#i don't know what the fuss is all about It was only five pages left of notes and nonsense to convert into intelligent text

[chaos-has-theories]

GET OFF TUMBLR????? WRITE UR PAPER???????

I DID and I HAVE. See that timestamp? Thats BEFORE MIDNIGHT MY TIME. So there.

[shadowbriar]

Five Hargreeves - Back To You

Pairing : Five Hargreeves x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 2.8k Warning : Angst. Season 4 references. Synopsis : After one too many subway trips, Five's plan of temporal refuge extended as he met someone he refuse to lose. Notes : I refuse to acknowledge what happened in Episode 5 and 6 though I use the gif of said episodes. Don't come at me if you don't agree. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Living in a small cottage by the lake has never been in his cards. To settle down and watch the sun sets everyday, hearing the rocking chair creak as he takes a sip of his coffee. This was beyond anything he could ever hoped for, anything he could afford. He knew that this wasn’t the life he’s supposed to lead. Lord, this wasn’t even a life he owns to begin with. But with each second passed in this universe, Five finds it hard to drag himself back to that subway and return to his own timeline.

“Enjoying the scenery, are we?” She whispers as she sits on his lap, clinging her arms around his neck “You know, I could really use the help stuffing that chicken. It is afterall your special request.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, “Shouldn’t I be off of any chores since it is my special request?”

“Just because it’s your birthday, doesn’t mean you’re having a vacation, big guy,” She reasoned “We’ve only got two hands and this house is only getting bigger than smaller.”

The boy couldn’t bite his grin when he leaned in to kiss her. His heart swells. She was right. The house feels like it’s growing along with them. They might not have much, certainly far from the wealth his father possesses, but it was much more than enough. Having her was much more than enough.

“You know that I love you, right?” Five asks as he pulls away, his left hand still cupping her cheek as his thumb caresses her gently.

“I know,” She nods, smiling “But you can’t sweet talk your way out of kitchen duty, Mister.”

Five chuckles, standing from his seat as he carried her in his arms, “Alright, Missy, let’s see what this chicken fuss is all about.”

—-

The muscles on his cheeks were aching but he couldn’t fight the need to grin as wide as he could. He was happy, watching her carry that awful looking cake out of the oven. The icing that supposedly spelled ‘happy birthday’ was crooked, its colour pale compared to the bright fondant covering it. Thank God the candles were their only source of light, otherwise she wouldn’t even bring it out, he reckons.

“It’s ugly, I know,” She says as she lets it rest on the table “But it tastes better than it looks, I promise.”

Five shakes his head, disagreeing with her discouraging comments as he steals a kiss, “It’s perfect.”

“Well, go on and make a wish!”

The boy closes his eyes. His hands holding hers as he whispers his wish: I wish for this to last forever. Her squeals of excitement was music to his ears as he blew the candles. It is indeed the best birthday of his life.

“I’d ask but I know you wouldn’t tell me your wish.”

“Who said I made any wish?”

“You did,” She says as she helps him cut the cake “You make that little frown everytime you say your little prayer, do you know that?”

“I don’t pray, Love.”

“You do. Well, not religiously, but sometimes you do. You say your little prayer, your hopes. You whisper them sometimes, but most times you just close your eyes and do that little frown thing.”

Five raised an eyebrow, “Have you been watching me?”

“I might,” She teases “I mean who wouldn’t watch such a handsome man like you?”

The night continues as the couple finishes their dinner. Fulfilled would be such an understatement for what he feels right now. Everything he ever wanted, everything he ever dreamed of, is served right in that room. He wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

“So can I take a guess about what you wished for?”

“Really, Love?” He asked, putting down his glass of wine.

She shrugs, “We’ve talked about everything else, haven’t we?”

“You know, there’s a belief that if you say your prayers, it won’t happen.”

“Well, you’re not saying what it was, I’m just taking a guess what it’s about.” She argues, still persistent “And what’s so bad with it not happening? Do you really want it that bad?”

“I— Nothing, I just don’t—”

“What is it that you could wish for? What is it that you don’t have?”

“Nothing, I’m not saying that I want anything, I just—”

“Is it your family?”

Five pauses. It was as if he was stupefied. He hadn’t thought about his family in a while. Shameful of him, sure, but after one too many subway trips, he figured that a little rest shouldn’t be so bad. He just had to find a timeline where there weren't that many people shooting at him. Perhaps take a week or two to rest and gather his strength before jumping into another subway.

It just had to be her. The girl he bumped into right after he got out of the station. He remembers vividly the concerned look on her face when she saw him. He was littered with bruises, dirt and dust covering his body. He looked more like trouble than a lover yet she still found it in her heart to ask if he needed any help.

And here he was, feeling the happiness in his heart wither as the thought of his family returned to his consciousness. He knew that the universe is cruel, that he couldn’t have the best of both worlds in this lifetime, that he had to choose between his lover or his family. Some nights he wonders if his family had succeeded in preventing another apocalypse without him. Some nights he wonders if his family had found a way to another timeline. Some nights he wonders if his family were still alive. But most nights he tried his best to ignore these wonders. His family must have found a way to stop the apocalypse, or at least escape another one.

Taking a deep breath, Five reaches for her hands. Guilt and regret were evident on her face. He knew that she didn’t mean to sound as cruel. Perhaps it was the wine that made their blood more sensitive or that the fatigue of the day had clouded their minds. Either way he knew that they both would be sorry when the morning came.

“I love you,” He starts gently “I love you more than anything in this and every timeline.”

A tear left her eye. It was painful. To love someone you know doesn’t belong to you. To desperately grasp into the moments you knew would end anytime soon. To selfishly stay in a relationship that was doom from the start. Neither of them deserved this, yet neither of them wanted to let go.

“It’s been six years, Five,” She reasoned “As much as I love you.. We can’t keep living like this.”

“Time works differently there, my love. Six years here might only mean a couple hours there.”

“That doesn’t make it any less wrong for you to stay. Those couple hours might be the most crucial hours for your family. They might be fighting for their lives right now, they might be dying, for all we know! You need to come back to them, Five. You have to.”

Five forces a laugh, “Wait, what are you saying?”

She remained silent. Her tears were falling, biting her lips to conceal her tremble. A bitter feeling is brewing in his stomach now.

“Your family needs you and—”

“Okay, stop,” He stood from his seat with an offended look “Are you breaking up with me? On my birthday?”

She looks away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Goodness, you can’t be serious.”

“What choice do we have, Five? One way or another, you’d have to go back to your family. They need you—”

“And you? You don’t need me anymore?”

Her jaw clenches, “That’s beside the point.”

“No, that is the whole point, actually,” He argues, this time coming close to her “I love you, alright? Why is it so wrong for me to want to be with the person that I love? I’ve lived more than a lifetime alone, why can’t I have someone for once?”

“You don’t belong in this timeline. I—”

“I belong with you,” He cuts in “It’s not the timeline that matters, it’s where you are. I belong with you.”

If there’s anything she loves most about Five other than his gentle and caring nature towards her, it would be how adamant he is once he’s set his mind into something. There’s no doubt in her heart about the genuinity of his words. But as much as she’s grateful and touched over it, she knew that they could only spend so long before the guilt eats them whole.

She lets go of his hands softly, placing them on his cheeks instead. She admires him. The beautiful man that’s now standing in front of her with his heart on his sleeves, announcing his devotion to her on the day when he’s supposed to be the one showered with attention and love. His eyes were glossy, clearly conflicted.

“I love you, Five,” She whispers, gently caressing his skin as if it was their last goodbye “But I can’t keep you here, I can’t. I can’t keep you from your family.”

Five looks defeated, silent.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to them? If they’re okay? If they’ve figured out how to stop the apocalypse? Don’t you want to know?”

“I— I don’t know.” He answers “What I know is that I want to be with you.”

“I’ll always be with you, Love,” She reassures, kissing his cheek “I might not understand how this whole different timelines work, but I know that whichever timeline it is, whatever universe we live in, I will always belong to you. I will always be with you.”

And he finally cries. His tears flowing and wetting her palms. His heart shatters, finally succumbing to the guilt he’s tried so hard to bury and forget. He misses his family, he wanted so badly to get back and pick up where he left off, but would it be worth it? Would leaving everything here be worth it? Would leaving her be worth it?

“We’ll find our way,” She reassures, pulling the broken man into her embrace “You’ll find me in your timeline. Maybe we’ll meet at the grocery store, or at a bar, or perhaps at another train station.”

Five chuckles a little, letting a shaky breath as he asks, “And if we don’t?”

“We will,” She says firmly, giving a little space between them so they could gaze into each other’s face “I’m too much of a troublemaker and you’re too much of a problem solver for us to not meet. It’ll be too hard to ignore each other with our nature, Love. We’re bound to meet each other, in any timeline, in any universe. Trust me.”

The boy forces a smile. He leans in, kissing his lover gently as if she’d burst into petals if he pushed too much. Her hold around his neck feels different. Like she wasn’t looking for support but giving one instead. He could feel her trembling a little as his hands pulled her closer by the waist. Her heart is breaking too, as much as his is, but they knew that it’s inevitable. It’s only a matter of time before time pulls them apart and it certainly would be much more painful then.

“I’ll find you,” He whispers “I promise.”

—-

Canada is certainly much colder than home. Five rubs his hands and blows some air to his palms in hope to gain some warmth, but it’s obvious that the only comfort he’ll find in this weather is to get in Viktor’s bar and ask for some drink. That is, if Diego could start the car and get them going.

“It says here that Viktor’s bar is only five minutes by foot,” Klaus says “Who wants to run to the bar with me?”

“No one is getting out of this car!” Diego says in frustration, irritatedly trying his best to start the engine “We’re going to get to his bar together, in this car. That’s the whole point of a family road trip. We go to the bar by car, not by foot!”

“Yes, but it’s freezing here, Diego! The heater is not even on!” Alison argues.

“Well, it won’t be unless the engine is on.”

“No shit, Luther,” Ben says “I vote to run.”

Lila raises her hand, “Second to run.”

“No! No one is getting out of this car!” Diego yells once more, hitting the steering wheel frustratedly “I just need to—”

And by God’s miracle, the engine turns back on. Though their trip would soon reach its main destination, the bicker done by the family persists. The coldness of Canadian weather and how the heater broke almost twenty kilometres ago has made the seven heads’ temper raise. They really need to get to Viktor’s bar before they start to kill each other.

“I’m out of here,” Five announce as the car gets into the parking space of the bar. He space jumped inside, finding himself on one of the empty stools “Good to see you, Viktor.”

“Five,” VIktor greets, a little startled but his smile grows “You’re here. Where are the others?”

“Still figuring their way out to get here. Can I get whiskey on rocks?”

“On it.”

Five taps on the wooden table as he waits for his drink. His heart was content, as much as it might mean now. Their plan to stop the apocalypse worked. Viktor managed to take the marigold off of Ben before the Cleanse happened and now they’re trying to get back or rebuild their life. For once they finally managed to stop the apocalypse from happening.

Right after they succeeded in preventing the cleanse, Five found himself running to the subway station. He could still feel his feet burning from how fast he tried to get back to the station, wanting to jump in the train and go back to her timeline, but once he got there, the station vanished. There was no trace of it, no matter how many times he tried to run around and look for it. The subway is gone. She is gone.

Perhaps it was the price he has to pay for saving the universe. One’s happiness in exchange for the lives of millions doesn’t seem to be a hard sacrifice to make, but it’s still a tough pill for him to swallow. He knew that she would be proud. That she would hug and kiss him for doing all the hard work in saving the world. But the more he thinks about it, the more it stings for such touch would only be as good as a dream now.

“You ordered whiskey on rocks?” A voice asked, breaking his train of thoughts.

Five’s mouth went agape. He couldn’t tell if he was daydreaming or if this was some sick new power he gained from the marigold, but she was there. Standing right in front of him with a glass of whiskey in her hand.

“Viktor said his brother ordered whiskey on rocks, I assume that’s you?”

“I— Uh, yes,” He stammers, getting off the stool “You’re here.”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. In his heart he knew that they would meet again, that somehow the universe would let him keep both her and his family, but he never expected that it was true. He never expected that he would meet her again. Not this fast, not this way.

“Sorry?” She asks, raising an eyebrow “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Five said, shaking his head and taking the glass “Thank you.”

The girl smiles. It was a different smile than what he’s used to seeing. There wasn’t much love in her eyes, but he wasn’t in the position to complain. The girl he’s staring at and his lover might be the same person but she’s yet to know him here. She’s yet to know that he’s hers. She’s yet to know that he loves her. She’s yet to know that he belongs to her.

“Sorry, but have we met before?” She asks, still staring back at him “You look very familiar.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” He lied, offering his hand “I’m Five. Five Hargreeves. Viktor’s brother.”

She took his hand, telling him her name, “I didn’t know Viktor had a baby brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not really his baby brother. It’s— It’s complicated.” Five could feel his cheeks burning like a little boy, bashful “It’s a long story.”

“You mind telling me about it?” She asks, leaning on the table “I’ve got time. I love hearing stories.”

“I know you do,” He says with a big smile “Well, where do I start..”

[roguerogerss]

Show You How Much I Love You

Pairing: Michael Gray x Reader

W/C: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!!, the second half is just sex, bit of a praise kink, talk of injuries and blood (not related to the smut!)

Description: After Michael gets shot, you’ve been visiting him in the hospital every day. He has a realisation on his last day there, and when you get home, he shows you how much he’s missed you.

(took a lil break from writing tommy all the time - he will be back! promise! - and did a lil spin for michael. i’ve been OBSESSED with both of them recently. so proud of the smut in this bc it’s literally only my second full on smut!!! let me know what u think babes! b back with tommy shtuff sooooon)

—

You hated the hospital. The building always smelled of antiseptic, slightly bitter, but with the added scent of artificial fragrance contained in soaps and cleaning products. And what was worse, the smell would linger on your clothes and in your hair, even hours after you'd left, and you'd have to bathe after every time you visited, to avoid going to bed smelling like death.

"Morning, Miss L/N." The nurses had gotten to know you over the last five weeks, and they'd always greet you when you came to visit. As much as you hated the hospital, and it's smell, the nurses made your visits very slightly more bareable.

"Good morning, Margaret." You sighed, smoothing your hair down and fixing the fur collar of your coat. "How is he, today?"

"He's had some great news today, ma'am. I think you'll be delighted." Margaret smoothed a hand over your back and then hurried off, the nurses were always on the run. You wondered what news your boyfriend could possibly have gotten that would've delighted you, considering all you'd had the past five weeks was more death, upset, and terrible news.

You climbed the stairs, still fussing over your hair, and your coat, and pulling out a small, pocket mirror to fix your lipstick in. You always ended up going to the hospital dressed like a model, because Michael had told you the first time that seeing you all dressed up had been the only thing he was looking forward to.

You plucked a cigarette from your pocket, and balanced it between your lips as you reached his room, "Miss L/N! No smoking, please! It's not allowed.", You waved the nurse off.

You took a slow drag from your cigarette, filling your lungs, and then pushed the door to Michael's room open. You beamed when you saw him, standing by his bed, something he hadn't done for the entirety of his time in recovery.

He held his arms out when he saw your smile, smiling himself, as though he was presenting a gift to you. "Well?"

"Oh my God, Michael!" You ran for him, giggling as you did, and you were met with a grunt when you dived into his arms. Michael stumbled backwards slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, before regaining his balance. His chest stung in all the places he'd been shot, but he didn't care too much. You looked so happy, something you hadn't been since finding out about the mafia, and he wasn't going to take that away from you.

"Jesus." He laughed at your excitement, "I'm still sore, sweetheart."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just...You look so much better."

"I feel better. They've been doing physical therapy the past few days, getting me up on my feet, finally got up on my own today."

"Margaret told me you'd had good news, was it this?"

"This, and," He reached behind him and produced a piece of paper from the bedside cabinet. The words "Discharge Notice" were printed in black at the top of the page. "This."

You gasped, "You're getting out? Today?"

"Yes." He nodded, and you clasped a hand over your mouth, ready to squeal with excitement. Michael interrupted, grasping your wrist between his fingers, "But, love, I'd have to stay with you, so it's only if you'll have me. If it'll be too much of a bother, I can stay here-"

"Michael, don't be daft." You moved your hand from your mouth, to press each palm to Michael's cheeks. "Of course I'll have you. It'd be my pleasure."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, so that your noses were touching. "Are you sure? It's not going to be pretty for the first couple of weeks. Changing bandages, cleaning bullet holes-"

"Michael." You interrupted him quickly, thumb swiping over a small, stitched scar on his cheek. "Of course I'm sure. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we moved in together, anyway, wasn't it? I suppose, it's not under the circumstances we'd like it to have been, but I want to do it."

A comfortable silence fell on the room, Michael was simply smiling, green eyes exploring yours. You ran your fingers over the new scars on his face, and found yourself frowning when you reached a particularly deep one, straight through his eyebrow. He breathed out, "I love you, so much."

You'd never heard anyone say anything with such passion, but Michael had never meant something more in his life. Tommy always spoke about feeling like you'd been pardoned by God when you should've died, and everything else being extra, borrowed time. He didn't think he could live another day without helping you to feel exactly how much you meant to him.

"I love you too, Michael." He was hardly listening to you, just thinking about things he needed to say to you.

"More than anything, you know that, don't you?" He continued. You looked at him, eyes full of concern.

"What's going on?" You were convinced there was something really wrong that he wasn't telling you about.

"Nothing's going on, my love." Michael smoothed your hair down comfortingly, chewing on the side of his lip while he thought about what to say next. "I nearly died, Y/N. I should've died, John did, and he didn't get to tell Esmé that he loved her again. I need you to know what you mean to me. Need you to know how much I love you."

He let his forehead fall against yours, sighed, and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears were threatening to fall, and he knew you'd get upset if you saw him cry. But you'd already sensed he was unsettled, and you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then to his nose, and then to his lips, he loved how loving you were.

"I'm going to show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me. As soon as I can, I'll help you around the house, I'll do everything I can for you." He clasped his hands together at the back of your neck, holding you far enough away that he could really look at you, breaths slightly shaky. "And when I'm better, really better, I mean, I want to marry you."

Your eyes widened, you supposed you might've looked scared to anyone who didn't know you too well. "Michael-"

"I'm serious. If I asked you, right now, to be my wife-"

You shook your head, a grin making it's way onto your face now. "Michael-"

"Will you marry me?" He sounded so serious. You'd spoken about getting married before, and you'd both meant what you'd said, but you hadn't expected he'd ask you so soon. You'd been together just over a year, but you were both still young, and nearly four months of your relationship had just been casual nights together.

"Are you proposing to me?" You were really smiling now. As much as you were young, and as much as you hadn't quite expected this, you were excited. Of course you wanted to marry Michael.

"If that's what you want this to be." He was smiling down at you, grasping both of your hands in his own. He’d have gotten down on one knee if he could’ve, and he felt a slight pang of guilt knowing this wasn’t quite the proposal you’d probably hoped for.

But you didn’t care. Growing up, you’d wanted a big wedding, with a big proposal beforehand, but having someone who you loved as much as you loved Michael, he could’ve proposed to you at a funeral and you’d have said yes. “Well, if that's what's happening, then yes."

"You'll marry me?" The surprise in his voice was completely unmasked. He’d had no idea you’d actually say yes.

"Yes. Yes, Michael, I'll marry you." You felt yourself doing a little jump up and down out of excitement.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious!"

Michael arms were around your waist, now, picking you up from the ground and kissing you, completely ignoring the burn in his chest. Your lips always felt made for eachother when he kissed you, and this time was no different, if not even better. You hadn’t been kissing him half as much as you normally would, what with everything going on, and it almost felt desperate, needy.

"Tomorrow, I'll go out, and I'll buy you a ring, alright? Tommy owes me money, I'll use that to buy you the biggest one I can find." You laughed at Michael's excitement. "But this is official. We're engaged, love."

"We're engaged." You repeated, tears in your eyes, and let Michael take your face in his hands and kiss you again. You couldn't quite believe what had just happened - truth be told, neither could Michael - and you certainly didn't ever expect it to happen in a hospital room, but you were excited nonetheless.

"Come on, I've got all of my things packed, let's go home."

-

As soon as you stepped through the door to your apartment, you were apologising to Michael for the "state of the place". You weren't entirely used to having him round, and so felt you had to explain the little messes that you'd often leave laying around.

"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess. I've not been home too often. And it's not as big as yours, I know-"

Michael stopped you before you rambled on about how the fireplace wasn't lit, and you hadn't washed your dishes from that morning, and how you'd left all of your makeup out on the bathroom vanity because you hadn't time to put it away.

"Stop it." He soothed you, pressing a finger to your lips and looking around at your ground floor flat. It certainly wasn't much, but he actually liked your house better than his own. It was smaller, and therefore cozier, and he found the looks he got from neighbours the morning after you'd slept together funny, knowing they'd heard you screaming his name the night before. "It's perfect."

You smiled, half-heartedly, and gestured to the living room doorway, "Here, you can lay down on the sofa, and I can make some lunch. What would you like? Oh, and when do I have to change your bandages, do you remember?" You swung open the kitchen cabinet, searching through the groceries you'd bought the day before. "I'm not sure what I could make. I can go to the store, I think it should still be open-"

"Love, stop." Michael stepped closer to you, hands settling on each of your shoulders. "Just take a minute, calm down, we've got time."

"I know. I know, I just-"

"Don't." He let a hand slip down your arm and into your own, "You've said yes to marrying me today, I'm very much happy dealing with your unwashed dishes, and you can make me lunch any time, now, okay? I'm here to stay."

"Come on, fiancé." Michael grinned at you. "Lay with me, please? Missed you."

You sighed, and turned to close the cabinet door behind you. You were quick to stress yourself out, and normally you'd argue that you couldn't just lay down and forget about the things you needed to do, but you'd missed him too. "Okay."

Michael led you down the hallway and into your bedroom, he'd been here before, but you'd spend most of your time together at his house or at the office, so it felt strange having him in your bedroom. He was one to make himself at home, and today was no different. As soon as he reached your bed, the shirt that he was wearing was unbuttoned and on the floor, and he was sprawled out on top of the sheets, gesturing for you to join him.

You tried to lay down next to him, but he had other plans, hands reaching out to grip your hips and pull you on top of him, one knee on either side of his torso. "Michael!" You giggled.

"Oh, come on. I haven't had any time alone with you in over a month." His hands started to make their way under your dress, and you almost let him, until you snapped back to reality and noticed the bandage wrapped around his body.

"I know." You wanted to, you really wanted to, but you found yourself smacking his hand away before he was able to get past your thigh. "But you're still recovering."

"I'm fit enough." He raised an eyebrow at you, and you were certainly considering it. He could definitely be very convincing, when he wanted to.

"Are you sure?" You stuck your bottom lip out, pouting at him.

"I'm sure, baby." His hands found their way to your waist, and he was looking up at you with what you could only describe as hunger in his eyes, jaw clenched. He made it so hard for you to say no. "Come on, let me prove it to you. Let me show you how much I love you.”

"I don't know, Michael-"

"Please, sweetheart." He interrupted you, "Missed your body. Been so desperate for you."

Hearing him say he was desperate for you had a knot growing in your stomach. You sighed, weighing up the options you had, but ultimately deciding that you'd both be unable to think about anything else if you didn't have sex.

"Okay. Alright, but if you feel like you need to stop, you stop. Okay?"

"I will. Thank you, darling." You could feel him hardening through his trousers, and it had you biting down hard on your lips, having been waiting for this moment to come since he could sit up straight. He'd teased you while in the hospital, talked dirty, touched you every now and again, but it was hard to find a time when a nurse wasn't going to walk in and scold him for being too active, and Polly wasn't going to come in for a visit. "Now, come here."

He pushed himself up, back against the headboard, and dipped his head to connect your lips. It was fast, rough, a clash of teeth and tongue and lips, he'd missed you, and you were making it clear that you'd thought about him for the entire time he'd been in the hospital.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer so that you were chest to chest. He could feel his wounds burning when your torso collided with his, but the taste of your lips on his and the feeling of having you so close again quickly dissolved any discomfort he felt.

He was so needy for you, hips bucking upwards to meet yours, hands sliding down to grip your hips, you thought it was the hottest you'd ever seen him. "Fuck, Michael." You gasped out as his lips found your neck, head falling back.

He groaned at the sound of you moaning for him, he'd been waiting to touch you for so long. "Need you, pretty girl. We've got plenty of time for other things later, but I need to be inside you right now."

You didn't need to say another word, you simply nodded and helped him to unbuckle his belt while you hiked your dress up above your waist. His fingers grazed over your lingerie, and you mewled, the feeling almost too much. "Jesus, baby, you're so wet already. Haven't even done anything yet."

"Missed you so much, Michael." You breathed out, an answer to his statement, and simply a statement in itself.

"Missed you too, princess." You loved when he called you pet names.

You watched as he freed himself from his underwear, and his cock sprung up, hard and ready for you. "You're hard already." You mocked his words, and he laughed.

Neither of you wasted any time with foreplay, your panties were ripped off and on the floor with one flick of Michael's wrist, and he was lifting you off of him slightly, and guiding you back down onto his cock.

The feeling of him sliding into you again was euphoric for both of you. You hadn't had sex in more than a month, as opposed to usually being borderline sex addicts, and you knew you wouldn't last long.

You both let out pornographic moans as he bottomed out, Michael's face said it all. His mouth hung open, eyebrows knitted together, eyes wide, you were so tight, he could've came at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

"Fuck, not gonna last long, honey." His forehead fell against yours and he screwed his eyes shut, just revelling in how good you felt around him. "Are you alright?" He asked, hand holding and stroking your waist lovingly. He was big, and you were so used to him before that you hardly needed any time to adjust, but with being away from eachother for so long, he was almost too much to handle.

"I'm okay. Give me a second. Feel so full." You were breathing heavily, shifting around. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, just a lot to take.

Michael ran his fingers through your hair, soothing you and pressing kisses to your forehead. "Taking me so well, baby. Just take your time."

"Fuck," You moaned, you loved when he was sweet to you in bed. You'd told him months ago that you thought it might've been your biggest turn on. "You can move."

Michael looked up at you, just for an extra check that you were truly alright, and, upon finding no sign that you weren't, bucked his hips up to meet yours. You almost screamed, he knew exactly what spots to hit, and he did every time without fail.

You bounced on him, his hands helping you, lifting you off of him and bringing you straight back down at new angles every time. "You feel so good, Mike."

"Fuck, good girl. That's a good girl." Michael let his forehead drop onto your collarbone, watching your tits bounce up and down. You were so beautiful, he often wondered how he'd gotten so lucky. "Tell me how good I'm making you feel."

"So, so good. Missed your cock so much. Love it so much." Your words were slightly slurred, eyes starting to droop. He loved watching you, how much of a mess you'd get, just from riding his cock.

His hands found your tits, massaging them and twisting your nipples, which always had you screaming for him, and today was no different. "Feel good?"

"Feels fucking amazing." He thrust into you at just the right angle, which had you gasping and digging your nails into his back, leaving little red half moons on his shoulder blades. "Oh, right there, Mike.”

"Shit, baby, are you close?" You were clenching around him so tightly, "Can feel it, you're close."

"I'm so close." You moaned, you were certain your upstairs neighbours would hear you, the walls and ceilings were thin, and Michael was making you yell out in pleasure.

"Me too. Almost there, sweetheart. Hang on for me." He increased his speed, making it even harder for you to hold on, and making your moans fall from your lips even louder than before.

"I don't think I can, Mike." Your legs were shaking like crazy, and you could feel his dick tensing inside of you. You needed to come so badly.

"I said hold on. You can hold it." His face was stern as he said it, dominant side coming out as he grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him, bucking his hips at the same time. He was going to make this so good for you.

"Fuck, Michael, please." You threw your head back. You felt his cock twitch, and a loud moan come from him, he was going to come.

"Alright, baby, come. Come with me."

Your throat was hoarse from moaning as loudly as you were, but it didn't stop you from screaming his name as your walls tightened around him and you came undone. The feeling of his cum painting your insides never got old, always made you feel like you could go at least another few rounds.

"Oh my God." You panted, collapsing onto his chest as he lay back on the bed. You both lay there, breathing heavily, sweaty messes, for a few minutes. You didn't think you could move very far, your legs were shaking against him.

"Jesus, have I missed this." Michael kissed the top of your head through quick, harsh breaths.

"I've missed this so much." You agreed, heart pounding.

You lifted your head, just enough to see that there were a few speckles of blood seeping through the bandage that was wrapped around his torso. "You're bleeding, baby. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He nodded, and reached over to your bedside cabinet to grab the small alarm clock that sat there. It read two o’clock. Michael grinned at you.

"Time to change the bandages."

[wildfoxes-spirit]

I'm going through some shit and just need to rant

Some history about everything: I have been in three different states and gone through twice as many schools. I started reading in preschool, I was in the younger class so around 3 years old. At first the teachers thought that I had just memorized the book but my mom got me a book from the library and I read it to her. Because of this I got to go and spend time with the 4 year olds for half of the day. I think this was when the troubles really started. I could have skipped kindergarten but that required doing all of the work in half of the year. My parents didn't want me to have to do that so we just kept me we're I was. I'm almost about to finish 8th grade and this is going to be really long. I had a speech delay when I was learning. I knew that my mom knew what I wanted so I didn't even try to learn and had to go to speech therapy for a year or two I think. And then I had a really bad British accent despite being from the United States.

The trouble with school started back in first grade when I was doing hybrid school. 3 days online and 2 days in person. My mom and I would get into fights over one subject in particular. Writing. It would take a good two hours to do 30 minutes of writing. This was when I was still practicing letters. Well we had switched schools so I wasn't in the same school that I was. This was a traditional school five days a week in person. Well this was when I got my first glasses. We had gone to the eye doctor before school started and I had no issues. But one day my teacher had a page up on the screen that we had to copy down and I couldn't read it. She zoomed in quite a bit and I even moved closer but still couldn't see. Yeah, my prescription is pretty thick now. Anyways the lines were redrawn in the middle of the year so I moved schools. The first year wasn't to bad but the third is when things escalated. I HATED school in third grade. Absolutely HATED it. I didn't ride the bus anymore because it was to crowded and I didn't like it. Also this was around the time fortnight came out and little me was very against it because, and I quote, "people are going to try to replicate it in real life and eventually they will use real guns instead" I had a good family, lived in a good area, I don't know where I got the idea. But that's always how I've been, even now I'm critical but I'll get to that later. I had really bad migraines had a child and had to learn how to swallow pills earlier because that was the only form the medication came in. But the migraines were so bad that I missed a lot of school because I would throw up halfway through the day because the lights were making it worse.

I had to get dragged out of my mom's car most of the time and I was left kicking and screaming. It was bad. I was also a biter during this time so my mom would have large bruises on her art from where I bit her. I sat in the principals more then once just so that I was in the building. What's stupid is that I was right by the door. I would reach for it from the chair but I probably could have made it if I just bolted. I knew how to get home to, the school wasn't that far. Eventually we developed a system: if I came in without a fuss I could spend some time building a Lego set, but if I gave mom a hard time I had to go straight to class. I think it was the special ed room and teachers that did that but I don't remember. I could also go there if there was an assembly of any kind in the gym. I was REALLY sensitive to crowds and loud noises back then, still am but way less. So it worked for a while but it ended up a struggle again. I didn't participate in one of the biggest assignments and just kinda... slumped. I'm actually crying as I'm writing this while laying in bed at 10:06 EST.

I got tested at the end of third grade before we left Indiana for Texas. They thought that I might have autism but further testing would be required. I don't remember when I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. So we move to Texas and I start fourth grade. It's a great start. Some days were rougher then others but there was one time when my mom came for lunch and I was begging her to take me home with her. Like lunch ended and I had to be pried off her and was placed in an isolated room with an adult to watch me. My teachers had never seen me like this before so they were shocked and disappointed. Everyone was disappointed. The next year I moved schools again. A school had been built on the hill behind our house. Things were mostly okay. There were two subs that I didn't like tho. It was a married couple and they did jack shit. I'm reading class one day we were supposed to be working on something in groups but the sub was telling a story of his time in the military. I was 10 at this point and I raised my hand and pointed out that we had shit to work on and his story was incredibly distracting and unnecessary. I don't remember what he said but when I got home I was in tears. There was one other time we're his wife was subbing for our math class while our teacher was in a meeting and I straight up left the classroom without notifying anyone. I took my work and I did it out in the common area. When the teacher came back, and only then, did I re-enter the classroom. Oh and before we moved autism was ruled out and I was diagnosed with ADHD instead (I have the mix version)

That brings us up to 6th,7th and 8th. 6th grade was covid, there's not much. I hated the program of the school I was at because I was doing virtual. Did I mention we moved states again? The program was reviewing stuff that I already knew so when I switched schools to be at the one that I'm currently at they were reviewing for the end of the year test. 7th was a rollercoaster but not to important. I dated for the first time (and last), got in official detention... Fun. What I really want to talk about is 8th.

How many of you remember your 8th grade year. Was it as shit as mine currently is? I find myself critical of everything. I hate when there's a sub, not only does it thow me off but it means that I'm most likely to sit out in the hallway to I don't murder someone. A lot of the subs are incompetent. They don't keep the brats in like and have even made it worse. If someone could meet the brats from doing shit they shouldn't be the maybe, MAYBE, my sanity wouldn't buy dropping. I find that I'm a lot more mature then most of the brats. It's like putting an adult with toddlers. I'm also a bit of a control freak sometimes. But more often then not I have wanted to disappear from the face of the earth because I can't put up with the . I would be a horrible parent. Good thing I'm not having kids. And I can't tell what sent me into depressive episode 54, I don't think ADHD, depression, and being on my period was a good combo and yet here I am.

I would roast some of them but apparently arson is illegal

Why am I still here? Is it really worth crying at 10:40EST about life? I mean does anyone truly believe in me? i don't. Why did I have to be such a fuck up. I was a pain in the ass from the moment I was supposed to be born. I didn't want to come into this world and I still don't want to be here. Do my friends ever notice when I'm there? Would they even care if I stopped talking? Why am I always an outsider no matter who I'm with. Am I even going to be able to survive out there? All I can do is draw and hide.

[mitch-the-simp]

A Taste of a Stronger Medicine than His Own (Joshu x Fem! Yandere! Reader)

a request from @nobodyimportant666777 It took me some time, but at the end, the inspo hit me like a truck and I had to finish this ASAP! Honestly very proud of this- Hope you like ittt!!! <3 tw: Stalking, mentions of indecent thoughts, controlling behavior, yandere.

The world was never a fair place for outcasts like us… (Y/n) thought to herself, staring longingly at her beloved Joshu. Oh she hated how he just adored Yasuho, but she didn't see him at all. If she was her, she'd take the chance. Oh to be with such a man as Joshu… She sighed happily again, doodling on her sketchbook. Little heart here and there, a few realistic drawings of Joshu all over the page. She ran her hand down the length of the paper and then looked up at him.

Across the park, Joshu was eating a sandwich with Josuke and Yasuho. Of course, the idiot thought this was a date between him and Yasuho (with Josuke third wheeling). Truth was, it was simply a hang out between friends. Still, whatever made Joshu come and chill with them.

"Mmm! These are good, Yasuho. How did you find that sandwich place?" Josuke asked with his mouth full.

"Oh, Joshu was the one who found it, actually. He seems to have a knack " Yasuho smiled.

(Y/n) grumbled, gritting her teeth. She was sketching Joshu again but stopped. She observed and listened carefully to their conversation as if Yasuho had just insulted her.

"Well, he is a loner, so it only makes sense he knows about where to be alone." Josuke joked.

(Y/N) gripped the pencil with rage, managing to snap it in half from the force she exposed due to her anger.

Josuke seemed to hear it, but didn't pay it any mind since he was laughing at Joshu's attempt to defend himself.

"Hey! I'm not a loner, you asshole!"

'You're right, Joshu. You're not a loner; I'll always be there with you so you're never alone." (Y/N) mumbled to herself. She checked her watch and saw the time. It was about time for her to begin her piano lessons.

Ugh.…she probably shouldn't postpone them anymore than she'd already done. It's been five weeks since she's started following Joshu more and sometimes it would lead her to postpone important events.

Joshu was more important than anything, after all.

She got up from her seat and walked past the group. Unable to avoid gazing at her beloved Joshu, she looked him directly in the eye as she shyly held her sketchbook in her arms. She was in pure bliss as he stared back (though his stare was one of curiosity and confusion).

As if acting like a shy school girl, she turned around and ran off. Of course, she was going to continue to follow him around later.

Once she left, the group raised eyebrows at each other.

"Joshu, do you know her?" Josuke asked.

"I don't even know that girl, I've seen her a few times around town, but never spoken to her. She's all ways got that sketchbook and she's always drawing something. Judging by her appearance, she's probably drawing something dirty." He smirked.

"The worse part, is that if it is something dirty, it was probably about you." Yasuho spoke, this time in a bit more of serious term.

"What?! I don't even know her, why would she even do that?!" Joshu exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"Yeah… Every time we hang out, we've seen her somewhere. When we're hanging out just us two, she's always somewhere nearby." Josuke explained.

"Yeah! When I'm hanging out with you only, she's also there, Joshu." Yasuho added.

"She's probably just to shy to talk to us or something. You know, she does look like a nerd." Joshu shrugged.

"No, I don't think it's that. When it's just me and Yasuho, she's not around at all." Josuke responded.

"JUST YOU AND YA-"

"JOSHU, THAT'S NOT THE POINT! THE POINT IS SHE'S PROBABLY STALKING YOU, MAN! Geez, you're dense…" Josuke fussed.

"She's been creeping around, a lot… she goes to our University too. So chances are she probably is."

Joshu paused to think and process what he'd just been told. It seemed to barely sink in…

"I don't really know what to say. She's cute or whatever, but I don't think 'm conferrable with the idea of being stalked…" Joshu mumbled.

"Just careful when you see her. Maybe confronting her right away isn't the best idea. Try to gather evidence that she's stalking you." Yasuho advised.

"Yeah.…But, you know? It sounds kinda hot to be stalked by a girl. She's probably really obsessed with me… man… that sounds like some twisted fantasy that would only be true in a movie…" He sighed.

"Joshu, you're fucking weird…"

"WHATEVER-"

༶•┈┈🔩┈⚙⚙┈🔩┈┈•༶

It had only been a few weeks, and the closer she admired him, the more euphoria she felt.

It was something she couldn't hold back. She couldn't help but feel more addicted to him by the second. Joshu was her very reason why she breathed. Oh what she would give for a few seconds of his attention…

Anyway, this was why she was observing him through a camera. But not just any camera. She'd installed this one in his room while he was in his classes (she had to skip her's of course). And at the moment she was enjoying the sight of him napping lazily on his improvised room in the garage.

"Oh my beautiful Joshu…" She chuckled.

Joshu stood up from his bed in a sudden manner.

"Who the hell said that!?" He exclaimed.

Fuck, she'd pressed the microphone button… Had he been more observant lately because of her? Had he noticed her presence? This... made her happy in the slightest. But she didn't wanna get caught... Was it Josuke and Yasuho? That bitch Yasuho and that asshole with the four balls! They'd alerted him, hadn't they? WHY COULDN'T THEY LEAVE HER TO BE HAPPY WITH JOSHU!? THEY ALREADY TORMENTED HIM ENOUGH! THE WORLD WAS ALREADY SUCH AN ASSHOLE TO HER JOSHU! That's why she hated everyone but her Joshu... her beloved Joshu... everyone was against him... and they all deserved nothing but resentment from her. "HEY! I ASKED YOU A FUCKING QUESTION! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?" Joshu asked. "My name is (L/N) (Y/N)." She spoke. Absolutely no hesitation. She had no other choice but to try and secure him as son as possible. "I've been watching you for some time, Joshu..." She chuckled giddily. "Are you that girl that Josuke and Yasuho said that has been following me around?" He asked, seeming a bit pissed. "SO IT WAS THEM-... Sorry for the outburst, baby. But yes, that would be me... I've been admiring you from afar... but I'm tired of you walking right past me." "Hey, look, I don't know why you like me, but this shit's gotta stop. I don't even know you!?" Joshu yelled. "Oh, you might not know me well... but I know you so perfectly well, my beloved Joshu~" She giggled. "The fuck?" "Yeah, I know your schedule by heart. I know you don't like spending money that belongs to you. And I know how much you hate that asshole Josuke." She chuckled. "Yeah, I do hate him- BUT WHY THE HELL ARE YOU EVEN STALKING ME FOR?!" Joshu yelled, moving his hands almost as if he was attempting to threten the camera. "Simple. You're the most beautiful man to even exist. So clever, charming and funny." She sighed. "HEY! FLATTERY WON'T GET YOU ANYWHERE, BITCH!" "Oh, right! I interrupted your nap! I almost forgot. I'll be silent while you sleep, but I'll still be watching you. Just soyou know, you look so cute when you sleep~ I'll see you tomorrow, in the usual spot.~<3" She giggled, then silence. "WHAT- What the fuck does the usual spot mea-... The park... You coming to the park tomorrow, you creepy bitch?!" He screamed, shaking the camera. | No answer. Fuck. She was keeping her fucking word... He'd have to wait until tomorrow... Fuck. ༶•┈┈🔩┈⚙⚙┈🔩┈┈•༶ Hey Guys! Hope you enjoyed ittt!! Remember, requests are always open and I'm always searching to write something! The Bitch themselves, ~Mitch <3

[lepusrufus]

Lil' Mia and Miranda thing since I dragged you guys down the rarepair hell with me~

---

Lab equipment was really not meant to blend well within a lived-in home. And it didn't. The plush carpet on top of wooden floors giving way to the smooth lab flooring that squeaked under boots not appropriate for the setting created an odd contrast. Not that that was uncharacteristic for Miranda, any of her workspaces falling perfectly under the description of an organized mess, with particular emphasis on mess.

With Rose sleeping peacefully in the room generously, suspiciously so, provided by Miranda, Mia decided to stretch her legs by walking around the manor, the baby monitor connected to her phone. The building was relatively big, albeit quite old, tucked in the woods somewhere between the Beneviento house and the factory, with a tunnel conveniently connecting it to the labs running under the town. It had close to no spatial organization, bedrooms and labs and storage rooms alternating by patterns known only by the so-called goddess, or most likely not even by her.

Mia did not trust the woman. Not with the memories of the prison cell and the kidnapping of her daughter for experiments still fresh in her mind. But, the tiredness of motherhood and the odd loneliness that came with being the only two inhabitants of the house that were capable of coherent speech as of now, had her longing for some company.

It was an easy task finding Miranda, the soft cries of Eva guiding her down a short hallway to a lab door left ajar. Inside, the woman was sat at a desk, a laptop with half written reports and notes in front of her, pushed out of the grasp of the fussing infant in her arms. Miranda was far too busy trying to calm her daughter down enough to fall asleep to notice Mia leaning on the doorframe, curiously observing the scene. Oddly human, in her failing attempt to get her child to stop crying, when at any given time she could get anyone to kneel before her and bend over backwards to her every whim. Yet a small infant was giving her so much trouble.

"Need a hand?" Mia offered with a small chuckle. Should she even offer her help?

"I am fine thank you." But a slightly louder wail from Eva came with perfect timing to disprove her words.

Miranda's shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly as her eyes closed slowly, the usual makeup replaced by dark circles, testimony to the long hours spent going through decades of research and reports while also caring for her newly reborn daughter. It was oddly bittersweet, to see a woman so dignified otherwise all but beg the small child to go to sleep so she could finish her work.

Work, Mia concluded, that was rather essential for the whole place, and also her home for now, to continue existing the way it was. With a sigh she walked up to the desk and gently stoked Eva's short brunette hair. "Here, let me hold her. At least until you finish typing whatever it is you're doing," she said waving a hand in the direction of the forgotten computer, who's screen had turned black by now.

There were a few long seconds of hesitation, but a weary glance at the mountain of files on the other side of the desk that she was yet to go through convinced Miranda to finally allow her daughter slip into Mia's arms. It took maybe five minutes of cooing and a one sided conversation made in silly voices to turn the cries into giggles, small hands trying to grasp at Mia's finger that was ticklishly caressing puffy cheeks. Exhausted from crying, Eva's eyes slowly fluttered shut and she was gingerly lowered into a crib set by the desk, one of the many scattered around the house.

Miranda watched the scene unfold with uncharacteristic softness slipping by the icy mask of her steely eyes. Even goddesses can be caught by surprise it seemed, and whether it was due to the apparent skills that Mia had with calming Eva down or at how she was willing to help despite their precarious position was up to debate.

"Shouldn't you be better at this," Mia asked, pulling one of the chairs closer to sit in. "I know it's been, what, two or three centuries or something but haven't you done this before?"

Her question was obviously poking fun for the most part, but Miranda couldn't help the tired sigh that crawled its way from the depths of her now useless lungs.

"No, actually. I haven't," she responded curtly as she grabbed one of the files and opened it in order to transcribe its contents in a digital file. "At least not on my own," she added upon remembering the numerous subjects she helped raise during her time working with The Connections.

"Oh? Did you have a sweet loving husband once upon a time? Do tell me more," Mia said leaning her chin on her palms as if she were a teenager at a sleepover talking about crushes, although the memory of Ethan clawing its way to the forefront of her thoughts made her grimace slightly, until she pushed it back down in the depths of her mind.

It was foolish perhaps, acting like that around a woman that could, and would with the right motivation, kill her in the blink of an eye. Truth be told though, Mia was bored out of her mind, so what better way to pass the time than push Miranda's buttons, especially when she seemed too tired to retaliate.

The so-called goddess grimaced, at least ten different reasons to find the thought outrageous flashing through her mind and, settling on the most obvious one, looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "I was a nun."

Mia leaned back in her chair, looking at the black head covering hanging from a hook behind the door, together with black robes. She had to wonder if they were the same ancient ones or if she replaced them every once in a while.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," she chuckled. "A nun turned goddess. How ironic don't you think."

"Worshipping was never quite up my alley. And neither were men," she replied flatly, turning the pages in front of her and typing the relevant information in the file she had open on the screen.

Mia's eyes widened slightly with an amused oh. "So was she raised by the convent then?"

Was this information really to be given out? Mirada did not like talking about her past, or personal information in general. Gods did not need backstories, they simply were.

She sighed. "No, no. Her parents died when she was four and with nobody else to look for her, she was brought to us." Miranda gave a small shrug, pausing to type up decades old results on lycans. "I was the newest there, so the nuns dumped her on me. I was so mad at first, but she's always been such a brilliant little girl, even back then. She would ask for a bedtime story and did not complain when I'd start reading from one of the medical books I stole from the merchant. There was just something about her that made her grow on me."

With the paragraph done, she pushed her chair back, quietly so as to not have its legs scratch against the linoleum floor, and walked to another, smaller desk pushed against a wall. From there, she walked back to the crib where the small infant was sleeping peacefully, a small doll in hand. Doll that Mia recognized immediately, as an identical one was by her own daughter's sleeping form, back in their room. It was a small replica of Angie, plush and soft to the touch, unlike its real life wooden counterpart, the white dress made of delicate silk. Both toys had been made by Donna herself as gifts.

"But as you can guess, she was well past a toddler when she was placed in my care," Miranda finished, leaving the doll just by her sleeping daughter's side.

"So you suck with babies," Mia concluded with a grin. She would have laughed, but had enough clarity of mind to be quiet.

Miranda simply gave her a tired glare before rolling her eyes. She went back to her desk and opened a new file to be transcribed, this one on the reservoir's structure.

"I can care for them," she started, an odd almost imperceptible strain in her voice. "It just gets trickier when it's my own daughter and not an act."

Mia nodded absent mindedly, eyes darting to Eva. To see a woman with such power and ruthlessness, who could level the whole town to the ground if she so pleased, show such raw genuine affection towards the child made some of the notions in her brain crumble to the ground. Miranda was still the same woman who, ironically enough, experimented on more children than she cared to count, but then again Mia was also a willing participant in said experiments so was she really that much better?

She definitely was, Mia concluded, choosing to ignore a small pang at her heart when she watched all the ice in those gray eyes melt into tenderness while looking at her daughter. Instead, she started toying with one of the many pens scattered on the desk.

"Since I'm staying here, I don't mind helping you out with her," Mia said quietly, keeping her eyes on the small giraffe doodle she was doing on a napkin.

It wasn't for Miranda's sake really. She simply wanted the best for Eva, the child completely innocent unlike the atrocities committed by her mother throughout the last few centuries. Besides, it would be nice for Rose to have a friend not unlike herself, given the yet to be understood power both girls possessed.

"There's no need-"

"Consider it a thank you for letting us stay here, without a sniper pointing at my daughter's head at all times," Mia finished, a slither of ire slipping into her tone on the last words, the memory of a rookie agent panicking and pointing his gun to Rose for the unforgivable crime of being a hungry crying child seared behind her eyelids.

Miranda sighed, an odd sense of relief washing over her. After centuries of trying to bring her back, you'd think the she would do anything to spend each and every second with Eva, not letting anyone else care for her in any capacity, but truth be told, the prospect of not facing motherhood completely alone, even if Mia was helping her solely out of some sense of obligation, did not sound half bad.

"As you wish," she finally said, going back to the half written paragraph her mind drifted away from minutes earlier.

[swordandquill]

Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Ch 2: Fussing - Nate has to choose between supervising a shopping spree or supervising a grumpy hitter. He definitely chooses the lesser evil.

Author’s Note: I still don’t know where this story is going or when the next update will be. 

Many, many thanks to @whumpybliss for beta reading this chapter!

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

"I know what you're trying to do."

Eliot's glare was less impressive than usual, but Nate still would have bet his money on him. Not that he wouldn't always bet on Eliot, and with things much more valuable to him than money.

"Trying to get you to eat saltines, so you don't throw up when you take the prescription strength anti-inflammatories I know you have in your bag?" Nate waved the open sleeve of crackers in front of the hitter.

"Stop fussing," Eliot snapped and snatched the sleeve out of Nate's hand.

Now that Parker had pointed it out, Nate could clearly see Eliot was favoring his left arm. Or, possibly because Parker had pointed it out, Eliot was putting less effort into hiding it.

"They shouldn't be in there alone," Eliot pulled a few crackers out of the sleeve and shoved it back at Nate.

"They're not alone," Nate swapped the sleeve for a water bottle from the grocery bag at his feet, "they have each other. We might be living off of orange soda and Trix for the next two weeks, but I think they'll get each other out of the store in one piece."

Eliot gave him a dubious look but refrained from talking with his mouth full.

"Anyway, I'm listening," Nate tapped the comm he had slipped into his ear.

"Where's my…?" Eliot frowned and tried to reach behind the seat for his bag, wincing hard at the twisting motion.

"Stop it," Nate thumped his side lightly with the back of his hand, "I've got them. Parker hasn't managed to convince Sophie that Froot Loops are both a vegetable and a fruit. Sophie is giving her tips on being persuasive, and Hardison doesn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but one of them has made it into the basket."

"How have they made it this far without dying of malnutrition?" Eliot let his head flop back against the headrest.

"Cereal is fortified," Nate said dryly and poked Eliot with the water bottle, "which bag are your meds in?"

"It can wait until we get to the cabin," Eliot grabbed the offending bottle away without opening his eyes.

Nate didn't have to wrangle an injured Eliot often. Most of the time, he was more than capable of managing his own injuries. When he wasn't, Nate usually let Parker take the lead in poking and prodding while he helped Hardison track down whatever medical help their hitter needed.

Parker needed to burn off some energy, though, and Nate would rather supervise a cranky Eliot than his team on a shopping spree. He had trailed Eliot through the first aid aisle, listened to him mutter over spices and knives on the baking aisle, and then dragged him back to the van with saltines and water bottles in hand.

"Just take the anti-inflammatory," Nate argued, "it won't make you drowsy, and the longer you wait, the less well they'll work."

"Stop. Fussing." Eliot growled, somehow managing to drink his water angrily. Nate was always impressed by how Eliot could make the most mundane tasks look threatening. Luckily for him and the rest of the team, Nate was not easily intimidated.

"Just for the sake of argument..." Nate started.

"No," Eliot said flatly.

"We're stuck in the car until Hardison picks a shampoo. Humor me," Nate ignored Hardison's protests over the comm about his sensitive scalp.

"They need to hurry," Eliot groused, 'the snow is getting worse."

"Right," Nate agreed and held the sleeve of saltines out to Eliot again. He was disproportionately pleased when the hitter grabbed a few more without protest, "so let's just say there really is some shadowy figure waiting behind the curtain to get us…"

Eliot raised an eyebrow at that, probably cross-checking his mental list of people who matched that description, but Nate ignored him.

"And they orchestrated stranding the five us in this specific tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, by waiting until we were both split up on five different planes, and there was a massive storm front to force our flights here…"

"Look, I know…" Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Which is possible," Nate continued to ignore him, "highly unlikely, but possible. After all, shady figures are usually good at seizing opportunity when they see it. So let's say all of that is true. What's their next move? Where do they expect us to be?"

Eliot frowned before reluctantly admitting, "They expect us to be stranded, at the airport or one of the hotels."

"Right," Nate nodded, "and even if they somehow anticipated us renting a summer house, it would be almost impossible to control which summer house we rented. Hardison must have skimmed through a half dozen search pages worth before we went after this one."

Eliot's frown deepened as he worked the problem and thought how he would have managed something like this from the other side. Nate let him be for a minute because he was still eating crackers while he thought, seemingly without noticing.

"There are ways they could stack the deck in their favor," he finally said slowly. "Knowing what we would want in a place to lay low, making it available even though it looked unavailable, monitoring Hardison for the search criteria he was using, then populating it with multiple properties that they have control of."

"Possible," Nate conceded, "ridiculously elaborate and unnecessarily complicated, but possible."

"So, one of your plans, basically," Eliot snorted.

"I don't have the patience to wait on mother nature," Nate let the jab slide, "my point is, the best thing we can do in this situation is not be where we're most likely to be. The rest, we'll just have to deal with as it comes."

"I know that. It's just…" Eliot just looked worn out now, tired of having to run through every scenario and possibility for every given moment.

Nate had figured out fairly early on that Eliot's paranoia was rooted in both a lot of experience and a lot of trauma. It meant they would be idiots to ignore him when he said something was wrong (and Nate had, unfortunately, been that idiot on more than one occasion, although he tried not to be these days), but they also needed to be a second check on those things for him sometimes, because he could always work his way around to those perceived threats being possible, even if they weren't probable.

It had gotten a lot better over the years, and the team had gotten better at finding ways to help him deal with it when it did come up. There was never a perfect solution, but they were more than happy to settle for an imperfect one if it made things at least a little better.

"And we'll deal with everything a lot better if you just take your diclofenac," Nate cut him off again, "so what bag is it in?"

"Duffel," Eliot conceded defeat finally, "they really do need to hurry."

"I know," Nate turned around and started sifting through the bags they had tossed into the third row of seats, "they're almost done."

Parker had been sitting in the back row, and she had rearranged the luggage that hadn't fit in the trunk to make a nest of sorts for herself around the middle seat. Nate had to practically crawl over the back of the middle row to reach Eliot's duffel bag, and he only felt a little bad for messing up her carefully crafted arrangement.

Eliot carried prescription meds with him and had for as long as Nate had known him. He had worried at first about the bottle of oxi that was always packed in the hitter's personal medkit. In hindsight, he could see the hypocrisy of constantly watching Eliot for signs of opioid addiction while simultaneously getting blackout drunk on a regular basis.

It had only taken a couple months for that concern to shift from Eliot taking too many painkillers to getting Eliot to take them at all. Two years in, and Nate had been worrying about why Eliot felt like jobs would leave him in enough pain on a regular enough basis that he would need to always have that level of painkiller with him. These days, Eliot and meds were mostly a bargaining act, a give and take informed by context and where Eliot's head was at at the given moment.

Oxi made him disoriented and dizzy; he wouldn't take it if he didn't feel safe. Diclofenac made him nauseous if he didn't take it with food (sometimes even when he did). Of the two problems, that was the easier one to solve.

Nate finally managed to find Eliot's duffel bag and pulled the medkit out, tossing the bag back in the pile of luggage for Parker to rearrange and poke through to her heart's content once they got back to the van.

"You want one or two?" Nate opened the kit and sorted through the neatly labeled bottles.

"Just one," Eliot was slumped back against the headrest again, eyes closed.

"You're out of Zofran," Nate shook the empty bottle.

"I gave the last of it to Sophie when we hit that patch of turbulence on the way in for the job," Eliot said dismissively, "it's fine. I'll refill it later."

Nate handed the pill and another water bottle over to Eliot, then texted Parker and asked her to get a bottle of Zofran from the pharmacy. A little thievery would do her good after 8 hours on a plane.

Eliot took the pill, and the van went comfortably quiet aside from the rest of the team's chatter in Nate's ear. It was surprisingly relaxing to listen in on them doing something as mundane as arguing over pasta sauce and gummy frog brands. They were on the comms a lot, but during jobs, there was a certain amount of tension, the constant need to be assessing and reassessing everything that happened.

Nate didn't care what kind of pasta sauce they got, and he didn't like gummy frogs, but it was nice just to sit back and listen to them be together.

There was suddenly weight against his shoulder, and Nate held still as Eliot gradually slumped more heavily against him, eyes closed and breath even. Nate waited until he was sure he was settled before shifting to get an arm around him and stop him from sliding down too far. Eliot fidgeted in his sleep for a moment, then relaxed with a soft sigh.

It wasn't that unusual for Eliot to sleep around them, but after how keyed up he had been at the airport, having him resting solid and relaxed against his side felt like winning.

[batterycityghoul]

Hello there! I don't know if you are accepting requests, so I'm just shooting my shot. I was thinking about a short one shot with Diego based on the song Wait a minute by Willow Smith. Actually the part where she says "You left your diary at my house And I read those pages, you really love me". I know you're busy with These Hands Stained Red, so it's okay if you can't write it. Have a nice day! 🤗💖

Title: You Were Bound to See

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves/Reader

Word Count:  2.9k (whoops?)

Author’s Note: I was already in a Birds of Prey mood, and your additional requests for 'number 8/singer in a bar/power has to do with her voice' gave me maaajor Black Canary/Dinah Lance feels. So, I used some of that character's story for inspiration. I hope that's okay! (I also had never heard the song before, so I hope I did alright with your song prompt! Thank you so much for sending this in! 💖) 

You sat on your bed, waiting for him to show up. On nights like these, it wasn't uncommon for him to sneak into your apartment, seeking a night together.  

When you heard the window beside your bed slide up, you felt a smirk tug at your lips. You glanced over your shoulder, catching sight of him standing there in his domino mask and usual vigilante gear.  

"What was it this time?"  

"A robbery," he answered. "What? You couldn't see that with your little musical gift?"

You quirked an eyebrow at him, not amused by his snark. "It doesn't work like that and you know it," you snapped, shooting him a glare. "And why don't you take that stupid thing off your face? You look like an idiot."

Diego rolled his eyes, reaching up to pull his mask off. "You used to wear one too. Or did you forget we used to be on the same team?"

How could you ever forget? Your mother had only been a lonely, scared teenager when she suddenly became pregnant and gave birth to you all in one day. You didn't remember much about her, but you did remember that she used to call you her little miracle. She didn't have much money or anyone to rely on, but she loved you. And you? You loved her.  

You were just a kid when she got sick and passed, there and gone in what felt like a blink of an eye. In the weeks before she left you, you spent many nights at her bedside, singing her song after song, your head filled with visions that never yielded what you hoped to find.  

After she passed, you ended up bounced around the system for a few years until you ran away. You learned at a young age that you truly couldn't rely on anyone but yourself, so you resigned yourself to being alone.  

You had to become resourceful to survive on the streets. It wasn't the most glamorous lifestyle, but you figured it was better than trusting someone who would only ultimately let you down.  

Your life took a sudden turn when you were only thirteen. You had gone a few days without food, so you had to resort to looking through a dumpster in search of a meal. You thought you had found the jackpot outside of a mansion, since you knew rich people were always throwing away perfectly good food.  

You had just jumped inside when you startled at the sound of someone banging a fist on the side of it.  

"Hey! You find anything good in there?"

You peeked over the side of the dumpster to see a boy about your age leaning against the side of it. He glanced up at you, throwing you a wink, before he brought a cigarette to his lips and took a drag.  

"Smoking kills, you know?"  

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Death doesn't concern me that much," he offered with a grin, lightly laughing at the words as if it was a joke only he would understand. "What are you doing in there?"

"Looking for food," you answered, figuring there was no harm in being honest.  

The boy squinted up at you before he nodded his head. "Alright," he said. "Come with me."

You shook your head. "I don't even know you."

"Oh! Right," he said, hastily dropping his cigarette to the ground before stepping on it. "I'm Klaus. And you are?"

You considered the boy for a few moments before you sighed. "I'm Y/N," you finally offered.  

You were surprised when Klaus took you inside the mansion. He was quick to introduce you to a woman named Grace who immediately started to fuss over you. She made you food which you promptly ate while listening to Klaus ramble away about his life and family.  

"Well, this was great," you started once you finished the pancakes and eggs Grace had made for you. "But I should really be going."

"I believe we would both agree on that," you heard a man say from the doorway of the kitchen. "What were you thinking, Number Four? Inviting this strange child into our home?"

Klaus snorted before he shot you a commiserating look, as if you could possibly understand what was really going on. "I was thinking, Reggie, that she was hungry and needed something to eat."

"This is not your house, Number Four. You did not have my permission to invite a stranger inside."

It was then that you noticed the other kids crowding around the older man. It took you a few moments, but you realized that you recognized some of them. You frowned at the one wearing a domino mask, a scowl on his face as he watched you.  

"We don't have time for this," the older man snapped. "It is time to debut the team. There is a robbery in progress and you and the other children are going to stop it."

"At a bank?" You asked, tilting your head to the side as you watched the older man. "There's going to be men hiding in the bank vault. Make sure you get them too."

The man turned to give you his full focus, staring you down for long enough that you started to feel truly uncomfortable. "Tell me," he started. "When were you born?"

"What? What the hell does that matter?"

"Your date of birth," the man demanded. "Now."

"October first," you answered.

"Year?"

You shot a quick glance at Klaus, seeing that his eyes were wide with wonder as he waited for your answer.

"1989?" You hesitantly offered, not sure why it came out as a question.  

"Where did you find her, Number Four?"

"Uh," Klaus started, staring at you uncertainly.

"I was outside in the dumpster looking for food," you answered for him.  

"I see," the man mused. "It seems I may have some use for you after all. Stay here," he commanded. "I want to speak with you when we get back."

You watched as the man herded all of the kids out of the kitchen, leaving Grace with instructions to make sure you stayed put.  

Of course, you had no intention of staying. You didn't trust the man or the way he seemed to think you were suddenly valuable to him. You didn't want to see what he had in store for you.  

So, the moment Grace turned her back, you made a run for it.  

It didn't take you long to learn that Reginald Hargreeves really did have no intention of letting you go. He managed to track you down within a day and offered you another meal if you only listened to what he had to say.  

You agreed, even if you were hesitant to believe that he was offering you salvation.  

He spun you a crazy tale of superhero kids and a bid to save the world. It took some coaxing, but you finally admitted that you caught glimpses of the future. All you had to do was sing a song and visions played in your head of what was to come. You couldn't control it and it only seemed to stretch as far as a few days ahead, but you always tried your best to understand them when they came.  

"Precognitive music," Reginald confirmed with a nod of his head. "Well, I'm not sure how useful you can be to the team, but I'm sure we can find a place for you. Welcome to the team, Number Eight."

Despite having an official welcome to the team and family, you still tried to run away. A lot. But Reginald always brought you back.  

You didn't really mesh well with the team. You didn't bother to get to know Luther or Allison. The one they called Number Five disappeared not long after you joined the team and Ben was so quiet and reserved that he usually kept to himself. The only ones you really forged any kind of connection with were Diego, Klaus, and Vanya.  

Klaus didn't really give you a choice about whether you wanted to be friends or not. He seemed to just barge right into your life and stay there, pulling you into his antics from time to time.  

You bonded with Vanya over music. Once you heard her play her violin, you instantly fell for her talent. You spent hours listening to her play, eventually having the confidence to sing to her and sharing your visions with her.  

And Diego? Diego only seemed to show an interest in you because he didn't trust you. You were pretty sure he thought you were going to somehow kill everyone in their sleep one night. Which, to you, didn't make sense, because he was the one with the lethal power.  

Diego's constant watch over you meant that you ended up spending a lot of time together, whether you truly wanted to or not. You discovered an anger in Diego that you connected with. He was angry with his upbringing and constant dismissal from his father that left him feeling like he wasn't good enough and you were angry at the shitty hand life had dealt you and the constant voice in your head telling you that you didn't belong. Over time, you learned how to talk each other down when you truly felt like you were going to lose it. Sometimes when you tried to run away, Diego would be the first to talk you out of it.  

As you grew older, you started to rely on each other. You were the first one to have his back on a mission and he made sure you knew how to spar just as well as him so you could better defend yourself. You started spending most of your time together, forging a connection you never would have seen coming, despite your precognitive ability.  

When you turned seventeen, you and Diego left the Academy together. You both took up odd jobs, sharing a shitty apartment just so you wouldn't have to spend one more moment under the roof of Reginald Hargreeves.  

That first year you spent together, just the two of you, was one of the best years of your life. Diego took up playing guitar and you would sit on the bed you shared, singing to him. He was always so interested in your visions, but that wasn't why you chose to share your talent with Diego. Singing had always been something you loved, and in a way, it was something you did for the people you loved. Your mom. Vanya. And then Diego.  

Of course, you knew you were too young for those kinds of feelings and young love rarely lasted.  

Your problems started when Diego wanted to start up a vigilante lifestyle. He ended up washing out of the police academy, stating that it wasn't for him. Instead, he took to wanting to patrol the streets at night, listening to a stolen police scanner, and throwing himself into danger. You tagged along at first, but you quickly realized that you didn't want to be a superhero. It became a point of contention between the two of you.

"Diego, we can't keep doing this," you insisted one night. You were bleeding from a cut to your forehead you had gotten after a close call with a group of men who were intent on robbing a convenience store.  

"Doing what?" He asked, carefully dabbing at the cut with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol.  

"This," you insisted. "Saving people. Being good little superheroes. I thought that's why we left the Academy."

"That's why you left the Academy," he pointed out.  

"I'm not cut out for the superhero life," you said, trying to make him see that you were suffering for it.  

"You were born for the superhero life," he countered. "Otherwise, what's the use of having a power if you don't use it to save people?"

You shook your head, glancing away from him. "I didn't ask for this," you whispered. "Aren't we meant for something more?" You couldn't help but wonder, feeling like your heart was tearing in two at the silence that followed.  

You left not long after that. You ended up singing in a dive bar for a boss with shady connections and as far as you knew, Diego took up a job at a boxing ring during the day while he moonlighted as a vigilante at night.  

Even though you both didn't seem to agree with the other, you couldn't stay away. The rest of the team had been irreparably broken for a long time, but you couldn't seem to quit Diego. He didn't like that you were seemingly wasting your nights singing in a bar, keeping your visions to yourself, and refusing to use them for the greater good. You didn't like that he was risking his life for people who didn't give a fuck about him and wouldn't care if he died in the process of saving them.  

You spent years going back and forth. Some nights, after you were done at the bar, you would make your way to The Fighting Lion, waiting on Diego's bed until he bothered to show up. Other nights, he would come see you after saving some hapless victim, crawling through your window like you were teenagers in some kind of sweet rom-com.  

It didn't matter how much it hurt that you would never truly agree, because you knew that you loved him. You loved him so much some days you could hardly think past the need to have him right there at your side.  

Now, you barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes before you turned your back on him.  

"I can guess why you're here," you started, shooting him another quick glance over your shoulder. "Catch the bad guys?"

"And saved some lives, baby," he told you with a smirk.

"Don't call me that," you said.  

"What should I call you then?" The smirk never left his face as he started pulling off his holsters, dropping his knives on their unofficial designated place on your dresser. "Remember what I used to call you when we were younger?"

"Don't," you warned, knowing what he was about to say.

"My little songbird," he crooned with an almost mocking note to his voice. "You used to sing just for me," he reminded you.  

You watched him continue to strip until his shirt was off and his pants were unzipped.  

"You're awfully confident about where this is heading," you pointed out to him. "What if I said I just wasn’t feeling it tonight? What if I showed you the door?"

"You know, I caught your show tonight," he informed you, seemingly completely ignoring your previous words.  

That was news to you. As far as you were aware, Diego had never bothered to actually come to the bar and see you sing. He thought you could do better and you didn’t quite disagree with him.

"I listened to you and watched you," he said, slowly approaching you until he was standing just beside your bed. "And I realized something."

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he put a hand to your shoulder, coaxing you to lie down. "What was that?"

He moved to hover over you on the bed, propped up on his arms on either side of your head with his eyes trained on yours. "You don't really love it," he finally responded. "You just go and sing because you enjoy it, but it's nothing like those private shows you used to put on for me. I never realized before how close we were then. How intimate," he said as he leaned down, placing a kiss to your jaw. "I remember the look on your face every time you sang just for me." Another kiss was placed in the hollow of your throat. "You used to look at me like I was everything to you. You gave yourself away."

You felt your breath hitch as he placed a biting kiss just under your jaw, his teeth lightly scraping over your skin.  

"I did?" Your voice was breathless as you attempted to glance down at him.  

"You did," he confirmed with another smirk, finally rising up so you could see him.  

"And what did I give away?" You couldn't help but ask, torn between knowing and pulling him down into a kiss.

"You love me," he said. "I didn't notice at first, but tonight made me see it. It made me see you. You love me, Y/N. You really love me."

It was hopeless to deny it. You had known since you were only seventeen. You had resigned yourself to loving Diego for the rest of your life, because you simply couldn't help it. It didn't matter if you would always clash and were wrong for each other in so many ways. Your heart never seemed to listen to what your brain had to say. You loved Diego.  

"And what if I do? Does that change anything?" Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your instincts warring between pulling him closer or pushing him away in the event he just ended up hurting you again.  

"Of course it doesn't," he answered with a shake of his head. He offered you a soft, sincere smile before he leaned down again, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke his next words. "Because I love you too."

[blueflamedemon]

BlueSky { Dabi x OC }

Chapter Five - Dirty Little Secret

*Chapter Summary - Sora joins the league on a quick mission to capture Overhaul and steal his Quirk-killing drugs.

Overhaul was on the move. Tomura called it, telling them that they had to carry out the plan now or not at all. Minus Twice and Himiko, he quickly gave everyone a quick recap of this idea to steal the bullets. They would wait until Overhaul was caught by the police and then attack.

"Spinner, you go out and get the truck ready. I knew there was a reason we kept it." Tomura was saying, pacing around in a circle with his hands behind his back. "Compress, Dabi, you two will be in the back with me."

"Wait..." Sora sucked her lip between her teeth and looked around the room. "What am I supposed to do? I don't have full power yet..."

"That's alright, dear." Compress walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder for comfort. "We'll cover you. You are great with combat, we've noticed."

"Better than Dabi, for sure." Spinner snickered as he followed Tomura out one of the warehouse doors.

"Watch it, Lizard." Dabi hissed, walking out behind Spinner. "Don't get your tail into a twist."

"Don't call me lizard!" Spinner shouted.

Sora followed Compress out, letting Spinner and Dabi hash it out before they started climbing into the delivery truck. "Compress, I noticed you have acquired a limb."

"Ah, yes! Isn't it beautiful? Looks just like the old one!" Compress gleamed, holding up the new arm. "It's not much, but Giran did his absolute best. It's a great illusion!"

Sora giggled. "Leave it to you to find this amusing."

"What can I say, child?" Compress smiled. "The show must go on."

"What are you two talking about? How to chop a woman in half?" Dabi showed up beside Sora, sliding his fingers through her beltloops behind her.

"Someone is jealous." Compress chimed.

"Don't listen to him. He's just upset that he didn't get a cool arm." Sora smirked at the boy behind her. "Don't worry, we'll find something cool for you, too."

"No thanks." Dabi mumbled, clearly annoyed with the both of them. He let go of Sora and walked over to the truck, which Spinner had pulled forward so the others could jump in back.

"The three of you, come on!" Tomura huffed impatiently as he climbed into the box.

"We're still waiting on Toga's call." Compress stated, though he followed his boss in climbing into the bed, too.

Dabi placed both of his hands on the floor and jumped in easily, spinning around to sit down and let his feet dangle off the edge. He extended his arm to Sora, expecting her to take it so he could help her up.

She ignored his hand and copied him, placing her hands on the floor of the bed and hopping inside, though she sat with her legs crossed, a little scared to have her legs dangling out.

Dabi huffed beside her.

"I don't need help with everything." She giggled.

He rolled his eyes and hit the side of the truck a few times, letting Spinner know that everybody had climbed inside and they were ready to go.

Spinner took off, taking the directions that Tomura had given him previously, and told Dabi to close the doors before they were a little closer, just so they wouldn't get caught.

Fussing under his breath, Dabi closed the doors and got to his feet, leaning against the wall and pressing his forehead to the cool metal.

Find Overhaul, that was the first plan. He had the bullets that contained the Quirk ending drug, possibly the same drug that Sora was given. Though that was not confirmed, Sora still hoped. If there was a bullet full of those drugs, Overhaul was sure to have a cure for emergencies, right? As long as she took that, she might get her Quirk going in no time, so long as she could get over the withdrawals.

They drove around the city for a bit before Compress' phone finally rang with Toga on the other line, letting them know that Overhaul had been arrested and taken, and that she and Twice had gotten away long before anyone could catch them.

"I think they actually found us." Dabi stated, cracking open the door as he peered out and saw a couple of vans just behind them, both belonging to the police force.

Tomura grew impatient and kicked open both of the doors, somehow hoisting himself to the top of the truck, where he disappeared in a matter of seconds. Sora shook her head and blinked, making sure that she hadn't just been daydreaming.

"Wait a minute, I didn't sign up for this!" Spinner called from the front seat. "I can only drive for so long with this tank!"

"Just shut up and try to keep this damn truck straight. I'm getting nauseous back here!" Dabi complained. He was holding his stomach with one hand and the wall with his other.

Sora sat on the floor, looking right at the police in the truck. She hadn't thought to grab her wig or hoodie, she simply threw on a dress with biker shorts underneath. It was obvious when the guy saw her that he knew exactly who she was. Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach and she copied Dabi, holding onto her tummy after feeling queasy.

Compress hung up his phone and stood at the doorway alongside Dabi, tipping his hat out of respect.

"I think they spotted me." Sora stated, unsure what to do now.

Dabi glanced down at her, his eyes wide. "Well, time to go." He looked up at the van and raised his hand, a ball of fire appearing in his palm. "Sora, stay down." He commanded, shooting his ball of flames at the van that they were sure Overhaul was strapped up in.

Sora watched, waiting on the van to flip over, blow up in flames, something. Instead, it seemed as if Dabi's flames were being sucked up by something, which was near impossible. His flames were some of the hottest flames in a Quirk that anybody had ever seen, for something to absorb them....

Dabi clearly saw the flaw here as well, so he dropped his hand and his flames evaporated into thin air. "The fuck..." he mumbled.

In front of the large police van, there was now a smaller cop car, a man hanging out of the window. At first, Sora wasn't sure what she was looking at, but then she noticed it as the Pro Hero, Snatch. His Quirk was sand, which was known to stop fires.

Snatch seemed to notice Sora, which made him hesitate using his sand for a moment too long, long enough for Tomura to jump down from the stop of the truck and land on the hood of the cop car. Yet again, Sora felt unmatched, useless. If only she could use her Quirk, she might've been able to help, seeing as Dabi's flames and Tomura's decaying Quirk wouldn't be much again sand.

"Dabi, he noticed me, too." Sora pulled on the tail of his coat. "That hero. He knows who I am, very well."

Dabi and Compress exchanged looks before coming to a quick, mental agreement together. Compress brought out one of his magical orbs and threw it at the police car, saying something clever that completely went over Sora's head as she watched Dabi jump out as if Spinner wasn't speeding away from two police cars.

"W-wait!" Sora got on her hands and knees, crawling to the edge of the truck.

"Stay with Spinner, my dear. We can't afford you to get hurt." Compress stated, jumping out just behind Dabi.

"Wait!" Sora watched, wide eyed, as Tomura, Compress, and Dabi stopped the cars with very little effort.

Spinner slowed down to a stop, the tires skidding across the pavement. "Stay in here, little lady!" Spinner called. "Don't jump out!"

"Spin! We have to help them! Before Snatch--"

The truck spun around, facing the scene of the crime. Sora could no longer see what was happening, so she grabbed onto the door with one hand, stepping on a lever with her foot, and peered around the box to see a burst of flames that had to be Dabi, and then nothing.

When Spinner made it back to the others, he stopped the truck, remaining in the drivers seat incase they needed a quick getaway. He wasn't much on being the center of attention, Sora always noticed how he stayed back and let the others deal with things, almost as if he were hesitating.

Sora jumped off the truck and hurried over to Compress and Dabi, who were just standing in the middle of the road, beside a burning vehicle.

"I told you to stay in the truck." Compress sighed. "Don't you ever listen?"

"She doesn't." Dabi commented, dusting his shirt off. "Go back to the truck so you don't get hurt."

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much." Sora crossed her arms, only then realizing that she no longer saw the hero. "Where's Snatch?"

"Who?" Dabi blinked.

"The hero."

Compress walked over to Tomura, who was standing over Overhaul. They were both talking to him, taking out their revenge. Dabi and Sora stood back, letting them have it. After all, he was the one who took Compress' arm.

"Gone. He won't be telling anybody about our little secret."

Sora looked up at him. "What if that cop paged it in before we could get to him? I think he saw me, too."

"I'll handle them." Dabi grabbed her waist and pulled her close to him. A small gasp left her lips. "Just like I did this hero. And I'll continue to do so until we can figure out what's wrong with you so we can defeat Endeavor together."

Sora met his gaze. She loved how bright his eyes were, how unbelievably blue they were. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach, in a good way this time around. Gently, she pressed her hands against his chest, unsure what else to do with them. The smell of burning flesh pinched her nose and stung her eyes, but she was starting to grow used to it. "I would say you're my hero, but I don't like them."

A smirk cracked his lips.

Spinner honked the horn of the truck, calling for them to get back inside before any more cops showed up.

"I got them, Sora. Come on," Tomura walked passed them, oblivious to the two tangled together.

Compress took a final bow before he started walking back to the truck, pulling his mask to the side so he would wink in Sora's direction, which obviously made Dabi uncomfortable. He held her just a little tighter and kept his arm around her, leading her back.

Inside the truck, everyone was a bit quiet. Dabi sat against the wall, hugging his knees close to his chest. Sora wondered if he ever replayed his crimes in his head, and if this is what it looked like, or if he thought about it when he was alone.

Then she recalled him telling her that he could not cry. It struck her as an odd thing to say, though at the time, she hadn't thought much about it. Why had he told her? If he could, would he be crying more? Did he regret the choices he made?

Sora glanced up at Tomura, who was hugging the case he stole from Overhaul. "Did you kill him?" She asked, realizing she heard the man scream, but never saw the body.

"I did something much worse," Tomura muttered, staring off into space. "took his arms from him."

"As a little payback." Compress tipped his hat.

"Good." Sora nodded. "I hope this is the cure..." she breathed, looking down at her feet, feeling more useless by the minute.

[no-goddamn-cilantro]

I got a bug, so I decided to write this ridiculous nonsense.

Adventures in Babysitting

The ship hummed softly as the power-down sequence began, and Rocket was quick to hop out of the pilot's chair and make his way back to the makeshift child seat Gamora insisted he use. Something-something safety, something-something, blah-blah-blah, whatever.* Groot's safety is and always will be number one, but it's insulting that she thinks a glorified bucket with a seat harness is going to do shit. Rolling his eyes to himself, he lifts the "baby carrier" by the handle and disembarks, wincing in the bright sunlight on Peter's home world.

He probably should have told Peter he was going to come, see if the guy had any family to visit. Ah well. Too late now, time to meet his old pal to drop off the kid before getting down to business.

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

Dyn Jarren was, to put it mildly, exhausted. After Sporog, there had been nine other planets, either too hostile or where they were too easily found. Nine.* So he'd decided to... Branch out a bit. Hit the next Galaxy over- he had contacts there, a Mandalorian covert hiding away on the moon of some backwater planet called Terra where the locals had barely managed to intrude on the dead rock, let alone notice the comings and goings of the refugees on their own moon. One of these Terrans had even gained that most precious of commodities years ago, the Mandalorian's trust.

There were three shootouts, a target's gills getting infected with fishrot, and said Terran actually convincing the target to be encased in Carbonite willingly. It was a wild four days, but the man was trustworthy, never having breathed a word of what happened during his "spirituality retreat."

Landing in a tucked away copse of trees near his contact's current location, he hefts The Child into his arms, turning his head to shush him gently.

"None of that. It's faster if I carry you."

Without another word he disembarked down the gangplank and set off at a brisk pace, following the coordinates in his helmet's display.

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

Keanu was sitting in the sunny Northern California early afternoon, dozing off if he were to tell the truth, at the rather larger home than he really needed that had been rented for the next week. He wanted plenty of room for Rocket and his young ward to explore and relax though, so this was his best option. It was secluded, no neighbors for miles, with a dense forest to the back and miles of vineyards in lieu of the missing neighbors.

A coo only a few feet from him caused him to jerk fully awake suddenly, eyes opening to see a man he'd never expected to see again and- was that a child?

Standing, he greeted the unexpected guest from outer space with a pleased smile.

"Mando! Man, wow, it's been like- six years? How are you? And who's this little guy??" As he approached his face broke into a more intimate grin as he made eye contact with the tiny green child, delight lighting up his face as The Child gifted him with another coo.

The Mandalorian, for his part, gives a neutral hum that borders on pleased. "This is The Child. We're currently hiding from parties that want him dead- or worse. I was hoping we could lay low here for a while- is that alright with you?"

Keanu, for his part, is astounded at that story, but the only question that passes through his lips is, "Mando, have you not... Named your kid?"

Despite being able to see exactly none of the Mandalorian's face, he can practically feel* the other man's blush. "... It hasn't been important so far."

"Mando!"

"Keanu." Unexpected, deadpan snark from his friend, but he rolls with it. Abruptly, he remembers his manners and invites them hurriedly, offering food and beverages. Dyn declines both for himself, but soup for The Child if he has it. Keanu does and quickly begins heating some on the stove. While that's working, he tries to figure out how to tell the bounty hunter about his other, expected visitor.

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

As it turns out, the Mandalorian wasn't terribly fussed about his having other guests, so long as they didn't try to harm either the man or the* child, though the Terran man was subjected to a hard stare he couldn't see but could definitely feel when he mentioned his other guests were "a little unusual-looking."

Rocket, true to form, didn't bother with knocking, though Keanu was openly relieved he used a door at all for entering the abode. The bipedal raccoon, on the other hand, was distinctly and obviously uncomfortable. With a blatantly false smile across his snout and speaking through his teeth, Rocket jerks his head a few times back towards the living room from the doorway of the kitchen where he'd abruptly halted.

"Hey, Neo, need to talk to you real quick. In here. Away from the bounty hunter."

The implacable stare of the helmet followed them out of the room and until they turned the corner, Rocket leading his friend halfway up the stairs leading to the bedrooms. Before Keanu can speak, Rocket is standing- somehow- on the railing and gripping the collar of his jacket, pulling him close to mutter threateningly in his face. "I don't know what that guy has told you, but I don't have any more bounties on my head. I went straight, we all went straight, we're doing good now. I won't let some Mandalorian asshole with out of date information skin me for credits, you got it?"

"I'm not here on a bounty."

Both man and raccoon in the stairwell jump, looking down at the Mandalorian standing with crossed arms. He continues, unperturbed by the blatant hostility of the raccoon that scampers down the stairs to stand eye to... Well, hip, until he takes advantage of the banister again. "I'm just laying low for a while. Needed a place to hide. Keanu mentioned you were coming." At the last sentence Rocket glares back at the man, before Mando dryly adds, "We were unexpected. You weren't."

Keanu decides that he needs a strong mug of tea.

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

So once helmet-head and his little goblin child are settled in the dining area, Rocket goes to collect Groot and his- bucket, no, carrier- from where he'd left him napping in the sun. He is completely unsurprised that his own little monster child has managed to escape the prison of the child seat and is frolicking in the yard after a butterfly or some shit. Rocket allows himself the barest moment of tender enjoyment of watching Groot just be happy, before he knuckles up and shouts across the open lawn.

"Hey Groot, come meet your babysitter! I don't got all day, hurry it up!" The tree person- is he a shrub right now? He's small enough to be a shrub- comes scampering across the yard, stopping in front of Rocket, crossing his arms, and indignantly huffing.

"I am Groot."

"Yes, you do. I can't leave you on the ship by yourself for a couple of days."

"I am Groot!"

"Because I'm the adult and you're not right now."

"I am Groot?"

"Keanu. Don't give me that look, that's his real name."

"I am Groot."

"Look who's talkin'! You think either of us have room to be critical of someone else's name?"

"... I am Groot..."

"That's what I thought. Now c'mon, he's waiting inside and he made you food, so be grateful."

He takes his ward's hand, leading him inside. More to himself than anything, he mutters, "But Keanu is a weird fuckin' name..."

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

The second meeting with the children present goes much smoother than the first. They sit and share a meal- with the exception of Dyn Jarren, who answers endless questions about Mandalorians, his helmet, his weapons, and anything else Rocket can think of to annoy him with, with a remarkable amount of patience- if not without more of the snark Keanu witnessed earlier. The fathers then send their children to play, with stern warnings about not leaving the yard that are, the Terran is sure, going to be completely ignored. He has to grip Mando's sleeve to get him to sit and stay after some noises of play begin and the man slightly panics.

Rocket, for his part, decides to refuse to be this much of a worrywart over Groot upon observing the bounty hunter's near-palpable anxiety over his foundling.

Keanu decides to get into the practicalities of the next few days, asking what each child likes to eat, when they're supposed to sleep, and what discipline they're used to, ready to take notes.

Both Mandalorian and raccoon stare at him blankly after the first question. He tries again, starting with what he thought was the easiest question.

"what time do they generally go to sleep?"

"Uhhh, Groot just sorta passes out when he's tired. Usually about... 9ish? I guess?"

"Does he nap during the day?"

"How'm I supposed to know, I'm workin'! He just sleeps when he's tired."

"Mando?"

The bounty hunter's shoulders drop slightly in what might be classed as defeat. "He sleeps all the time in about two hour chunks, then he's up for about five." When the Terran blinks at him in what looks a lot like confusion, he sighs. "I've tried getting him to sleep longer, but unless he ends up using his abilities, it's just not happening."

Keanu nods in what appears to be deliberate lack of judgement, making notes on either side of his page. Rocket snatches the paper almost as soon as he's done with his bedtime notes, barking a laugh at the name given for The Child.

"Mando Jr.? Really, bounty hunter? You couldn't come up with anything better?"

"... I didn't come up with it."

"So what's his real name?"

"... It's not important. That'll do for now."

And so the conversation went, discipline being a similarly baffling subject for both of them. When it came to food though, they found surprising common ground.

""Frogs.""

Keanu made a continue gesture after they both looked at each other in surprise, before Rocket jocularly punched Dyn on the shoulder. Dyn, for his part, just seemed exhausted. Keanu could relate.

"Soup. Small bits of meat... Mushrooms. Insects if he can catch them."

"Groot'll eat anything, kid's a trash compactor. We done here?"

Keanu is more than happy to finish out the conversation there, releasing them to go check in on their kids before headed out. Sometime in the last few hours, Rocket had decided a Mandalorian was pretty good backup for what he was doing and asked if Dyn would like to come along. The bounty hunter had sighed heavily before nodding his agreement.

Which brought them back around to the sitter conversation that now had Keanu reaching for the tea kettle again.

It was going to be a long three days.

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

Keanu, for his part, was pleased to discover Groot had no problems retreating to his and Rocket's room at 9pm for bed. The Yiddling, as was the name that seemed to stick for the sitter, was another story.

He whined, he grizzled, he even squealed a time or two. The Terran just kept calmly holding the kid and bouncing gently, singing half-remembered lullabies to the child as it slowly, eventually, tired itself out. Keanu very gently lowered the child into the crib he'd acquired from the bounty hunter's ship before they left, taking the three steps back to his bed to collapse backwards into the sheets and blissfully drop off after hours of soothing a fussy toddler who could move things with his mind.

For two hours. Then the crying began again.

It was a long night for everybody, and the sitter was more than happy to go start the coffee pot just as the first fingers of sunlight began to creep over the treetops behind the house. By the time he had breakfast prepared for the two children under his care, the kitchen was bathed in golden morning sunlight. The two ate well, then his little tree-like charge turned to him with a stubborn tilt to his head.

"I am Groot."

"A nature walk? Why?"

"I am Groot!"

"I somehow really doubt the forests of Earth are your ancestral home."

"I am Groot!"

"... You know what, an excellent point. You two can find all the frogs you like and I won't have to attempt to catch any for you. We'll go in a little bit, okay? I need to pack you both lunches in case we're out for a while, and I need to put together that thing."

"That thing" was, in fact, a jogging stroller for doubles. A quick overnight delivery after the arrival of not one, but two children in his care necessitated it, and it had arrived promptly at 8am. He cleaned up after his little charges, helped them both wash their hands in the sink, and then sent them to play for a while as he carefully read the instructions for assembly.

One hour, two bandages, and a hurried, "don't repeat that!" tossed in a nosey Groot's direction after some overheard profanity, and the babysitter had the stroller ready. He packed two quick lunches based on the Yiddling's preferences- as his was the more specified, and Groot really would eat anything, including the plate- and got them all out the door, a bag of essentials that he resolutely would not call a diaper bag tucked into the very-convenient compartment beneath the seats of the stroller and took them down the path that had a trail head right there in the backyard. Keanu decided Groot really did have an excellent idea with this.

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

Two hours later Keanu was smugly pleased with both the nature walk and the double stroller. Both kids were passed out asleep in their stroller seats, snoring gently with the remains of their lunches clasped gently in sticky fingers- twigs? Claws? Fingers was just easier for Keanu's exhausted but triumphant brain- and resting lightly in their laps. He was now taking a leisurely stroll back to the house, enjoying the peace as much as communing with nature.

And so that's how the three spent the next several sleep-deprived days. Breakfast, stroller, wander through nature (one extremely disturbing frog-hunting hour around a pond that he's never mentioning to another living soul except for maybe their parents) lunch and afternoon naps, playing tag and other such games in the yard, dinner, and then a fraught bedtime with the little Yiddling.

When their parents returned, Rocket was nearly bowled over by an excited Groot, being squeezed happily by suddenly very long toddler tree arms. The Mandalorian was passed The Child by a tired but very happy Keanu, who reported to both parents that they were good kids and behaved. Mando was surprised in equal measure by both the Yiddling- he was keeping that name for him, thank-you Keanu- falling asleep in his arms immediately, and the sitter in question's flabbergasted stare that soon melted into a soft, gentle smile.

As they each departed for their ships after what was decidedly a warmer and noisier splash than The Mandalorian had wanted to make on this planet, they were both secretly pleased at just how comfortable their children had been with the Terran, and at how well they'd been able to work together.

Perhaps they'd have to do this again sometime.

[soferalo-blog]

What You Need to Know About China 10 Year Visa

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