protect me while this deal is active?” Wade asked, stepping closer, his grin growing wider.

Logan’s expression didn’t shift. “Yes. Until the contract is complete, I’m bound to you. Your safety is my responsibility.”

Wade’s grin turned into a full-blown beam. “Oh, man, this is the best day ever. I just went from solo mercenary with trust issues to having my own personal demon bodyguard. Who looks like a model, by the way, seriously, what gym do demons use, and how do I sign up?”

Logan arched an eyebrow. “You’re disturbingly excited for someone who just learned they have to give up their soul.”

Wade shrugged, pacing around Logan like a man appraising a fancy sports car. “Eh, what do I even use it for anyway? Besides, I’ve made it this far without being attached to it. And you said I can wish for literally anything, so I’m pretty sure I can make the next… however long I’ve got worth it.”

Logan’s hazel eyes followed Wade’s movements. “You’re taking this a lot better than most mortals.”

“Buddy,” Wade said, stopping in front of Logan and tapping a finger on his own chest. “I’m not most mortals. You’re stuck with me, and we’re gonna have a blast. But seriously, you’ve gotta tell me, what are the limits here? Can I wish for, like, a solid gold taco truck? Or do I have to stick to boring stuff, like eternal youth and mountains of cash?”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There are no limits. You can wish for anything. And yes, I have to make it happen.”

“No limits?” Wade’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I am so going to abuse this.”

Logan’s lips twitched, his stoic mask cracking just enough to reveal a hint of amusement. “Why am I not surprised?”

Wade wagged a finger. “Hey, hey, no sass from you, demon guy. You’re the one who got summoned. I’m just the lucky bastard who showed up at the right time.”

“Or the wrong time,” Logan muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

“Wrong time?” Wade smirked. “Buddy, I just hit the jackpot. Four wishes, no consequences, and I get to keep you around until I use them? This is a win.”

Logan crossed his arms again, towering over Wade. “You’re forgetting one thing.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Wade asked, his grin not faltering.

“When the wishes are used up, your soul is mine. No exceptions, no delays.”

Wade’s grin turned mischievous. “Yeah, yeah, the whole ‘eternal damnation’ thing. I’ll worry about that when I get there. For now, I’ve got a demon bodyguard-slash-wish-granting machine and a world full of possibilities. You’re stuck with me, Logan. And I promise, it’s gonna be fun.”

Logan tilted his head, a small, dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll see.”

Wade clapped him on the shoulder, completely unfazed by the smirk—or the supernatural strength he could feel beneath Logan’s calm exterior. “We sure will. Now let’s get out of this creepy warehouse and grab some food. Do demons eat? Wait, let me guess—you’re more of a rare steak kinda guy. Or do you just, like, suck the energy out of people or something?”

Logan sighed. “This is going to be a long contract.”

“And the best one of your life,” Wade quipped, practically bouncing toward the warehouse exit. “Let’s go, kitty-cat! Adventure awaits!”

Logan followed. “Unbelievable

#poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool 3 #logan howlett #peanutbub #wade wilson

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crypticsketchpad · 5 months ago

Text

HEY FOLKS DIDJA MISS ME. anyways here’s something I’ve been workin on for the past few weeks, some actual reference pics for the folks from these posts! I think it’s time they got a proper ref and lore post (it’s been, what, over a year since I made them?), soooooo :] buckle up. individual pics + bios under the cut; content warning for death, gore/body horror, unethical science and/or medical malpractice, I guess some minor mentions of self harm and emotional abuse… let’s just say they’ve been through a lot

CHIMERA

they/it - 23’5 - ~400 y/o - epic wubbox..?

Chimera can only be described as a true monstrosity among monsterkind. Its three components were unfortunately torn apart in an interdimensional travel accident, and in a desperate attempt to save them, their sibling Matrix decided to combine the three into one semi-intact body. Whether or not their efforts were successful is debatable; Chimera is highly physically unstable, and isn’t exactly all there mentally. It’s usually kept away from the eyes of the public, housed in the bowels of the Ethereal Island castle.

Resents Matrix for bringing them back, as they use this fact to control them. They insist that Chimera owes them their lives, and that they should be grateful, but constantly mistreats and neglects them.

Most of its original mechanical parts were damaged in the incident, so their body’s construction is supplemented by the body parts of other ethereal monsters.

EEKTO

The “primary” head, Eekto has the most control over Chimera’s body. It’s the only one who can see and hear clearly (though not by much…), so it serves as the collective’s eyes and mouth. Associated with the element of plasma, it now constantly leaks plasmic goop from its mouth, eyes, and neck joints, making it hard to speak without choking on its own saliva. The flame that engulfs its eyes grants Eekto enhanced vision in the dark, and allows it to detect things that aren’t visible to the average monster. In life, it was the oldest of the five siblings.

NOCK

The second most active head, what Nock lacks in hearing and sight it makes up for in chattiness. It’s the main mouth of the body, consuming large amounts of food at once in order to sustain all three of them. While usually relying on Eekto to be its eyes, it can also “see” by using its long, snake-like tongue to smell its surroundings, and is capable of picking up minor sound vibrations with the membranes of its Grumpyre wing “ears”. Nock’s demeanor is almost always disturbingly cheerful, and it seems to be in blissful denial of its current situation. It’s always happy to strike up a conversation with whatever monster happens to stumble upon them while lost in the castle- unless it’s Matrix, of course.

FRAKTAL

Fraktal, associated with the element of Crystal, was the worst fatality of the trio. Its head is basically all that remains of its original body, but even so, it’s in very bad shape. Frozen in a state of decay, it’s become a host to many crystalline growths that have covered its mangled face and “neck”. It is completely unresponsive to outside stimuli, and only ever moves when one of its other two siblings decides to move their shared body’s tail. The other two, however, act as if it is still alive somehow, treating and addressing it as such. Sometimes, though, one of the other heads may sense a signal from their tail; a faint, abstract thought that is not their own.

MATRIX

they/them - 11’1” - 431 y/o - rare wubbox

A self-proclaimed “genius” scientist, Matrix loves nothing more than to upgrade themself and others through body modification. Creating questionable prosthetics from miscellaneous materials, they kidnap and experiment on monsters against their will, leaving them mutilated at best, and in some cases, whatever unfortunate victim enters their lab never comes out. Matrix’s mission is to “improve” the lives of the Ethereal monsters, who they’ve proclaimed themself the leader of. They see other monsters as nothing more than test subjects who should be happy for the help they’re providing, falsely believing that their work will benefit monsterkind as a whole, and that anyone who opposes is simply ungrateful.

The first rare wubbox to ever exist, Matrix used their supernatural ability to create interdimensional rifts to access the human world. Inspired by what they saw, they rebuilt every part of themself in order to reflect that technological influence. Pleased by their transformation, they created copies of themself, which they distributed across the monster world; as such, nearly every rare wubbox is a clone of Matrix, with a few exceptions.

Using their aforementioned interdimensional abilities, they’ve shut off Ethereal Island from the rest of the monster world, preventing anyone other than themself from entering or leaving. Any Ethereal monsters who live on the Natural Islands are descended from ones who left their home island before Matrix and co’s arrival.

They were the one who rebuilt Chimera, and the perceived success of this operation is what inspired them to experiment on other monsters in an attempt to make them better than they were before. They also use this fact to keep Chimera under control, constantly reminding them that they literally owe them their lives.

Their extra set of tail-arms were assembled from parts leftover from Chimera’s creation. These arms are very flexible, and can extend and retract slightly, though they are not as strong as one may think. (Which means that unfortunately, Matrix can’t do the Doc Ock arm walk thingy.)

While Chimera’s components are affiliated with three of the Ethereal elements, Matrix is affiliated with the Mech element, and was taught the basics of engineering by one of their creators, a Vhamp named Khord. In the present day, they find Mech-element monsters the ideal subject to use for their projects.

ZYPHUR

it/its - 12’3” - 427 y/o - common wubbox

Scarred and damaged- not just physically but mentally- by the horrors it’s had to participate in, Zyphur is Matrix’s unwilling lab assistant. Serving as the brawn to its sibling’s brains, its main role is to gather subjects for Matrix to use in their experiments; it’s easily large and powerful enough to capture and restrain the other Ethereal monsters, but that doesn’t make the process any easier for all involved. Zyphur resents its job, and feels terrible forcing its captives to participate in the twisted whims of its older sibling, but it really doesn’t have a choice. It depends on them for food, shelter, and care, and feels obligated to help them due to familial ties. Despite this, Matrix constantly berates, mistreats, and manipulates it, keeping it as their own little lackey for whatever tasks they need done.

It was forced to help gather Chimera’s body parts immediately after the accident, and assisted Matrix in reassembling them. It was in a state of shock the entire time, still reeling from its own injuries, and begging its one remaining sibling for some semblance of comfort, which it never received. Before the accident, Matrix was often dismissive but still kind towards Zyphur, but this soon changed to pure disdain and superiority towards it in the aftermath.

Ended up the least scathed after the accident, with its most major injury being a severe head wound, practically ripping half its face apart. Despite Matrix’s efforts to repair it, this wound never healed properly, leaving a massive scar on one side of its mouth.

Associated with the Poison element, which is clearly visible in its eyes. Its major bodily fluids (notably tears, blood, and saliva) are tinted a vivid green and are somewhat acidic, leaving marks on whatever they touch. They are also toxic to other monsters and may cause skin damage or poisoning when exposed to them. In theory, Zyphur is capable of spitting jets of poison saliva as a defense mechanism, but tends to just let it passively drip out of its mouth.

Due to the extreme neglect, trauma, and isolation it’s had to endure, Zyphur is somewhat developmentally stunted, and behaves much younger than it is. When the Cataclysm and subsequent accident happened, it was mentally around 15 years old, and hasn’t emotionally progressed much since.

Most of the time, when its parts haven’t been repaired for a while, the edges of its gauntlet pieces are broken, with pieces of the prongs on the end often missing. This damage is self inflicted, fueled by Zyphur’s guilt towards the pain others have suffered because of it. It feels that Chimera’s components didn’t deserve to undergo such a horrible fate, and that it should have taken their place instead. Matrix simply sees this damage as the result of clumsiness, and often scolds it because of this.

Refuses to interact with Chimera- or any other monster, really- whenever it can help it; the feelings of guilt it holds about their situations are too painful to bear.

Very malnourished, and doesn’t get to eat real food very often. Its main diet consists of Matrix’s leftovers and whatever mutilated, “unusable” monster parts remain after their experiments.

ALVA

it/its - 13’5” - 433 y/o - common wubbox

A brilliant (albeit shut-in) scientist, Alva is the creator of Wublin Island and its denizens. When not looking after its “children” (the Wublins), it spends most of its time tinkering and experimenting with new ways to put the knowledge gained from its previous projects to good use. Between these two tasks, it’s almost always exhausted, and tends to overwork itself, refusing to sleep for days and putting its work and the needs of the Wublins before its own well-being. Despite this behavior, Alva is mostly satisfied with the life it’s built for itself.

One of the oldest living wubboxes from the Dawn of Fire, and one of the first to be created; it lived through the Cataclysm but doesn’t like to talk about its experience very much.

VERY bad at caring for itself in general; it doesn’t replace its parts as often as it should, causing itself chronic pain and fatigue. Alva tries to remedy this by occasionally using a shoddy cane it made for itself, but doesn’t do so often, insisting it’s fine- often while visibly having difficulty standing and walking.

Adores the Wublins and would do anything for them; though it’s quite exhausting caring for them all, it loves them very much, and tries its best to keep them happy. This also involves it hiding any sort of negative emotions or pain it feels in front of them, as it doesn’t want its children to worry about it.

Inherited the gift of the spark of life from its creator, a Galvana named Ivolta, who was the original inventor of the wubbox.

Typically doesn’t interact with the outside world much, but periodically allows airships from other islands to bring it supplies and monster eggs. It doesn’t like to leave the island, but may do so on rare occasions if its expertise is needed- namely, it was recently contacted by a team of monsters who want to use its statue-waking tech to reawaken the newly discovered Celestials.

Before the fall of Starhenge, Alva was Matrix’s best friend; the two were very close, bonding over their similar interests in robotics and bioengineering, and often collaborated on projects. However, after seeing how drastically different they are now and how harmful their “work” has become, it is disgusted by them, refusing to speak to them, despite their constant, oblivious attempts to befriend it again.

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PHEW that was a lot haha, anyways, if anyone has any questions about these guys, feel free to ask in the replies or my askbox! (i’ll try and respond in a timely manner lmao) been working on this storyline for a while now and I can definitely expand on some of these things if anyone’s interested :]

#fanart #my singing monsters #wubbox #epic wubbox #msm oc #rare wubbox #ocs #wubgang #these guys were meant to be minor side characters in the wubbgang universe WHAT HAPPENED!!!!!!!#curse you matrix. (whenever something goes wrong I always blame them lmao. little bastard /aff)#body horror cw #zyphur #matrix #chimera #alva #> disappears for 2 months > drops massive oc lore post > leaves

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