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jungkookstatts · 1 year ago

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All Over Again

[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.

[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.

[Word Count]: 4,274

[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again.

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last.

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat.

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it.

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch.

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further.

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.”

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again.

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words.

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again.

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted.

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame.

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island.

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly.

“About?” you raise your eyebrow.

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.”

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself.

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps.

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward.

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice.

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.”

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

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pursuedbyamemoryy · 1 year ago

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₊˚⊹ your sweet lips on my lips 🧸

about : first kiss and early mornings w mike <33. title is a hozier lyric from like real people do!!

warnings : a little longer than usual!! 1.5k words. they/them pronouns used for reader ( once lol )

author’s note : I WANT TO KISS HIM SO BAD AAAAAUGHHHH. i’m so obsessed w him my brain is him and him only

your breaths were slow and steady as you slept in an uncomfortable position on mike’s couch. the tv was on low volume in the background, playing reruns of some old sitcom that your parents probably watched as kids. you were tucked under a small throw blanket that was always draped over the back of the couch, and a couple of your limbs were dangling over the edge of the cushions.

you were looking for work and mike had hired you to babysit abby. although with the hours you were at his house, it was more of just making sure abby was asleep and then more often than not, falling asleep yourself. the pay wasn’t great, but you didn’t mind. you really liked abby, and got along with her well. and well… her brother had caught your eye. he was a bit of a loser, sure, but you found him endearing. you admired how hard he worked in order to support his younger sister, it was clear she meant a lot to him. plus he was always kind to you.

while getting to know abby and becoming a more prominent person in her life, you also passingly got to know mike. abby had plenty of stories to tell, and you would often have short conversations with him before or after his shift. she had even let it slip once that mike was interested in you, and may or may not have a crush on you.

“my brother talks about you a lot, you know.” abby said oh so casually as you were helping her get ready for bed one night.

“is that so?” you quirked a brow, suddenly very intrigued at what secrets she might spill. you had harbored feelings towards the man for a while, probably as long as you’d been babysitting abby for. you always thought he would never reciprocate your feelings, and therefore decided to keep quiet about your crush.

“yeah, he says you’re pretty and you make him happy. and he’s glad you get along with me. he likes that” she said, looking up at you as you tucked her blankets around her.

you felt your cheeks grow warm, and a smile broke out on your face. “that’s good to know. he makes me happy as well, both of you do.”

“he also said he wishes he had time to get to know you more. i think he likes you. do you like him too?” abby inquired as she snuggled into the covers.

you thought carefully for a moment before responding. “i do, yeah. and i would definitely like to spend time with him if i’m given the chance. but that’s enough for tonight, it’s already late. sleep well, abby. i’ll be in the other room if you need me.” you press a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before standing up and leaving her bedroom for the night.

that very brief conversation with abby stayed on your mind for the following days. when mike came home early the next morning you were more flustered than ever when you spoke to him. since then you had been trying to find a way to make your feelings a little more known, hoping one of you would have the courage to finally confess.

keys jingled and the front doorknob rattled as mike let himself into the house. it was quiet, as it was just past 6am. the only sounds were the faint conversations of the show on the television, and the sound of his own footsteps padding across the floor. he set down his keys and kicked his shoes off before making his way into the living room where he saw you fast asleep. he quietly picked the remote off of the coffee table and turned the tv off.

although he wasn’t quiet enough, and you started to stir. “abby?” you asked tiredly. you blinked up at mike, slowly starting to sit up as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

“nope, it’s me. sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” he replied quietly as he set the remote back on the table. “did everything go alright with abby?”

you sat quietly for a moment, trying to find your thoughts in your sleep hazed brain. “yeah, she ate a good amount of her dinner and then we hung out and watched tv for a while before she went to bed. how was work?” you had pushed away the blanket and now sat upright, looking up at mike. he looked tired, which was to be expected. despite his exhausted features he looked handsome, although this wasn’t a new discovery.

his voice shook you out of your thoughts. “it was boring, but it pays.” he shrugs. “want some coffee?” he leaned his head in the direction of the kitchen.

“coffee sounds good” you smile. he starts to walk toward the kitchen and you follow behind him. damn, his butt looks good in those pants.

“i always feel bad falling asleep, i feel like i should be the one making coffee and breakfast for you.” you noted lightheartedly. you were trying not to gawk at him, which had been proven increasingly difficult after abby told you that he was in fact interested in you.

“i appreciate it, but it’s no big deal, really. i understand it can be a little boring being here all night. i trust you with abby, so if you need to sleep, sleep.” mike replied tiredly. you made a mental note to try and at least make coffee for him before he came home in the future.

once in the kitchen, he started gathering everything he needed to make just enough coffee for the both of you. you leaned against the counter, your back facing the wall. the two of you stood in comfortable, sleepy silence as the coffee brewed.

once the coffee maker had stopped gurgling, signaling the coffee was done, he grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet and poured you each a cup. you added the ingredients to make it just the way you liked it before taking a sip, nearly burning your tongue.

you could feel his eyes on you. not in a creepy way, but in admiration. he took a sip of his own coffee, his eyes lingering on your frame. you let your gaze wander back to him, meeting his own. you gave him a smile as you took another sip of your coffee.

"i uh.. would you like to go out with me one day? just us?" he stammered. he averted his gaze to his coffee, swishing the dark liquid inside to distract himself.

you smiled, giggling to yourself. it seems like abby was right about mike's feelings for you, not that you doubted her. you took a moment to collect yourself before responding. "yeah. yeah, i'd love to."

"he looked back up at you with a goofy smile on his face. "okay, cool. does tomorrow night work?"

you nodded, "yeah, that's perfect." you knew abby wouldn't lie to you about how mike felt, but it still made you giddy when he actually showed that he had feelings for you. you glanced over at the little digital clock on the stove. 7:08am. you took one last sip of your coffee, placing it down on the counter. "i should probably go, i have an appointment that i need to get to. you have work tonight, right?"

he looked disappointed, but nodded. "yeah. i'll see you later then?"

you nodded in response, "yeah, of course." you stepped closer to him, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

his cheeks immediately flushed and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. he’s had other partners and had been in relationships before, but it had been so long since he was as infatuated with someone as he was with you. you were still close to him, and he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. he paused to make sure you were okay with it, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to.

but you didn’t. you leaned in further and pressed your lips to his briefly, somewhat hesitantly. he grabbed your hip, holding you firmly but gently. he kissed you again, this time with more confidence. this kiss was longer, more passionate, and it only increased the feeling of butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“took you guys long enough. are you boyfriend and girlfriend now?” a small voice comes from the other side of the room. you and mike quickly pulled away from the kiss, much more flustered now that you had been caught by mike’s youthful sister. neither of you had heard her approach, and were startled at her sudden presence.

after recovering from the slight embarrassment, you looked at mike questioningly to see if, and how he would answer abby’s question.

“i sure hope so” he smiles, his attention focused back on you. “it’s up to them though.”

“i’d like that” you smiled back at him.

#pursuedbyamemory writes #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's

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hsunrry · 2 months ago

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argument // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

|| masterlist ||

words: ~1,1k

warnings: smut18+, praise, dirty talking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, angst

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it was the first time you argued with him that bad you didn’t spoke to each other. for the whole week he was sleeping on the couch, when you were crying every night in the bed, because you hated it. on the other hand, he wasn’t sleeping well not because the couch was really, i mean really uncomfortable, but because he was thinking about it all the time. finally, after all this time he decided he had enough with this whole situation and when you were standing in the kitchen he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck on the side. you decided to not react at all. he sighed and buried his face into your neck, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. “babe…”

“wow, so my husband actually still have voice.” you said sarcastically. he lifted his head from your neck, placing his forehead on your shoulder instead.

“i know i’ve been a dick. i get it, you haven’t said a single word to me for a week, but i can’t keep sleeping on the couch anymore… i’m sorry.” he mumbled.

“you’re apologising just because your back hurts from sleeping there?” you scoffed. he shuts his eyes closed and groaned in annoyance.

“no, i’m apologising, because i was wrong and i feel bad. i was the one who started it, but i was wrong.” he straightened up. you only nodded quietly. he wrapped his arms around you tighter and he started kissing your neck to get your attention. “please, i miss you…”

“you hurt me, you know that?” you gripped counter slightly. his face was still against your neck.

“i didn’t really mean what i said, baby.” he mumbled against your skin. “i was being a jerk, i know. i shouldn’t have said those things to you. i’m so sorry.” you shook your head, holding back tears. he noticed that and felt his stomach sink. he hated fighting with you, especially when he was the one who started it in the first place. he gently turned you around, so you were facing him. he cupped your face with one of his hands, caressing it with his thumb. “don’t cry, i’m sorry, my love.”

“Harry, you can’t just do that.” you snapped. he furrowed his eyebrows, a bit taken aback by your reaction. he wasn’t really expecting you to react the way you did, but he also knew you were in your right to do so, considering how much he had messed up.

“do what?” he asked in low voice.

“just say ‘sorry’ after that.” you looked up at him. he let out a sigh, looking at the floor for few seconds.

“i know i can’t just say ‘sorry’ and expect you to forgive me instantly. that’s not how things work and i know it. especially when i was the one who was wrong. it was my mistake.” he paused for a second, looking back at you. “but i apologised, what else do you want me to do?! grovel for forgiveness?!”

“don’t yell at me!” your voice broke. his eyes widened at your broken voice, he felt like and idiot for snapping at you. “i just… i don’t know anymore.” he couldn’t stand it any longer. he took few steps closer, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands and crashing his lips on yours. after a week without it, you couldn’t help yourself and you melted into the kiss. he let out satisfied hum, deepening the kiss. his hands went down to squeeze your ass, sitting you on the kitchen counter. you gasped into the kiss at sensation of cold material. his hands gripped the hem of your t-shirt, waiting few seconds for you to stop him if you don’t want to. when you weren’t protesting he took it off you as quickly as possible, leaving you only in panties. his boxers quickly disappeared as well, exposing his already hard dick. he pumped himself few times, still kissing your lips hungrily. after a week without each other, you both know it’s gonna be quick, but nothing to complain about it here at this point. he took off your panties, immediately pushing two fingers inside you. you moaned into the kiss, clenching at his digits.

“so wet for me, gonna squeeze me just right.” he gasped into your lips, pushing his fingers in and out to prepare you. he added third one, causing your loud moan. “taking my fingers so well, can’t wait to bury my cock inside your sweet tight pussy.” he mumbled, going with his kisses to your jaw and neck. when he was satisfied, he pulled out his fingers, licking them clean. “taste so good for me, as always.” he slowly pushed his dick inside, groaning. “i’m gonna embarrass myself by how quick i’m gonna come.” he started moving in and out at fast pace, all the way to the hilt.

“oh fuck.” you moaned, feeling him picking up the pace. his hands were on your hips and his lips found yours again. his movements were hard and rough, the tip of his dick was hitting your cervix with every thrust. “Harry!”

“shh, i know baby, you can take it.” he panted against your lips. “good job, i’m so proud of you my love.” your legs were wrapped around his hips for better support. “fucking god, i missed you so much, i love you.”

“i missed you too.” you gasped, gripping his shoulders tighter. “i love you, so much.” your head snapped back and your inner walls started tightening around him. his hand immediately went between your bodies to trace tight circles on your clit, making you go almost feral. “gonna fucking come.” you moaned.

“i’m aware of that baby, come around my dick, wanna feel you squeeze me just like i love it.” he groaned, feeling on the edge as well. you came just few thrusts later, with his name on your lips. he fucked you through your orgasm, before finally stilling, buried deep inside you and filling you up. you both were panting, not really feeling like moving right now. his hand cupped your cheek, kissing you softly. “i love you and i’m sorry. really, my darling. i can’t imagine another night without you by my side.”

“me neither.” you said against his lips. “but it was the last time, understood?” he nodded, pressing another loving kiss on your lips.

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creepswrites · 3 months ago

Text

MASK OF HATE (CH 2) | Michael x Reader

so when i was writing this, my editor Insisted i use a grilled cheese gif for this chapter. you'll see why... i hope you enjoy though LMAO

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago."

WARNING: graphic depiction of deaths, animal violence

PREV || NEXT

"Has anyone ever shown you kindness?" Your voice had Michael opening his eyes, blinking as he looked up at you slowly, your hands tangled in his wet, sudsy hair. He was sprawled out on the porcelain bathtub while you washed his hair, the room dim and sleepy and smelling of lavender soap. He had no qualms letting his legs and arms rest upon the rim to have extra room. You’d since become accustomed to him, no longer flushing at his nakedness, so washing the blood off his skin didn’t bother you.

You’d since bought black washcloths and a black towel for Michael so your father wouldn’t get suspicious about any bloodstains. Lounge clothes - some sweatpants and a t-shirt finally in his actual size - sat folded on the counter beside the sink, his navy blue jumpsuit in a pile on the cool, linoleum floor.

For the past few weeks, you two established a routine of sorts. Michael would get hurt or hungry and come visit you. Sometimes he'd watch you sleep but he'd usually be gone by morning. With your dad's presence in the house very touch and go, it was hard for Michael to stay for any extended period of time. Sometimes he watched you from a distance whenever you'd go in the garden but that was the extent of it.

You knew it wasn't normal for him to care about another person so you did your best to make it easy for him. No more lunging at armed police officers for you, you'd lamented to him in a joking manner. You hadn't been able to see his face but you got the impression he'd glared at you.

You'd also taken to touching him more, getting him to reassociate touch with compassion. It wasn't easy to undo years of trauma but you did little things here and there. Brushing his hands with your own, touching his arm when you wanted attention, small things. He was building a tolerance to it, you could tell. Washing his hair now was the most you'd touched him beyond patching him up after run-ins with the police.

But progress was progress.

Today, he hadn't come home bloody but he had come to you for something. He'd shown up at the backdoor, made a beeline for the bathroom, and you'd gotten the message. Bathing him had also become pretty regular, though you still recalled the first few times where it'd ended with him shaking from how overwhelmed he was by your touch.

Now, though, his gaze bore into you, staring up at you like a big lazy cat. Like a lion too content to strike. Your hands had stilled, still poised to scrub at his scalp. He needed a haircut, you noted to yourself.

"Besides me," you clarified as you resumed scrubbing in slow circles. "You don't… You're-" You huffed, trying to find the words. "I feel like people didn't care for you like you needed them to. If that makes sense."

Were you anyone else, you don't doubt he'd kill you for saying that. Instead, he just glared at you, pretty hazel eyes narrowed to slits. In anger or confusion, you couldn't tell.

That was yet another development. He'd been taking his mask off of his own accord now, even when he didn't have a reason to. The first time he'd done it had been because his hair was too long and sat uncomfortable in the mask, tickling against his ears and neck. You offered to cut it and, while it took some reassurance and thought on his part, you'd come home one day to him sitting on your bed. Scissors in one hand and mask in the other, clutching it like a child would to a security blanket. He hadn't been shaking or looking up at you with fearful eyes but his jaw had been clenched hard as he white knuckled the accursed mask. A wordless question you'd answered with nimble fingers and gentle tugging on his curls.

Having something so sharp close to his vulnerable neck hadn't been his idea of a good time regardless if it was his idea or not. He'd gotten up half a dozen times during the haircut to stand in the corner to come down from what was probably overstimulation. You were patient with him though.

You'd gotten better at reading him. He'd gotten better at leaving you clues.

In the present, he sat up and slid his legs back into the water. Wet hair slipped from between your fingers as he turned to properly stare at you. Michael was interesting to you still. You could tell he was curious about you too. He stared at you often, like when you watered your plants, washed his clothes, or made food in the kitchen. You felt his eyes on you constantly no matter what.

"What?" You asked with a small sigh, staring back at him with the same intensity.

Michael gave you a slow blink, similar to the ones Mayhem gave you as a show of trust. "Don't gimme that," you teased, smirking at him and motioning for him to sit back down. "I just- I always feel bad thinking about it, in retrospect. I mean, you grew up in an asylum alone. Didn't it-"

He interrupted you by sliding a wet hand around your throat, holding you still as though to physically stop your ramblings. Not squeezing, just holding. You got the message there: let it go. He lay back down and you resumed washing his hair, unbothered by that exchange.

Things like that were normal with him. It had freaked you out at first when he'd wrapped his hand harshly around your throat and pinned you in a doorway. But you'd slowly begun to understand him. He didn't have a way to communicate that wasn't through violence or knives.

Or hospital rooms under scrutiny, you reminded yourself with a grimace. You masked it behind a soft tune you hummed, resuming washing his hair.

Once he was cleaned and dressed, jumpsuit in the wash, you ventured back downstairs to make dinner and feed Mayhem. Michael trailed after you, hair dripping dark spots along his shoulders where it was still damp. He didn't like the hair dryer very much and only tolerated you using it to get his hair comfortably damp. No more.

“You’re probably due for another haircut by the way,” you said as you opened the fridge. Mayhem was immediately rubbing up on Michael’s leg, meowing insistently.

He looked down at her, standing comfortably in the doorway to the kitchen. You glanced over your shoulder to look at him and felt struck with the knowledge that, if it weren't for his injured eye breaking the illusion, it almost felt like you just had a boyfriend over. Your face warmed up at the thought and you snapped your head back around to stare into the white, chilled expanse of the fridge. "Umm… anything specific you want tonight?"

When you looked back over at him, you jumped in surprise when he was barely a few inches from you. Jesus, you thought to yourself. You didn't think you'd ever get used to how quiet he moved sometimes.

Michael tilted his head as he stared at the fridge with you. "I need to go shopping soon, huh?"

He didn't say anything but you could almost hear his nod.

You liked how expressive he'd gotten as the two of you began to trust each other. Little things like that made the whole thing feel domestic somehow.

"Well, hope you like grilled cheese." You snagged the almost-empty package of sliced cheese and dangled it tantalizingly. "I'll go shopping tomorrow, promise. If you want anything in particular, let me know." You said as you grabbed the bread from the cabinet. Before he could say - or, technically, not say - you spun on your heel. "Besides pumpkin pie."

He nodded once and you smirked.

Domestic, your brain said again in an almost mocking tone. You swallowed and tried to focus on the sandwiches and not the way Michael stared at you. You began buttering the bread as the pan warmed up and tried to not envision life being like this forever: painfully domestic and sweet with Haddonfield's best known serial killer in soft lounge clothes you'd bought him, curled up on the couch eating an early lunch together after you'd washed his hair.

The sound of the front door rattling open was out of place and terrifying. Never in your life had you felt as though the ground would swallow you as your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. You spun to face Michael and quickly assessed your options.

There were two doorways that led out of the kitchen - one that faced the living room and another that led into the hallway to the stairs. There was a dividing wall between the two doorways. Meaning if you could get Michael into the hallway, he'd be out of sight for at least the briefest few seconds it took your dad to walk towards you.

"Upstairs, now!" You whisper-yelled, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him towards the hallway. "Stay quiet, he'll go away soon."

Hopefully, you thought to yourself. Hopefully he will.

"You're home early." You called to him as you took your spot at the stove again, spreading butter on bread and placing them in the pan.

Your dad sounded exhausted, shrugging off his outer coat and tossing it atop the back of the couch before slumping in his chair. "I decided to come home early. It's been an exhausting week. But Myers seems to be taking a break from killing these past few days."

You couldn't help but frown. Not killing? Sure you'd noticed less blood on his clothes but surely he'd stopped altogether. So close to Halloween too…

"Cool, I was, uh, making lunch." You called out over the pan sizzling. "You want some?"

The telltale creaks of the wooden floor had your hair standing up on end. It wasn't like normal sneaking around when you had a boyfriend, this was Michael Myers you were hiding. Right under his nose. Even if your dad didn't immediately go for his gun when he saw him, you were still a liar. And an accomplice to his crimes.

"Grilled cheese, huh?" He smiled for the first time since he'd taken on the case. "Want some help? I can-" The sound of his phone ringing cut him off, making him grimace. "I'll take this outside," he sighed as he went back out the door. You sighed with relief and looked towards the doorway to the stairs.

Michael stood there, mask on, gripping a knife tight in his hand. You had no idea where he'd gotten it, since your knives were accounted for.

You tried to seem reassuring. "He's probably going to get called back into work, it's okay." Even though you'd gotten used to it, you still swallowed when you saw the glint of the knife in the dim lighting of the doorway. "He, um, he said you haven't been killing lately?"

Michael was eerily still. Just staring at you.

"Is everything…okay?" It felt a bit weird asking when he was going to kill someone again. Like it was just a casual hobby of his. "Just let me know, alright?"

He just stared at you. His walls were back up, you could tell, so you tried to not take it personally.

When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago." His gun was out, alarming you. "Have you… have you seen anything?"

"No." You swallowed around your lie, quickly turning the stove off, lunch forgotten. "No, it's been quiet. I was out in my garden, mostly."

He didn't seem convinced though. "She said he was circling around the house before coming inside."

At that, he froze. He held a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You wanted to roll your eyes at how comical this was but you also couldn't afford to break character. Scared young child of the police detective, home alone with a killer in this house.

"Where's your cat?" He whispered, glancing up at the ceiling as though expecting to hear footsteps.

Glancing around, you tried to play up your alarm. "I don't know!" You whisper-yelled. "Do you think he's-?"

"Dead, then." Your dad's bluntness made you flinch. "Myers usually kills the pets first. Keeps 'em from sounding an alarm." He didn't even try to look sympathetic as he crept towards the stairs. You followed after him as he crept silently from room to room, pushing the door open slightly before scanning the room with his gun out. It made you anxious and you kept periodically glancing towards your bedroom, dreading the impending inspection. First the hall closet, then his bedroom, then the bathrooms, and finally: your bedroom.

You felt sweat drip down your temple as he pushed open the door. Everything felt tense, suffocating you as you chewed anxiously on the nail of your thumb.

He swung open the closet door and fired at the first sign of movement.

Mayhem yowled, a sharp, piercing sound, then darted past your legs as he took off down the hall. "MAYHEM!" You shrieked in horror, watching blood trail behind him faster than you could catch him. You ignored your dad's stammered apologies and took off after your cat.

The blood trail went down the stairs and out through the back door, which had been left cracked open to let Mayhem come and go as he pleased. Now he was gone. Your heart sank as you ran outside, crying for Mayhem to come back. In the tall, mud-riddled forest it was hard to see any kind of blood trail or spot your all black cat. Minutes ticked by with no response and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself as you bawled.

He was your little kitty. And now he was gone.

"Sweetheart, I- I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was there." Your dad tried to explain as he watched you from the doorway. "It- It'll come back, I'm sure."

"You SHOT him!" You rounded on him almost instantly, storming up to meet him and relishing in the way he backed up in fear of your anger. "You SHOT him and now he might DIE out there!" While you didn't consider yourself an angry nor violent person, it felt vindicating to shove him and watch him stumble back. "You don't even CARE!"

"No, I don't!" He shouted, trying to scare you back. "It's just a cat! What if Myers had been there, huh?"

You felt hysteric. "I don't care about that! Fuck, dad, I care about my CAT!"

Suddenly, he'd grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you into the nearby wall, his voice hissing like a viper when he spoke. "I don't give a shit about your fucking cat. I am stressed enough as it is and I am focused on finding Michael fucking Myers, not your shitty little cat. Let. It. Go."

The sign of movement in the shadows behind him made you smile.

Michael grabbed your dad by the back of his shirt and yanked him back harshly, letting him fall to the kitchen floor. He stood there, knife tight in his fist as he stood over the whimpering man who scrambled for his gun.

You watched with an empty expression as Michael kicked the gun aside, skittering on the tiled floor and out of reach. "Grab it!" He hissed at you. Michael tilted his head down at him but he tried to not be intimidated. "Grab my gun, just-"

Reality began to settle in as shock wore off. Your ears were still ringing from the gunshots and you could smell the charred butter coming off the stove. "Michael." Your mouth moved but you didn't feel like your words were yours. "I'm okay."

A heavy boot thudded against your dad's chest and you watched him scramble to try and understand. The dark pits of the mask's eye holes bore into you, almost searching for permission.

"You've been hiding him." Your dad gasped in horror. "You've been hiding the man I've been hunting. Right. Under. My fucking nose!" He roared, struggling to get out from under Michael, only ending up grabbed like a scruffed kitten in his attempts to lunge at you. "How long!? How long has he been hiding here?!"

You didn't feel like answering. So you didn't.

He didn't like that though. "What have you two been doing? What, do you nurse him back to health under my fucking roof every night? Is that why you've been buying first aid shit?"

None of this felt real to you in any substantial way. It felt like a movie almost, a sick indie film about a serial killer you'd grown attached to finally snapping and slaughtering your family because you'd finally given him the chance to get close. You watched Michael press the tip of his knife to your dad's sternum and could almost see the anger and hatred rolling off the masked man in waves.

After all, you'd given him a hard line of not hurting Mayhem. And your dad just broke that rule.

You backed up against the fridge and slid to the floor, watching with a distant expression as Michael wrestled the man to the floor. "Yeah." You said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I clean him. Bandage him. He protects me." A wet laugh left your throat at the absurdity of it all. "We're partners."

No point in hiding it anymore.

"M-maybe I should call Loomis, s-see if I can get you two joint rooms in the fucking asylum-!" The man below Michael yelled out, his words muffling as Michael jabbed the knife into him. Wet squelching sounds that became almost monotonous as hot red sprays erupted from the holes in his neck. Puddles of red seeped beneath the man's body and Michael seemed to relish in the thrill.

"You killed my cat," you mumbled bitterly to the corpse of the man you once called dad.

And you watched as the body ran cold with Michael's anger. He stood up, towering over you as he tracked bloody footprints as he approached you. "Hi." You said absently, giving him a small smile. "You'll have to kill our neighbor. No witnesses."

He tilted his head curiously and you just let your head fall between your knees. You didn't want to talk about this anymore than you had to. "Just- Just get rid of the body, okay? I'll clean up."

Had you looked up, you would have seen his nod.

The stench of bleach burned your nose and made your eyes water as you scrubbed at the now blood-free kitchen floor. You'd opened the windows to air out the smell but it still felt like it was suffocating. But there was no evidence anymore, thank god.

You didn't ask Michael what he'd done with the bodies. You'd kept your head down when he'd lifted it up and carried it with him out the back door and you were content not knowing. It would only serve to upset you.

Clutching the rim of the sink, you let out a long, pained sigh. Things were going to change now. Your father and Mayhem's blood was all gone, the knives would be disinfected, and Michael's jumpsuit would go through the wash again. No evidence any of this had even happened.

Logically, you knew this should upset you. It did, only in the sense that the wet plunging sounds of the knife echoed in your mind. But you couldn't feel anything beyond anger that he'd shot Mayhem. That he didn't care about you, only his work. It infuriated you to think about how little your life would change with him gone. The house was bought and paid for, you knew everything he owned would be left to you, and life would continue on.

He didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. You repeated this mantra over and over to yourself as you heard the back door open.

Michael stood there, his hands and suit stained with blood. Flecks of dark red stained the white mask in harsh streaks that made you want to hurl. "How, um, how did it go?" You tried giving him a smile but fell short. He approached you and you did your best to hide your flinch when he took your wrist. Red stained your skin and you heard the sickening stabbing again. "Sorry," you mumbled, "I should have done something to- to try to make him leave, or-"

Michael cut you off with a harsh tug on your arm. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes behind the mask, your own wide in confusion. He just stared you down, only gripping you tighter when you tried to pull away.

His silent question felt loud in the little kitchen, even if he said nothing. "I'm… I'll be okay." But you weren't sure if you were telling that to him or yourself. "It was inevitable. I- I just didn't think it would be so soon. But, um, I knew I was… I knew I was going to be sticking with you. Partners, right?"

You didn't wait for any type of response, gesturing to his jumpsuit. "Lets, um, get you into clean clothes, yeah?"

Michael didn't budge.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he lifted his hand towards your face, dragging a bloody finger down your cheek and marveled at the way it stained your skin. A red to match his own,

And as quickly as he came, he left. His footfalls were heavy as he went up to the bathroom and left you floundering in the kitchen. You broke from your trance only when you heard the shower running. Swallowing, you followed his trail upstairs to collect his bloody clothes. You could only hope the blood was fresh enough to come out easy.

When you passed by Mayhem's food dish, you winced at the memory of your cat's blood streaked across the house. You filled his bowls and set them outside, hoping the prospect of dinner would entice him home.

It was the best you could do, really…

The cops came two days later. When no one on the force had seen or heard from him in a few days, they'd come by to check. It wasn't hard to play up your distress. The five stages of grief had hit you harder than expected. On the first day, you'd just yelled at Michael, slamming your fists into his chest as he watched you curiously. You'd wondered to yourself after sobbing over breakfast how he'd felt after his sister died. You'd only ever heard stories but you wanted to ask him.

"We found him off a backroad down the way with an older woman in the car," the officer interviewing you asked. "Do you have any idea what that was about?"

You swallowed and shook your head. "He, um, he mentioned he got a call from Gladys. That, uh, Myers was outside her house so- so he told me he was going to take her to a hotel and then go back to work." Your voice trembled as you spoke. "H-he'd been working so much, I-"

The officer gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry, kid."

Michael was easily named the killer so you weren't even considered a suspect. What they didn't know was that he was taking this opportunity while the police were busy to kill again, letting out his frustrations that had been building up.

He hadn't left you alone since your dad had died. Always hovering in doorways or your wrist if you were close enough. You knew Michael well enough at this point to know he didn't necessarily feel bad for what he did. But he was certainly capable of fearing your reaction. You could easily turn him in now, all wound up emotions like a ticking time bomb.

But you didn't. You were partners. A pact now sealed in your father's blood

Once the police left, you wanted to get out of the house. It all felt too suffocating. You just needed a moment without Michael's eyes on you, if such a thing existed. So you'd gotten dressed into proper clothes and went into town. You knew the whole town would be looking at you so you tried to keep yourself presentable while still looking a wreck.

Which wasn't hard, after everything that happened.

News reports of your dad's false crime scene would be all over the news in a day. All over the televisions, newspapers, and your dad's police buddies would be sharing stories in bars over drinks. You felt sick at the knowledge that he'd had a life outside you and your little bubble of fake domesticity with a serial killer.

It all felt like a huge reality check that left you stumbling like a drunk on the curbside.

You snapped back to your body as you stared emptily at some crummy greeting cards in the little general store. You'd been walking the aisles with no clear goal in mind and many of the other patrons simply let you pass with pitiful smiles that made your skin crawl. "I should've looked at the fridge…" You mumbled to no one.

"Hey." A soft voice interrupted your train of thought and you gave a glance over your shoulder. Laurie Strode, dressed in all black like she was attending a funeral. Maybe she was - a funeral for the town. You knew the paranoia of Michael stalking her never really went away and you felt a little bad for her. A part of you wished you could reassure her.

“Oh, um, hi.” You stuttered inelegantly. “What- um-“

“I’m sorry,” she gave you a sorrowful look. You were getting pretty sick of those. “I heard about your dad… Michael is ruthless.”

You swallowed around a lump building in your throat. “Y-yeah. I hope, um, you’re doing okay too.” You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren’t sure if it came out like a grimace.

Laurie just laughed, no joy behind her tight smile. “I’ll survive. Always do.”

You said your polite goodbyes and you left her, now even more uneasy. It was jarring to be reminded that life existed outside your little house in the forest, that Michael's actions had consequences that spread far beyond just you.

It made you wonder if Michael’s intentions were what you thought they were. He’d never leave Haddonfield. Not willingly. He’d continue killing with or without you in his life.

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

Your dad's funeral was mostly uneventful. A few of his work friends came to console you but you denied their company when you went to the cemetery. Your dad had told you many times when you were young that, when he died, he wanted to be poured into water used to help grow flowers on your late mothers grave. It had struck you as odd then but now you understood.

Guilt still ate at you. He'd probably haunt you if he didn't get to be reunited with your mom in some way, so you'd bought some daisies - her favorite, according to him - and brought them with his ashes and a bottle of water. Haddonfield's graveyard was nothing spectacular, just rows and rows of headstones. Some newer with fresh flowers and photos, some older and covered in moss and dirt. The forgotten ones always made your heart clench.

You pointedly kept your head down when you passed Judith Myers' grave. Her parents had a joint headstone beside her, a spot they'd reserved for themselves a year after she'd died. According to stories, they'd believed Michael deserved nothing but cremation. No tombstone, no funeral, just death in silence.

The fate of the Myers family had been a horrible story. Even after their son was shipped off to Smith's Grove, the family still received harsh criticisms for what they'd done. While Michael's actions were certainly the focus, some people still believed the parents had some sway in it or had influenced his behavior. He'd only been a little boy, after all. A possibly mentally ill, neglected child whose parents had, allegedly, favored Judith to the point Michael acted out.

A car crash killed them, according to the news. You weren't sure. The timings had been too close and their funerals had been closed caskets. But you'd been too young to really care about that sort of thing. Now, though, you were curious. It felt like you'd get answers somehow if you knew. Regardless, Michael was left without guardianship and became a ward of the state, locked away in a hospital for fifteen years. At first, the town didn't know what to think of him. The poor, unstable boy who now had no one waiting for him if he ever got out. Many villainized him, of course, but some wanted to see him make a full recovery. They saw a traumatized child who needed help.

It was only after Michael broke out of Smith’s Grove and killed again that public opinion on him changed.

You pushed those thoughts away and focused on kneeling before your mothers grave. Your fingers were still damp from the wet earth you'd pulled out as you'd dug a little hole for the flowers all on autopilot. The little flowers looked nice, spots of white and yellow against mucky browns and greens. This wasn't that different from gardening, you thought to yourself as you added the water into the jar of your father's ashes. Not that different at all.

It felt a bit weird. But it was his wish. After everything you'd done, the least you could do was honor that. Besides, you didn’t really think you could cope with having the jar of his ashes in the house you’d let him die in. So you poured the water over the flowers, dirt under your nails as you showered them graciously.

You'd never made a habit of talking to your mom's grave. Your dad did it a few times and you'd seen people doing it before but there was just no appeal to you. Talking to air felt weird and you weren't exactly going to start now. You'd never known your mom, she didn't need to hear your stories.

She’d died when you were young so it wasn't like you knew her. The concept of a mother meant more to you than who she specifically did. When you were growing up, sometimes you'd feel a longing absence that she wasn't there but the woman buried beneath your feet still meant nothing to you. A stranger whose photos lined the walls of your dad's bedroom - photos you would probably store in the attic. Like you'd never really known them. A part of your dad died with your mom anyways so the symbolism felt right.

He’d always go on and on about how much you looked like her, how similar you two were, that sort of crap. Now, staring at her headstone, you wondered what she’d think of you.

The feeling of eyes on you has become commonplace for you now. An is-ness rather than a concern. So you didn't even bother lifting your head. Just slumped forward, cross-legged, and picking at the dirt under your nails, flicking it at the daisies. "Do you ever miss them?" You asked aloud. You knew Michael was close enough to hear, especially since you were alone. "Your parents, I mean. I doubt you miss your sister too much. I mean, I heard what you did with her headstone when you killed those high schoolers." The bitterness in your tone was not missed but it didn't feel right to put words in his mouth.

"I'm still trying to decide how I feel." You sighed, poking at soft petals. "I never knew my mother so I can't miss her. She wasn't part of my life, only her ghost was. But I don't know how I feel about my dad dying. It always felt like I was competing with her for his affection. He loved her so much and could barely spare me a passing glance…" You swallowed and your throat clicked. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd have been happier if I had died and she'd lived.

If Michael Myers had to be the one to hear your confessions, at least you knew he wouldn't tell anyone.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled. "It's weird. I haven't decided if I hate him for that yet. If I hate him at all, even." When you looked up, Michael was staring down at you, face hidden behind the mask. You almost envied his ability to simply hide his feelings away. You'd never been able to avoid wearing your heart on your sleeve. "Do you ever think about if your parents wished it had been you instead of Judith?"

The silence felt suffocating and you broke into a helpless sob. The kind of crying that you did when no one was around and it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. Michael sat down beside you in the dirt, silent companionship through your tears.

He didn't say anything. But he didn't have to.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher fanfiction #halloween 1978 #michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #mask of hate

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silly-l1ttle-guy · 9 months ago

Text

How the bucci gang sleep hcs

This has been in my drafts since January wtf

BRUNO BUCCIARATI + LEONE ABBACCHIO

all over the place

there is not a single time where these two have woken up in the same position they fell asleep in

like they'll fall asleep spooning, then they'll wake up with half of Bruno's limbs zipped off and Abbacchio sprawled across the bed in a position that looks uncomfortable with her foot in Bruno's face

one of Bruno's legs is probably on the floor and Abbacchio is most likely cuddling one of his arms

they're just used to it at this point

"Leone can you pass me my leg?" "m'kay"

Narancia came in to wake them up one time and screamed because Bruno zipped his head off in his sleep

Mista and Trish teased him about it for weeks

anyway i bet on my life that Bruno and Abba bring out their stands in their sleep

just randomly while they're sleeping Sticky Fingers and Moody Blues pop out

they just look at each other, then down at their users, then back to each other

they end up cuddling too (SENTIENT STANDS SUPREMACY)

it's so cute when Bruno and Abba wake up and see that their stand are cuddling

also Bruno's hair may look perfect 24/7 but in the morning it's SO. FUCKING. MESSY.

he has to immediately brush his hair so no one sees it like that

except Abbacchio

SPEAKING OF ABBACCHIO

when she wakes up her hair is also a mess

just slightly less messy

she has breakfast before she does anything else, then she immediately does her make-up

also don't be surprised if Bruno has Abbacchio's lipstick stains all over his body in the morning

it just means he sucked some girl dick last night

usually on those days Abbacchio wakes up with smudged make-up that she forgot to take off

also Abbacchio has frequent nightmares and often times wakes up in the middle of the night

she doesn't like telling anyone and calms herself down before going back to sleep

Bruno knows about it though

GIORNO GIOVANNA + PANNACOTTA FUGO

these guys are like the opposite of Bruno and Abba

they'll fall asleep cuddling and wake up in the exact same position

usually Fugo's the big spoon because he doesn't like being the little spoon

brings back bad memories y'know?

but anyway they sometimes also bring out their stands in their sleep

GER most of the time

it just likes to pop out to see what's happening

sometimes in the morning when Fugo wakes up, he'll roll over and see GER staring him dead in the eyes

he screams loud enough to wake everyone up

nara, mista and trish all tease him about it

"Did someone get scared~?" "SHUT UP NARANCIA! IT WAS JUST STARING ME DEAD IN THE EYES!" "Pussy lmao" "MISTA" "Nah the boys are right, you are kind of a pussy" "TRISH!"

sometimes purple haze comes out while Fugo's asleep

GER just pops out and hangs out with ph for a bit

anyway Fugo's hair is always a pain in the ass when he wakes up

as for Giorno... uh...

picture Dio's hair but longer

he looks like a younger version of shadow Dio too in the morning lmao

also Giorno bites shit in his sleep

and he's got some sharp canine teeth

the pros of being half-vampire

don't be surprised if when they wake up there's bite marks on Fugo's arms

or if Giorno's biting a pillow

if Giorno's had a stressful day he might move around in his sleep too

not much usually, but one time he ended up sleepwalking

Fugo woke up in the middle of the night and noticed that Giorno wasn't there

panic

he eventually found Giorno wandering around the garden and muttering to himself

it was really funny when Fugo snapped him out of it

then they went back to bed and Giorno bit Fugo's hand so hard it drew blood

true love at it's finest

sometimes Fugo has nightmares and Giorno has to wake him up

on more rare occasions Giorno has a nightmare and wakes up Fugo because he's trembling and shaking so much

GUIDO MISTA

snores

that's about it

he'll sleep in any position there is possible and he'll be comfy in all of them

he's also the deepest sleeper in the team

this guy moves around a lot too

he'll fall asleep in fetal position against the wall, then he'll wake up halfway across the room with his blanket tangled in his legs

sleepovers with him are a nightmare because not only does he snore, but this man also sleeptalks

one time Narancia and Trish were sleeping in his room and they woke up to him mumbling about how far his ass is

they recorded it in case they ever needed to blackmail him

but yeah this guy is a mess

He sleeps naked too

Balls out and everything

Unless Trish and Narancia are sleeping over

In thy case he leaves his pants on

Also on hot nights he SWEATS

This guy naturally runs warm, he gets hot during the night

NARANCIA GHIRGA

Eeperton

Bro sleeps like a baby

Nara just kinda sleeps wherever

He hardly even uses his own room unless someone carries him there

Honk mmimimimi honk mimimimimi

Also they sleep with their blanket wrapped around them like a cocoon

My guy is snug as a bug in a rug fr

This mf does not make ANY noise in their sleep

Completely silent

The amount of times people have thought they were dead because of this is quite a hefty amount

Sleeby

The missile is very sleepy

If they sleep next to someone they cling on for dear life

Also they're a blanket hog

They do not move at all either

TRISH UNA

She sleeps in a princess bed

Also a quiet sleeper

But she does move, unlike Narancia

Goes to sleep like she's in a casket at her funeral and wakes up face down on the opposite side of the bed

If she forgets to take her makeup off before bed she screams and tells Giorno to buy her self-care products

Live laugh love Trish

Sometimes she sleeps with Sheila E (I wish lesbians were real💔💔)

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sister-lucifer · 9 months ago

Text

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

Genre: Comfort, fluff, slight angst but nothing heavy, not explicitly romantic

Summary: The thunder rouses you from a nightmare-filled sleep, and in your distress you run to Tim for comfort

Content/Warnings: None really, reader has nightmares due to unspecified trauma but nothing is explicitly written, Tim is a little emotionally constipated but does his best, no explicit romance.

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

You nearly jump out of your skin when the screaming thunder rips you from your fitful sleep. You sit up so fast you almost fall out of bed, your jaw hanging open like you’re trying to cry out despite no sound leaving your throat. Your chest is heaving so fast you start to choke on your breath. It takes a moment for your eyes to focus, and even longer still for you to remember where you are.

Do you recognize this place?

Home?

This isn’t home.

No. Not quite.

A home, yes, but not your home.

The TV is still on.

The wallpaper is still peeling.

The shag rug is still discolored.

You know where you are.

You look around for a second, taking in your surroundings and making sure your assessment was correct. It’s like a flood of memories coming back to you in an instant, and for a second it’s almost calming. That is, until you get to the part that made you so afraid in the first place.

The nightmares have been pervasive for weeks now. You’re not sure why. It’s some sort of episode you think, one of these days it’ll stop, but it’s been wearing on you. You’ve hidden it from Tim as best you can. You don’t want him to worry, that’ll only make you feel worse, and usually it’s easy enough to shake the thoughts from your mind.

Usually.

But this time it’s lingering, an unwanted guest meandering in the doorway for an uncomfortable amount of time, like dirty smoke permeating everything around it and yellowing the walls with its horrible malodor.

God, it’s everywhere.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bringing your knees to your chest and hiding your face in them. It’s a feeble attempt to calm yourself, to stop the images of your nightmare from flashing in your mind over and over again, but it does little to help.

The thunder cries out again and you yelp in surprise, the harsh noise cutting through the static buzzing taking over your mind. It irritates the pounding headache you can feel coming on. You’re exhausted, only being kept awake by the obscene amounts of adrenaline being pumped through your veins.

God, it won’t go away.

There are just some thoughts that can’t be forced out no matter how hard you try. They can’t be pushed away or covered up or cut out of you. You can only wait until they dissolve on their own, but right now they feel like a cement block weighing you down from the inside.

The headache is coming on faster than you thought, and you wince under the pressure of pins and needles in the back of your head.

God, it hurts.

You can’t stay here.

You can’t stay in this room.

It’s like the walls are closing in on you, the darkness barely shrouding their approach.

It’s not safe here.

You need Tim.

He’ll know what to do.

You jump from your bed and tumble to the floor, not even taking a moment to acknowledge the pain as you thrash your way out of the covers tangled around your ankles. You barely manage to stumble to your feet, slamming into the doorway as you flee the room. It stings, but you don’t care.

You’ve forgotten all pleasantries or manners as you burst into Tim’s room, slamming the door open so fast the knob rattles from the impact. Tim jolts awake with a grunt of surprise, and for a moment his hand jumps to grab the revolver he keeps in the dresser drawer. He only fumbles with the handle for a moment before he blinks a few times and pauses. He squints at you, tilts his head, then sighs in both relief and annoyance.

He collapses back onto the bed, rubbing his eyes.

“God…dammit, kid!” He groans, and you feel a pang of guilt that’s quickly washed away by the flood of tears stinging your eyes and burning your throat.

You rush to his bedside, collapsing against the mattress and gasping for air as you try to collect yourself. You try to breath in, but the air is forced back out of your lung before you can take a meaningful breath. You choke out a pitiful cry of Tim’s name, but with the old TV being the only light in the room and his vision still blurry with sleep he can’t see the distress that’s evident on your face.

He turns over onto his side, brows furrowed in annoyance and a hint of a scowl on his lips.

“What do you need, kid?”

You don’t get to answer before the thunder comes down again, making you flinch and forcing a surprised noise from your mouth. Tim turns and looks out the window, sighing and rolling his eyes.

“Is it the thunder, huh? You scared, kid?”

“Yes,” You finally choke out.

He pauses, his expression instantly shifting to one of concern. He scrambles to sit up, making room for you on the bed.

“Okay, okay,” He says softly, “Come on, get up here, I got you.”

You claw at the sheets as you climb up into bed with him, your hands immediately finding his body and grabbing onto his shirt. You pull yourself into him so desperately he almost falls over, barely managing to catch himself just in time to keep you both from going down.

He’s almost as frantic as you are, large hands fumbling with you as he clumsily pulls you onto his lap and into his chest. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, your fingers clutching the back of his shirt so hard your knuckles are getting sore. It hurts, but you can’t let go. You hiccup and your breath stutters as you fight for air.

“Hey, hey,” He whispers, trying to keep you still against him without crushing you, “Are you hurt or anything?”

“No,” You answer, not relaxing your grip for a second. You feel Tim nod.

“Okay, okay. What’s wrong, kid, what’s got you all worked up?” He asks. Hopefully you can’t hear that little shake in his voice.

“N-Nightmare,” is the only reply you can stutter out, but it says enough. It strikes a nerve somewhere deep inside of Tim’s being, and it hurts like hell. He knows what it’s like to wake up screaming, terrified and alone.

You’re not alone, though. Not this time. He won’t let you suffer like that.

…But god, he is so bad at this.

He loves you with everything he’s got, but he can count on one hand the amount of times he’s come right out and said it. It’s embarrassing for him, that’s all, the words taste contrived and sticky in his mouth and it’s just unbearable. It’s not something he can make himself do.

What else can he possibly say?

He ponders that question as he keeps you against him, almost afraid to let you go. He can feel your hot tears soaking through his thin night shirt now. He doesn’t know how to stop them. He’s always suffered alone, he doesn’t even have a frame of reference here.

Think, dammit, think, Tim.

He won’t tell you everything is okay. It’s not, it never will be, and he’s not going to lie to you.

He won’t tell you to stop crying. It’d be a horrible thing to ask of you, full stop. Christ, at this point, you deserve a good cry.

He won’t stay quiet. It’s completely out of the question, he has to say something, and it has to be the truth.

He has to tell you the truth.

“…You’re safe with me, kid,” He sputters, trying to get the words out as fast as possible, “You’re safe, I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you. Not ever.”

You go quiet for just a moment, like you’re surprised to hear that. Then you hiccup and suck in a harsh breath, and the sobs roll in once more. He sighs and starts to rub your back in smooth circles.

“Whatever’s scarin’ you, kid,” He mutters in your ear, “I won’t let it get you. Nothing‘s gonna get to you while I’m here. You can sit here in my lap all night if you want, I ain’t lettin’ you go nowhere ‘til you feel safe.”

As he talks, you slowly start to calm down. It’s gradual, but when he stops talking your hiccups and sobs have gotten just a bit quieter. Your grip on his shirt has loosened a little, too.

You believe him.

God, you really do believe him.

And for some reason, that’s the most amazing thought that’s ever crossed his mind. You really do trust him to keep you safe.

He plans to keep it that way.

He adjusts you in his hold just a bit, moving to lean back against his pillows. He tightens his grip a bit just to keep you from moving. He doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to get away from you, he just wants you both to be comfortable.

Both of his hands rest on your back, slowly sliding up and down as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Your body shivers against him, the heaving in your chest starting to level out bit by bit as you catch your breath. He can feel your lungs expand and contract with each breath.

He reaches up to scratch the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around you. He listens intently as your voice quiets until you’re silent, and then the only thing he can hear is your steady breathing.

He just sits there for a minute when he realizes he’s actually managed to calm you. He’s almost impressed with himself. In any other universe, that was probably a disaster.

His hands still and move to rest on your back once more. He doesn’t feel the need to keep you held so tight now. You’re not going anywhere.

Are you even awake?

He turns his head to look at you, and you stir a bit in response. He quickly turns his head back so as not to wake you if you are asleep. He’s not going to get up until you are.

He sighs softly to himself, his eyes turning back to the TV and whatever trashy sitcom he fell asleep too a few hours ago. He doesn’t really care. He won’t be up for much longer. Now that the adrenaline has worn off the exhaustion is quickly taking over, not to mention the warmth and comfortable pressure of you laying on top of him is more relaxing than he’d like to admit.

He’s only just allowed his eyes to flutter shut when he feels you stir, and suddenly they fly open again. He stays still, but alert. You’re not having another nightmare, are you? Shit…

He tenses as he listens to you, watching your movements carefully. You don’t seem upset, at least not yet, but that can change in an instant.

He’s ready to hold onto you if you freak out. He’s thinking about where he last left the first aid kit, just in case. He’s wondering what he’ll have to say this time if he can’t bring you down again.

But then you go still.

And you’re quiet.

And you’re breathing steadily.

And everything’s okay again.

Then Tim flinches as an unexpected mumble of his name falls from your lips, and he turns to look at you in surprise and slight concern.

“Yeah, kid? What is it?”

He gets no response.

Your eyes are closed. You’re asleep.

Thank God.

He huffs at his own anxiousness before laying his head back again. He pats your back softly, and his eyelids are starting to feel heavy again.

“You know what?” He whispers as he reaches to pull a blanket over both of you, “I’ll ask you in the morning. Sweet dreams, kid.”

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devirnis · 1 year ago

Note

if you’re still taking prompts, can i ask for a combined 13 and 22? 👀

@bvckandeddie of course you can ask for combos! I hope this is to your liking 💜

(full disclosure, I wrote this in my notes app while hopped up on painkillers and cold medication and also on vacation ✌️)

Chim calls dibs on the couch the second Buck’s front door closes behind the three of them.

Buck glances at Eddie on his other side, wondering if he’ll put up a fight for the couch (and trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care if he does), but Eddie just nods tiredly and trudges in the direction of the stairs up to Buck’s bedroom. Buck can’t really blame him; today was the shift from hell, on top of a long week of shifts, and culminating in the call to limit potential exposure to their families by staying with each other. Given that he lived alone, Buck’s loft was the logical choice for Chim and Eddie to use, while Hen had elected to stay in the guest room at Bobby and Athena’s while the kids moved to Michael’s place.

None of them are very jazzed about the whole situation. One, because it’s a global pandemic and work has been crazy and everything is just a little scary right now, and two, Buck knows Eddie would much rather be with Christopher, and Chim with Maddie.

Buck lingers on the main level just long enough to help Chim dig out some blankets for the couch — he really needs to get an air mattress if this goes on longer than the two weeks that everyone is promising — before hurrying up the stairs after Eddie. He finds his best friend at the top of the stairs, staring a little blankly at Buck’s bed.

Oh. Right.

While Buck is totally cool with sharing the bed — it’s a king, after all — he has no idea how Eddie’s feeling about the prospect. The last person Eddie shared a bed with was probably Shannon, and Buck needs to not think too hard about that if he wants to keep his head on straight (pun definitely intended.)

“I can take the floor?” Eddie asks, glancing over at Buck.

Buck rolls his eyes. “I don’t have an air mattress. Besides, it’s fine, it’s plenty big enough for both of us.”

A strange sort of expression flickers over Eddie’s face, but it’s gone before Buck can identify it. When he turns back to the bed, Buck swears the back of Eddie’s neck is a little flushed.

“If you’re sure,” Eddie says haltingly.

“I don’t have a problem with sharing with you,” Buck says, and then frowns, his stomach dropping a little. “Unless — I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable —“

“No, no!” Eddie scrambles. “No, I didn’t mean — I’m not —“ He sighs. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“Oh, uh.” Buck’s stomach twists for some stupid reason. It’s been a while since he shared with anyone — Ali was out of town a lot during their brief relationship, and he and Abby hadn’t been physical long enough to pick sides. “The middle. Pick whichever you want.”

Eddie wanders over to dump his duffel bag on the right side of the bed, closest to the stairs. “If you have a dent in your mattress that I keep rolling into…”

“I haven’t had it that long!” Buck protests.

Eddie smirks at him, but there’s something else there besides the playfulness that Buck is familiar with.

Before he can decipher it, Chim’s calling from downstairs about Buck’s terrible throw pillows and the moment is broken.

Eddie shoots Buck a sympathetic look as Buck sighs gustily. “Maddie wouldn’t appreciate it if I killed the father of her unborn child on the first day, right?”

———

Buck thought that he’d have trouble falling asleep given the general existential dread hanging over him and the fact that he’s sharing his home with two other people, but he actually doesn’t remember much after he crawled under the covers beside Eddie.

He’s so comfortable. He loves his mattress and sheets and pillows, but somehow he’s never had a sleep as good as this before. He’s warm and cozy, with a comforting weight along his left side, grounding him, making him feel held.

Actually —

He is being held.

There’s an arm slung across his waist, a head on his shoulder, soft hairs tickling the underside of his jaw. He breathes in, the cobwebs of sleep slowly dissolving in his brain, and he smells —

Eddie.

Eddie is on top of him, clinging to him like a koala bear, snoring softly into Buck’s collarbone.

Buck’s traitorous heart soars in his chest.

He shouldn’t be happy about this. The only reason Eddie is here is because of a pandemic — not because he wants to be. He probably doesn’t even realize it’s Buck that he’s holding; muscle memory from Shannon is the only reason that Eddie is plastered to him like this.

Buck shifts slightly, hoping he can disentangle himself without waking Eddie, but then Eddie’s arm around him tightens at the same time as he groans.

“Time’s it?” Eddie mumbles.

The hot breath against Buck’s skin makes him shiver. He twists his neck to read the clock on his bedside table. “Early. Not even five.”

Eddie hums into Buck’s neck, going boneless for a few blissful seconds before he suddenly stiffens. Seemingly aware that he’s stuck to his best friend like a barnacle, Eddie slowly lifts his head off Buck’s chest and meets his gaze. There’s a blush high on Eddie’s cheeks that Buck finds equal parts adorable and disheartening.

“Um…” Eddie says, slowly unlatching himself from Buck. “Sorry about that.”

Buck feels depressingly cold now that Eddie’s scooted a respectable few inches back. “Don’t worry about it. It was… kind of nice, actually.” And then Buck cringes because seriously? He had to say that last part out loud?

Eddie’s face gets even redder, but then he says, “Weirdly, that’s the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

“Well…” Buck hedges, “I make a pretty good pillow. And — I don’t, y’know, mind. If you don’t.”

Oh god, can a hole just open up in his bed and swallow him now and put him out of his misery?

But, miracle of miracles, Eddie begins to slowly inch closer again. He keeps his eyes fixed on Buck the entire time, like he’s expecting Buck to take back his offer. Buck practically holds his breath, terrified to do anything lest he scare Eddie off again. But then Eddie slowly resumes his earlier position, laying an arm gently across Buck’s stomach as he places his head back on Buck’s shoulder.

“Your mattress totally has a dent in the middle,” Eddie whispers.

Smiling, Buck wraps his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, holding him close. “Guess we’ll just have to get comfortable in the dent, then.”

He can’t be sure, but he swears he feels Eddie’s lips curve into a smile against his skin.

(also on ao3)

#911 ficlet #buddie ficlet #myfic #bed sharing prompts #theyweretooyoung #ali answers

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sendhelpiloveyeonjun · 7 months ago

Text

Pairing: non idol yeonjun x reader

Summary: it's hard to summarize because it's legit all over the place trying to make the three random sentences match but it's kinda funny!

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving)

A/N: i wrote this 4 years ago for a random tags request on an old account and just found it but it was for a different idol (no i won't say who heh). i changed it to be for yj because i'm ill and need it to be for him. if i had a chance to completely re-write with these prompts now, it would be so much nastier but this is cute and i can see where my brain was back then.

the three prompts were:

"Then let’s give them something to talk about."

"Your lips are so pretty, I just can’t wait to see how they’ll look wrapped around my cock."

"You’re so fucking pathetic, it’s almost funny."

i can’t believe i convinced this 24-year-old man to beg on his knees for me. it was a joke, but yeonjun took me seriously and i’ve never been more uncomfortable—but also sort of…aroused?

“yeonjun”, i smacked his arm, tugging on it in attempt to get him off of the floor, “you look so ridiculous! get up!” i could see the smirk on his face even though his head was facing the ground, he was enjoying this.

“please let me fuck you, y/n”, he looked up at me, a full pout going, “i need to fuck you right now!”

i looked around, waving my hands at everyone who had gathered to watch, “he’s just kidding! this is all a joke!” he grabbed my hands and i glared down at him, “come on, y/n. i promise i’ll even last longer than 15 seconds this time!”

girls started to giggle and i could hear the whispers getting louder. this is so embarrassing i could die. i snatched my hands away from his, crossing my arms over my chest. tears welled up in my eyes as he stood, smirking down at me, “you’re so fucking pathetic, it’s almost funny”.

i gasped and smacked his chest, “this isn’t funny at all! you’re embarrassing me! worst friend i’ve ever had”. i tried to walk away, but he pulled me back, “aw, lighten up! it’s a joke, no one really cares”. i rolled my eyes and scoffed, “every single person in this stupid mall saw you begging to fuck me on the floor! they’re going to post this online and then everyone will be talking about us!”

“but there is no us”, he muttered, shrugging it off, “if you’re really worried about what they’ll say, then let’s give them something to talk about”. his arms slid around my waist and i gasped as our lips touched. is he kissing me?!

i pushed him off but he was quick to pull me back again, his lips moving against mine this time. damn… as soon as i started kissing back, he abruptly stopped, winking at me and walking off toward the entrance we came in. WHAT?!

“choi yeonjun!” i chased after him, ignoring all of the people talking about us. i can’t believe he’s so calm about having a freaking audience.

“hey!” i finally caught up, pulling on his arm, but he didn’t stop walking. “where are you going?”

“hurry up”, he took my hand and dragged me all the way to the car, ignoring how hard i was trying to pull in the opposite direction. he’s a little too big for me to win this one. he got in the car, still ignoring me, so i got in and threw my hands up, “what’s the problem?!”

he sighed and locked the door, looking at me with a weird look in his eyes. is he… “your lips are so pretty”, his gaze shifted down to my mouth and i felt my cheeks heating up, “i just can’t wait to see how they’ll look wrapped around my cock”.

my breath caught in my throat, my eyes darting away from his as he looked up. “you…you want to see that?” he turned my face toward his and i almost forgot where we were. he’s so cute…

“haven’t you ever thought about it? thought about sleeping together?” i’d be lying if i said i hadn’t. yeonjun is ridiculously hot and that stupid smile would make any girl melt. but here? in his car that’s parked in front of the mall?

i nodded, realizing i hadn’t answered him, and he took that as a cue to kiss me again. i took a deep breath and reached over to his pants, unhooking his belt to his surprise. “are you sure?” i rolled my eyes, “shut up, choi”.

he was bigger than i expected—no scratch that. he’s as big as i expected. i haven’t done this many times before and i never thought i’d do it to my best friend of 6 years.

here we fucking go.

he leaned his seat back and i got comfortable, stretched across the entire front half of the car. i thought maybe he’d take pity on me, but as i stared as his dick, rubbing it to try and stall, he groaned, “are you just going to stare or are you going to suck me off?”

i held back from spewing insults at him and licked my lips, taking as much as i could to see how much my jaw was going to hurt at the end. ow. fml.

i moved my hand as far up as possible, keeping my focus on the tip. his fingers ran through my hair, pulling gently before he was pushing me down, “don’t be a baby, take more”. i bobbed my head quickly, taking him deeper, but still using my hand to prevent him from choking me.

tears pricked at my eyes as he rammed the back of my throat, his hips pushing up to meet each of my downward movements. “fuck, your mouth feels incredible”, he held my head still, fucking up into my mouth carelessly, “i know what all the hype was about”. my eyes widened before i glared at nothing, hollowing my cheeks and sucking hard to end this quickly. what the hell does he mean ‘hype’?

his groans filled the car and i could feel it getting warmer and wetter—not just the air. “can i cum in your mouth?” i gripped tighter with both hands down, sucking hard and moving quickly as his thighs tensed up. “shit!”

i closed my eyes as his cum spilled out over my tongue. this never tastes good, but i’ve certainly had worse. i sat up and wiped my mouth, swallowing and crossing my arms. “what the hell do you mean hype?”

he was panting, head tilted back as he turned to look at me, “i was joking, stupid”, he half-laughed, closing his eyes, “but it sure made you work even harder”.

i smacked his arm and sat forward, staring at nothing in particular, “you owe me now”. “owe you? owe you what exactly?” i shrugged and smirked to myself, “i suck your dick, you…” i looked at him and he lifted a brow.

“don’t have to ask me twice.”

not really sure how i feel about any of that reading it over again but honestly, kind of fun. i miss writing. maybe ill try again heh

#txt smut #yeonjun smut #txt x reader #txt imagines #yeonjun x reader #txt fanfic #txt hard thoughts

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celestialpaperhaze · 24 days ago

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I can quite literally count the number of ships I am passionate about on one hand (it is three ships only). Anyway, though I get quite embarrassed to talk about shipping in general, I feel like sharing some of my headcanons for a niche ship today so here is...

The Definitive List of My Blakeworth Headcanons

I have written QUITE a fair amount of fics for these fellows...

CW: Mentions of alcoholism and other ill-advised coping mechanisms.

≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼

Vincent is like a black cat if the cat were a person.

Vincent has disdain for everyone except for Victor.

“Treehouse” by Alex G is very them.

Vincent has a hard time asking for affection.

Vincent does not view things with Victor in a typical romantic context. However, Victor is his “person.”

Vincent is asexual and Victor is bi. I have not fleshed out anything beyond this.

Victor was Vincent’s first “crush.” He was not aware this was a crush and instead spent many waking hours attempting to rationalize his feelings for Victor.

In college, a lot of people found Vincent attractive and tried asking him out, but he rejected them all.

Victor flirted with a lot of people in college for fun but only ever had feelings for Vincent.

There was a period of time in college where Victor discovered he had very passionate feelings for Vincent and felt stupid for thinking Vincent would ever return them. (see: “Love on the Rocks”).

Due to the frequent stress of not knowing what he wanted out of life, Victor would often distract himself from reality to cope.

In college, he was not immune to the occasional “fling” or a night of drinking. Vincent judged him for both, calling his behavior reckless.

After Vincent’s car accident, Victor had a very rough time and resorted to binge drinking.

I know he also canonically smokes but I Do Not See This.

Victor is a little bit of an alcoholic!

I feel like canon supports this because he introduced Vincent to martinis and also he at some point “vomited all over the floor in the lavatory of [Vincent’s] residence” I dunno!

Vincent does not like physical touch.

Vincent’s equivalent of hand-holding is letting someone (Victor only) sit/stand very close to him.

He never initiates cuddling but doesn’t mind sharing a bed.

In college, sometimes they would lay next to each other on one of the small dorm beds and watch tv or something.

Vincent and Victor have different bedrooms in the mansion but on bad nights Vincent lets Victor sleep beside him.

On his first night after escaping Myers, Vincent couldn’t sleep alone because he was scared he would wake up in the basement. So he went to Victor’s room down the hall and asked him to sleep next to him.

Contrary to Vincent, Victor loves touch; however, he thinks very highly of Vincent and would never do anything to make him uncomfortable.

He sometimes longs to do little things like play with Vincent’s hair, but he values time spent with Vincent above all.

The “specially-mixed martinis” were Victor’s idea.

Vincent cannot eat raw meat/flesh despite it being necessary for his survival, because it reminds him of the basement.

After the accident, Vincent was in the basement for around two months. The effects of isolation during this time caused him to hallucinate Victor. Post-escape, it takes a few weeks for him to trust that Victor is real and he is no longer trapped in the basement.

Also post-basement, Victor is all that’s left of Vincent’s humanity :)

Vincent is fully convinced that his thirst for blood—both the literal blood that fuels his survival, and the blood of the company that stabbed him in the back—makes him no longer human. He sees himself as a monster, but Victor as his heart.

≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼≽^•༚•^≼

I can't believe we've gone YEARS without new content but I swear this fandom will be kept alive even if I am the last one standing.

#vincent the secret of myers #vincent edgeworth #victor blake #blakeworth #headcanons #fandom things #I am aroace #and these two have such a hold over me #I love imagining their bond as like #very deep but not reliant on relationship norms #I got a friend into this game recently #the hyperfixation is returning

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clever-fox-studios · 15 hours ago

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Escape: Ch 1: Oblivion

So it's been a hot minute since I've posted anything in the yautja/predator fandom, and for personal reasons I've decided to return to my fics and pick up where I left off. Robots have eaten my brain for weeks and while I still love my doofus husbands, I deserve a treat. A little slice of my Hear Me Out cake, if you will, and so I've come to share my backlog.

My yautja fic consists of 4 story arcs that were planned, with the first one being completed with about 10 chapters. It was short and sweet and serves as a prequel more than anything, as part 2 is much longer and more character-focused.

So, because this is my blog and I do what I want, I'm going to subject you all to my old brain rot :) (Please note, "Escape" and the first chapters of the sequel are about 2 years old and I didn't beta it)

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The first sensation came as a burning fatigue, not unlike his body after a long training day or sparring bender his clan brothers and he often had after too much drink; every muscle ached dully like the morning after, stiff and hard to command at first. Taking a few deep, controlled breaths, Lar’dha focused on his extremities, then worked inward to wake up, willing his body to shake off the weight of sleep while trying to recall the events of the night.

Then, he realized exactly how uncomfortable he was, his neck and collar strained, knees burning from improper posture—had he fallen asleep upright? Clicking in annoyance, he wondered if Nrachade had thought it would be funny to lock his drunken body in a storage closet while unable to fight back.

No. This was something else.

Despite his efforts to wake up, there was a heaviness that wouldn’t leave—his eyelids felt weighted and his limbs held a numbness that would not lift no matter his efforts. A yawn pushed through his sluggish body, his mandibles splaying with the motion—

—his mouth failed to open fully. Something restricted his tusks, kept them bound to his face.

A jolt of panic shot through his body then, granting enough push for him to open his eyes as realize this was not a closet—this wasn’t even his clanship! Feral preservation instincts pulsed through his mind and body now, the weight shedding at last as he lifted his arms to move—

—A metallic grinding sound pulled him back down. Growling deeply, Lar’dha looked around more closely, finding his neck and head restrained by whatever device was keeping his mandibles closed; giving his head a shake, he found it bound in the back to the wall, allowing only the faintest of movements while keeping him fully upright. Wiggling some more now that he could feel his body in full, the male Yautja found his ankles also clamped and spread to either side of his holding unit, still close enough to stand upright but far apart enough to be uncomfortable and lacking in leverage.

The vessel that held him was small, barely wide enough for his shoulders, with only about half a nok between himself and the panel of orange-tinted glass ahead of him. Whatever this was wanted to limit his motion as much as possible, it seemed.

Had he been on the other side of this box, he might have found it a clever way of entrapping live prey—but instead he was the one on display, his hands and wrists fully encompassed in shackles that were drawn by a chain cable into the floor through a small opening. He couldn’t grasp anything and had limited motion, but he could lift his hands at the elbow—only to hear a faint whir and more pressure dragging his arms back down with force. Unable to brace his legs or back, he lost the fight of force, his arms dragged back down into their waiting position.

A deep rumble vibrated in his body. Someone thought the Elite Hunter would make a fun display? They’d have to do so over his dead body!

His hearing canals caught a faint beeping from overhead, then a sharp prick in his right thigh—trying to glance down, Lar’dha saw a large needle surgically taped to his skin and a bright teal liquid slowly making its way to his skin.

Pauk! Sedatives!

The more he struggled, the faster the liquid seemed to move, and he had no chance to escape it, a defiant roar of frustration muffled by the muzzle he’d been fitted with.

He blacked out in moments.

***

Consciousness came at the sound of voices, distant and muffled like they were in a different room, but the warrior focused on his breathing, trying to shed the weight on his body again rather than attempt to chase down the voices. Lar’dha was never good about surprises—he preferred to be the one laying traps and catching others unaware—but this time he had the chance to walk through his thoughts as he woke up, take stock of the situation a bit better before flying into a justified rage.

What did he know?

Groaning as the ache of being held upright finally caught up sounded odd to him, masked as it was behind the humiliating cage on his face, but he was alive at least. He was caged, rather effectively for his consideration, and hooked up to some truly impressive sedatives that seemed to react to his anger. Clearly, anyone that had managed to catch him had enough technology at their disposal to read his vitals and counter any chances of rage or stress that would make his imprisonment an ordeal.

Again, he would be impressed if he wasn’t the one dealing with the set up and the subsequent humiliation it presented. Someone had managed to outthink him—a feat, surely, as Lar’dha was often cited for his cleverness and ability to discern behaviors and ideas through observation in order to counter his prey with clever ruses and traps, rather than rely on outright power. Hunting smartly was his key skill and why he became an Elite.

Yet somehow he was here, the reasoning for his capture eluding him, try as he might to recall what led up to this situation in the first place. If he had to reason a guess, whatever chemical concoction they used to sedate him might be affecting his memory as well—if that were true, he couldn’t risk another dose if he wanted to find a way out. He needed to stay calm and focused. Testing his theory about the chemical substance was a risk not worth taking for the moment if he expected to keep his awareness sharp.

Lar’dha checked his breathing, finding it sharp and shallow but slow, a very deliberate breath that made him realize the air in his chamber was not ideally balanced for him and that he may have been stuck longer than he’d liked to admit, running out of the leeway time his kind had in certain environments without their bio masks to counter the effects. Even more reason, then, to remain calm and not overtax himself.

Not yet at least.

There was little else to study in the box, so the Yautja turned his attention to the exterior area, warped by the layer of protective screening that separated him from the rest of the room. Or a corridor, more like, as it seemed to stretch quite a ways in either direction, though how far was anyone’s guess with his limited mobility. Vaguely, in the very periphery of his vision if he craned his neck to the left, he thought he saw a door frame, but it was flush to the wall and could just as well be simple wall paneling; until someone entered the room, he wouldn’t be able to confirm it.

In the other direction there wasn’t much of anything except a light fixture that failed to light, giving that side of the room a bit of a dimmer look—however he did see that the far wall was lined with more viewing boxes, all empty, from one end to the other—

—No, not all empty. Now that he was really looking, Lar’dha realized there was another trapped behind glass, bound in a similar pose to himself and muzzled, though this creature did not seem to have their head bound to the backplate of their display case, allowing it to bow forward in what he could only see as a pose of submission. Or death.

Chittering uneasily to himself, he glanced up to the top panel of the wall of cases and found a series of rhythmic lights that moved in a steady pattern. Vital signs. While he couldn’t be certain what exactly they were, he at least felt some assurance that he wasn’t trapped alone in a room with a corpse.

It did not explain what it was, however. In all his years of hunting, Lar’dha had encountered creatures both meek and ferocious, intelligent and violently dumb, personable and outright dishonorable, both in his own species and among the many, many things he’d studied and collected, but on occasion he would find things he was not familiar with. This was such a thing, tall and humanoid in a vague sense—it possessed defined arms and had an upright posture at least—with a small head and thick, short neck, it’s facial features obscured by the muzzle they sported. From what he could make out, their skin was smooth, with no definable marks or alterations to their body, and they had only thin drapings to call clothing that barely covered what it needed to and seemed ill fitted for protection of any sort.

With a start, he realized he was also barely wearing anything either, his awake mind finally taking in that he was exposed as well, wearing only a loincloth. Not even his own, at that!

They’d taken his dignity and his armor!

Above him came the beep-beeping that heralded an injection, the vibrant liquid sliding down the tube warningly; even if he had not lashed out, Lar’dha noticed his triple-beat-heart was thrumming harder, betraying the anger he felt inside and triggering the narcotics to come. He needed to calm himself, to focus on his breathing to prolong his lucid time without straining whatever time he had left in the less-than-optimal atmosphere of the box before his body started to fail to keep up with the environment.

Slow. Steady. The chemical stopped creeping when his heart rate slowed, however it did not retreat either. A warning, if anything, about behaving himself.

All good things in time, he told himself, words from his sire that he recalled often from the times when he was young and very eager to prove himself. It was his sire’s observant behaviors and teachings of patience that made him the warrior he is—consequently, the only one of his group to survive their chiva. He would not be able to face anyone of his clan again unless he had the trophy to prove his victory over such shameful circumstances, and that thought alone was almost more unbearable than being tied down like a spit roast waiting to be tressed up for the fire.

A sound, to the left.

He tried to crane his neck for a better view, just barely making out the section of wall he’d noticed before had opened and figures were entering. It was a door after all! Perfect.

It was abundantly clear to him that the two figures that entered were not the same species, and they were dressed as neither security nor doctors, but carried themselves with a focus stating they had purpose for being here. A short one with rough, red skin and yellow ridges approached his chamber, making unwavering eye contact with him as they did—he did not seem to be a threat to them, by their perspective. A mistake to be rectified as soon as he was able to. The companion, a dark teal-green and lanky thing, all sharp edges and twitchy but direct movements, went to the cell containing his fellow hostage and punched in something on a panel just past the edge of the viewing window; he could not see what, as the figure’s body blocked his line of sight.

Little Red had taken to studying the overhead feed while his gaze was distracted, reaching up to the right side of the box, just out of view, and doing… something to it. It was impossible to guess what, but it certainly did not grant him any more freedom than before. They met gazes again for a moment, and Lar’dha felt a discomfort at realizing just how dead they seemed—like the will and fight within Little Red had all but died long ago. Not even traces of sympathy or curiosity seemed to exist in their amber irises as they backed away and turned toward the exit.

Inner deadness did not seem to plague the lanky one whose mouth was flashing a vibrant, hungry grin as they led the other prisoner from their cell and toward the door. At least now, the displeased Yautja had a better view of his prison mate, however brief it was: tall, as he’d assumed, almost as tall as himself even, and a thin tail that drooped toward the floor like a limp piece of rope. They had legs after all, which had to be the most striking part of their figure that he could determine, as their hips and thigh were wide and round, leading to thick legs overall with a digitigrade stance and erred closer to human than animal—this contrasted with their otherwise thin and long frame, giving them a distinctly odd shape that he could only describe as “soft and round”, as no other words came to him.

For a breath, the round, smooth being lifted their head, seemingly glancing at him as they passed, and the elite found a similarly dead gaze as Little Red had. Had that creature once been in a cell as well? Was that his fate if he did not manage to leave this place??

I need to get out.

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blubushie · 1 year ago

Note

how did the trip go blu? :3

FUCK FORGOT THE TRIP REPORT. Ta mate. Fun stuff under the cut, cuz this'll be long.

TRIP REPORT: 19/10/23

10:15am: 1.5g dry P. subaeruginosa. Onset ~11am. Peak ~12pm. Offset starts ~3pm. Trip end ~6pm. Enjoy the ride, mate.

10:59am: Come up starting.

11:21am: Head feels heavy and pressured but not in the headache way. Senses heightened and I can hear everything. Whirring of the laptop fan is really getting on my fucking nerves so that's going off. I'm getting on my phone instead. Starting to make a lot of fucking typos but I'm taking the time to fix them while I still care.

11:40am: Brian feels fast as fuck and I've stopepd arign about typos. Fuck typso I love typos woooo. Feel on top of the wolrd liek I can do anthig and come out on top. I fell like god

11:43am: Synthesisia started. Listnign to banjo musica as requested and watcihng thecolorus while i lie on the floor. My body feels veyr very heavy and thissong makesm e sadbut it's a good song ... The song is Arkansas Farmboy by Glen Campbell and it's eally good ... But it makes me mis soUtback NT

12:01pm: Peak is strgn and feeling fuckign great. But occuring mtom e I should'nt have dne this in the dark becaus the hallucinsaitons are storng. Light form laoptop is keeing the entitiesi away but I'nm sitll scared

1pm: The dopamine keeps climbing. It feels like you-know-what. You know the feeling, mate. I'm now typing slowly and checking for typos as I type so that I'm legible because this will be hard to transcribe later otherwise. Feeling very good as the peak's settled in. Eating leftover fried rice and the taste is very good. I chew and I'm getting little flashes of reddish-brown, like Outback mud but a tint or two darker. I'm not sure if the colour is because of the taste or because of the sound of myself chewing. I'm doing very good but my thoughts are going everywhere all at once. I can't focus on any one thought for longer than a few seconds. It feels like ADHD on hyperdrive. I feel very very smart and like I could solve and problem in the world, like my mind is going so fast that no one could ever keep up with me. It feels like all of me is floating. Body and soul and mind.

3:40pm: Coming out of the trip now. Feeling very good. Had a brief cry during a breakthrough peak and felt like I was floating. A lot of sudden guilt came through with introspection on bad decisions I've made. Came out of it ok to folks in VC talking to me and asking if I was alright. It remedied whatever illness I was feeling. ... According to others, I at one point said that I was "melting" and also told VC that I loved them and that we're all very lucky to have met each other now in the present because we all met each other and got along and were having a "daisy chain of bullying" (but in a good friendship way).

6:45pm: Coming down from the trip. Dopamine tingle is still here. Feeling very affectionate and interconnected with the people around me. I love the world and I love humanity. I love everyone. Body feels like it's starting to come back together at the seams. I still feel like I'm melted and can feel everything touching me like when you're underwater and can feel the water all around you everywhere constantly. It feels a little uncomfortable, like too-tight latex, but manageable now. Also I was at some point convinced I was a fish because I kept forgetting how to breathe, and at the behest of friends this then lead to me checking myself for gills and, when I couldn't find the presence of gills, then coming to the conclusion that I was in fact an amphibian who had to return to the water to breathe through my skin. I am not an amphibian.

6:10am: I wake up from an 8hr sleep after finally going to sleep around 10pm last night. I feel well-rested. Part of me still feels high—a faint "floatiness" that's pleasant, and I didn't have nightmares last night—but a check of my pupils confirms that the high itself has fully passed and I'm just in the aftereffects. As always my dreams were weird, mostly geometric patterns and faint whispering and murmuring, but none of it was distressing. I feel very safe and content and slept on my stomach last night and fell asleep quickly. I'm still feeling very interconnected and like I want to hug everyone on the planet and tell them everything will be ok. There's a piece of god inside everyone and we should love each other for it and it's what the universe wants. And I love everyone.

[END OF REPORT]

#blu whos #🍄

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hjinnie · 2 years ago

Text

UNCALL, xx

two: what if you lick my head (written part, 1k)

warning: sex "joke"?, NOT PROOFREAD!!

Your head is spinning around like crazy, and you swear your skirt was white when you arrived.. Well, it’s a weird shade of grayish brown now, and Kazuha is taking way too long to get here. She sounded weirdly manly on the phone and your drunk mind wondered if she was on anabolic steroids.

You decided to just obey her and stay right where you were, focusing on not throwing up, couldn’t risk that being the top news of tomorrow. But then a black Range Rover pulls up and you’re pretty damn sure she drives a minty mini cooper.

The fancy car’s window is rolled down and a slightly familiar face pops up. It’s quite hard to figure out the person’s features, but the realization hits you like a wrecking ball, because what the hell is Jake doing there.

“Um, hey Y/N.” he mutters, looking slightly dazed. “Get in the car, c’mon.”

Your immediate reaction is to turn your head like a lost puppy, because that’s how you were feeling to be precise.

What do you mean get in the car? Did Kazuha send you here? Since when are you so handsome? Those were some of the questions you meant to ask, but instead you just shuffled towards the passenger seat.

No words were exchanged on the way to your dorm, the only sound to be heard was the light melody of “Kiss You” by One Direction, if you were thinking straight, a snarky typical would be the comment, but the only thoughts in that weird little brain of yours was how sleepy you were and how hot Jake Sim looked driving with one hand on the wheel and his eyebrows furrowed in his sexy ass car.

And Jake could definitely confirm that if someone told him he’d be in his car driving a very drunk you home, the circumstances would be different, ‘cause well, who’d he be to ever deny a hot girl? But no, said hot girl was slumped in the passenger seat of his car, and just then he grew worried and prayed that hitting the gym everyday made a difference so he could carry you to your doorstep.

Finally arriving at your residence, Jake sighed and tried to open and close the car doors as silently as he could. He stared down at you and wrapped one of his arms around your knees, while the other held your back. Damn, he admires those grooms who carry their brides like this because it is not easy.

“You know, this is very uncomfortable” you muttered lightly, eyes closed shut, worrying him that he was doing something hurtful.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he stopped his tracks, throwing you up, in an attempt to make you feel cozier.

“No, that’s not it.” you deny, holding his hand in place so he would stop moving, you might actually puke if he keeps up with it. “I just don’t like that you can see the top of my head.” Jake had a look of puzzlement settled on his face, not that you could see it, and then he started walking again. “I mean, I hate taller people… What if you lick my head?”

Jake stops abruptly once again ‘cause what the fuck? Did you seriously just express your concerns of him licking your head? If it was a kink, weird shit, even for him. “Uh, yeah, no need to worry, I promise no heads will be licked.” well, one would have been, if only you hadn’t called him in the middle of his intricate foreplay with the blonde he was with. And just like that you went back to your deep sleep, as if no words were ever exchanged.

Hitting your floor in the HYBE building, the elevator seemed to take a lot longer than it normally did even for Jake, who lived two floors up from yours. But when he finally walked out of it, you were awaken by him putting you down on your feet. “Hey, Y/N, do you have your keys?”

You nod, messily opening your purse and searching for it, easy task. Or not, because you couldn’t find it for your life. Jake noticed that you were having a hard time and immediately reached for it, looking for it oh his own, but also failing on the task.

“Oh, fuck. I guess I don’t.” you say, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“Just pray that no one who knows who you are stole it.” he - in your eyes - sexily glanced at his watch. “It’s almost three in the morning, I guess you can just go up with me.”

You know you would refuse, but all you wanted was to sleep, and how were you supposed to say no when he was batting his eyelashes at you so shamelessly like that? - no, he wasn’t, by the way. So you agree, more excited than you should be, but hell you were drunk, it was all ok.

The weirdest looks from all of the boys were sent to you both as soon as he stepped inside of their apartment, dragging you by the wrist, plus the oh so disapproving stare Jungwon was making sure Jake noticed.

“Stop staring, I’m not hooking up with her.” he corrected them all, sighing and shaking his head in doubt, what has his life become?

After escaping from the curious group of men, you two reached Jake’s room, since HYBE moved, you each got a bedroom. You lazily walk to his bed, where you fell into, with your very dirty skirt and gross heels hanging from your feet.

“Oh, the fuck not” he whispered only for himself. “Y/N, can you please get up? I’ll find you something to change into.”

And so you did, changing into one of his shirts and sweatpants, right there in front of him, not even giving the poor man time to turn around. Well that was quick, he determined in his brain. And then you were finally free to fall back into your slumber.

No way Jake would sleep on the floor in my own house, zero chance of it happening. So he laid down maybe way too close, but turned the light off and away from you, wondering for the fiftieth time what the hell was going on.

home girl deadass said away | cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff

masterlist

sure, people aren't really aware of what they do when they have alcohol in their body, but how can you uncall your sunbaenim jake, unsleep in his bed and unwake up next to the very same boy, not very sure of what happened the night before? and how will you explain to your manager why the enhypen x lesserafim video scheduled for tomorrow has to be cancelled as soon as possible?

a/n: hi my dears!! here's a written chapter for you guys! hope you like it! send me an ask to be part of the taglist or to just chat <3

taglist: @bubblytaetae @bookishcalls @blossomnct

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acidmatze · 1 year ago

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Yeah nah im gonna be annoying and make the list now

Things that rub me the wrong way re: How Vashs disability is written/drawn in fanworks Before anyone gets the wrong idea: Im disabled myself, in so many ways you cant even imagine. My body is a minefield and every step is the wrong one

When its just left out. Big one. WHY? Why are you doing this? Is it not sexy enough or something? Is the prosthetic too hard to draw? Leave it out then and be happy about having to draw one less hand When he doesnt take his prosthetic off when showering DO YOU WANT THE ELECTRONIC PARTS TO MURDER HIM TO DEATH???? Also why would he need it in the shower? Thats not how you clean a prosthetic

Also when hes not taking it off when sleeping Why are you so against him being comfortable? Do you sleep in shoes and jeans? With your backpack still on? And your glasses? I only need a knee brace but you bet your ass i fling that shit into the next best corner as soon as i get home. Cant imagine how uncomfortable a prosthetic gets when you have to wear it for longer than absolutely necessary and also do all the shit Vash does. Sweaty sweaty yikes

When people think its metal No its not metal. Yes it is metal. It is complicated. Its NOT the metal people think it is. Yes arms are heavy but that doesnt mean we have to make prosthetics just as heavy. Have you ever thought about how heavy it is? Why do you want him to haul FUCKING METAL around? Also why do you want it to get rusty and be shitty to clean and heat up and be overall extremely clunky when much much cooler materials exist? Whats next? A peg leg? This is the future, get creative.

THE PAIN I have seen Some fics that Do mention the fucking pain but most dont. I read phantom limb pain is nerve pain, which I have. Randomly. Its excruciating and the worst kind of pain i know. Period cramps are fucking harmless compared to it and my cramps were horrible terrible horrifying. I still take them gladly over just ten seconds of You Are Being Electrocuted Nonstop Flop On The Floor And Just Scream. Like.. existing is just painful. And if its not his arm then all the damn wounds must get painful as shit from time to time. Look at the guy. Ouch.

This is a newer thing i have seen creeping up from time to time but NO Vash is NOT ashamed of his disability. I got no idea what That came from but i hope it crawls back into the corner it came up from.

#trigun #this is all i can think of atm but i probably forgot 3846384574834 things #okay obviously thats an exaggeration but i probably forgot something

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winterswhite · 2 years ago

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Personal rant, CW for talks of blood and medical stuff

The past 5 days have really been so much for me and it... seriously doesn't feel like only 5 days at all with how much has gone on

On Wednesday evening I got home from work feeling extremely weak after telling my QPP repeatedly that I don't feel good, and after I was no longer able to hold my head up or open my eyes without extreme effort my roommate took me to the emergency room where we waited 9ish hours for me to even be taken to a bed and then one or two more to be seen

When they did get there, they said they needed to take blood, give me an IV, do chest x-rays, and a few other tests (I think they tested me for a stroke too) because clearly a lot was wrong

The nurse tried to put the IV in my left arm and then my hand, failing both times because she couldn't find a vein. She then called over a second nurse, who said since I had already been poked twice, she wasn't going to poke me unless she was sure she had one

She left without poking me.

She called over a doctor to come with a whole ass ultrasound setup to use that to find a vein, and they only found a suitable one in my upper right arm, meaning I had to hold it up at an uncomfortable angle the entire time and because of where it was, it also hurt the entire time (only a little, but still)

They also interrupted it in the middle to take more blood ("well that can't be good")

Also, while they were putting the IV in, I remember them struggling to reach the vein, and the pain from them wiggling it around trying to reach my difficult ass vein, and then hearing "how attached are you to this sweatshirt?"

I had... bled all over it (fortunately they stopped the bleeding pretty fast, very different from my last experience with an IV where I nearly bled out on the hospital floor)

Anyway, after wanting to cry from how uncomfortable the whole experience was but eventually managing to sleep through the last half hour of it, they told me about my bloodwork, and a lot is wrong! Some of the things that have always been wrong with me, and some new things, like low thyroid and low potassium, low sodium etc

They scheduled me for a follow-up appointment in a week and I leave, it is now Thursday morning

I picked up the meds they prescribed me and got home around noon, exhausted from not having slept all night, and napped

Only to wake up to a terrible toothache out nowhere, that at its worst was so bad I couldn't lift a finger

I ran to the dentist but they were closing by the time I got there and told me to come back the next morning

I did, and they said I need an emergency root canal, but that it would be hard to find any endodontists who take my insurance, which... yeah, it proved to be impossible

So now, today, I'm scheduled for the root canal, and I have to pay for the whole $1500 out of pocket

Which I haven't reached, but... I'll have to see what I can manage now

Also, through all of this, my workplace is telling me it's "unacceptable" not to show up to work because they're short-staffed. As if I wasn't stuck in the fucking hospital. I worried about getting fired, because I need that money to pay for the fucking root canal and I hadn't even received my first paycheck, so I went in to work yesterday, but wasn't able to finish a full day of work because I felt like Shit

They still told me they need a doctor's note specifically stating that I can't work for x number of days (even though I gave them my emergency room discharge papers to prove I was unwell) before they could believe that I was actually not feeling well enough to work

So I guess I'm going to ask the fucking endodontist for one

And this cuts into my funds for my trip to take the JLPT and some other things in June, which I also really need so I can get a better job. It is absolutely necessary that I take this trip, but I'll no longer have the money for it yet, and travel costs only go up as you get closer to the date of, so lol.

Anyway. It has not even been 5 full days since I first went to the ER. I need a fucking break.

#anposting #/rant

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sissytobitch10seconds · 1 year ago

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All the Things Yet to Come Are the Things That Have Passed

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Summary: Viktor wished it could be Five with his whole heart and soul, but he missed his siblings so dearly that he doesn't really mind that it's them.

Warnings: Pregnancy, pregnant trans character, medical inaccuracies, starved characters, and general PTSD

Word Count: 6,103

Ship(s): Five Hargreeves/Viktor Hargreeves

Archive link!

A/N: It's the second to last fic! This is another small step forward in their healing process so while not a ton of stuff happens here it was very cathartic for me to write. While I will admit that I do enjoy putting my characters in really hard Situations, I love writing them healing for it almost as much. Thank you all for reading, I appreciate it so much! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Days were a lot easier to count when he was no longer trapped inside of the apocalypse. Viktor was still confined to a single room for the time being since Grace didn’t know what would happen if he tried to venture from the bed, but he felt safe there so he wasn’t complaining. He liked being able to tilt his head up and see not only his own vitals, but that of his baby. He could also turn to the side and see that Five was still there and still very much alive and okay. He was recovering slowly as well, which only made sense given how much of his power he had used to get them back to where they could really have a life.

It was nice to finally have some time to rest in a place that was clean and well-kept after living in the apocalypse for years on end. He’d even been able to have a bath with running, warm water and a washcloth that wasn’t threadbare and falling apart. He didn’t remember the last time that he had been fully submerged in water instead of just cleaning what needed to be.

Something that he had noticed on the harder nights when he was unable to sleep was that the house was a lot louder than he thought it was as a child. Five had helped him uncover his powers and learn how to use them when they first ended up in the wasteland, but it had just been them when they were there. Now Viktor was able to compare what it was like to hear things where he previously couldn’t before. The house ached and groaned as the wind pushed against the sides, tree branches scraping against the windows on the third floor and attic, the sound of people sleeping and mumbling as they drifted off.

When he was a child he had always been able to hear more than the standard person did but he had never been around actual ordinary people to be able to tell that. He thought that he had just had a talent for music even if he had no powers, but as it turned out, the medicine that Reginald had given him what just stunting his powers back enough that he wasn’t able to hear every minute detail like he could now. He had excelled when he was playing the violin because he was able to pick up on the tiny changes that a lot of other people didn’t, though.

Being back in the house that he had grown up in was both comforting and disconcerting. For a while, he had assumed that it wasn’t something that was ever going to happen for him and Five. They had been trying to so long to get back to a place where they belonged but to no avail. Now they were back, somewhere where it was safe for them to grow their little family, and it felt surreal.

The past couple of days had been very quiet as Grace tried to make sure that he slept as much as possible. She was very dedicated to the idea that rest like that was what was going to help both him and Five be able to recuperate rom the massive power dump that they had. He was inclined to believe her since she had been caring for seven super powered children since they were all four.

Every day he began to feel better and brighter, like the life was being dripped back into him through the IV in his arm and the feeding tube down his throat. He was uncomfortable because of it and the lack of movement that his body was unused to, but overall it was a wonderful thing to watch himself get better.

Eight days after his arrival, Luther knocked on the door to the infirmary and then swayed back and forth nervously. Viktor pried open his eyes from where he had been pretending to sleep to appease Grace. “You can come in, you know. I get that we look kind of scary after everything that we’ve been through but Five and I don’t bite,” he glanced over to his husband as he said that. Five had both used more of his powers and wasn’t at risk when being put under by a sedative, so he had been out cold since they had gotten back. Grace had explained that a sedative strong enough to keep Viktor asleep would affect the baby, which was something none of them wanted to risk.

“I just didn’t want to disturb you if you didn’t want me in here,” Luther explained. “We didn’t really have the best relationship before you left and you’ve been through a lot, so you don’t need any extra stress.”

“It’s okay, Luther,” Viktor assured him again. “I haven’t been around people other than my husband for the last decade but I can tell that you’ve changed. You’re welcome to come and sit with me. I could use the company of someone that’s not asleep.”

“Right,” Luther flushed and gave Viktor and awkward little smile. He crossed the floor and then lowered himself down into the armchair that was angled towards the beds for visitors that were going to be sleeping in the infirmary. It was something that Grace had included when they were children because of their stubbornness at wanting to be with their best friends and siblings. “I, uh, a lot has changed since you left. Including me.”

Viktor shifted so that he was sitting up properly and holding his stomach in his hands. “What happened? I know you can’t tell me everything, but it seems like even the house is different.”

The taller superpowered man thought about it for a moment, his eyes taking on a far-away look as he sifted through all of his memories. “Well, not long after you and Five disappeared, Diego left.”

“Where did he go?” Viktor asked worriedly. He had yet to see the marksman and while he and Diego hadn’t been the closest, the latter preferring to spend his time fighting with Luther or hanging out with Klaus, Viktor still cared deeply for his brother. Some of his fondest memories were of them working on music together when they were allowed to have their hour of extracurriculars of their choice.

“He joined the police academy for a while. Allison and I theorized that it had something to do with him wanting to help people but not being in Dad’s pocket. He left after less than a year after he joined it,” Luther explained.

“What happened after that?” Viktor asked. Knowing that his brother had left the Academy was reassuring, he wanted all of his siblings to be able to escape the strict control of the man that had abused them their entire lives.

That question took a little longer to answer than Viktor was necessarily comfortable with. “I don’t know,” Luther shrugged. “We never really kept in touch and at that point Dad had already sent me to a university so that I could study. I kept me going on missions all the way until he died and it was only after he was gone that I realized how wong he was for doing that.”

A warmth spread through Viktor’s chest. He knew that his siblings weren’t likely to keep in touch with each other when they were finally free to go their separate ways, there wasn’t much that bonded them together back then, but it seemed like they had been keeping track of each other enough to know that the others were okay. Even though they were all different people and they hadn’t been allowed to develop their personalities until they were away from Reginald, they had been raised together and thus belonged together in at least a small way.

“What about the others?”

“Well, Allison left on our birthday. She said that she was going to go to Hollywood to become a famous movie star. She was always talking about it, but she did it more after you all left. I think that it might have been her way of coping with the fact that you were gone. It hit us all pretty hard when we realized you weren’t come back,” Luther admitted.

“Did she make it? She was always the most melodramatic when we did those little plays,” Viktor smiled fondly. He and Five had reenacted a couple of the scenes from their assignments in between keeping themselves alive in their wasteland. It was something that had kept them close to their siblings while they were trying their hardest to get back to them.

“She did,” Luther nodded. “Her first big movie came out a year after she left and then she just kept making more. I think she got married recently too, to an actor named Patrick.”

Viktor smiled. “That’s wonderful. What about Ben?”

“You could just ask me, you know,” Ben said from the doorway.

Luther jerked in his chair and looked like he was about to leave, but the other ex-hero quickly motioned for him to sit back down. “I know that our last couple years in the Academy weren’t great, but we’re still family, Luther. You can be hanging out with Viktor at the same time as me, as long as he’s also okay with it.”

“I missed you all so much that I want all of you around me all the time. Not literally, I think I would get pretty fed up with not being able to hear my own thoughts or be alone with my husband, but I did missed you a lot,” he laughed. Despite all the time that had passed and the confidence that he had gained from being off his medication, he was still awkward and social cues were still very difficult.

Ben laughed as he walked over. He grabbed another one of the crappy chairs that were stacked in the corner of the infirmary from back in their school days, when they learned about medical procedures as they were performed on their siblings. “How are you feeling today, Vik?”

“Better,” the other nodded. “I think every day I’m beginning to get healthier. I can eat more than I did when I first arrived and Mom said that I’ve already gained two pounds. Hopefully most of that is going to Baby.”

That softened the air around them as both of his brothers were reminded of the tiny, unborn life that Viktor was harboring inside of him. “I still think it’s crazy that you and Five are actually going to be parents in a couple of months,” Ben commented.

“I know, it’s been hard for me to process too and I’m the one that’s actually pregnant,” Viktor laughed. It felt good to do that again. Ben had been fairly close with him and Five before they had left, so there was extra comfort when it came to hanging out with that particular brother.

They lapsed into silence for a moment as no one really knew what to say. Then Ben shifted in his chair, “So when you first got back we reached out to Allison and Klaus, they said that they would be flying back to come and visit you. I don’t know how long they’re going to stay.”

“Klaus and Allison are living with each other?” Viktor asked. He hadn’t been able to ask Luther about that particular member of his family before they had been interrupted.

Ben nodded. “He moved out there with her two years ago. He decided that if he was going to be able to get clean then he had to do it in a place devoid of all the memories he had before and where he didn’t know any of the drug dealers. He went to a rehab facility out in LA and has been doing really well since. I think he’s training to be a dance instructor at the moment, but the career ideas keep changing.”

Viktor had only been around for the beginning of Klaus’ substance abuse issues, they had started when they were all thirteen but had gotten radically worse a month after their fifteen birthday, but he was immensely proud of his brother for being able to do something so hard. “I’m gonna be happy to see them. Hopefully Five will be awake by the time that they get here.”

“Speaking of awake,” a voice from the doorway startled everyone other than Viktor. He had heard their mother approaching from when she had been down in the kitchen, a side effect of having to live paranoid of violent survivors and breaking buildings for the majority of his adult life. Grace tutted, shaking her head affectionately as she walked over to her children. “I’m very happy to see you all getting along with each other, but Ben and Luther are going to have to come back and visit another time. Viktor needs his rest so that baby of his can come to us strong and healthy.”

“Of course, Mom,” Luther replied as he got up. He stopped and awkwardly smiled at his brother before he finished his departure. “I’ll come and talk to you when you’re feeling up for visitors again, if you’d like.”

“I would like that,” Viktor smiled. He had barely known Luther, and had only seen the hard, protective outside of him when they lived together, so he was excited to get the chance now that things were different. Before they had a chance to say anything else, both of the brothers were ushered out of the room and Viktor was once again left alone with his husband.

---

Another week passed before something new finally happened. He was still having near daily ultrasound and doppler checks to make sure that the baby was still growing well inside of him. Nothing much had changed and the baby was steadily improving in health, but after so much anxiety about possibly losing them Viktor wanted to be sure as often as he could be.

He had also been growing in strength, which was most likely contributing to the health of his unborn child. He had gotten most of the monitors removed, but he still consistently had to be hooked up to an IV to administer fluids whenever he was feeling low and the feeding tube to give him some extra nutrients. He had begun to move around more, spending a lot of his days in the chair in the corner of the room instead of his hospital bed. He had also been showering himself instead of allowing Grace to give him a sponge bath. The first time that he had showered was something that he would never forget, and he had never felt cleaner when he cuddled up in his bed.

His newfound freedom when it came to mobility allowed him to nestle up in Five’s bed whenever he was feeling lonely. Luther and Ben still visited him from time to time to chat with him, especially after they convinced Grace to let them take their dinners up in the infirmary to keep Viktor company while he ate. Despite the company that he had from two of his siblings, he still felt isolated when his companion wasn’t by his side as Five had been for almost a decade.

Viktor was settled down in the chair of the corner and had been all morning. He had a book spread open on the arm of the chair and he was reading it out loud, his other hand resting firmly on his stomach. He had a blanket tossed over his legs to keep out the vague chill of the infirmary since he was still having difficulty regulating his own body temperature.

“Knock, knock,” Ben interrupted as he walked up to the door.

The other man didn’t mind at all, since he was starting to get bored of his activity anyway. If the baby had been moving or was actually there and he could see some kind of reaction, reading out loud would have been a much better thing to pass the time. Seeing as they were still soundly asleep inside of him, however, it was mostly just tiring his voice and making him frustrated when he stumbled over the words. “Just in time. I’m starting to go stir crazy in here,” he chuckled.

“Well, I have good news about that. Mom thinks that some movement would do you some good. As long as your joints aren’t hurting you too bad we can go for a walk in the gardens. Luther’s worked really hard on them since Dad died and they’re absolutely beautiful now,” Ben explained.

Memories of what the grounds had looked like back in the days of the Umbrella Academy came rushing back to Viktor. The grass had been cut so short in the few places that it was allowed to grow that it was basically like sitting on dirt. There was a singular massive oak tree towards the back gate of the house that none of them were allowed to go near. There had been no flowers, no shrubs, and instead of a path they had a race track that looped around the garden for when they had to run laps.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about leaving Five alone in the room, just in case he woke up. When he voiced this concern to Ben, he was half expecting to be met with rolled eyes and dismissal. Instead, his brother just walked over and gently took his hand. “I know that you’re worried. But Mom has him under pretty heavy sedation and she’s not going to be bringing him out of it for a while. There is a non-zero chance that he will wake up, that’s true. But if he does, then Mom or Luther will inform us immediately and I’ll use the Horror to carry you back up here through the window so you can be with him.”

Viktor fidgeted for a moment as he thought about the offer. He didn’t want to leave his husband but he was also desperate to get outside into the fresh air. The window in the infirmary had been opened a couple of times during his recovery, but Grace had been worried enough about them getting cold that she didn’t do it often.

“Alright, if you really promise,” Viktor nodded.

Ben extended his hand out towards the other man with his pinky outstretched, “I promise.”

Viktor laughed as he hooked his finger around Ben’s. He knew that his siblings were always going to be bigger than him because even when they were all very young he had been the smallest. Doing the last of his growing in a place where he didn’t have steady nutrients hadn’t helped in the slightest, but he was reminded of it based on the difference in their hands immediately.

After the decision had been made, Ben went downstairs and got Grace. She helped him into a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt that stretched over his quickly growing stomach, and a jacket to keep away the chill. Their mother also had a wheelchair for him to sit in if he got too tired and so he could make his way through the house easier. She wanted him to walk outside to get some sun and proper fresh air, so she wasn't going to let him tire out by just getting down to the back door.

Ben was there by his side as he allowed Grace to push him out of the recovery room and down the hallway. The infirmary was on the first floor, which was specifically done so that it was beside both of the kitchens. He felt anxiety rising in his chest when his husband was removed from his view by the walls of their home. He had been asleep and unable to speak with Five since they had gotten back and when they were in the wasteland they hadn’t been exactly joined at the hip, but it was still disconcerting for him to be so far away from his partner after they had been through so much together.

He reassured himself by rolling what Ben had said over and over in his head. If something happened, Five was in the best hands that he could be and Viktor would be back in a second. It was a good idea for them to spend some time apart from each other so that they could get back to the life that they had promised they were going to have. They were always going to be one of those couples that was far too attached to each other, but they had always dreamed of having careers and education outside of Grace and Reginald. It was something that they were going to pursue after the baby came, but it also meant they couldn’t be in the same room as the other at all times.

Once they got to the edge of the garden, Viktor placed one hand on his stomach and the other on the arm of the wheelchair. Ben stood next to him as he slowly pushed himself up into a standing position, his hand out and ready to help his brother should he need it. As soon as he was standing, Grace left them to go attend to some of the household chores and keep an eye on Five like she had promised Viktor she would.

Ben looped his arm together with Viktor’s and the two of them began to walk through the opulent gardens that had taken the training space in the backyard. A lot had changed since Viktor was last back there. The running path was gone and had been replaced by an even stone walkway that weaved through an artful arrangement of blooming flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs.

“The air is so clear here,” Viktor commented softly. He tilted his head up so that he could see the crisp robin’s egg blue of the sky, which was only broken up by a couple of fluffy white clouds. He knew that it wouldn’t stay like that for long given where they lived, but it was a soothing to see anyway.

“Was it not where you and Five came from?” Ben asked carefully, trying hard to make suer that he didn’t trigger his brother.

“No, everything was covered in the dust and the air was full of all sorts of stuff. Something horrible had happened there, Ben. It made it so hard to live,” Viktor sighed.

The conversation dropped after that because it was clear that neither of them wanted to continue talking about the atrocities that Viktor had been through at the current moment. They were slowly walking down the stone-lined path to make their way through the garden.

They rounded the corner to see that three other people, who Viktor had somehow missed when they first left the house, were sitting there. He turned towards Ben with a perplexed look before he tried to figure out who was waiting for them around the bend before they got there. A smile split across his face when he saw the rest of his siblings, his heart fluttering like mad in his chest. He hadn’t realized just how much he had missed all the others until he was finally back and in front of them.

“Viktor?” Allison asked as she got tugged out of trying to mediate the conversation between Diego and Klaus. She got up from the bench that she had been sitting on and then reached slowly out to him, as if to ask if it was okay to check and make sure that he was real.

The other superhero barely even thought about whether or not he wanted to be touched as he grasped her hand and then tugged her closer to him. “Hey Allie,” he whispered as he then wrapped his arms around her fully to bring her in for a near bone-crushing hug.

“I thought that we were never going to get you back. When Ben called us I almost didn’t believe him, Klaus was the one to remind me that Ben would never do something like joke about you two coming home,” Allison murmured into her brother’s hair. Viktor had recently had Grace cut it so that it was at a manageable length he actually enjoyed. When he was in the wasteland, but he and Five had let their hair grow as long as it needed to and then lopped it off when they felt like they would hurt the other or themself by doing so.

She pulled away from him so that she could mop the tears off of her face with the side of her hand. “I’m sorry for crying on your shoulder. Do you want to sit down?” she asked as she gestured her hand towards the bench that she had been sitting on.

Viktor glanced over to Ben who gave him a small nod. He hadn’t been there to hear absolutely everything that Grace had said about his care, so he was trusting his brother to be able to help him manage it. Ben had always been more into the medical side of helping their mother in the infirmary anyway, Viktor had just wanted to be helpful.

Carefully, he walked over to the bench and then lowered himself down onto it. His bones were very fragile from having to suffer through his teenage years with barely any nutrients, so they weren’t tolerating the stress that came with having to spread what little they already had for a baby very well. He was in low amounts of pain pretty steadily throughout the day but it was nothing that he couldn’t handle now that he knew his mini-family inside of his family was safe.

The next person to hug him was Klaus, who threw his arms over his brother’s shoulders lazily to bring them closer together. “I’m glad that you’re back, V. Having to be the only trans person in the entire Academy was just too much for little old me.”

Viktor laughed, he had forgotten how good it felt to do that as often as he had been. “I think that you were able to handle all the attention that brought just fine. You never shied away from Dad when he was yelling at you to stop being feminine the way I did for being masculine.”

“Yeah but Mom said that medication had you all fucked up in the head on purpose. I relate to that too,” Klaus said, his face softening affectionately.

He wanted to steer the conversation away from that as quickly as he could. Ben walked over to the other side of the path and sat down on the cement blocks that separated the gravel from the grass and woodchips. Allison was standing restlessly by him, clearly having something to say but not being able to express it properly. She looked a lot more like herself than she had when Viktor had been looking at the pictures of her that Ben had brought him a few days ago. She was wearing a pair of brown chinos with a button-up shirt that she had tied the bottom corners of to make it a pseudo crop top. She had some of her hair in a bun on the top of her head, which had been her favorite way to wear it when they were allowed to do their own.

Viktor turned his head so that he was looking at the last person. He and Diego had always had a strained relationship, more than the one that he had with Luther. Diego had been struggling with the idea of being inferior to anyone but he also had a massive heart that was overflowing with empathy. He had tried to befriend Viktor several times in the quiet of the in-between moments when no one was looking at them, but he always threw himself in the opposite direction when he felt any kind of scrutiny tossed his way.

“Hey, Di,” he said softly as he looked over Klaus and directly at his last brother.

“Hey,” Diego replied awkwardly. “I’m glad you’re back too. E-especially with th-the,” he paused and his mouth twisted. Even after all the time that had passed, Viktor was still able to recognize it as the expression he made when he knew that his stutter was acting up.

“Me too,” Viktor placed his hand protectively over his stomach. “Five and I always knew we wanted kids, but we wanted to raise them in this time instead of the one that we came from. It’s like the universe was telling us that we were going to get what we wanted even if I wish that I had been in better health before I got pregnant.”

Allison listened intently. “My husband and I have been thinking about having a baby of our own. Klaus said that we have to find him a place to move to before that happens though,” she rolled her eyes affectionately at her brother.

“Dear sister, I have to deal with enough shrieking and screaming from beings that only I can see, I don’t also need it from one that everyone can,” Klaus huffed out in explanation. “Congrats on starting your own little family, Vik.”

It turned out that the only thing he needed to slot back into a space in the family was to reunite with his siblings once. Klaus and Allison were both staying at the Academy for the time being, having promised Viktor that they would be there until Five woke up. Diego still lived in The City like Ben and Luther did, so he came and visited but wasn’t actually staying in the building. Each of the siblings had been visiting Viktor and doing things with him to keep him from getting cabin fever.

Allison would sit with him in the living room and show him some of her favorite movies. She refused to let him watch any of hers, obviously embarrassed at the idea of the people that knew her most intimately seeing some of her earlier films. She would always make them a bowl of popcorn, going so far as to bring Viktor a little bowl of chocolate sauce to dip his in, and they would cuddle together on the couch. It was nice to hear sounds and see a television playing something other than the news in a house where Reginald would have never allowed that before.

Luther came and talked with him about what had happened in the past and some of the things that were happening to him now. It was clear he didn’t know what he was supposed to be doing with his brother and was trying his best. Eventually he settled on bringing some of the foods that he was learning how to cook up to the infirmary for them to share. They promised that as soon as Viktor was feeling well enough that he could be on his feet for more than half an hour at a time, they’d make something together.

Ben continued to visit Viktor and take him out to the gardens for walks. They went on one at two in the afternoon every day that the weather was good. They took the same winding path through the gardens and talked about the books that they were both reading. Viktor had recently developed some insomnia, which was very common for pregnant people entering the third trimester. He fought the panic that always waited for him in the deep parts of the night by starting what was essentially a book club with his brother.

Klaus was the one that really shocked him. He brought in hoards of knitting supplies and then began to teach Viktor how to make homemade clothes for the baby. Viktor hadn’t even thought that far into the future, too obsessed with the idea of health and safety to realize what the day-to-day logistics of raising a child would be. Klaus gave Viktor all the drama that Luther had been too oblivious to see or too shy to tell him during their talks.

Diego didn’t come and visit him for the first couple days after he had met up with all of the siblings again. Given that their relationship had been very strained when they were younger, it only made sense that he would be hesitant to come where he might not be wanted. He got bold after a little while and eventually visited with Viktor for what must have been six hours. For the most part, he’d just come and sit with the other man in silence while they both napped. Eventually he brought his guitar and began to help Viktor play a different instrument than his violin, one that he could play around his baby bump while sitting on the hospital bed.

---

Another two weeks passed while Grace was weening Five off of the sedation that he had been on while he recovered from his injuries. Much like Viktor, his body had also begun to respond positively to the nutrients that was being fed to them through the feeding tubes and his skin looked less sallow. It would take time and him actually being able to physically eat enough for his muscle to replenish back to what it had been when he was fourteen and healthy.

Viktor was sitting on the huge recliner in the corner of the room with a book opened on his lap. He was stroking his stomach while reading allowed to the baby inside, feeling a few fluttering movements from within. The baby had yet to move in a way that anyone else would have been able to feel, but Viktor could feel every tiny movement since the child was inside of him.

He glanced up as his brain convinced him that he was hearing something, that there was some other noise in the room around him instead of filtering from elsewhere in the house. He knew that it was ridiculous, he had been unable to hear anything from his husband in what had to have been months since they returned back to where they belonged. The breath was stolen from his lungs when he saw the hazel-green eyes that he had fallen so deeply in love with looking sleepily back at him.

“Five?”

“Hey,” he smiled like this wasn’t the best thing that had happened to Viktor since getting to hear their child’s heartbeat.

The pregnant man shut his book and let it tumble down to the floor as he struggled up to his feet and over to the other hospital bed. He hefted himself up with a smooth motion, the excitement and adrenaline preventing him from feeling the aches and pains that had been plaguing him since he got pregnant. “I can’t believe that you’re awake,” he whispered as he cupped his husband’s face in both of his hands.

“I thought that I could hear you talking and I wanted to see what you were reading. You always used to read out loud whenever I was having trouble sleeping,” Five murmured. He reached up and weakly turned his head to the side so that he could kiss at Viktor’s palm.

“I was reading to our baby, Five,” he replied. “They’re okay. You did it, you got us back to where we belonged safely.”

“I did?” his eyes widened almost comically fast.

Tears had long since begun to rush down his face and drip onto the blanket, but neither of them cared. They had never truly been separated, but Viktor had desperately missed the company of his husband amongst the visits of his siblings. “Mom gave me an ultrasound, I listened to their heartbeat and I got to see them. They’re growing so strong in there, they have ten fingers and ten toes,” he sniffled. They hadn’t been able to get that definitively, of course, but there was enough definition in the grainy black and white image that Viktor was fairly certain of his claim.

“They’re going to be okay?” Five asked. He looked down to the rounded bump on his husband’s front before he tilted his head back up to Viktor.

The other couldn’t say anything, just wordlessly nodding before he leaned down and stole another kiss. “We’re going to be okay, Five. The three of us aren’t alone anymore. We have Mom to take care of our injuries just like we did before we left and all of our siblings still really love us. We’re going to be able to raise our family after all.”

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