#the issue is use of electricity so turn the fucking light off when you discover it

[rez-urrection]

if the light is on. and the issue is that the light is on. why not just turn it off instead of walking and finding everyone in the house and asking if they left the light on. just turn it off. everyone else in the house just turns it off.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 1

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abusive relationship

Length: 1.4k

Notes: Okay, here we go! Giving our babe Frankie an ending he deserves, with a few bumps along the way for fun. Divider by @firefly-graphics 💛

It was almost comical, you thought, at how different the realtor's listing was, compared to the real thing. You’d seen it enough times in bad Hallmark romances: city girl buys a property, property is falling apart, city girl miraculously has the funds to fix it up with the help of the perfect farmer neighbour.

This was reality though and you had already poured your life’s savings, which amounted to very little after all the surprise debts had been paid off, into this farmhouse. 

The "Quaint New England farmhouse, filled with the patina of a bygone era" was a wreck. Nothing to be done about it now, though. The crumbling two-story, just a few minutes drive from the small Vermont town, hadn’t been occupied in over a decade and was now in a total state of disrepair. 

Swallowing back your tears, feeling the burn behind your eyes and the hot swelling in your throat, you told yourself there wasn’t time for a breakdown. You first needed to take stock of the depth of damage, decide which rooms were habitable enough for the time being, clean, unpack, and prepare yourself for this new life.

The next few hours went by in an exhausting blur. By late evening, there was a larger-than-expected pile of rotten, broken, or otherwise unusable furniture in the driveway; your meager few belongings taking their place. On top of renovations and remodeling it appeared you would also be refurbishing. 

Sitting on the porch in the one spot where you felt confident the decking wouldn’t crumble beneath your weight, you looked over your list.

 3 cracked windows (can wait?)

 no running water in kitchen (ASAP FIX!)

 missing shingles (bad??)

 deck boards and upstairs bedroom floorboards rotten

 carpeted bathroom

 questionable smell coming from attic space 

peeling wallpaper/paint EVERYWHERE

Folding the list and slipping it into your back pocket, you made your way back inside to discover one last glaring issue, previously unnoticed until now. The electricity had been shut off.

Well, fuck me sideways...

Deciding it was too late and you were too tired to deal with anything else today, you settled for the flashlight on your cellphone for light. Eating the apple you had nicked from the motel lobby the night before, you laid back in your makeshift bed on the floor and gazed around your new home.

Your home.

The first thing you had ever owned on your own.

First, the corner of your mouth quirked up then you quickly allowed it to flourish into a grin. It may be a piece of shit, but then again, you were always attracted to broken things with the innate need to fix them. Maybe this time you’d actually succeed. With that sobering thought, you settled down into your sleeping bag and were quickly asleep.

Frankie couldn’t believe his eyes when he drove past the old McClure farm. Some fool had actually bought it! Chuckling to himself, he could already imagine the gossip that would spread through town tomorrow, everyone clambering to find out who had moved in.

He had moved out this way five years ago and was still considered the “new guy” in town. Hopefully, the new arrival would take that mantle and everyone could start using Frankie’s actual name. 

He’ll probably just be dubbed “newer guy”...

Breathing out a huff of a laugh at the thought, Frankie began to turn down his driveway. The long, meandering drive leads to a barn surrounded by rows and rows of apple trees.

Two weeks after having moved in, you’re certain you’ve met, or at least seen, everyone from the town. Muffins, pie, casseroles, and even a case of cider had been brought over by a few of the braver townsfolk who drove out to say hello. While they may have been thinly veiled excuses to come snoop, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. The food was delicious, and best of all, it was free.

She had stayed for most of the afternoon, helping you clean and setting her kids about to do menial chores. The eldest, Cole, was sent scurrying up the road to tell his dad to bring Gerta. ... You dared not ask.

The very first visitor was a neighbour from just down the road. “Jacquie,” she had informed you over the noise of her four kids running around the yard, “How do you do?”

She said it with the barest hint of a southern drawl and you instantly fell in love with the soft cadence of her voice. With a beaming smile and a surreptitious wipe of your dusty hand on your pant leg, you shook her hand and introduced yourself. 

A short time later, the most devastatingly handsome, all-American-looking man you had ever seen climbed out of a tractor and started carrying a large object towards the house, Cole at his heels. 

“Jac, babe, where d’you want her?” He called, voice straining a bit due to the weight in his arms. Smiling at you, he nodded his head in greeting, "Hiya, neighbour! The name’s Mark"

“Oh, I don’t need it,” Jacquie replied airily “I just wanted an excuse to watch your muscles at work.”

With a roll of his eyes, that did nothing to hide the adoring sparkle in them, her husband carried his load to the side of the house and with a thump, set it down.

Turns out that Jacquie had a fondness for naming EVERYTHING and Gerta was their gas-powered generator. Claiming they had no use for it, Gerta was yours to keep for as long as you needed her. Which, you had to be honest, was looking like a good long while. Willing away the tears, not for the last time you were sure, brought on by her kindness, you settled for giving her a bear hug. It wasn’t until you heard a little voice calling “Mama?” that you realized you had been clinging to Jacquie for longer than could ever be considered acceptable.

Pulling away gingerly, you started to apologize, quickly stopped by her hand coming up in front of your face, making you involuntarily flinch. 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry!” She started to exclaim before taking a deeper look at you. Then, without breaking eye contact, she tilted her head to the side and hollered at Mark to gather the kids and head home.

“I’ll be back past bedtime, so come give me y’all kisses now!” She lovingly bossed her brood.

Once they had cleared out, she turned to you, gently taking your hands in hers, and said, “Now, where do you want to start?”

“What kind of voodoo, witch doctor, hippy-dippy magic do you possess?!” you asked with a laugh while sniffing back the lingering tears. 

You had just laid out your entire life to a complete stranger. She had sat there, the whole time, holding your hands and your gaze while you had talked. Everything, you had told her absolutely everything. From the California upbringing in an affluential family to marrying your Highschool Sweetheart days after graduation. The sudden move, his surprise enlistment, his changing demeanor, the beginnings of abuse, all ending with his death while stationed overseas.

The pathetic Death Gratuity from the military barely covered the truck. You’d had to sell everything in order to settle all remaining debts. Your parents had offered to move you back home but the thought just made you ashamed. Moving back home? Being seen as a victim, being pitied by those who had seen your potential wasted? No way.

“Nothin’ supernatural, Darlin,” she assured you, after taking a deep breath to steady herself. It appeared that your emotions had started to affect her as well, you noticed with chagrin. “just the power of a good friend and a strong cider.”

Then came the aftermath. The debt collectors, the funeral without a body, his family claiming anything of value and you meekly allowing it, unaccustomed by that point to standing up for yourself. His grooming of you had started so early, and so slightly, that no one had seen it happen. He had controlled every aspect of your lives; it had made you feel like a fool during that first month as a widow. How could you not know about the multiple maxed-out credit cards? The ignored truck payments? The bank loans?! 

That comment made you look around and laugh, breaking the morose atmosphere in a flash. Scattered around the two of you were at least a half dozen bottles of the alcoholic beverage, which you had both sipped on during your sad monologue.

“Ahh, so it’s the maker of the drink I’ll have to kiss,” you proclaimed with a laugh. “I just saved a fortune in therapy bills!”

With a sly smile, Jacquie nodded, “That you will, send him my best when you do.”

Part Two

[octania]

Midnight stalker ( Dabi x Reader NSFW 18+)

Dabi x Reader

Warnings: Stalking, yandere, death (not Dabis nor readers), smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3300

Short description: A lot of scary things lurks in the dark, but when two blue electric eyes stick to you and don't let go, you'll see what the face of a villain who has a very specific way of showing his feelings looks like.

PART 2 - MIDNIGHT HUNTER

_____________________________________________________________

"I have no useless feelings." - That's impossible. He would repeat those words to himself over and over again, but the only thing that’s useless in the end are exactly those words. He does not understand what's going on. And lack of knowledge is one of the first things that makes him angry. At one point, as he was following you as some kind of maniac for the fourth night in a row, hiding behind every wall bathed in darkness, he tried to convince himself that what was happening must be the result of your quirk. Yes, that is the only explanation. You know he's there and you bewitched him to follow you like a sad puppy.

"I am going fucking insane here." He cursed under his breath, rubbing his eyelids. Of course this was not the result of your quirk, you had no idea he was following your every step for days, you lived your most normal life, and despite everything, he saw you using your quirk on a third day of his mission, and it had nothing to do with what he had just claimed.

  He noticed you quite by accident. Damn that moment. He was walking down a dilapidated neighborhood in the middle of the night, minding his own business, when he heard a gentle female whisper from the corner of the street. Such a sweet sound was not at all characteristic for the place where he was, in fact, the only thing that could be heard from the corners of these streets was the screaming, swearing or unrestrained moaning of the lady of the night, not a gentle whisper. The devil did not give him peace, he had to see what was happening. When he leaned behind the wall of the building in the dark, all the filth of this place was gone. He had an eye for beautiful women, but none of them made him look at their faces longer than a few seconds before his gaze continued to their enticing curves. You knelt beside a pile of cluttered boxes, touching something small and fragile between them. A puppy. You stroked his soft head, whispering that everything would be fine and that he was safe now. 

He became a part of the shadows on the street, he managed to blend smoothly with each one as he followed you for the first time. You carried the puppy on your chest, not even looking back at the potential dangers of the neighborhood you wandered into. But the truth is, there was no real danger, not while Dabi was following you. He wasn't even aware that he would defend you to the last spark of his flame if something went wrong, and he didn't even know you.

 You were more than ... interesting to him. Yes, that was the word he decided to use. Everything he saw in life was gray and suddenly he discovered color. He had to see what the difference was, why his interest was growing. Fast enough, you got to your house. He stored the place, the street number, and the exterior of the house in his mental map, not even knowing that the place would become his obsession.

 That night he slept worse than usual. He rolled around on the rough sheets of his bed, trying to fall asleep and have a nightmare, what he used to do. But instead of the bloodthirsty scenes of his reality, before his eyes was an act of kindness and tenderness, a scene of you rescuing a puppy. It made him angry ... no, it made him furious.

"Tch ... damn it." He sat up, running his fingers through his charcoal-colored hair. It didn't take him long to open his eyes completely and jump off the bed, grabbing his dark blue hoodie, pulling it over his naked muscular body and diving into the cold night.

 He is in front of your house. He stands helplessly staring at the window. His eyes are half closed, but not from being tired. Fearful thoughts run through his head. "Damn bitch ..." - he wanted to hate you, he had to. People like Dabi, if only a little attempt is made to scratch the surface of their feelings, they defend themselves with hatred and denial because it is a place they never go into, because through life, they have learned that feelings bring nothing but pain and despair. So they decided to lock them up. Bury, hide, deny, and eventually destroy ... prevent them from surfacing, as was the case with Dabi.

He is in front of your window. He is looking at you. He found where your bedroom is. He watches you as you sleep. His electric blue eyes stare at you like a target. "You don't deserve to sleep so carefree ..." His intention was to finish you off at that point. Delete this irregularity. His hand was already bathed in blue flames, ready to obey his orders.

The light woke you up, disturbed your sleep. You opened your eyes, but there was nothing but darkness around you. You would swear the light woke you up. You laughed at yourself. Those crazy dreams. You rubbed your eyelids, which were still closing from the weight of sleep. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 02:45, that was the time the hands were pointing. Back to sleep, a simple decision. You turned on your side, your back was facing the window, but before you sank back into sleep, you turned once more to check on what your new hairy friend you had rescued from the street that night was doing. "That is odd ..." the little puppy sat on the edge of the bed, wagging his tail and looking out the window.

 "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck?!" - He banged madly against the wall of abandoned building back in his neighborhood. A gang of villains who decided to lurk innocent victims there that night fled like insects seeing a furious Dabi approaching, bathed in his own flames head to toe. As soon as his fist slammed into the bricks of the wall for the first time, they disappeared with their tail between their legs.  "Why did you have to look at me ... why ..." - you didn't even know that you looked him directly in the eye and that was what saved you. If you only woke up a few seconds later, you would never wake up again. He wanted to set you on fire and the place where you lived, to erase you as if you didn't even exist. But then your gaze caught his and a Pandora's box opened in his chest that he so desperately wanted to leave sealed. The kindness and tenderness your eyes carried seemed to shed light on his inner darkness. You froze him, a funny thing for someone bathed in flames. He escaped from there like those thieves from this building just now. Dabi doesn't run away. Dabi never runs away and does not dodge an opponent. He stopped hitting and sat down on the cold concrete. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes searching for the large yellow moon that sat on the dark clouds. "Yeah ... that's exactly how you are." - in the monotonous darkness of his life, now something bright and big emerged, throwing its light on the shadows he kept inside. He compared you to the moon once more, this time again with a taste of hatred in his mouth. "That's it ... you are exactly like this, a big fucking irregularity."

At first he didn't want to go back, but he had to. He literally had to. His body ached from the mental prohibition he issued to himself. As a drug addict, he was drawn to another hit. He justified his action quickly enough, convincing himself that he wanted to check if this was all one big misunderstanding he had with himself. That he drank a few extra drops of alcohol  yesterday before he started following you. Anger piled up in his chest as he realized he was lying to himself. He drank only one whiskey, nothing compared  to what he normally drank. Before he could muster more hatred directed at you, he had already came close to your house. The interior was lit. She is home. The thought of you breathing only a hundred yards away from him lifted the hair on his head. He needed to stop those breaths, because that would surely stop his dilemma. He decided to put an end to this circus once again. On his burned neck, the culprits for that catastrophe were climbing on it again. A blue flame hugged him around the neck. As it appeared, so it withdrew, quenching his anger as if it had never been there.

You came out with a cheerful smile. Playfully jumped over the new leash you bought for your furry friend. You went for your first late-night walk together. You and ... a pair of bright eyes lurking in the dark.

When he saw you, he felt like a match whose flame was put out  with the weakest exhalation. That smile again. A smile that drew everyone to itself with its angelic vibe. Everything, even the dark and opposite of the angelic, Dabi. He has decided not to think about what he is doing, again patiently following you and watching from a safe distance. He realized that any attempt to explain or draw a conclusion resulted in his anger, and now he was rather tired of it. He could tell he was feeling defeated, not only because he failed to attack you, but because Pandora's box was now throwing its chains of dominance. He won't admit it, ever. He didn't even realize how hard it would be for him to deny it.

You came to the lake, after running and jumping with your puppy, you decided to sit on a bench and enjoy the murmur of the water. You tilted your head, removing the rubber band from your hair and loosening your ponytail. You inhaled a fresh breeze as it caressed your cheeks. Until your puppy suddenly jumped. He barked, wagging his tail merrily, looking toward the corner of the street. "What is it boy?" - you have to admit, you were lightly concerned. You haven’t seen anyone, and your friend apparently still feels someone. Although crime was not at a high rate in this part of the city, you were not far from the part where it was. You were far from an ordinary frightened girl, you knew how to defend yourself, you were brave, but you didn't ask for trouble if it wasn't necessary. You decided to head back home. Getting up, you picked up the puppy and headed the other way home. You checked behind you few times, but there was no one. Although, the feeling of someone watching you was not lost.

Damn traitor... he slipped away at the last moment before you saw him. This clumsy hiding was not in his style. He was usually pretty good at it, it was a part of his job, to go unnoticed. However, the others didn't have a curious dog sniffing you out from five blocks away. And after all ... he can only blame you for his slow reaction. Watching curls of hair falling over your bare shoulders that looked silky to the touch and your lovely face enjoying the breeze ... he swallowed more than once, fascinated by your every move. For the first time, he decided not to whip himself because of his weakness, but the desire to punish you for bringing him into a situation like this was growing.

The days went by and his night occupation did not change. Due to his absence from duty, he had a clash with other members of the LOV. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t do his part of the job. He forgot his responsibilities, following you instead. He remembers exactly what he learned about you that night when he was supposed to work. You like lollipops. You like lollipops a little too much. Of all the things you carried in those grocery bags on your way back from the store, lollipops of different fruit flavors took up most of the space. Hell, not only did you take them home but you ate three pieces on your way there. First you lick them a couple of times, traveling with your tongue around the round candy, then you put the whole thing in your mouth, sucking greedily. That evening he stopped  a few blocks before your house, turned, went to the park, went behind a large tree whose century-old trunk could hide three adults, and helped himself. The way you swirled your tongue around that candy drove all the blood into his lower body. His dick was hard in a second. He saw you on your knees in front of him, first crossing over your full lips with his tip. How he pulls you by the hair as he fills your throat to the point where you can’t breathe. How he decides when you will get oxygen. How obediently you give him pleasure by sucking his dick juicier than you did a lollipop. How he touches your lips with his thumb while you still receive it in your mouth. Scenes popped before his eyes, while he jerked his rock hard cock. He growled under his breath, feeling that he will reach the climax soon. He would make you swallow every drop, and only after he was sure you were an obedient little girl would he let you inhale when he took it out of your mouth. He came on a dry tree trunk. What a pity, it could all be in your mouth.

Who ... the fuck ... is..he ...- he saw red in front of his eyes. His blood was boiling and his hands were shaking when he saw you walking your dog with someone. That someone was a guy. You talked and laughed, walking pretty close to each other. When the damn idiot brushed his shoulder against yours, Dabi could clearly see how he is tearing that limb off  that morons body. Up to this point your smile had been creating a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t there because of his fiery power, but now he felt disgusted every time you laughed. Repulsive, the only word that could describe the scene in front of his eyes. Something so disgusting must not happen again, there are already enough disgusting things in this world.

You and your friend parted quite far from your houses. He has been around for over a year, trying to get out of the friend zone you have putted him in from the moment you met. Before he left, he hugged you. You carefully returned the hug, not wanting to give him false hopes. You patted him on the back and walked away slowly, shouting “See ya’!” to him. You should have said goodbye, because you'll never see him again.

 Never before had he been so happy to take someone’s life as now, and the list of people he hated was long. However, this transcended hatred. He fed the horror in his eyes as he burned him slowly, so slowly that the unfortunate young man lost consciousness a couple of times from the pain and agony. But Dabi did not give him the satisfaction of dying in ignorance. He would punch him in the face, welcoming him back with his crazy smile every time. He wanted him to feel what he felt when he saw you two together. He wanted him to spend his last moments in hell and be fully aware of it. He burned him layer by layer, first the outer layer of skin, in order him to be alive for as long as possible. As he began to burn his inner organs, soon after the soul of his victim left the mutilated body. He threw it in the dumpster, like garbage that belongs there, and went looking for you.

You loved the night. You were always attracted to the mystical, the mystery of darkness and what is in it intoxicates your desires. Although you are a good person, you had a taste for dark things. Maybe you didn’t show that side of you so much in front of others, and because of it you had to endure endless efforts of the goodies  just like your friend, who wanted you to share the softness of romance with them, but that wasn’t enough for you. You used to not even know what you wanted. Your thinking was interrupted by an instinctive sense of danger. You couldn't even turn around to check what was behind you when your eyes were covered by complete darkness. The pressure on your eyelids made your head hurt. A rough palm gripped you mercilessly, and before you tried to defend yourself with your hands, like handcuffs another hand wrapped itself around your wrist. An unknown person pushed you against the wall, squeezing you with his weight. He was strong, he squeezed the air out of your lungs with his pressure. Before you could speak, you felt a breath on your cheek.

 „Make even a sound and I will bite that lips off your pretty doll face.“ Observation alone was no longer an option. After feeding the need to destroy what approached something that was his, he had to feed another need. He had to taste you. He had to know what the poison tasted like. You disrupted his way of life even without knowing he exists, you can’t do anything more when you finally feel his presence. At least he thought so. He forgot that like any addict, overdose is an option. He felt its sting the moment he pressed his lips violently to yours. With his lips he savagely parted yours, his tongue searching for yours, absorbing your taste and the sobs that came from your throat. The surface of his tongue traveled along yours. The longer he greedily kissed you, the worse the need to continue was. He kept your eyes still covered, fighting the urge to grab you by the jaw and let go of your  arms just to turn you over and lift you up against the wall as he lit your clothes. But his need to absorb you was stronger than his sexual desire. Pandora's box was now bursting, releasing the thoughts and feelings that haunted him like devils, and the fact that you didn't return the kiss voluntarily gave birth to more anger in him. He moved his head away from yours, breathing hard.

"If you don't want to become a living torch, you better not turn around." You could feel the pressure on your body being released, your hands free again, and the other person's sense of presence fading a bit. You stood in shock, eyes closed. Of all the fears and horrors you  have imagined when he first grabbed you, this was the last thing you thought would happen. That he will force you to kiss him and then disappear. I must not turn around, I must not ... the curiosity and fearlessness that were your most pronounced traits made your head turn and your eyes absorbed the sight of the person who attacked you. You saw his strong broad shoulders getting more and more away... you shuddered when you saw the scars on his arms and neck ... the black pointy hair... The last thing you saw was exactly what you shouldn't have seen, the look of blue eclectic eyes disappearing around the corner of the building into the night.

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[malethirsty]

The Master Of The Claymore - Drew McIntyre

Summary: Following his success in recapturing the WWE Championship on RAW, Drew has some debts to pay and learns never to cross a swordmaster, especially one who knows how to handle a strong Scottish blade.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

1, 2 & 3! You lept up and down in the Guerrilla cheering & clapping with other members of the roster whom had come to watch as the sound of Bagpipes filled the ThunderDome, Drew McIntyre had just won back the WWE Championship, the Scotsman ascending once again back to the pinnacle of the Men’s division. As Drew walked up the ramp, issuing a warning to Roman, his opponent for Survivor Series, you used the cover of the swarm of fellow wrestlers to retreat back to his dressing room, there you sat down on the sofa and waited for his arrival. It took a while for him to arrive, but sure enough he turned up, sweated out but still in high spirits, seeing you on the couch he smirked down at you “Well hello there pretty boy, I bet you’ve come to congratulate the champ in person.” You rolled your eyes “Yes of course, all hail the great Scottish stud of a champion.” You sardonically responded and Drew grinned at you “Later I’ll get you to say it like you mean it” he promised, a glint of mischief and eroticism in his eyes.

Ever since you first met him, Drew had been cockily arrogant and at first you’d hated it, your tempering flaring whenever Vince’s ‘Chosen One’ tried to flex his strength towards you and the rest of the roster. However when he won the intercontinental title, that was when your rage boiled over and you had confronted him about his arrogant nature, by the end of the night, you realised his cocky attitude could be backed up with his skills... and wrestling was only the tip of what he could do with his body. Ever since then, you’d engaged in this relationship where you’d show up to wherever he was, he’d drop what he was doing and fuck you, your submissive nature in the bedroom paired perfectly with his cocky demeanour. However as of recently, you’d been in a draught, twenty two long days of no Scottish stud, as insensed by losing the title, he threw himself into training, completely neglecting you. You’d acted fine to his face, but tonight you were going to remind him that you were the only gold he needed to cherish, not some fucking leather strap.

Deciding to keep the nature of the conversation sweet for now, you turned the conversation to a fact you’d discovered on the show that night “I never knew Claymore was a type of sword till Sheamus gave you it in the box.” Drew, whom had been bothering with packing up his stuff to head back to his hotel room, looked across the room at you, rather surprised “Really? It’s quite well known in Scotland.” “Yes, well some of us haven’t lived in Scotland for out entire lives Drew.” “Sheamus is Irish and he knew, maybe your just uneducated about your knowledge of combat weaponry. So Y/N, I think I better teach you about it.” He abandoned what he was doing and crossed the room and sat next to you, his cocky nature out in full force “So the Claymore is quite an old yet strong weapon, known in my homeland for being a symbol of pride and strength. Only the strongest of men can wield it, it needs two hands to cover it” He stopped and leaned in to whisper in your ear “a lot like me.” He nipped at your ear lightly and drew back, which let you know that you had him where you wanted him, so you flirted back “Impressive, I’d like to get my hands around one sometime, wouldn’t that be a sight, little old me handling something so big, heavy and strong? You’d probably have to hold me up so I can keep balance” You moved onto his lap and sensing his hardness, trailed your hand down his hairy chest, above where his title was positioned. Drew groaned, his eyes fluttering closed for a second, as he minicked your ministrations onto your own bare chest, including tweaking your nipples as his cock got harder as you continued. He looked deep into your eyes and said “Why wait? Reach down into my kilt and handle it yourself.”

You didn’t wait to be asked twice and slid down onto the floor pulling off his kilt as you went, his cock flying up, very erect, hitting your face for your trouble. Not wasting anymore time, you slipped your lips over it and began to suck, “Oh yes, suck it down deep Y/N.” Drew groaned, throwing his head back as he got used to your wet, hot mouth around his member, his cock got even harder than before in your mouth, so you had to be careful not to take too much or risk choking, so you lathered it a little before pulling out, taking it in your hand and slapping it on your face “Nah-uh Y/N, remember you handle Daddy’s Claymore with two hands.” Drew chided, grinning at the dirty show he was watching below him, and so you grabbed onto his cock with both hands, fully covering the length of his dick, and pulled down, exposing the head. You trailed your tongue around it, eliciting soft growls from the champion, which soon turned to full out moans as you licked across his slit. “Yeah, you like that Daddy?” You asked, sweetly with a hint of cheekiness, as you knew what licking his slit did to Drew “Fuck yeah I do pretty boy”, motivated by his praise, you moved back onto Drew’s slit, this time giving it kitten licks while looking up into his eyes “Jesus Christ, your tongue’s incredible Y/N. Get back onto my cock before I cum on your face, I wanna bust in your mouth.”

Finally poised to strike, you moved away from him, leaving Drew panting “Wh-wha?” He looked up at you confused “Y/N, I said to get back on my dick.” “No Drew. See this is what’s been going on for the entire time Randy’s been reigning as champion, you’ve been fixated on training and your desire to hold that belt, while ignoring the fact that I’ve been needing you, having to wait for you to come to bef and fuck me has been fucking painful. Do you know how many times I’ve had to pull up the dick pics you’ve sent me and wanked to them cause you won’t man up when you finally stop training and fuck me?” Drew was looking taken aback, a mix of something that looked like anger on his face, but you were past the point of caring about hurting him and carried on. It was as if a faucet had been turned on in your brain, and everything you’d been wanting to say was spilling out of your mouth “I guess you haven’t thought at all, because you’ve been fucking piss weak after losing the championship to get up and keep moving forward, you’ve been so fixated that your forgetting about the one person that has needed you that entire reign. Goddamn it Drew, I WANT YOU TO BE A FUCKING MAN!” You yelled the last part out, all composure gone. You turned around to leave, expecting him to be too stunned to do anything, wanting him instead to think about how he’d left you so lonely and return to your hotel room with an apology with chocolates or some shit like that. Blood was pumping loudly in your ears from the shouting you had done, that you didn’t notice the thud of leather meeting the floor.

You had almost crossed the room before a hand grasped your head and you were slammed into the door, the hand protecting your head from bouncing off it, turning around, you saw Drew, a dangerous alit look in his eyes, dark and determined. With a gruff growl, he moved his hand from your head down to your pants, ripping the fabric clean in two and tossing it away. He then aimed his cock at your entrance and thrusted upwards, your cry of shocked pleasure drowned out by Drew’s bellow. You stayed like that for a while, Drew grunting as he took deep breaths to speak “That man enough for you Y/N? Huh? That enough to sate your slutty fucking ass?!” Drew yelled out and too shocked to form words, you nodded instead. Satisfied, he began to piston forwards, slamming into your ass so hard, the door began to shake. As you cried out from his ministrations you stared at him, the light hearted cocky man he was in the ring now gone, now he looked determined, powerful, dominant. “You want to be treated like a little fucking slut Y/N, is that what you want to be? Daddy’s fucking cock sleeve?” You tried to respond but stunbled over your words, only Y sounds coming from your mouth as you tried to say ‘Yes’. Suddenly he stopped moving and grabbed your face “Nah-uh pretty, you’re gonna use your voice and tell Daddy how much you love his dick fucking your ass, otherwise I can stop right now and leave you desperate to cum.” Drew was meeting you halfway, the fucking bastard.. the fucking hot bastard, so you responded “Yes Daddy, fuck I’ve needed this for so long!” Drew grinned “Good little slut, wrap your legs round Daddy’s waist.”

Obeying him, you wrapped your legs around his strong waist and with no effort at all he lifted you off the ground and trapped your lips in a kiss so hot, it felt like steam was coming off the both of you. After a while like this, he began to buck into you again “Fucking love how your tight little ass clenching round my thick hard dick. God damn Y/N, you know how to take Daddy’s cock just right.” You couldn’t respond, he was hitting your prostate so perfectly it felt as if shots of electricity were surging through you, the most you could do was hold onto the hunks back as hard as you could to prevent yourself from falling over from how ferociously he was pounding you. The sound of Drew’s balls slapping against you was joined by the sounds of his moaning and feral growling, which only increased as you raked your fingernails across his back, a thin trail of blood starting to form “Fucking hell babe, two can play at that game!” Drew lowered you to the ground and lifted your legs onto his shoulders, and began to fuck you at a different angle as he began to travel down your neck, kissing and nipping at it, intending to leave hickeys all down it, a mark of the Scot to show the world you belonged to him and him alone. You made soft mewling sounds as he did so, and trailed your left hand through his raven dark hair and your right through his chest hair “You like that?” Drew withdrew from his ministrations to ask “Yeah, I don’t know what about your head and chest hair really gets me going, but it does.” “It’s the sign of a fucking man, a fucking warrior. My raven hair on my head and my chest hair looks like I’ve come from a hard fought battle against a giant or soldier or some shit and I’m ready to claim your arse as a reward.” He punctuated this with a harsh thrust forwards, and you turned into a moaning mess all over again.

Drew moved away from your body now, looking up you saw him standing on his knees, his hips lazily pistoning forward, you began to push up to meet him halfway, his dick now seemingly coated in sweat as Drew pulled it out. He brushed the tip of it with his thumb and saw the sweat was actually precum, catching sight of you looking he grinned down “Want to taste my precum Y/N?” You moved up to him, only to be stopped by a rough hand covering your chest “Manners baby, what do you say to Daddy if you want to taste him?” “Drew, please I-“ “What do you say?” His voice grew seductively dark as he asked twice, so you swallowed deeply and said “Please Daddy, may I taste you?” Satisfied Drew moved his thumb to your mouth and you lapped your tongue out to taste his salty precum, eventually taking his thumb into your mouth “How is it that you look as hot taking my cock balls deep into your mouth as you do my fingers?” Drew pondered looking down at the sweaty mess he made of you, you moaned around his thumb before Drew pulled it out and thrusted his cock back inside you.

His cock began to pulse inside you, the veins bulging as he neared his end. Knowing he was close, Drew grasped onto your cock and began to stroke violently. Already sensitive, this only made you cry out loudly “OH FUCK DREW! YES DADDY, STROKE MY COCK!” You yelled, not caring if Adam Pierce, Randy, Charley or anyone else heard you, you were too intoxicated from Drew fucking you at last to care. Drew got right down to your face, noses touching, his eyes baring down into you so hard, it was as if he was looking into your soul “Tell me who you belong to Y/N, submit and tell me, and I’ll let you cum all you want. Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Each word was accompanied by a hard thrust into your ass, your muscles clenching softer than before, that it was amazing they hadn’t lost their grip from how hard Drew was railing you “You Daddy Drew! I belong to you!” You wailed out, utterly blissed out on Drew’s cock. He smirked, leaning down to your ear to whisper “Now Y/N, cum for me.” You cried out in relief and pleasure as load upon load shot out over Drew’s chest, spattering onto his chest hair, he waited until you stopped before pulling you up onto his lap and bucked wildly “Fucking hell Y/N, your ass feels so good when you cum that I’m gonna shoot my load, all deep into that slutty ass of yours, your fucking craving it yeah? Craving Daddy’s load up your ass. Well Daddy’s gonna give it all to you my twenty two day load, and you better take every last drop!” Utterly blown out by lust, you kissed Drew deeply, him returning with equal passion until he reached the edge and withdrew from your lips “Yeah, fuck Y/N, I’m cuming, I’m gonna cum deep inside you!” The air was wrent with a crying growl from the WWE Champion as he came, his release shooting inside you, thick and hot. Drew’s eyes were wound shut, his body thrown back so far, it was as if his orgasm was stretching him out. You didn’t think his cock would stop shooting forth his load, but eventually it stopped and Drew collapsed onto you, kissing you all over the face.

It was a while before either of you spoke “Holy fucking shit” you huffed out, Drew releasing a guttural laugh “That’s damn right, fuck Y/N, you’re like a fucking vice when I cum, you milk it all out, bet it’ll drip out of your hole by the time we get back to the hotel.” As your senses restored, you realised that you were still in his dressing room, you’d been caught up in how well Drew fucked you, you forgot you weren’t in privacy, you were in public and likely the whole roster had heard you turn into a desperate needy whore for the Scotsman on top of you. Catchhing your eye and seemingly understanding, Drew lifted you up “Own it, at least your getting dicked down by a fucking man.” A smile forming, you nodded “Now, I’m gonna get my kilt back on and get you some pants so we can head home and get you showered up before round two.” “R-round two?” You questioned “Yeah, you said I left you without sex for the entirety of Randy’s reign, so over the next week I’ll fuck you all over the hotel room that it’ll more than make up for it.” He said, as a matterafactly as talking about the next day’s weather. “Now look who’s the needy slut.” You sardonically responded to a grin from Drew, whom having just fastened his kilt back up, crossed over to you and cupped your face “Now don’t start with me Y/N, you were complaining about me not manning up for you. I’ll tell you what, if you’re good for me then when I win Survivor Series, I’ll make you the Prince of Claymore Country, make you a crown out of my seed, would you like that Y/N.” ‘Damn this man was something else’ you thought, but contented Drew with a nod of your head “Good man, now wait here while I get some new pants for you, and then we can leave and fuck in our own bed.” With that, he left his dressing room and you sat back onto the sofa, getting a little excited about the many more times you’d be getting to handle Drew’s Claymore in the future.

[ceoofuwu]

𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐒 ;; 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘪 𝘹 𝘧.𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you may be Bakugo’s sister but, no one in U.A. had ever known about your existence, until you decided to pay a visit... little did you know that Bakugo wasn’t the only familiar person there...

𝐓.𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: cursing (there’s Bakugo here, you shouldn’t expect any less lmao)

«What?! Bakugo has a sister?!» Mina exclaimed as she entered the living room, hardly having heard the rest of the discussion.

She sat herself cheerfully next to Kirishima, who had actually made space for her, quite eager to keep up with the gossip.

Not that she didn’t have every reason to. Bakugo was mysterious, kept things simple and to himself, always maintaining a distant and goal-oriented attitude, which didn’t allow for much personal investment. Therefore, wasn’t it reasonable for any given “friend” of his to be bound by curiosity?

«Oh shut up! As if you should care, raccoon eyes» he retorted coldly, with a casual murderous glare following shortly.

However, with her happy-go-lucky mindset and the habit of ignorantly listening to the merciless insults of the young hero, the pinkette didn’t mind him at all.

«I should, because when I become a pro hero, she might use some rescuing from me!» she announced, pointing to her gleeful self.

«Thanks, but I believe I can manage on my own».

A smooth, velvet voice cut through the room as the tapping of graceful steps reverberated.  A pair of delicate legs strolling confidently, accompanying a perfectly-shaped body giving off waves of tremendous fortitude.

During the time Mina had spent in the Academy, she had never witnessed, not once Bakugo, the Bakugo, expressing his fear. Now, in the face of his sister, he was wearing a mask of exactly that feeling; terror.

«Is that… are you…» she attempted, feeling solely gaps of air leaving her mouth in stupefaction.

You ceased your pacing, offering everyone a friendly smile, escorted with a gentle wave of your hand.

«Forgive me for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Y/n».

«…you can also call her dumbass» Bakugo mumbled between clenched teeth, intending to make an impression of dominance but also wishing to hide from the tyrant of a woman opposite of him.

«Shut your hole boom-boom idiot!»

An array of giggles filled the air, lighting up the ambiance and therefore breaking the ice, before you noticed a black-haired boy observing you in what seemed to be… dread?

«So she’s also taken after your terribly unhealthy anger issues, huh?» his eyes shifted to your smirking brother while he spoke in a modest and careful voice, as if he had selected his words with extreme cautiousness, one by one.

Another polite smile tugged at your lips, despite feeling quite displeased by your first impression. «I’m nothing like this walking temper tantrum», your gaze travelled around the room, inspecting it and gradually getting used to the surroundings, «…so you are his class… mates…»  your voice slowly faded away as you met with one specific, too familiar person in the room.

It couldn’t be… he couldn’t be here… or, could he? As far as you’re concerned you’re completely sane, which only means that you weren’t hallucinating. A lump had suddenly emerged in your throat and you’d swear your heart had skipped several beats upon realizing what was happening.

«Why the hell are you staring at dunce face?!» Bakugo yelled, fury steeping his features as the urge to protect you took over.

«Dunce… what?»

Denki slightly rolled his eyes, although he seemed to have gotten accustomed to his nickname, and sighed as he struggled to appear collected and unbothered.  «Me».

You scoffed and immediately covered your mouth with your hand, to prevent an inappropriate laughter from coming out. You didn’t really enjoy making fun of others, especially people like him who stood so close to you, but… this just sounded too fitting.

Denki blushed and immediately looked away, in his miserable attempt to be “discreet”.

«Do you guys know each other?» a familiar-looking redhead boy enquired, pointing between you and Denki. Your acquaintance had his mouth half-hanging open, as if he was about to say something, until he met with the frightful message in your look.

No.

You were quick to turn and face the redhead, with calmness written in your features and say: «Not at all, I mean… I hardly know any of you… um… Kirishima, isn’t it?»

The boy’s crimson eyes widened in surprise by the mention of his name.

Seems like I got it right.

«My brother tends to mention you a lot at home…» yet another wave of surprise washing over him, «…mostly how shitty your hair is…» you paused and pondered a little on your words, «…although I beg to differ» you beamed.

Kirishima’s face resembled a mixture of contentedness and dejection. You supposed and hoped that the former was on you.

Even so, for some odd reason, Bakugo was still keeping an eye on Denki. Not that the latter was acting with any prudence whatsoever, what with his nervously avoiding everyone’s eyes in the room.

«So… um… is there a bathroom… somewhere around here..?» you asked timidly, feeling the need to freshen yourself up and relieve some of the tension of this fairly messed up situation.

Soon after, thanks to your brother’s interference, you arrested yourself in that longed-for bathroom, taking a breather in silence and clearing your mind.

Before arriving at U.A. you weren’t really sure how to feel. On the one hand, you genuinely anticipated finally meeting all those amazing, gifted teens that had got themselves involved into so many scandalous episodes. On the other hand, you were doubting your social capabilities of interaction and trembled at the mere thought of stumbling over your words, or making a mess of something as simple a task as that, in general. In fact, an array of worst case scenarios was bombarding your head, even until the second you stepped your foot in that room.

However, discovering that Denki, your Denki, was actually one of the renowned class 1-A students?

That seemed nearly inconceivable to you.

Indeed, you had been dating with the guy for several months now, yet, without neither of you realizing, the hero studies topic had never been brought up; at least not in terms of specification.

So… Denki was a basically a hero… someone capable of coming to your rescue at any given moment… a hero…

«I hope you’re lost in your thoughts about me» an all too familiar voice was heard from the door.

Speak of the devil and the devil will come.

«Denki, what the hell?! How-- why did you come here?!» you called frantically, all the while taking alarming looks around to make sure your privacy was guaranteed.

«Don’t panic. We’re alone. Besides, my dorm is nearby~» he chimed, taking small steps closer to you simultaneously.

«So you used your dorm as an excuse to…?»

«Don’t play dumb, Y/n… you know better than anyone why I’m here…» your boyfriend whispered while slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his slim body.

You felt the temperature rising in your cheeks and your mind suddenly going blank, as though a fuzzy mist had been blurring everything. You had decided to come here merely to relax before proceeding to make new acquaintances. You couldn’t figure out whether this was happening due to Denki being one hell of a horny pervert or his being a complete and utter idiot. Come to think of it, both statements were suitable at the moment.

In the meantime, Denki was ranting about his plans, his dorm and many other stuff that you didn’t care too much to pay attention to.

«You are a dunce face» you giggled, trying not to focus too much on his golden gaze, which almost pierced holes through your own eyes.

«What did you say?» his face was beginning to distort into a suggestive expression, his lips gradually stretching into a devilish smile.

«You… are… a dunce face» you repeated teasingly and more confidently this time, despite feeling the embarrassment crawling up on you on the inside.

«A dunce face…» he hummed after you, before pushing you gently against a wall, with you hardly realizing, «I wonder where you picked that up from…» he teased, his fingertips sliding underneath your shirt grazing your back, sending minor waves of electricity down your spine with every brush whilst eliciting slight gasps.

Your lust-blown eyes remained locked the entire time, forming some kind of connection, as your breaths were little by little merging into one and the space between you was getting smaller by every second passing. You couldn’t hold your urgencies back anymore; your arms glided on his shoulders, eventually getting wrapped around his neck, as your head titled to the side allowing to the blonde to lean in and touch his lips on yours.  

The subtle electroshocks being produced on your back combined with the feeling of soft lips dancing with even softer ones, wasn’t aiding you at all to restrain that low, throaty moan that escaped from your vocals.

The kiss was slow and yet, steeped with passion, dripping with all these raw emotions that were generated every time you’d encounter one another. Denki had you melting, desperately hanging on to him, as if he was your life line. As he nibbled on your bottom lip, you broke apart, both panting, your lungs burning for air, prior to your foreheads touching intimately, trying to calm your rapidly beating hearts.

«You should lock that doo—«

«GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER, DUNCE FACE!»

Before you even had the time to process what had just happened, Denki had done a runner, sprinting as fast as he could as he was being chased down by an infuriated Bakugo. It’s a pity you were marooned like this but, oh well, he was the one who had left the door unclosed….

Hope you enjoyed! Leave a heart, comment, reblog! 💕

[dearophelia]

and some things you just can’t speak about

long live :: the tower :: and some things you just can’t speak about

Quentus is five when the Reapers come. [it’s sad turian kiddo hours here tonight. warnings for war and parent death. i’m so sorry.]

He’s five when they come.

Quentus lingers upstairs against his father’s strict orders to come down to the basement now. Ducking down so he’s almost hidden, he peeks out through the front window as a red laser beam shoots out from the hulking ship. The beam whines so harsh Quentus feels it in the space between his ears. Suddenly, a little pastry shop down the street explodes in fire and brick.

He inhales sharply and drops all the way down to the floor. As fast as he can, he scrambles on his hands and knees for the basement door. His hand slips and he tumbles and bumps his way down the steps. Dad doesn’t even scold him for staying upstairs, just pulls him up from the floor and into a tight hug. His subvocals rumble in a panicked hum that makes Quentus sniffle and start to cry.

Dad holds him, letting him cry before pulling away. He gives Quentus a little nudge, urging him deeper into the basement. Once sure that Quentus is safe, he climbs the stairs to close the door. A simple sheet of metal can’t protect them from the monsters descending from the sky, but it feels safer with the door closed.

“What are they?” Quentus asks, wiping underneath his eyes.

Mom shifts Nico from her hip to Dad’s arms and then kneels in front of him. There’s a soft, calming hum coming from her throat, but it’s choked with worry. “They’re called Reapers,” she says quietly.

“The bakery’s gone,” he says. All those pretty pastries. The lafka and trilap he and Nico like. The kindly older woman behind the counter who snuck samples out to kids when their parents weren’t looking. All gone.

Mom nods and draws him in close.

They’re silent for the rest of the evening. Quentus curls up on a pile of pillows in the corner and tries to sleep. He counts sixteen flashes of red before sleep finally comes.

//

Two weeks pass. Mom and Dad take turns venturing upstairs to bring food and supplies down. They’re both silent each time they come back, subharmonics tight and controlled with what they aren’t letting their sons hear.

Quentus wants to see the sun through more than the small basement windows. But he knows better than to ask. Mom and Dad are so on edge, so hypervigilant, that he doesn’t dare ask, even if he can carry an armful of cans down the stairs.

“We should’ve left with the Initiative,” Dad says quietly one night, his voice full of sharp regret. He hangs his head and stares at his feet.

Mom sets her hand on his shoulder. “We didn’t know,” she says, just as softly.

“Avi had a spot for us. We could have left. All of this…” the rest of his words disappear into a strangled breath. He turns toward Mom and lets her pull him into a hug. Quentus can’t make out their murmured words, but Dad’s shoulders shake as he clutches at Mom, like he can’t hold her close enough.

The mattress shifts beside him and Quentus scoots over, making room for Nico. His younger brother looks up at him with wide eyes, fear rumbling through his subvocals. Quentus settles an arm around Nico’s shoulders and lets him cuddle into his side. He can’t make the same warm, comforting rumble that Dad uses to soothe them after a bad dream, but he can give Nico a hug.

Quentus doesn’t know what the Initiative is, but Dad doesn’t mention it or Uncle Avi again. By the end of the fourth week, all of their belongings that matter have been moved down to the basement.

//

Quentus is dismayed to discover that, despite the Reapers invading and slowly turning their street into rubble, he is not exempt from schoolwork lessons.

Mom works with him on his math one day while Dad’s out scavenging for supplies. The sun sets, Quentus has finished two sets of problems on his own, and Dad hasn’t returned.

She makes dinner – their fresh food is long gone, but she manages a decent dinner with canned vegetables and dehydrated meat – and plays games with the two of them until bedtime like nothing’s wrong. Quentus desperately wants to ask about Dad, but there’s a fragility to the way she’s holding herself. He squeezes her a little tighter when she hugs him goodnight.

Three nights later, there’s a noise upstairs. Mom turns off the lights, grabs a gun, and takes up position at the bottom of the stairs. “Hide,” she orders him and Nico.

Quentus grabs Nico’s arm and drags him out of sight into a closet. He keeps the door cracked and keeps his eye glued to the tiny open space.

The basement door opens, then closes, and a figure walks down the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, in a patch of moonlight.

“Torbin,” Mom breathes. The gun clatters to the ground. “Where the fuck were you?” she hisses, equal parts anger and relief in her voice. She stands up and immediately wraps her arms around him.

The bag of supplies in Dad’s hand falls and he holds her just as tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as Mom’s subvocals break, “there was a Reaper patrol. I couldn’t get back.”

Quentus barrels out of the closet, Nico right behind him, and they both rush into their father’s knees. Dad bends down and rests his brow against Quentus’, then Nico’s.

“I love you,” Dad says, desperation thickening his voice as he hugs them both.

Quentus can only whimper.

//

Six months pass and all Quentus wants is to play outside again. To see something other than the walls of their basement. To see and talk to someone other than his parents and younger brother.

He misses his friends.

Some of them might be alive – he’s heard his parents talking about people they’ve met out scavenging, and some of the names are familiar – but he’s not allowed upstairs, much less outside. It’s safer apart, Dad said patiently, when Quentus finally yelled about wanting to see the sun and play with his friends. They’re less likely to notice us in small groups.

So he reluctantly pokes at his schoolwork, tries not to be too annoyed when Nico does his reading lessons out loud, and makes it halfway through an entire math book before Mom realizes he’s been cheating. She gives him a look, sighs, and makes him start over again, this time with the answer key removed from his omnitool.

Mom passes time by building solar battery panels from spare parts she and Dad bring back from scavenging. She trades them for vitamins. Dad sews up wounds and sets broken bones in their kitchen, accepting whatever he can in payment even if it’s nothing more than thanks. Days pass with the rise and fall of sun in tiny shadows on the floor. Quentus has stopped jumping at every horn and blast outside.

One of Dad’s patients pays him in a media OSD. Quentus smiles for the first time in months when he discovers an entire directory of comic books. Mom lets him skip a day of lessons. He curls up in his tiny bed and devours each issue, even the volumes and stories he doesn’t know.

Math is still stupid, dehydrated meat is still tasteless, and he still misses his friends. But at least he has new comic books, even if he goes through them all in a week.

//

A little over a year into living in the basement, Quentus wakes up to violent red light and unbearable heat. The whole house shakes and glass breaks upstairs.

“Get down,” Dad says, climbing over him to shield Quentus with his own body. He tucks his hands over his head, arching his back so his strong plates take most of the blow.

Through deafening crashes and a demonic horn that grates all the way down his spine, Quentus hears Nico crying beside him. He looks over: Mom’s curled over Nico the same way Dad’s protecting him. She closes her eyes and tucks around him tighter as the ceiling collapses onto them.

The silence that follows is worse. The four of them hold still, waiting for the rest. Quentus tucks his head into Dad’s carapace like he did when he was smaller. Dad hums quietly and Mom joins in – a warm, safe noise, and Quentus tries to pretend that they’re just cuddled on the couch, reading before bedtime. It doesn’t work.

Mom’s breath hitches when the mechanical noises begin. Something’s walking in the remains of the upstairs – many somethings. They communicate with beeps and electric whirs and growls. Quentus slams his eyes shut and doesn’t see the look that passes between his parents.

Dad pulls away. Quentus opens his eyes, lifting a browplate in confusion.

“Hide,” he whispers, gently bumping their brows together. “Take care of your brother.”

“Dad?” his voice sounds so small.

“I love you,” Dad says. “Remember that.” He presses his mouthplates to Quentus’ crest and then pulls away to gather Nico in his arms.

Quentus doesn’t even have half a second to process his father’s words before his mother wraps her arms around him. Her subvocals rumble with deep, aching grief as she hugs him tight.

“I love you,” Mom whispers fiercely. “Stay together. Don’t let them find you.”

Pieces of concrete and stone start to lift away. The mechanical noises grow louder. Something screams and it makes Quentus want to curl up in his mother’s arms and never ever leave.

“Hide,” she urges, letting go. He reaches for her, but she only grabs his hand, leading him toward the closet. “Stay here,” she says, stepping out of the way for Dad to set a crying Nico beside him in the small room. “Keep the door shut,” she orders, “and close your eyes.”

His breath shakes and he starts to cry just like his brother. “Mom?”

She leans in and briefly rests her forehead on his, then Nico’s. “I love you, so much.”

Light shines in from a newly-made hole by the stairs.

“Andi,” Dad says from the other side of the room. He slides a brand new heat sink into his rifle.

“Close your eyes,” she says softly with a smile, just like when he’s having trouble sleeping. She shuts the door, leaving Quentus and Nico in darkness.

With one hand clamped over Nico’s mouth and the other over his own, Quentus squeezes his eyes shut as gunfire erupts in their basement.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, silence.

//

Based on the path of sunlight through the small crack at the bottom of the door, three days pass before Quentus works up enough courage to pop the door open and peek out. He doesn’t see anything, so pushes the door the rest of the way open.

There’s dried blood by the stairs, staining the floor a dark blue. The basement is empty.

They’re alone.

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Thirteen: Just For Tonight

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,660

MASTERLIST

~

The entrance to the hotel was stylish. The marble floors and golden detailing screamed ‘you can’t afford me’. 

Spencer was carrying both your suitcases. The two of you wore sunglasses and hats. It made you laugh at first, the idea of dressing up like undercover superheroes. 

“Isn���t it just gonna make us more suspicious?”

“Actually, people tend to glance over those with their eyes or hair obscured. It’s more useful than most people think.”

“Uh-huh.” Bullshit.

So here you were, standing slightly behind Spencer as he talked to the woman at the front desk.

“Hello. Reservation for Chris Kelvin.”

The woman smiled and typed away at the keyboard. Then her face fell.

“Ah. I’m sorry Mr. Kelvin, we did try to get in touch with you. We left multiple messages.”

The FBI had taken your and Spencer’s phones. Something about tracking.

“What, is there a problem with the reservation?” The worry seeped into his voice, and the woman quickly reassured him.

“Oh, no. Well, slightly. You booked a double room but I’m afraid that there’s a bridal convention in town and all the double rooms have been booked up.”

“So, what, you don’t have any rooms?”

That’s not what she said, you thought bitterly.

“No, sir. We’ve had to change your reservation to a single bedroom. But! We are able to knock a few hundred dollars off the price.”

Spencer was silent, gaping at her.

She nervously fumbled through a drawer, looking to sweeten the pot.

“And . . . um . . . I can offer an all-inclusive couple’s spa treatment for you and your wife.”

She pulled out two coupons and handed them to Spencer. He made no move to take them.

As awkward as it was, you recovered enough to lean forward and take the tickets.

“Thank you,” and you hooked your arm around his elbow. “My husband and I appreciate it.”

You pulled him away from the front desk toward the elevator. Once the doors had shut, you let go, taking your suitcase from him.

“Sorry about that,” you said, adjusting your hat. “Figured it was less suspicious to just go along with it.”

He nodded curtly and didn’t say another word until you got to your room.

Despite the warning, you still found yourself surprised by the lone bed in the center of the room. There were two closets, two desks, and even two sinks in the bathroom. Was it that hard to put another bed?

If you weren’t so distracted by the prospect of sleeping with the man you had a crush on in a fancy hotel bed, you might have appreciated how fancy the room actually was.

You busied yourself with hanging up and putting away your clothes. You’d only had time to pack a couple of outfits and two sets of pajamas. The hotel probably had quick laundry machines, though. You weren’t worried.

Spencer, however, was nervously looking through the room, presumably for any kind of cameras or listening device.

Taking off your hat and glasses and throwing them on the desk, you said, “J.J. said they already did a sweep of the room.”

“Yeah, well, J.J. knows everything, right?” he spat bitterly, throwing his arms up.

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him. He melted under your gaze, realizing how harsh he’d been.

“I’m sorry that was . . . I’m sorry. I’m a bit stressed. J.J. just . . . sometimes she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Before the two of you had left for the hotel, J.J. had pulled Spencer aside for a moment, whispering to him so you couldn’t hear. Afterward, he seemed agitated, more snappy. Did she say something about me? No. She wouldn’t. Right?

“It’s okay,” you said calmly, checking out the gorgeous bathroom — could a bathroom be gorgeous? — “I know all about being stressed. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he said quickly, an automatic reaction. “No, thank you, but I’m ok.”

“Okay,” maybe it was best not to press the issue. Only now did you register how dark it was outside. How had that much time passed since this morning? Maybe all the questions and consent forms you had to deal with forced your brain into autopilot, making time move faster. “I’m gonna get changed.”

A few minutes later you came out of the bathroom, wearing a large sleep shirt and underwear. You couldn’t bother with pajama pants right now. Besides, he’d seen you in your underwear before. It wasn’t crossing a line. Right?

He took one look at you and said, “I’ll make the request for a rollaway bed.” and picked up the phone on the nightstand.

“No!” he looked at you, waiting for an explanation. You had to think quickly to find one. “I mean, won’t that be suspicious? If they think we’re a married couple. . . .”

After analyzing you for a moment, he sighed and put the phone down.

“You’re right. I’ll take the floor.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to take the floor. We’ve had this conversation.”

“I can’t handle being . . . I’ll be fine, thank you.” 

It was so sad to watch him pull the pillows from the sofa to the floor, covering them with a blanket and taking a pillow from the bed. Did he not want to sleep with you that bad? Did he not like you that much?

“Please . . .” 

God, you were pitiful. This man was practically begging to stay away from you but you persisted. But he had asked to stay assigned to you. And what was that about not handling? The mixed signals were pulling your heart this way and that, constantly unsure of what to do next, of what was too far.

But Spencer looked at you with that same something in his eyes you’d seen before. You knew it was more than . . . whatever you currently had. It was greater than wanting, than hoping. The gravity of it hit you harder than you’d expected and as you stared into his dark hazel eyes, you felt your own beginning to well up with tears.

His face fell and he got up from the floor and sat on the bed, arms finding their way around you, coaxing you to lay down with him. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed into his dress-shirt. 

“Shh,” he ran his fingers through your hair, smoothing it out and gently untangling it. It was a gesture filled with affection, adoration . . . love?

“I’m just so . . .” the words escaped you, but Spencer pulled back and looked at you, eyes probing yours, a slight smile on his lips.

“I know,” was all he said.

And in that instant, you knew. You knew absolutely the very last thing that would ever matter. That you were utterly, truly in love with Spencer Reid. And there was no way you could ever be together.

Somehow, the expression on your face must have shown your realization, for his own countenance shifted to one of understanding. His smile was gone but he wasn’t frowning. He was looking at you in a whole new light.

The moment broke when you thoughtlessly glanced at his lips. His perfect, pink lips that he constantly licked and bit. He pulled back slightly, not breaking eye-contact.

You didn’t have to speak but you did anyway. Barely a whisper.

“Spencer . . .”

“We can’t. I’m—”

“I know.”

But you continued staring at each other. You decided to test the waters by leaning in ever so slightly. His eyes widened but he didn’t protest or back away. But it wasn’t a ‘yes’.

Your lips were inches apart, slightly open, the two of you breathing heavily.

“Just for tonight,” you said, brushing your mouth against his ever so gently, barely making contact, but just enough to force a soft moan from his throat.

“Y/N . . . we really can’t.”

“Spencer.” You took his hand firmly in yours. “Just for tonight. Once. No more. And we can forget about it.”

It was a lie and you both knew it. If you kissed, not as part of some plan or distraction technique, but for real, neither of you would ever forget it.

“Just for tonight?”

You nodded, placing a delicate hand on his cheek, making him gasp so softly, leaning into it.

“Just for tonight. Once.”

“Just for tonight.”

And he closed the gap between you, your lips meeting in a surge of fire and sparks. The kiss went through you, echoing in your bones. He was electricity against you. He was light.

His lips slowly pressed against yours and he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so he could delve deeper. It was more than a kiss. It was the release of all the tension and feelings that had built up over the few weeks you’d known him. You tried with all your might to convey the love you felt for him, biting his lips, pulling his hair, and yanking him closer to you.

Neither of you wanted to break it. You’d said only once. The moment it was over . . . it would be over.

But soon you were both out of breath, mouths hanging open against one another, too scared to pull away to see the others' reaction.

Simultaneously, you pulled back, staring at each other, trying to analyze your reactions. A slight smile found its way to your lips, provoking Spencer to share in it.

You wanted to lean in again. To say ‘fuck it’ and have him right here, right now, in this bed. To have all of him and give him all of you. But you’d said only once. Just for tonight.

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And you turned around, snuggling into him as you had before. Only this time, there was more to it. More than could be described with words.

You’d said ‘just for tonight’, probably hoping that it would somehow apply to the feelings you had as well. Come morning, you would discover that wasn’t how love worked. That wasn’t how love worked at all.

~

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[foradecision]

‘ the agony of my feelings allowed me no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its food. ’ — mary shelley ; frankenstein.

HARRAN COUNTRYSIDE, DAY 175 ; 14:56:23.

     “— goddamn it. of course.” 

     the tank is dry, nothing but stale air coming through the siphon hose. same as the last one. same as the last dozen fucking vehicles he’d checked, gutted, stripped, and abandoned, up and down this fissured backroad to nowhere. from nowhere. this whole place is nowhere. 

     a thin line of trees borders the gravel to his left, curtaining the wide spread of empty fields like a patchwork quilt. farmland, mostly. dead and disused. to his right, past the scrub, the ground slopes gently downward to a rock - lined creek. there’s a spitting toad nearby; he can hear the guttural heave of its bloated throat from here. 

     distantly, high up on a cliffside, an eagle’s cry goes unanswered. 

     the creek is tempting. he’s tired. sore. filthy, to the point where it’s getting to be a concern. where, if he were to walk up to the gates of jasir’s place looking the way he does right now, they might mistake him for a zombie and shoot him on sight. threadbare amusement curls the edges of that chasm in his chest, just for a second: then it’s gone again.

     leaving his buggy where it’s parked, fishtailed at the road’s grassy shoulder — useless, gas gauge riding on empty — crane hangs a right and heads for the water.

     a bolt is loosed from his crossbow. the toad falls before it can hit him with an acid burn. there’s a scar on his neck from the last time, an inch or so of rougher tissue that runs above the line of his collar. 

     he does a quick scan of the shoreline. two or three biters linger maybe a hundred yards away, but they haven’t noticed him. they’re slow. far enough that he’ll see them long before they get too close. 

     fuck it. 

     he unloads his gear. strips off gloves, vest, boots; clothing peeled from his skin layer by layer until he’s bare except shorts and the grime - caked chain around his neck, dog tags sticking to his chest. one set, of the two he was issued. deanna has the other set.

     no. no goodbyes.

     no goodbyes. just hold onto ‘em for me.

     it’s a freshwater creek; murky and tinged green with algae, but clean. uncontaminated. he wades out until he’s waist - deep, takes a breath, and dives beneath the surface. the shock of cold wakes him up like a rush of adrenaline. he stays under until he can’t, and then he stays a few seconds more. when he comes back up, there’s a clarity to it: a sharpness to his senses, focused as the finely whetted edge of a knife. he swims again to the shallows and starts to wash. 

     this is day ten, since the others returned to the slums. since they’d chased a clue given to them by a dying man delirious with fever. since their last - ditch, desperate search for a cure had come up empty and every move he’d made leading up to it — everything they’d done, everything they’d lost — slipped through his fingers like fine sand. he couldn’t face them. none of them. couldn’t stomach the thought of going back, of walking into the tower to tell lena and brecken and everyone else that it was all for nothing. he just needed time. that’s what he’d said. just a little time to work through it all, get it straight again in his head. camden was still working, sure. still holed up in old town in a lab littered with corpses. he’d hit some kind of breakthrough, but his labors since then hadn’t borne fruit. bad samples. limited testing material. crane doesn’t understand the science of it. what he understands is that a month after that radio call, people keep getting sick. people keep turning. people keep dying.

     crane, why do you even give a fuck what happens to these people? you don’t belong here! this is just a job for you!

     no. not anymore it’s not.

     there’s no contract now. no mission objective. no target. there’s just him, and them, and a long stretch of nothing.

     this is day ten. 

     the afternoon sun hikes steadily across the cloudless sky. six hours ‘til nightfall. he fills his canteen, redresses, gathers his gear. shuffling footfalls and the solitary groan of a biter drifts downwind towards him. a pause, mid - step. a glance over his shoulder. 

     she trips up the slope as she tries to follow. he doesn’t glance at her again.

     there’s a gas station up the road, beyond the fields and half a klick east of the creek. a ten minute walk without interruptions. all told, he makes it in less than fifteen. the pumps are a no - go, but he finds enough fuel left in a semi and a rusted jeep to fill his jerrycan two thirds of the way. gnats hum in his ears as he cuts through the tree line and he’s sweating again by the time he returns to the buggy. fucking gnats. fucking heat. 

     fucking harran. 

     the buggy itself is a battered thing. mesh and steel, spikes up front, hood rigged with electrical cylinders to fry at the push of a button. UV lights mounted to a protective cage around the single seat. at some point, the paint job was blue. it’s lost under a spattering of mud and streaks of dust, blood in varying shades: dark brown to copper to fresh sprays of red. she’s not quiet, and her suspension’s been shot halfway to hell since he flew off that overpass near the train tracks, but she’s solid. fast. decent off - road traction, even through the roughest terrain. she gets the job done. 

     crane turns the keys in the ignition. a loud, vibrating rev, a scrape of tires against gravel. behind him, the biter from the creek makes a clumsy lunge for the vehicle’s rear. he leaves her in the dust and drives. 

     he’s been doing a lot of that. driving. maybe he missed it. maybe he likes the solitude, except for that ribbon of isolation that runs through him constantly like a wound spreading poison. no: what draws him is something else. 

     static crackles through the radio hooked to his dash. 

     “kyle, can you hear me?” 

     the skip of his heartbeat drops back to a dull rhythm. he should have known better. communication between here and the slums is shaky on a good day, worse down here behind the mountains. 

     “yeah, bilal, i hear you.” 

     “i’ve got the parts to fix your ride, if you want to come by and let me take a look.” 

     “she’s doin’ fine for now.”

     “you sure? it’s no trouble. hell, i can probably have her running again by —”

     “yeah, listen, i’ll stop by tomorrow, alright?” he says it without the intent to follow through on it. 

     “whatever you say, brother. hey — don’t be a stranger, okay?” 

     “sure thing.”

     he ends it there. veers left to avoid an upended van and a spill of toxic waste. doesn’t correct to avoid clipping the biter crouched over a strewn mess of gore, greedily devouring someone’s remains. or several someones. the buggy jumps a little. his expression stays as unmoved as if he’d just bucked over a speed bump or a pothole. 

     the sun is behind him now, dipping westward. 

     he drives. 

     it’s beautiful out here, in its own right. the kind of place he might’ve visited by choice, before, when the world wasn’t like it is now. the road unspools behind him, twisting south towards the dam. he hears the water before he sees it. rushing noise off to the right. he doesn’t stop. keeps going past the turnoff and down a winding side - road until he pulls over onto a patch of asphalt that used to be a small parking lot. a couple of vehicles, a truck, a trailer hitched to a hatchback with luggage piled high. he’s checked them all before. cleaned out the bags and the gas tanks, salvaged what parts he could from under their hoods. there’s a single building, a two - story cottage converted to a restaurant converted to a safe house, UV bulbs strung along the balcony railing like christmas lights. 

     past it, where the road dips into a curve, the open maw of a half - collapsed tunnel is just visible beyond the scattering of trees and abandoned cars, biters meandering listlessly in the afternoon heat. 

     four hours. 

     he parks the buggy and climbs up to the balcony, barricading the door once he’s inside.

     no one uses this place. that’s why he’d picked it. quiet, deserted, off the beaten path. no one uses it because of its proximity to the tunnel. deep within the reeking darkness, volatiles nest and thrive. they prowl too close after nightfall. no one wants the risk.

     no one except crane. 

     the note was pinned up on an old door used as a bulletin board at jasir’s farm. warning people away from the area, to steer clear at any cost. during the day, the hive is full. they only scatter when darkness falls, emerging to hunt, to feed, to roam the countryside freely and without borders. that’s what he’s counting on. 

     but there’s a trick to it. something he discovered — stumbled upon — when he went looking for sabit and found a nest instead. volatiles can breed. they’re not made exclusively through the natural evolution of the virus, but nor do they procreate in a traditional sense. hive mother is the closest comparison he can make: sentient creatures within the hives that somehow trigger the mutation. again, it’s a science he doesn’t fully understand. he knows the logistics. he knows enough. destroying those things stops the spread. 

     kill the beating heart, and you kill the beast.

     he hefts his duffel bag onto one of the tables and unzips it, a side pocket where a tightly - wrapped pouch is nestled within the folds of a spare shirt. inside, a medical injector and tool slots that used to house five vials of antizin. the final vial is loaded into the injector. the shot is quick. practiced. another four days bought on the calendar; beyond that, the pages are blank. 

     it should worry him more than it does. 

     after he checks the alarm on his watch, crane moves to the sleeping bag unrolled on the floor and lies down fully clothed. he’s trained himself to fall asleep like he’s stepping off a curb. no thought, just muscle memory. 

     four hours, then he can go. 

     dreams are less muscle, all memory. he sees them every time: living faces turned to dead ones turned to taunting, hungry ghosts. children screaming. a little girl and then a little boy, the plush yield of a bloodstained teddy bear under the tread of his boot. you can’t go yet, i thought of a name!

     someplace safe.

     the monsters are gone. 

     semper fi, marine. 

     residual hallucinations blend seamlessly, threading sepia and bronze through the black and mottled grey, the arterial red. jade’s voice brushes the threads like a hand searching for fever; soft, then bleeding, then telling him to let her go, and then jade isn’t jade, she’s deanna, and she isn’t saying let her go — she’s saying let go.

     no goodbyes, remember?

     make it count.

     you don’t know what suffering is.

     there’s an old ache just under the hook of his left clavicle. a starburst of pain sings sharply outward with the waking breath he sucks in, then pushes back out. he presses the heel of his right hand against the scar from rais’ dagger, the one he didn’t dodge fast enough. that’s a running theme. not fast enough. not soon enough. not enough. his other hand lifts, wrist tipping, as the digital numbers on his watch go from 20:59 to 21:00.

     he cuts the alarm.

     night out here sounds nothing like night in the slums, or in old town. there, it’s all infected moans, wind rippling through tarps and rustling trash; it’s all crackling fires and the creak of scaffolding, clangs of metal as virals throw aside manhole covers to scrabble out into the streets.

     here, it’s quiet. crickets chirp, cicadas chitter and hum. an owl hoots from somewhere in the trees off to the right of the cottage. 

     he waits by the balcony door until he hears them passing by. ragged, growling breaths. heavy steps. they come out of the nest in droves but then they scatter. then they fade into the dark. 

     crane hops the railing and heads toward the tunnel’s waiting mouth. 

     years ago, on the ground in fallujah, he led a stealth mission of five other marines to infiltrate a hostile - run outpost at the city’s downtown core. tactics he relied on then to evade detection are called back on now. he stays low. hugs the shadows. mindful of every move, every breath, every beat of his heart. the first biter he kills doesn’t have the time to react. he snaps its neck, fast and clean. drags it off into the cover of the trees and slices a deep line across its swollen belly. then a second line, stem to stern. 

     bandanna tightly secured over his mouth and nose, he reaches gloved hands inside the wound and begins to cover himself in gore.

     the smell is overpowering. sour and almost chemical, thick with rot, seeping through the fabric. but overpowering is the entire point. dahlia claimed she had a magic potion to move amongst infected, to blend in; everyone thought she was crazy. so did he, or delusional at the least — until she’d asked him to gather what she needed to make more tincture. one whiff of those mushrooms, and he understood. 

     she didn’t have a magic potion. she just knew which plants were odorous enough to mask the scent of living flesh.

     and if that worked, crane figures this will too. 

     three measured strides into the tunnel confirms it. the biters don’t turn. don’t react at all. he passes them in silence, a chameleon, unnoticed and undisturbed. this is the easy part. the deeper he goes, the more perilous the risk. virals twitch and mutter, grouped around piles of reeking carnage mounted nearly ceiling - high in some places. he doesn’t turn on his flashlight for chancing exposure. it takes his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the gloom. 

     he has eight hours, give or take, before the volatiles return and this excursion goes from dangerous to suicidal. eight hours is plenty.

     bones. the ground is littered with them, crunching underfoot. some are smaller; animal, maybe — birds, rodents — but most aren’t. bigger things. human. skull fragments that are all teeth. the smell has gotten incrementally worse, distinguishable even through his own cloak of viscera. it’s suffocating and rank. biological. metallic like a slaughterhouse. choked with dirt like a grave. 

     edging a pool of stagnant water that fills the crevice between cracked slabs of cement, he pushes on. 

     he’s getting closer. he can hear it now. an unearthly vocalization that pitches above the rest, echoing off stone. it’s a howl and a groan and a wail and a scream all in one, wordless, feral, made of pain and desperate hunger. 

     he sees it near a blocked door to a maintenance hall, in front of a wide wall of concrete debris. tethered to the earth by flesh and tendon like roots. there’s no lower half: only a head and torso, its other parts impossible to identify. the head is thrown back. spikes of bone push through bloody sinew in odd places, and the jaw is split along both sides, a wide, disjointed yawn. nothing about it is human. nothing about it suggests that it once was human.

     circling behind it, crane braces one hand on its shoulder and draws his blade with the other. the machete is driven clean through, back to front, gleaming point emerging from its chest. 

     kill the beating heart — 

     the death rattle is jarring, a wet, retching sustain, and then it stops. the thing stills, goes limp. he pulls his blade out again. 

     — you kill the beast. 

     there are three more of them, nestled deep within the labyrinth. he finds them by sound, repeats the same routine with each. in a way, it feels merciful. killing sabit was merciful. he wasn’t long in this state when crane had found him; too far gone to save, but with enough human left in him to plead for release. 

     these ones don’t plead, but release is granted anyway. 

     because of how deep the nest goes, of how careful he is in navigating it, it’s coming up on midnight by the time he turns around to work his way back. that isn’t worrisome: sunrise starts washing the horizon in swaths of pale peach at 5:30, doesn’t fully spread her rays ‘til six. he still has a seven - hour window, and all he has to do is reach the cottage again. the camouflage is working. his pulse is steady. 

     everything is playing out accordingly, right up until it’s not. 

     a viral staggers from behind one of the vehicles in the tunnel, an old city bus that blocked it from view. he misses it, focused on a through - path to avoid the others. it knocks into his shoulder. hard. 

     crane stumbles a little. it wouldn’t be enough to throw him had his footing been on even ground. 

     his boot slips off the edge of the crevice. 

     his ankle, the same one roman had fucked up months before, torques harshly in a direction it isn’t supposed to go, skewing his balance sideways.

     “oh, f—”

     the curse is caught before it’s anything more than a breath. 

     he falls. water splashes around him. 

     four feet away, the viral lets out a screech. 

     the noise. that’s all, he tells himself: just the sudden noise drawing attention. but the filthy pool around him begins to turn filthier, a runoff of blood and entrails slipping from his clothes. he freezes. holds absolutely still, unblinking, barely breathing. three more virals and a handful of shuffling biters are starting to congregate around the water. sensing some disturbance, some change in the air. one of them presses in closer. he realizes what’s about to happen a microsecond before. 

     the biter trips over the slab and lands in the pool with him, dousing him in a second wave. he scrambles backward, kicks it back when it lunges, but the damage is already done.

     they smell him now. they see him. 

     crane jumps from the pool and bodies the first viral that comes at him. the tunnel fills with shrieks and groans, a ravenous stampede with a single piece of prey. 

     his machete cuts through the nearest throat. then he breaks into a run.

     the firecrackers he throws behind him buy enough time to clear the tunnel’s entrance, to dip into the trees, to move at a flat sprint until ultraviolet lights wink at him between the black canopy. he vaults the awning, grabs hold of the balcony rail. 

     a volatile’s hunting cry reverberates through the moonlit night.

HARRAN COUNTRYSIDE, DAY 176 ; 6:02:45.

     “lena. lena, do you copy? ... shit.” 

     still nothing, just the static noise of a poor signal. the transmission is weak. he curses under his breath, throws a glance down the ridge behind him, hikes further up the crest. the air thins. he stops and tries again. 

     “lena, come in. do you copy?”

     this time, finally, the static catches traction. 

     “crane? is that you?"

     “thank god. yeah — yeah, brecken, it’s me.”

     “holy shit.” relief, even through a weak transmission, hits him center mass. “it’s good to hear your voice, mate. it’s been too fucking long.” 

     “i — i know, man. i’m sorry. really. i —”

     “nah, nah, save that for later, okay? tell me you’re finally through with this poxy country holiday and you’re ready to come home.” 

     home. that hits, too. emotion swells in his throat. a dammed flood he’s been so diligent to keep at bay. 

     last night was sleepless. he’d kept watch until sunrise, kept alert, because it occurred to him when he’d hit the water: he doesn’t want to die. losing hope is a dangerous thing. and maybe it is hopeless. maybe the antizin will run dry and he’ll turn, and one of them will have to put him down, like he did rahim and jade, and there won’t be any stopping it. no cure. no way out. 

     maybe he thought he did want to die — or maybe it was just that he didn’t care if he lived. 

     home. come back home.

     it’s not about him. it’s not himself that he’s living for. 

     not anymore.

     “yeah,” he manages. “yeah. i, uh — i think it’s past time for that.”

     brecken blows out a breath. “sanest thing i’ve heard you say in a while. look, let me grab the others and —”

     “no. no, don’t do that. i don’t have a lot of time — could lose the signal again at any second. brecken ... listen, just — just tell ‘em i’m on my way, huh? tell ‘em ...” 

     “yeah. i will.” 

     “i’m sorry.” 

     “i know, crane."

     a steady inhale is pulled and released. 

     he hears something. something that seems to shake the air around him, above him; something a lot like the whirring engine of an aircraft. but it can’t be that. there haven’t been any drops in months. squinting against the sun’s rays, crane scans the skyline, searching —

     “hang on,” brecken says, “you hear that?”

     “what? you’re not tellin’ me it’s loud enough t—”

     “there’s a — oi, get ayo up here, right now! — there’s a fucking plane. what the fuck, crane, i thought the GRE weren’t dropping supplies anymore?” 

     “no, they’re not, they’re — wh— hang on, what do you mean there’s a plane? there’s a plane right —”

     “listen, call me again once you’re close, okay? get your ass back here as soon as possible, we’ll talk then.”

     “n— wait — brecken, don’t —”

     the radio goes dead.

     overhead, a fixed - wing transport plane banks left and makes a hairpin turn to circle the cliffside. minimum altitude over rural land is five hundred feet. it’s close. 

     close enough to catch a flash of color from the massive logo painted on its fuselage.

     a medical cross inside a circle, bold letters spelling out GRE.

[ecto-american]

Le Freak

Phic Phight Oneshot for @phantomroyalty : Natural born halfas (EX a child with one ghost parent and one human parent) used to be common place. Now they are all gone. What happened to them?

It’s been a rough day lads, and this is purely self-indulgent nonsensical headcanon stuff that I wrote while partly crying over stress! Thus, fun fact for you! You can’t critique or criticize this because if you do, I absolutely will cry again! I know it sucks, it jumps around and makes Zero Sense bc editing? idk her but I just need to be able to post my fun shit and have a good time  :’) I’ll even put literally everything under the cut

Word Count: 1814

123456789

“Cas?” 

Danny looked up from his phone to glance at his mom before his eyes shifted to see who she was referring to. A dark skinned man about his mom’s height with black hair to his shoulders, in jeans and a dark yellow t-shirt was standing with a grocery cart. The man looked around confused for a moment before turning to his mom. Once facing her, he shot her a bright smile.

“Aye, Mads,” he called out cheerfully. 

“Oh, I haven’t seen you since college!” Maddie exclaimed, and Danny internally groaned. He returned his attention back to his phone, continuing to lean onto the grocery cart. He began to text his friends about the interruption. “I can’t believe you came to Amity Park and didn’t tell me!”

He heard his mom continuing to chat. His name soon came up, and he glanced up.

“This is my son, Danny.”

Cas was giving him a bright smile. Danny gave a polite half smile in return, only to freeze as ghost sense went off. He noticed at the end of the isle, a young adult turning the corner, in his early twenties with very long, light blonde hair. Super long, especially for a guy. Jean jacket and dark washed jeans, a regular black band t-shirt. Very ordinary. 

“Dad, they don’t have any salt,” he complained, but he paused upon seeing the conversation. 

“Oh, uh, this is my son, Peter,” Cas introduced briefly, and his entire demeanor shifted. Danny couldn’t help but completely forget the texting conversation. This dude was suddenly...so nervous. “Peter, this is Maddie. We went to college together.”

Peter didn’t come any closer to them. He gave a light, polite wave from afar, and Danny knew that he was staring at his mom...almost nervously. 

“I’m terribly sorry, but we need to get going,” Cas apologized. He pulled the grocery cart with him as he stepped towards his son. “Busy schedule. It was good seeing you!”

“Oh you too!” Maddie was cheerful, seemingly oblivious to the others. The father son duo left the isle, and out of sight. Danny watched after them.

“Where’d you know him from?” Danny wondered. He glanced to see Maddie putting some boxed dinners into their cart.

“Cas? He was an old classmate of your dad and I. Before Vlad, he worked on the portal with us, but ended up dropping out to care for his son, but I’m so glad to hear that he eventually went back and finished. He was always a very smart man,” Maddie replied. She glanced at the list in her hand. “We don’t have much more to get. Let’s try to get done before the rush really comes in.”

123456789

“Phantom,” a voice called out to him. Danny glanced over to see Peter standing nearby. The halfa shot him a smile, capping his thermos and a light salute. Though inside he was a bit shaky. Was he really just? Watching that entire fight?

“Hello, citizen!” Danny put on his public hero voice. He paused, half turning away as he prepared to leave. “Well uh, ghost’s contained. I’ll see you around!”

“No!” Peter’s harsh, desperate plea caught him off guard. “Please. We need to talk. I know your secret.” Danny’s blood ran cold. 

“What secret?” Danny asked quickly. “There’s no secret. I’m a ghost, what secret could I have?”

Peter’s look, that absolute knowing, scared Danny. Despite it, he didn’t seem malicious like he had feared. 

“You can’t run, because I really, really actually need your help,” Peter asked. “I know you’re half ghost.” He hurriedly added at Danny’s panicked look, “But I don’t know who your human half is! I don’t care who either, I just really need to know how you’re so stable.” 

The entire statement caught Danny absolutely off guard. Peter wasn’t giving off any kind of vibe like he was with the Guys in White, nor that he was going to hurt him. He couldn’t even sense anybody else around, and he had been fighting in the area long enough to have already set off booby traps if they existed. And his ghost sense...had gone off around him sporadically. 

“What do you mean?” Danny asked. Peter’s lower lip trembled.

“I’m half ghost too,” he claimed. Danny stared, his heart stopping. “But I can’t...it’s literally killing me.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. Peter motioned for him to move back a bit. Danny did.

There were no familiar rings or flash of light that always signaled his transformation. A dark shadow seemed to overwhelm the other, and left behind a figure that was unmistakably ghostly. Electric blue skin that was forever crackling with purple energy with matching purple eyes, the once blond hair now pitch black and floating around him softly. His outfit didn’t change, but Danny’s ghost sense did go off.

Peter held his hand up, and a purple dome shield came up. An ectoplasmic dome shield. He didn’t know how to feel at this revelation. Danny could only stare in awe at the other. There was more like him. It wasn’t just him and Vlad and Dani. They weren’t alone, there were oth-

The newly exposed halfa doubled over with a groan of pain. The shield quickly melted away, and Danny tensed up. He took a step forward.

“D-Don’t!” Peter’s voice gurgled, and Danny stopped. The newly discovered halfa fell to his knees and knees, and he threw up as his ghostly form melted away. As the form melted away, Danny could feel the air being filled with a rush of electricity and static before it finally faded.

“...Are you okay?” Danny called out.

“Yeah, that’s normal,” Peter wheezed, wiping his mouth as he stood back up, wiping his knees of dirt and gravel. “My ghost powers are super unstable. I can’t…not without...” He paused before glancing up at Danny. “Did you ever have a time where you were struggling to get your powers to work?”

“Yeah,” the teen nodded.

“I’m the opposite. I have to force myself to turn it off, and it takes so much energy, and every time I just try to utilize a little bit of power, it’s this…” Peter trailed off. “It’s overwhelming. And it hurts. And I can’t just bottle it up forever. If I don’t let it lose sometimes...it’s not pretty. I try to do it in isolated areas. Just let the excess energy out.”

Danny could only imagine the kind of destruction. If he had to guess, based on the electricity in the air, this guy had some kind of electric core. 

“How’d you...know about me anyway?” Danny changed the subject.

“I didn’t put puzzle pieces together, if that’s your concern,” Peter assured him. “The other halfa told me.” Danny’s eyes widened. “It’s why my dad and I came to Amity Park. We’ve been looking for a halfa to help us, or uh, rather help me.”

“Wait Vlad told you!?” he blurted out. What the fuck, cheesehead!? Oh, when Danny found him, he was gonna.

“No?” Peter’s puzzled tone snapped him out of his anger. “There’s...more than just us three left?” Danny’s undead heart skipped a beat. 

“Five,” Danny replied. “Who’s this other halfa?”

Peter stared somberly at him, glancing at his feet briefly as he toed with some of the rubble. 

“...I don’t know his human name. I purposefully didn’t ask,” Peter told him. “I originally asked him to help me, but he’s in a terrible spot and needed help of his own, help we couldn’t give. Not without getting ourselves in worse trouble. He said you were a halfa though. It had to be worth a shot. There’s not many of us left anymore.”

“How’d you even become half-ghost?” Danny asked curiously. Peter cocked his head in confusion. 

“I was? Born this way? Ghost mom, human dad?” he said slowly. He studied Danny curiously, and it seemed to click. “Wait were you not born half ghost?”

“You were born this way?” Danny asked back. His mind was going crazy. You could be born a half-ghost? That was possible? How come his parents never knew that? This would definitely explain why his dad seemingly dropped the Fentons as a friend... “Wait, many of us left?” 

Peter’s face told him nearly everything. Something happened. Something bad. The other cleared his throat. 

“Um...yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s kind of a long story. I don’t know all the details, cause I was kinda young, but basically...there was a lot of us. We had our own little section of the Ghost Zone. Do you know how the Bermuda Triangle is a giant natural ghost portal?” Danny nodded in confirmation. “There’s a section of the Ghost Zone near where it spawns most often that we used to inhabit, because of all the otherworldly crossing. Well, we were there. Before the Guys in White found out about us, and they came, and.” 

His breath hitched. Danny felt sick. The Guys in White...knew. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. They not only knew, but did this...oh fuck then that meant that there was a chance that they knew about him, and Vlad, and…..oh no.

“My dad said I nearly died too,” Peter continued. “One of the full ghosts saved me, smuggled me out. And my mom’s a doctor and was able to save me, but I was in a coma for like two months. Some made it out alive too. The unlucky ones…”

“...Died?” Danny guessed quietly. Peter let out a breathless chuckle. 

“No. They’re lucky if the GIW just killed them,” he replied flatly. “It’s honestly terrible. I don’t think you wanna know.” Peter was right; Danny didn’t want to know. It was Peter’s turn to be curious. “So...you weren’t born this way? Right? So how…”

“I was in an accident,” Danny kept it simple. Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Must be one hell of an accident,” he commented. Danny chuckled nervously. Peter sighed heavily. “So, I still don’t know if you can actually help my stabilization issue…cause of the differences…”

“I’ll do what I can!” Danny blurted out. Peter’s face brightened. “Please. I’d love to know more about halfas. We can compare stuff.” The young adult let out a sigh of relief.

“Come to my house tonight, my parents can tell you everything they know,” Peter agreed. He reached into his pocket to pull out the familiar small notebook. He ripped a page out, jotting down an address Danny already knew. “Just...come alone.”

Danny nodded, holding his hand out for the paper. Peter gave it to him, and despite the other powering down, Danny still felt a bit of an electric shock as they grazed hands. 

“I’ll see you then,” Danny promised. 

Grasping the note, he waved a goodbye, and he flew out. He had so much to tell Jazz.

[blueberryraindrops]

Blueberry’s Ultimate TUA Masterlist

KEY

Fics are organised alphabetically (articles e.g. ‘the’ will not count) 

mostly gen and fiego fics 

Download links are EPUB files only 

authors can feel free to send me a msg if they want their fics’ download link taken down

Links are now unavailable on PC due to a Tumblr link limit (I also had no idea this was a thing, but apparently it is?)

Regular updates can be expected as long as I remain in the fandom

Last Update: 15/10/2020

FANFICTION

☁︎ actions are worth a thousand words by achilleees { E }

→ Download Here

“I think it would be best if we keep up the ruse for a short while longer,” Five said. “For the sake of time-space continuity.”

“Oh, so Klaus was right before, huh?” Diego said. “The fabric of the universe unravels if my hairdresser knows we’re not boning?”

☁︎ Adventures In Childhood [Series] by just_a_sunflower_girl { G / Partially WIP }

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Five really should have guessed that something would go wrong. The universe hated him, it was an abject fact. And right now, Five hated the universe right back.

The commission turns Five into a four year old, hoping it will make him easier to kill.

☁︎ all dressed up and naked by cathect { E }

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The skirt hanging off of it is pleated and pale pink, with two white stripes near the hem— like a cheerleader might wear, Diego thinks wildly— and Five looks almost awed. Diego doesn’t want to assume anything by an expression alone, but he can’t quite help it.

Before he can stop himself, the words are tumbling out. “That would look good on you.”

Or, the one where diego fucks five while he's wearing a skirt.

☁︎ another cog in the murder machine by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

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Five finally gets the breakdown he deserves

☁︎ As I Want You to Hear Me by karcheri { E }

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“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

Five sighs.

“I’m trying to prove that our current timeline has branched off from it’s initial trajectory by such a large margin that it could only have been caused by the existence of unknown variables interrupting the timeline at non-linear points throughout history. I believe that we are living in...let’s call it timeline 2.0.”

“I don’t understand,” Diego says. Nutcase, he thinks. Insanely hot nutcase.

This time Five smirks at him, looking bratty and arrogant and entirely too sharp; “I know you don’t.”

Or: What I like to imagine alternate/Sparrow Academy timeline 2019 Five and Diego are up to

☁︎ Bizarre For You Is Normal For Us by pupeez4eva { G }

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“I think he’s talking to himself again,” Ashley said, leaning forward. “Okay yeah he is — oh my god, is that kid talking to the mannequin?”

Maggie shot a glance behind her. Yes, the boy was talking to the top half of a mannequin.

“I love working here,” Ashley breathed.

Wherein Klaus, Dave, Five and Dolores go on a double date, and people are confused and very concerned.

☁︎ Blink by Lady_Origami { G }

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When Five blinks, sometimes he's back in the world of ash and embers. It's hard to remember how to breathe when that happens. In which Klaus tries to play the role of supportive brother with Ben's help, and Five struggles more than he lets on.

☁︎ Blood like Lemonade by Ford_Ye_Fiji { T }

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Hunting high and low to seek revenge, Brand new moral code, got made reluctant renegade. Leaving empty souls when he avenged, Evil spirits flowed he drank the blood like lemonade.

Five's sordid past comes to light in, quite possibly, the most unpleasant way

☁︎ Bloom by jenpix { E }

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The first thing he noticed was the heat. A sudden, overwhelming heat. It started by his neck, his throat tightening, cutting off oxygen to his brain. The heat spread lower, permeating throughout his chest and abdomen, focusing and growing in his groin. Every inch of his skin was on fire. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t think. He needed something- anything- to relieve the ache that had abruptly settled in his bones. Lust utterly consumed him.

“Something’s wrong.” Diego concluded.

☁︎ Call Me Wild Thing by Electra_XT { E }

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“Diego’s been screwing guys who look exactly like you,” Klaus said.

“True,” Five said.

“He acts embarrassed when you encounter him with one of these lookalikes,” Klaus said.

“True,” Five said.

“You want to bang him,” Klaus said.

Five hesitated.

☁︎ Comes And Goes (In Waves) [Series] by hujwernoo { M }

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The apocalypse happens, Five arrives in the rubble, and his entire family is dead.

However, one of them has power over ghosts. And even if being dead seriously sucks sometimes, Klaus is going to be there for his brother.

☁︎ Dead Aren't Good Company, The by RosyPages { G }

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They’d been back in time for less than a month when their father forced Klaus back into the mausoleum.

But maybe this time his family can do the right thing.

☁︎ Details [Series] by VeteranKlaus { T }

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The last time Klaus saw his siblings was at Allison and Patrick's wedding. A lot had changed since then; including the not-so-accidental, irreversible loss of his sight.

There's no time to tell them that, though. Not with the return of their long-presumed-dead brother and the impending apocalypse. Plus, it doesn't matter. He's got Ben as a good seeing-eye ghost.

☁︎ Digging Up The Past by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }

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"You want to roleplay me being raped." Five muses, stirring his margarita. He plucks out the tiny umbrella and leaves it abandoned on the edge of the table.

Diego splutters, before glancing wildly over his shoulders.

Five and Diego are in a busy bar, and Diego had absentmindedly suggested Five looking particularly hot, especially when he's pliant, almost as if he's being -

"What the fuck? Shut up, Five." Diego hisses, eyes darting around. "Anyone can hear you."

Five says nothing.

Or: Unfortunately, the roleplay triggers a memory Five desperately wishes he'd forget.

☁︎ do androids dream of electric sheep? by the_crownless_queen { T }

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Number Four is crying, and Grace was made to care for those children.

In which Grace was created to protect the children of the Academy. Even, as it turns out, from their father.

☁︎ don't waste your time (or time will waste you) by rosewitchx { T }

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He was an old man. He is sixteen. Ben dies next week. How does he know that?

“I think I broke it,” Five stutters, and for the first time in her short life Vanya sees absolute terror in his eyes.

Or, Five travels back again. Something goes wrong.

☁︎ Dulce Periculum (Danger Is Sweet) by Anonymous { E }

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Klaus swallows heavily.

He brings up the hand that says “Goodbye” on the palm up to Five's hair and rakes his fingers through the strands. When Klaus is blessed with a high pitched whine, he knows he's done for.

or: Five wants something stronger than alcohol.

☁︎ Fighting (Pre)Determinism by chibi_tantei { T / WIP }

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They go back in time, determined to rewrite their own family history. Only problem is, only one of them looks the proper age to get near their younger selves.

Or, six months after Five stormed out, determined to time travel, he returns home. His siblings are happy to have him back, but he's acting differently...

(Or, Five goes undercover as himself. Twice the siblings should make saving the world easier, right? Yet somehow, he's only now realizing how many issues his family has to fix.)

☁︎ Five and Dave's Life Changing (Life Saving) Field Trip by neuronary { T }

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The little boy, who Dave could now see was not as little as he’d first thought, shoved a tin mug at him. “Drink this.”

Dave drank. It tasted sickly sweet and slightly citrus-y. “Who are you?”

“Five.” The boy’s scowl deepened at Dave’s confusion. “Klaus’ brother.”

Or, Five saves Dave's life to stop Klaus from moping. From Dave's perspective, a very grouchy, sleep-deprived twelve-year-old kidnaps him and he finds it much more entertaining than he should.

☁︎ Five And Diego Take Ukraine by yawarakai { G }

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It’s definitely her. She's around fifty, and striking – Diego can see where his brother gets his features. Light skin, grey eyes, hair dark and straight, slim. She’s a carbon copy of the boy standing before her.

“Da?” Five’s mother asks warily.

☁︎ Forward Trajectory by karcheri { M }

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“Ha ha,” the cop replies,” How’s your little troupe of nerds today anyways?”

His Professor groans, burying his face in the man’s neck and Nick winces. He should’ve anticipated that answer.

“That bad, huh?”

Or: Every semester students work themselves to the bone to score the highest mark on Professor Five's final project.

☁︎ Ghost Math by pinstripedJackalope { G }

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Number Five needs a new hobby now that the apocalypse is off. He decides to help Klaus--and in turn maybe he'll help himself.

☁︎ game of waiting, a by sky_blue_hightops { G }

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He was always the fastest. He always beat the others up the stairs, down the halls, through time and space. If there's one lesson he's learned, it's that there's always a finish line. A stopping place. Blood bubbles from between his fingers, and suddenly there's no air in his lungs.

Five jumps in front of a bullet. He calls it quick reflexes. Diego calls it stupidity.

☁︎ Gift-Wrapped by punk_rock_yuppie { E }

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Diego discovers Five's secret.

☁︎ god-intoxicated by chrysostomos (nantes) { E }

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Of all the things Diego expected to get dragged into this month, meeting a mythological witch, finding out Five is married, and rescuing him from his unwanted sun god husband were not on the list.

☁︎ handling myself by achilleees { E }

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Five pressed his lips together. “I advise against… touching them with your bare hands,” he said, taking the pills out of his pocket and dropping them into Diego’s gloved palm. “It would be unwise.”

In the light streaming from the Academy windows, Diego could see the sheen of sweat on his skin, trickling down his temple.

“Oh my god,” Diego said, starting to laugh.

☁︎ Happy Accidents by Starrstruck_64 { G }

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You’re making a mess, is what Diego wants to snap back. Instead he hears his mom’s voice clear as day say ‘boys will be boys’ and without thinking he’s moving on autopilot.

Diego can feel his hands clenching rhythmically at his sides before he’s moving forward to take the bowl from Klaus and ripping the apron off in one smooth motion. Discarding the bowl to the side he works on getting the strings untangled and slips the apron over his own clothes.

“Out.”

He has so much work to do. The pancake is beyond salvaging, the kitchen is a mess, and he’s fairly certain the batter is inedible.

Aka: the fic where Diego’s mothering instincts go wild

☁︎ haven't you heard of meditation? by rosesareredvioletsareblue { T }

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"Klaus, you have a piece of glass sticking out of your neck!"

Klaus felt for the glass, wincing as he found it.

"Oh yeah. Fun." It took all of Five's willpower not to throttle him.

☁︎ Hidden Variables Theory, The by siriuspiggyback { T }

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Something has disturbed the space-time continuum, and it's up to Five to figure out what it is.

With a bit of luck, and a lot of alcohol, he might even manage to do it before he snaps and murders his siblings.

☁︎ Honey and Vinegar by JayTRobot { M }

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The Handler sends Five on a mission only he can complete - to seduce a known pedophile for information. Then kill him.

Five doesn't appreciate playing the honeypot.

☁︎ I Want It (I Got It) by Electra_XT { E }

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“Oh, Christ,” Five said, starting to grin. “Diego, no. Don’t tell me you’re actually into being called—”

“Shut up,” Diego muttered.

“It’s not sexy,” Five said. “It’s cliche and corny and macho and self-aggrandizing, and I’m disappointed in you.” He waited a beat. “Daddy.”

☁︎ i'm gonna be here til i'm nothing (but bones in the ground) by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid { T }

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Someone definitely just punched him in the chest, right? That’s the reason for that feeling? Or that last batch of pills had something seriously off-label mixed into them. Because there’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He squeezes his eyes shut until dots burst behind his eyelids, but when he opens them, the hallucination doesn’t go away.

“… Five?”

☁︎ I'm The Daddy? by TUA (IAMS) { G / WIP }

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Five spends fifteen years in the apocalypse and two years working for the Temps Commission before breaking his contract and time traveling back to the year 2003; just a year after he originally went missing.

According to his calculations, wiping Reginald's existence from the timeline means the apocalypse never occurs. But of course, this leaves several newly orphaned fourteen year olds in his care.

Let the family bonding and therapy ensue.

☁︎ if the sky comes falling down by synchronicities { T }

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The equations are still wrong.

In 2002, Number Seven wonders why her siblings are acting odd.

(Or, the post-finale “Vanya doesn’t remember the time travel” fic)

☁︎ If You're Different And You Know It (you're not alone) by M3zzaTh3M3z { T }

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Five was different. He’d always known. Different from most people, what with his freakish birth, powers and unconventional upbringing, all that old news. And different from his siblings. He was smarter. His powers were stronger. And he’d never picked a name. All that was old news too. But there was something else that separated him from the rest, something he didn’t know how to put a finger on, how to categorize, analyse, understand. Five didn’t like not understanding. It was probably Klaus that made him first notice something was off.

☁︎ Is the sadness everlasting? (love, I think it is) by ArmedWithMyComputer { T }

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A look into what Klaus' newly discovered ability could mean for the siblings.

Diego could feel his whole body trembling as he faced the ghosts, only able to take shallow breaths as he struggled to process the true horror of what he was seeing.

And then they started howling.

The sound pierced though his stupor and forced him to his knees instantly. It was like nothing Diego had ever experienced before, and he was consumed with the intensity and overwhelmed by a deep chilling fear. It felt as though his mind had been taken over and all he could hear was the shrieks of grief, more intense than any emotion he had ever felt.

☁︎ It Does(n't) Matter by MYSTERYstew { T }

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It’s a familiar feeling, being lifted up by Luther and tossed around like he weighs nothing (to Luther he certainly does), it was a favorite move of Luther’s as a child. Nostalgia is not what Five feels, he’s too busy flailing as Luther throws him over the railing.

or, Five fails a jump

☁︎ Jealousy Sucks by FiveUmbrellaAcademy { E / WIP }

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"God, Diego." Five rubbed his temples, sounding exasperated. "He's our brother."

"I'm your brother, too." Diego blurts out. Fuck, now he's sounding like an insecure, whiny boyfriend. Perfect.

Five just stares back at Diego, his eyebrows burrowing.

At the physical age of seventeen, Five has, in Klaus' words, grown up hot.

☁︎ Just One Minute by willowhisperer { T }

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Five holds up his end of the deal, soaked in blood. The Handler decides to toy with him a little while longer.

Maybe it's revenge, maybe she's riding the high of her shiny new position as head of the Commission.

Really, she just wants to win, once and for all.

☁︎ Kinktober Day 12 - Crossdressing by Multifangirl69 { E }

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The Umbrella Academy Kinktober Fest//Day 12

☁︎ Kitten Socks by sky_blue_hightops { G }

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Klaus's lost his favorite pair of socks (again) (Ben shut up) and finds them in an unexpected place.

☁︎ Lessons 'verse [Series] by Soulykins { T }

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Five was maybe four years old when he figured out that he was pretty much ride or die for his siblings. He was also four when he figured out that in the Umbrella Academy, you could never let Reginald Hargreeves figure out what you loved lest he use it against you. There was safety in aloof indifference, more than could be found anywhere else under their roof.

Five times Five Hargreeves protected his siblings the best ways he could, and the one time he failed.

☁︎ Lethe by shoelaces { T }

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Le·the | A river in Hades whose waters cause drinkers to forget their past.

Or: Five loses his memories instead of Vanya, and it falls to his siblings to raise a superpowered teenager in the 1960s, all whilst preserving their own new lives and preventing yet another apocalypse.

☁︎ Like an abyss by fridayyy { T }

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For the second time, Five has to (gets to?) grow up.

☁︎ Like Oxygen by sevansa { T }

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Klaus's powers may be a bit more extensive than just seeing the dead, he's not sure what to do about that.

OR

The one where Klaus's power is not ghosts, but souls and that makes a hell of a difference.

☁︎ master of my domain by achilleees { E }

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“You’re asking five 13-year-old boys not to jerk off for – it can’t be done,” Luther says. “Now that we’re older, it would be different, but back then –”

“Excuse me, I could do it,” Five says. “I could certainly outlast all of you.”

They all look at each other.

“Oh, no,” says Allison.

☁︎ Meet the Hargreeves Siblings by AmyR { G }

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Klaus is found passed out by a confused Patch and Beaman. When Diego comes to get him, refusing to divulge who the unconcious man was, things get weird. At least the first time. The second time, it was a different person. And then the third. Then the fourth.

Until finally, explanations are demanded.

☁︎ Mellow Rays of a Departing Sun [Series] by Emotionally_Detached (Yeah_Toast) { T }

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He makes it. He time travels and makes it through another apocalypse. He makes it, but his siblings don't.

His siblings don't make it, except he's in his own childhood and they're still here, alive and thirteen and he can fix things.

He will fix things

☁︎ Midmorning Coffees and Therapy Sessions by wereworm { G }

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Local woman working at coffeeshop accidentally adopts a child and gives advice with a focus on getting closer to siblings when she, herself, has a sub-optimal relationship with her sister.

Or the time Five went to get a good cup of coffee and ended up slowly befriending the barista while trying to reconnect with the siblings he hasn't seen since his childhood without the looming threat of the apocalypse anymore.

☁︎ most dangerous place in the world, the [Series] by Princess_Sarcastia { T }

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"Grace is the third model in a series created by and for Sir Reginald.  She has access to the knowledge obtained by her predecessors in their time assisting Sir Reginald in his many endeavors.

All three of them were primarily designed as protectors.  Do no harm, just as Mr. Asimov said!

But Grace is slightly different."

[priority one: protect the children]

☁︎ Need a Vacation by Electra_XT { E }

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“You ready for a relaxing weekend at the beach?” Diego said.

“Thrilled,” Five said, looking down at the map in his hands. “A relaxing weekend of hunting down a hired killer and pretending I’m dating my brother.”

☁︎ New Life, A by BirdInTheCave { T }

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Allison had convinced Ray to come back to 2019 with her and her family and after a month of being cooped up in the house with the other Hargreeves plus their own unconventional guests, Ray suggests they spend some time alone. He's still struggling to fully comprehend the new world he's stepped into but he's determined that with Allison at his side he can get used to anything. Allison can't find a reason to say no. She should have said no.

Luckily for her, Five will always be there for his family, now that he's back.

☁︎ Next time, hire a nanny by TheArchaeologist { M }

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While the rest of his family go out to Vanya’s concert for the evening, Five, still recovering from the remains of a lingering chest infection, agrees to watch Claire. He is fifty-nine, he can handle a little girl for the night.

Everything goes fine.

Until it very much doesn't.

☁︎ Not my body, not my life (But I am here) by Panonnymous_Bloom { G }

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He wasn't going to explain to Diego why exactly he was following Allison's every move with his eyes because he didn't own anybody any explanations, especially not his simpleton of a brother who seemed to think that every Alpha was going to pounce on Allison at the first sign of any heat.

Allison's decision to spend her heat in the house leads Five to a small realization - and even smaller desire - but he will kill a thousand men before admitting to it.

☁︎ Not with me by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) { T }

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They never asked if any of that blood was his. Five is bleeding, and he is also giving up.

AU to 2X07, with hurt Five because after all that boy has been through...

☁︎ Number Five | And The Things that Make Him Tick [Series] by Kraeyola { T }

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It's only been two weeks for him.

AKA: Five succumbs to two weeks worth of badly cared for (physical and emotional) injuries, and ends up extremely feverish.

☁︎ On My Terms by CivilBores { T }

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“I did what you asked,” he tells her. “Now, the briefcase.”

Her eyebrows raise in mock-surprise, red lips curling up her face in a sadistic smile.

“You didn’t think that was all, did you?” she asks.

AU: The Handler gives Five a slightly different deal.

☁︎ On This Day In History by telm_393 { M }

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Five had a...special relationship with the Handler during his time at the Commission, or maybe he didn’t. After the apocalypse doesn’t happen, he tries to order his memories of the last few years while also actively suppressing them. It goes badly.

His siblings are worried, and genuinely want to help. They are not unsuccessful.

☁︎ Out of My Mind by Electra_XT { E }

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“What happened?” Diego said. He looked down at himself. “Am I hurt?”

What happened? echoed a voice from the back of his head.

☁︎ Outside, For the First Time by Trees_Frogs_andPotentially_Treefrogs { G }

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Grace is torn between her programming to obey the rules set by Mr. Hargreeves, and her duty to the children, and decides that being a person is self determined.

☁︎ Partners, Parents, or None of the Above by DarkFairytale { T }

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Kenny's mom assuming that Diego and Klaus were A) a couple and B) Number Five’s parents was both bemusing and amusing at the time. But that was because it was the only time it had ever happened. Now though? Now they just can't understand why these misunderstandings keep happening.

☁︎ Raising the Bar by Electra_XT { E }

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Five looked ten years older. He was still youthful, early twenties, but he had suddenly and visibly become an adult. Diego had braced himself for… something, but not this. He was dressed heartbreakingly preppy— neatly tailored slacks, a shirt that fit him like it was made for him, and a casual blazer. Diego hadn’t known a blazer could be casual before, but the way Five wore the linen jacket made it seem genuinely effortless.

Of all the ways this new body thing could have gone, Diego didn’t expect him to be hot.

☁︎ rude awakening by Soulykins { T / WIP }

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When Five wakes up, he just knows someone is in the room with him. Of course, even he didn't except to come face to face with the Handler who he'd thought to be very very dead. And he especially didn't expect her to break into his room and watch him sleep while waiting for him to wake up.

It's very fortunate that Diego and Klaus show up to wake him up and take offense to some random lady in the same room as their very uncomfortable, very thirteen-year-old brother.

☁︎ Screaming in the Face of Communication by papayaromantic { T }

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It's not that he doesn't want to pay attention to Five, just that he seriously can't hear what the boy is saying past the wailing of the torn apart woman in front of him.

☁︎ Second First Time by venDi { E }

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Five spent his early years learning about Alpha biology -- and he knows, recognizes the sudden shift in his family's scent, that his heat has sent them all into a very, very early rut.

☁︎ Servus by Anonymous { E }

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"They had been given a chance to start over, all of them, together. At least, that’s what Five intended, when he pulled he and his siblings from imminent death...He had watched his siblings be swept back to their collective childhood, armed with the knowledge of what was to come, and how to prevent it. He, on the other hand, had ended up somewhere entirely different."

Five receives one, final business proposal from the Handler, and her methods of persuasion are far from conventional.

☁︎ Shadow Elixir, The by Phantom_Vidar { E / WIP }

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With the apocalypse averted the Hargreeves attempt to rebuild their lives and transition into something that resembles a fraction of normalcy. A year later and strange visions start appearing to Klaus, of a dark space contaminated by souls bygone and a voice who aches to be free; especially Ben's. The apocalypse has passed but now another disaster awaits— one that Diego and Five might have accidentally walked into.

Alternatively: Diego and Five have sex and coincidentally start the next stage of the end of the world.

☁︎ shaking like I shook before by Anonymous { T }

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Five tries to deal with it alone, until he learns that he doesn’t have to.

☁︎ skirts and sweaters by slightlyworriedhuman { T }

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"I don't want to be a ‘cute little schoolboy’ anymore, alright?” Five snapped. For some reason, the thought of himself as a schoolboy was enough to make his skin prickle. Was it the implication that he was younger than the rest of them, less mature despite his life?

...Yeah, it was definitely that. Absolutely.Five wants a change in wardrobe. His siblings are more than happy to help.

☁︎ small changes by calypso42 { T }

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“I need to ask you something.” He set down the large stack of books he was carrying beside him. Klaus glanced at a few of the titles - Consciousness in the Brain - Memory & the Role of the Hippocampus - Soul vs. Matter: A Comprehensive Look at the Origins of Sentience - and grimaced.

“Are you… having an existential crisis, or something? Because I am possibly the worst person you could go to for that.”

...

When Five goes to Klaus to ask him something about his powers, Klaus doesn’t think much of it. At least, until he realizes that what he thought was simple curiosity was actually deeper than that, leading to a revelation about Five himself.

☁︎ Snacktime. [Series] by HotCocoaaa { G }

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There was a wolf spider, just, chilling on the table that morning when Diego came down for breakfast. A...a really big wolf spider. Just...a real hunk of a thing.

(“You...you just….you just ate a spider.” He murmured.)

It didn't end well.

☁︎ Special punishment by Anonymous { M }

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Five was the only one with a tattoo on his rib

☁︎ sweater weather by KittenAnarchy { G }

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Number Five, a dryer, and his first blink.

☁︎ take shelter by aloneintherain { T }

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AU where the apocalypse doesn’t follow the Hargreeves to the 1960s. Without the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over their heads, the siblings can take the time to be a family again.

Until they find out that the Handler has been blackmailing Five.

☁︎ There are Stones in my Stomach and Worms on my Plate by TheArchaeologist { M }

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If you ever need a crash diet, try the apocalypse. It is fat free, dairy free, lacking in all the vital vitamins and minerals, and totally organic.

After all, look at Five. Weeks after stopping the apocalypse and he still can’t finish a plate of food.

☁︎ there is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends by Drhair76 { G }

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"What's this?" He said pointing a finger at the bread and peanut butter that was laid across the table top.

Five rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "What do you think. It's a sandwich."

"Oh?" Klaus reached out a hand to brush the sleeve of his beloved hoodie. "And what's this?"

or, the one where Klaus 'loses' a hoodie, Five gets a hug and Ben is proud.

☁︎ they could care less (as long as someone'll bleed) by Ford_Ye_Fiji { M }

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Number Five is cornered once again by commission agents, but this time with his family.

Diego and Klaus learn something about their littlest-oldest brother.

☁︎ this is a bad town (for such a pretty face) by luciimariiellii { T }

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Five’s gone. (How the Hargreeves cope, and how they reunite.)

☁︎ time on my hands by achilleees { E }

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“If you orgasm, you’ll die,” Five said with a grimace.

Diego’s eyes went wide.

“Bet you wish you’d just been sterilized now,” Five said.

☁︎ Timelines 1-2.1 [Series] by dgalerab { M / Partially WIP }

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As the world ends, Five takes his siblings back into their child bodies on the day he originally left. With the knowledge of how the world ends fresh in their minds, the Hargreeves siblings do what they can to leave clues for their past selves on how to grow up a little less fucked up before returning to the present.

A present where they all have different lives they can't remember, there's a fun new apocalypse on the way, and Reginald Hargreeves remembers the day where all his children suddenly and inexplicably lost their minds and all respect for him at once a little too well.

☁︎ to unexplain the unforgivable by darkviverna { T }

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Ability to see the dead and having a temporal assassin for a brother don’t mix well.

☁︎ Too Much Too Little by 1spideyson { T }

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Five says nothing on the ride back, just gently presses the tips of thin fingers to his eyes and temples like his head is a new instrument he’s learning to play. Like he’s searching for the right notes.

Diego tries not to cast too many worried glances the boy’s way, but when Five crawls into Diego’s bed, shaking and grey, he can’t stop himself from speaking up.

A look at Five and Diego's relationship through a h/c lens.

☁︎ Too Old To Be So Young by KaseyBeth { T }

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Five winced loudly, pushing his head off the floor to see bright red smeared across his chest and stomach; crimson soaked into his shorts, running down his leg. His head fell back against the ground dizzyingly, and he groaned as someone touched the wound, biting his bottom lip as he tried to stay conscious. The end of life, of everything, was in three days; they didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have time for this. A bullet wound, a stupid bullet wound and all that stupid concern and worry, was just going to slow them down. There wasn’t time for mistakes, or hiccups, or rest and recovery. It was the end of the fucking world. 

☁︎ trans diego & child five [Series] by iamnotalizard { G }

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eudora and beaman are surprised to find out diego has a kid; they're more surprised when they see what their relationship is like

☁︎ traumaversary by WeWalkADifferentPath { T }

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It follows him like an unscratched itch. Under his skin, over his body, around his energy, like a mosquito that won’t leave him the fuck alone.

April 1st. April 1st. April 1st.

(A character study of Five, with some inevitable family feels, in honour of March 24th).

☁︎ two can be as bad as one by myeyesarenotblue { M }

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“Five, sweet little Five” Klaus says, from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, next to one of the living room’s couches, instead of sitting on it like a normal person. “We love you but what the fuck”

Five growls, like he’s a dog or something. “It should correct itself”

☁︎ Uncle Five PT1 by glitched-coffee { G }

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Allison has to take care of Claire without warning the others but its all fine and dandy until Claire thinks she’s old enough to hear everything about Five. She’s seven.

☁︎ Unexpected Future, An by aseies { T / WIP }

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“I’m sure you’re looking forward to finding a way back to your own time as soon as possible,” Nedzu said. “I want you to know that U.A. will do everything in its power to help you achieve that goal. Time travel is a complicated equation to solve, but I’m sure if we put our heads together we’ll come up with something!”

Five raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And you’re just going to do that out of the goodness of your heart? I’m not even old enough for high school yet.”

“Well, we’re all heroes for a reason, no? What good are we if we can’t help a single child in need?” Nedzu pointed out with a pleasantly neutral smile as he sipped his tea.

OR: Instead of time traveling into the apocalypse, thirteen-year-old Five Hargreeves teleports in the middle of the USJ fight.

He gets a couple of new dads out of it.

☁︎ Vital Signs by aye_of_newt { M } 

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Sometimes, it's difficult for Klaus to tell if someone is alive or dead.When Five shows up, covered in blood after killing the Board, Klaus panics.

☁︎ walls kept tumbling down, the by Ingu { T }

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It started small.

There was a nagging ache in his chest, phantom pain from where the bullets had pierced his flesh, in the overwritten timeline that never will be.

(the one where rewinding time doesn't miraculously resolve mortal gunshot wounds)

☁︎ We All Deserve Second Chances (but don't repeat your mistakes) by justarandomword, wolvesandnovas { T }

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Time-travelling gave Ben a second chance at life. He's not about to let Reginald Hargreeves ruin that for him and Klaus.

(a.k.a. Reginald takes Klaus' dog tags and the aftermath.)

☁︎ we didn't choose this life, we're just (kind of) living it [Series] by noodlerdoodler { T / Partially WIP }

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Five couldn’t move, standing by and watching complacently, as his younger brother grabbed him roughly by the front of his sweater. It was like he was watching a play he wasn't apart of, yet that was definitely his small body being tossed over the balcony. No doubt, Luther thought that he would just jump out of the way. He'd always jumped out of the way, sometimes without even meaning to, but now visions of a world on fire flashed through his head as his body plummeted towards the ground. Seemingly, he was tumbling through the air in slow motion and absentmindedly, Five wondered if this was his life flashing before his eyes. All he saw was the desolate world he’d left behind weeks ago.

When Five hit the ground, it was with a sickening cracking noise.

“Oh my god, Luther, what have you done?”

☁︎ with two arms by karcheri { T }

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What it comes down to, really, is that Five had been too eager for results. Once it became clear to him that there was a connection between his powers and his energy level the obvious course of action, as he saw it, was to test this information. The hypothesis was this: higher energy levels = stronger powers and the easiest way to get more energy is to eat more. Pretty simple stuff. Too simple. 

or Five times that Five starves himself and one time that he gets called out on it.

☁︎ world of options, a by achilleees { E }

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“So did you ask Five about me?” Klaus asked.

“Was I supposed to do that?” Diego said.

“You are the worst fucking wingman,” Klaus said.

☁︎ year that wasn't, the by achilleees { E }

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Diego turned to Five. “I’ve already, uh, lived today. This has already happened.”

Everyone went still.

“Ooh, that’s a mind-fuck,” said Klaus.

☁︎ you from yesterday by questors (sieges) { T }

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The difference between who his siblings once were and who they are now.

☁︎ You Put Your Head In My Hands by shadowsapiens { M }

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“I need a favor.” Five scrambles to his feet, fluffy dark tail lashing behind him. “Don’t worry, it’s not the apocalypse.”

☁︎ You Shook Me All Night Long by Persephxneeee { M }

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Diego was right, Five thinking too much sometimes.

☁︎ zero to sixty by achilleees { E }

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“Man, have you seen me?” said Diego. “Are you really that surprised?”

Oh, Five thought.

“Seems right,” said Klaus, pleased. “Other than the turtlenecks. Very hard to take you seriously as a Dom in the turtlenecks.”

[rainey-staerie-daize]

02.12.21

Today was a bitch.

I finally snapped on Bry about keeping the family laptop in his room.

Mom said it and its charger are supposed to stay out here in the common areas, but every time he gets a hold of it, I don’t see it ‘til Sunday when he leaves for his dad’s house. Also, during a conversation with him earlier, Mom yelled from the living room about him going back to class, and we just looked at each other as he yelled back that he was. He was actually a few minutes late because he was playing Roblox, but he wasn’t about to tell Mom that. And I didn’t either, because I didn’t wanna start a fight, but I almost wish I did.

Xan wanted to charge his school laptop, but the only charger out here was for the family one, so I yelled for Bry, who’d taken his by mistake. And when he came out here to swap out the two, I yanked the family one out of his hands and put it on top of the printer next to me.

“So you want the family Chromebook to die?” (Mom’s spread the idea around here that the more something dies, the shorter its battery life gets. No idea if it’s true or not. Things might just wear out as they get older.)

I didn’t know what to say, and he stormed off.

I had enough, and after a second, stormed after him.

I yelled at him for being defiant as all Hell, and at some point I asked him if he was in school, or playing “with [his] stupid Roblox friends.” He said it was Roblox, and that the mic was on. Oops. He tried to shut the door on me, but I wedged myself in there, and shoved the door open. He got off the door, and I flew across the room and almost landed on the pile of toys (good thing I didn’t, because if I’d gotten seriously hurt, I usually don’t have the nerve to ask for medical attention).

Ended up wrestling him for the laptop (because nobody in this house seems to understand anything unless there’s physical force for some reason), which got pulled kinda hard, and he tried to kick me at some point, but I used my body weight against him and won. It was a struggle, because he’s apparently as strong as I am. Don’t know how, but he is.

Brought the laptop to the living room and set it next to the charger, and limply picked up one of Xan’s writing books, ready to continue reorganizing the desk, and I just fucking threw it and screamed because nobody ever listens to me. Not at the top of my lungs, and not for more than a second or two, but it briefly woke up Mom. And as she’s yelling to know what’s going on, I don’t respond as I open the door and leave.

Walking around the neighborhood was okay, I guess. Left the neighborhood onto the busy street we live near. Walked down a way that was kinda picturesque, with tall-ass trees. Saw a zip-lock baggie on the ground with two burritos in it, and came across a wash and an empty-feeling intersection.

Was kinda hot and disoriented after a while because I had left my mask at home and was breathing into my shirt for appearance’s sake (because I know damn well I don’t have COVID). Eventually, I decided to head back, wondering if anyone even came looking for me or if Mom had fallen asleep.

Got home, and was home for a few minutes (or half an hour? hard to tell) before Skye came through the door. Apparently, she was looking for me because “I can’t sleep apparently!” I guess my scream woke her up. She said she couldn’t find me, I told her I left the neighborhood, and she said she kinda figured I would and looked both directions. She couldn’t find me because I walked quite a ways down only the one by the Arco, which she told me was where she thought I was. Great minds think alike, I guess. She grabbed one of the last two ice cream cones in the freezer and went to our room, and I planned to take the other when I went out again.

Bry had taken the laptop and the charger off of the printer and was in his room playing on it again. No lessons learned here, it seems.

Used the bathroom, grabbed my flannel, hat, and compression socks because I like being a vampire, and left again at 4:20. Haha, LOL, blaze it.

Went a different way this time. Came across several neat things that I would’ve liked a pic of, but I didn’t bring my phone with me. I got used to the speed of the Chromebook, so now my phone just infuriates me. Saw an owl on a second-floor windowsill with eyes that seemed to follow me, and I toyed with the idea that the eyes were security cameras and the head would follow me as I walked away, but I was wrong about the head turning. Saw more than one playground with caution tape, and people at the park regardless, a house that had multiple owl decorations, plenty of neat architecture, and a park I didn’t know was nearby. Not like a tiny one for the neighborhood, but a BIG one. Lots of space. Signs said it doubled as a drainage ditch.

I thought the stairs leading into it would make a nice pic, with the orange late afternoon glow, but like I said, no camera. Wandered around for a bit. Thought I saw a bike in the distance and wanted to check it out, so I shielded my eyes from the sun (’cause the hat doesn’t do shit near sunset), but it wasn’t there when I got there. Checked out a map of the wash trail and tried to remember the names of the streets I passed, but no dice. Listened to the ice cream truck that only turned on its music after it saw me walking, and heard it move between different areas of the surrounding neighborhood. Just stood and looked around for a while, and it was nice. No siblings, no Mom, no time constraints. Full autonomy.

After a while, I started feeling kinda chilly, and I had to pee, so I headed home. Didn’t stop and observe my surroundings nearly as much, but I noticed the sun going behind some clouds and the sky turning a subtle rainbow. The park felt much more melancholy without the orange glow, but sunset always comes eventually. All good things come to an end.

Got home at 5:30, and the house is nearly dark. Whenever everyone is distracted by phones and Mom’s asleep, everyone forgets to turn the lights on.

It was okay, I guess. Skye was asleep again, and Bry came out of his room eventually. I forget if it was explained to me when I came home the first time or the second time, but I had apparently somehow damaged the keys to the laptop. Half of them wouldn’t work. Cue very low-key panic, which would’ve been more had I not been just absolutely tired of everything. I use this thing for SCHOOL for crying out loud! Well, that and Tumblr, but seriously?!

I asked to take a look at it, but I never got it.

Had to deal with Xan peeing on himself in Mom and Kare’s room, which Mom blamed on me taking too long in the bathroom once she woke up. I never actually used the toilet in there yet, was just taking two minutes to wash my hands, and Xan never came to this bathroom, but I don’t think she would’ve cared if I’d told her.

After I checked on Kare in the other bathroom, I snagged yet another of my compression socks on that damn staple by the door. I swear, it’s evil.

Finally got to take a look at the laptop, and concluded that it was the crooked hinge causing the issue, and tried to bend it back into place. Didn’t work. After a couple tries I accidentally scraped it kinda bad with the very sharp tool, and Bry messed around with his Bluetooth keyboard for a sec, making me think it was more broken than I had initially thought, and I almost cried.

At some point, I discovered that Kare not only disobeyed me when I said get out of the bathroom when Xan’s bathing, but Xan also splashed most of the floor outside the tub. Once again feeling like nobody listens to me, I decided to just let my feelings fester and try being mute again. Slapped another x of electrical tape over my mouth for a bit while Bry scolded the littles. I think I made it a couple hours before Mom told me to take it off. And I did then, because I was finally in an okayish mood then, but that’s later.

It was around this time in the story that Mom was woken up, and I moved my laptop operation into the bathroom. If I could get this fixed, then she would never have to know about it, and I would avoid getting yelled at. I decided to Google the problem (which I had to use the on-screen keyboard for), and I tried an EC reset. It worked.

Handed it back to Bry, because he was civil about giving it to me to fix and he was in the middle of some anime, and he asked if he could hug me. I’m not very comfortable with hugs, or a lot of emotions actually, so I just kinda sat there, but I appreciate that he thanked me.

I watched shorts on the TV, Kare joined me, and I barely started Up before Xan fucked with me by using the other remote to turn the TV off. Ended up starting up a different movie, that he got to pick. Mom’s glasses arrived, I told her about the pee via whiteboard, and she eventually got me to take the tape off. She has no idea about the laptop, and probably not that I left the house for a while. I let Bry know that I want to use the laptop for school on Saturday, and he gave it to me shortly before dinner, to my surprise. Said something about not being able to play with his friends until Sunday, and he’ll be at his dad’s then.

All in all, a Hell of a day, but I got some serenity for a little bit.

[whumping-every-day]

Callum: Stitches

It’s not part nine, but please accept an Ash&Callum drabble before I leave for a work conference. This is set about a ten months after they first met!

--

“Fuck,” Callum says, looking down at the blood spilling from between his fingers. It hurts, of course, but it’s the spreading numb sensation that has him concerned.

“Callum? What’s going on?” Ash’s voice is pitched in worry, but Callum can hear the moment his little vampire smells the blood. “Callum? You’re, you’re bleeding, oh no-”

There’s a sudden burst of unnatural speed, almost too quick for Callum’s eyes to follow, and then Ash is in front of him, patting him down for injuries.

“Oh, god, that’s a lot of blood, are you okay, what do I do-”

“Hey, hey. Take a breath, kid.” Callum is grimacing through the pain, but the frantic way Ash is wringing his hands is endearing. The vampire quickly falls silent, even if his eyes are still locked on the red dripping down Callum’s fingers.

“I’ll be just fine,” Callum assures calmly.

“A-are you sure...?”

“I’m positive,” Callum answers. “But I will need to stitch this up. Can you fetch supplies?” Ash nods eagerly, quick to latch on to a task. “Okay. I need the thread and needle, and alcohol. Do you know where-”

“Yes sir!” Ash zips off again, not waiting for further instructions, and Callum just shakes his head. They’ve mostly gotten beyond the vampire calling him sir, but it still sometimes slips out. Callum has mostly worked beyond having a vampire free in his home, too, but sometimes he still finds himself reaching for a weapon.

They’re both working on it.

Less than fifteen seconds later Ash is back, and he lays the supplies on the workbench carefully. Callum has settled on the wooden stool, and he uncaps the alcohol one-handed and grimaces as more blood drips to the floor.

“What - what happened?” The question is timid, and Ash is worrying at his lower lip.

“Workplace accident,” Callum mutters, and Ash’s quizzical expression is enough to make him laugh. “I was resetting one of the crossbows,” he elaborates. “Turns out the spring is looser than I thought.”

The alcohol stings and burns against open flesh, and Callum growls through gritted teeth. He’s forgotten how much this hurts.

“Can I, can I help?”

“Nuh-uh.” Callum is completely focused on his arm, and on threading the needle with blood-sticky fingers. Ash is shifting anxiously from foot to foot, twisting his fingers at his sides.

The thread goes into the needle, then it’s knotted, and then, it’s time for the worst part.

“You don’t have to stay for this,” Callum mutters as he pinches the ragged edges of torn flesh. There’s still blood dribbling from the deep slice, carved into his upper arm by his own bolt.

If he wasn’t one hundred percent assured of Ash’s control, he would have put the vampire back in his room and locked the door. As it is, though, he knows full well that Ash would sooner cut off his own hand than let Callum think he’s a threat. 

Callum takes a deep breath, and then punches the needle through his own skin. More blood beads up and joins the trail down his arm, and the hunter hisses through his teeth.

He hears Ash whimper, but Callum can’t afford to stop now that he’s started.

The next three stitches are steady, but each tug and drag of the thread has Callum’s breath shortening, glaring down at the offending injury. He’s done this enough times to do it again, but it will never stop sucking. 

By the fifth stitch, he feels dizzy.

“Shit,” the hunter mutters. There’s a tremble in his fingers, and he can’t make it stop. 

It isn’t the kind of thing Callum should be blindsided by, but somehow, Callum has been feeding Ash so much that he’s weakened himself, and he hadn’t even realized. He can’t supply enough blood to feed a vampire and get injured in the field, and that’s a rude awakening.

The eight stitch is shaky, and the ninth goes wide. Callum takes a breather after that, leaning an elbow against the wooden work bench and blinking. Stitching himself up shouldn’t be this difficult, but he’s forgotten, in his haste to take care of Ash, that he needs to take care of himself too. 

The vampire is watching him with big, scared eyes, and he flinches a bit when Callum looks over at him. 

“Hey,” Callum says softly. “Everything’s going to be fine, bud. Don’t worry.” Ash can’t quite seem to meet his gaze, but the vampire nods hesitantly. “You can go back to your room, if that’s easier.” Ash shifts anxiously at the offer, but in the end he shakes his head. He’s watching like he thinks Callum might pass out, and Callum’s not entirely sure he won’t. 

The tenth stitch is smooth, and eleven and twelve go off with only a slight tremble in Callum’s fingers. Thirteen marks the end of the furrow in his flesh, and Callum ties the thread off and then douses the ragged line of stitches with alcohol. 

“Fuck me, that hurts.” He considers the bottle for a moment, and then takes a swig. 

He blinks, and then Ash is beside him again, clearing away the bloodied needle and extra thread. The vampire’s motions are quick and efficient, and his hands are shaking. 

Callum frowns. 

“C-can I, can I do anything else?” The vampire asks. 

“Yeah, c’mere.” They’d done this in those first few months; Ash tiptoeing around him, silent as a mouse, alternating between flinching at every sound and tripping over himself to be useful. Callum had thought they were past that... but the vampire’s shoulders are hunched as he comes to a stop in front of the stool, bowing his head. 

“Y-yes, sir..?” 

Callum just shakes his head and carefully pulls him into a little hug. The vampire whimpers against him, and Callum can feel him trembling. 

“Hey, hey,” the hunter soothes. “You did good, kid. You helped out. I’m okay now, see?”

Ash is tense against him for a moment longer, but then he melts into the embrace, shivering faintly as he tucks himself into Callum’s warmth. 

“I know that must have been scary. You did fine.” Ash sniffs against him and doesn’t respond, but a few seconds later, Callum feels thin fingers wind in the hem of his shirt. 

The hunter is still a bit wobbly, but when they finally pull apart, Callum is able to gets to his feet without issue. 

“Let’s clean this up, then it’s bedtime, I think.” 

Ash visibly brightens at the prospect of a task to complete, and he nods quickly. “Okay! I can do it, I can clean up.” 

A protest rises to Callum’s lips habitually, but it’s already too late. Ash has gathered up the bloody thread and needles, plus the unused roll of bandages, and zipped down the hallway to put them away. 

Callum groans under his breath and rubs a hand over his eyes. If someone had told him six months ago what his life would look like, he would have called them a liar. And yet here he is, playing house with a vampire. 

Said vampire is back in the blink of an eye, and Ash is heart-wrenchingly earnest as he looks to Callum for further instructions, or for approval. 

“Thanks, kid.” Callum’s not sure when he’d become so goddamn fond of the creature - but it’s painted all over his voice, and probably his face too. “I’m going to lock up in here,” Callum adds, gesturing to the lab. “Do you have your book?” 

It had taken some time for them to figure out a system; Ash is nocturnal, after all, and he often has trouble sleeping at night. But Callum goes to bed early, and he prefers to lock up the first floor while he sleeps. 

He doesn’t like letting people into the underground library. But once he’d discovered that Ash likes to read, Callum has taken to letting him borrow books. Now it’s a pattern - Callum goes to bed around nine or ten, and Ash will read quietly in his room till the wee hours. Then the vampire will try to sleep, and they’re both up again the next morning. 

Callum had been hesitant at first, until he’d put together that vampires need less sleep than he does. Ash has shown no signs of lingering fatigue or exhaustion, despite only getting four or five hours of sleep a night. It’s the first of many discoveries, Callum hopes. 

“Yes sir, I have it,” Ash answers, and it’s practically chipper.  

The hunter mutters something gruff under his breath, waving a hand for Ash to go in front of him. Callum pulls the heavy door to the lab shut and bars it, and by the time he gets to Ash’s room the vampire is waiting inside, perched on the edge of his cot. 

“You did good today,” he says roughly, and the vampire brightens visibly. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“C’mon, bud. What did we talk about?” 

“O-oh - Thank you, Callum.” 

The hunter nods, satisfied, and pulls the door closed. 

He regrets that he has to lock it. He does. But as wildly inappropriate as his actions have been, keeping a vampire loose in his house, there is still a line that Callum can’t cross. Maybe it’s paranoia, or maybe it’s hunter traditions, steeped too deeply in his upbringing to shake. But every night, Ash slips back into the little room without resistance, and every night Callum turns the key. 

For Ash, on the other side of the door, the clicking of the lock is almost comforting. It means that the door is closed, and will not be opening again till morning. It means that the day is over, and he can huddle up small and warm under his blankets and his electric lamp and disappear into a book for a while.  

The vampire still doesn’t understand why the hunter is letting him borrow his books, but he’s grateful - for that, and for everything else.

“ ‘night, kid,” comes the hunter’s voice from the room across the hall. 

“Goodnight, Si- uhm, I mean, goodnight Callum.” 

There’s a faint huff of amusement, then some shuffling as Callum gets settled. Then it’s quiet, and Ash finds a strange feeling bubbling up inside of him. It’s light, and airy, and the vampire tucks his nose in his book and hides from it. 

It’s only a few minutes until Callum’s gentle snoring starts up, and the vampire lowers the book for a moment. The creature has been hurt so much, and Ash knows that he’s broken, that he’ll never be right again. But like that, curled up somewhere safe… he’s beginning to think that maybe Callum doesn’t mind.

Or maybe, whispers a traitorous part of his brain, maybe Callum keeps him because he’s broken. But Ash looks around the little renovated cell, with its safety from the sun, and the cot, and the blankets, and the lack of iron chains, and decides that even if that is why, the creature couldn’t care less.

--

@wildfaewhump @pepperonyscience @robinshouseofwhump @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462  @silverinkgoldenquill   @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper   @latenightcupsofcoffee @thebluejayswhump  @what-huh-imconfused @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow  @whump-em  @umniyah-s  @adventuresofacreesty @shameless-whumper @scarheart @kyra-plays  @lionhxartx  @blue-flare10 @whumpywhumper @doityourselfbombs @pastry-case @maybeawhumpblog  @httyd-chocolate  @maqcyloup  @yyyee-haw  @to-hurt-and-comfort @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @manip-loki @dungeons-and-dragons-and-whump  @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @ariirenn  @poetofswords86  @whumpity--whump--whump @swagjudgehandsdragon @machimaquiaveli @theladyoffangorn @oracle-of-maybe @cuddlycryptid @the-potato-beeper @insanitycheshire @slam-whump @sweeterthanadonut @ffaerie-dustt @whump-in-the-night @elfo8792 @kinda-bad-poet @crackedskel @deluxewhump @this-zombie-will-eat-you

[fiiore-blogs]

( lorenzo zurzolo , 20 , cismale ) i  just  bumped  into  fiore  gattuso  the  other  day  while  walking  down  north  kingsboro , where  he  lives . i  hear  they  can  be  charming  and  narcissistic , but  when  i  think  of  them  i  immediately  think  of  bloodshot  baby  blue  eyes , luxury  brands , an  enchanting  smile ( ari , 21 , she / her , est ) 

tw : homophobia , abuse

full  name : fiore emiliano luca gattuso ( first name pronounced fee-oh-reh, also see here! )

nicknames : fifi, emmy ( by people who know his middle name ), some people might say… flower boy ( fiore literally means flower in italian ) 😳

gender : cismale

height :  5 ′ 8

age : 20

birthday : may 30 , 2000

zodiac : gemini ( aries moon, libra ascendant )

right  handed  or  left  handed : left  handed

eye  color : baby blue

hair  color : basically dark blonde / light brown

piercing  &  tattoos : the gemini symbol on his left wrist, a cartilage piercing on his right ear

languages  spoken : italian  ( native  tongue ), english, spanish, pretty decent sicilian

sexuality : bisexual / biromantic

place  of  birth : livorno , tuscany , italy

last  3  songs  listened  to : dimmi che mi ami by dj matrix, almeno stavolta by nek, west coast by lana del rey

character  inspo : kat hernandez from euphoria ( huge muse ! ), adam groff from sex education ( think season 2 adam ), alyssa foley from the end of the fucking world, maeby funke from arrested development, lucrecia montesinos from elite

♡ so fiore was born to a spanish mother named martina & a fully italian father named gian gattuso in tuscany, but they later moved to rome when he was around four years old. his mother is a very well known politician & his father is a billionaire, heir of several gas, water & electric companies all over europe. besides that, he is also a preacher and very involved in church. both his parents are very well off financially

♡ fiore grew up with anything he’s ever wanted ( materialistically, of course ). besides that, his parents genuinely weren’t the best of people. his mother stole millions from the so called campaigns she ran & was a very corrupt politician, his father treated his employees like shit & was a pretty hateful person altogether

♡ they were people who expected a lot out of their only son, which made fiore feel an insane amount of pressure from the very start. at a very young age, he showed characteristics lots of boys his age didn’t show. he did things like peeing while sitting down instead of standing up, preferred to play with dolls instead of ‘boy toys’, favored the color pink, got along better with girls, preferred to watch shows that were considered ‘girly’, etc etc.

♡ they were very harmless things honestly, things that most parents would laugh about & turn a blind eye. however, fiore really wasn’t that lucky when it came to them any time he would do anything they claimed a ‘normal boy wouldn’t do’, he would get a huge lecture & a beating to go with it. needless to say, he learned to hide a lot of who he really was from a very young age

♡ he did a lot of things to seek the approval of his parents. he wasn’t smart academically ( dumb boi 101 tbh ), but he tried to make them happy in other ways. fiore was never fond of sports at all, but he started playing tennis when he was five, because it made his parents happy. truth be told, he hated tennis with every fiber of his being, but again, he did this, simply because it satisfied his parents

♡ he grew up trying to be the perfect son, often times putting himself in situations he didn’t want to be in or felt uncomfortable doing because he wanted them to be proud, but honestly? it was like? never enough. it was all smiles for the pictures, but behind closed doors, he really was pretty damn miserable

♡ simply put, he has always known that he likes boys. he likes girls too, don’t get him wrong, but he knew, literally since he could remember, that he also had a thing for guys too. of course, he was aware that this wouldn’t settle well at all with his extremely strict & unfortunately, very close minded parents, so he buried his feelings incredibly deep

♡ he has a lot of charm & wit & found himself getting into relationships quicker than most of his friends. he briefly dated a girl when he was fourteen, but it was when he was sixteen that things really began getting pretty #spicy

♡ there was a romanian boy new to his very #elite school & if you guessed it, they began to date! his first boyfriend at sixteen years old. fiore was basically living two lives at this point, sneaking around with a guy behind his parents’ back, but when he got home, the facade began. the way he would switch up as soon as he entered the front door to his house was honestly shockingly scary

♡ he really felt himself falling in love with this boy even though they were both fairly young. they snuck around forever. when no one was home, he would sneak him into his room to have sex, sneak out of his house when his parents were asleep, all that fun stuff. their relationship was forbidden ( at least to fiore’s parents ), but things go downhill pretty fast

♡ so one day, fiore & him get really really drunk & honestly? video record themselves having sex fjkgnfv they didn’t do this to post it anywhere or show anyone or anything, they really just did it for themselves. they made a few copies ( stupid boys, i know rip ), but they really felt like they would get married & all that gooey lovey dovey shit so they did it because yolo i guess? this was a pretty big mistake though

♡ one day fiore & him are walking back from his tennis practice. this is a time where fiore knows no one is home & no one is coming home for a while, so when they get to his house & see his father’s car parked outside, he lowkey panics a little. of course he makes the guy leave & goes inside to see what’s going on

♡ his father asks him to come upstairs & surprisingly, leads him into his room. this is when fiore’s entire life practically changes forever. his father turns on his tv & legit starts playing his sex tape with his boyfriend. just picture this though; your extremely homophobic, close minded & hateful father & you sitting on your bed, watching your gay sex tape with your boyfriend

♡ obviously, this news isn’t well taken by his father. to make a long story short, he gets his ass beat. like, literally almost dies type shit. when this happened, he was eighteen and had just recently graduated school, with plans to travel. he knew if his relationship was ever discovered by his parents, it wouldn’t go well, but he really didn’t think them discovering his sexuality would be that brutal

♡ his parents basically disown him at that moment. they bought him a ticket to new york & told him they never wanna see him again. it’s sad, but he packed his things & left in two days to go live with his cousin 

♡ it doesn’t really take an expert to figure out that fiore did not take this move well at all. for months, he was really depressed. he wouldn’t go out & would just lay in bed for the longest time. he was really hurt by everything that happened & it took him a while to recover. he has also lived in italy his whole life & wasn’t really used to life in america at all, but after like the fourth month of just feeling sorry for himself, it was his cousin who snapped him back to reality

♡ he began putting himself out there. at first, he began working at a pizza place, but fiore slowly began to realize how much he despised working. his entire life, he received everything on a golden plater with pure solid gold spoons, he’s always had everything he’s ever wanted without working for it, so this? he was for sure not used to it at all. again, his life completely changed. he went from living in a three story mansion in the most prestigious part of rome to living in a very shitty part of new york, broke almost always, & working a job he hated with everything he had, splitting rent with his cousin

♡ fiore did not want this at all for himself. it wasn’t until he went out clubbing ( fake id & all ), that one his friends showed him the wonders of conning people. they walked into the bar with twenty bucks and left with four thousand dollars

♡ quickly, fiore began to learn his friends’ ways. his looks, personality & his thick italian accent helped him tremendously; it was like people literally couldn’t get enough of him. soon enough, he was conning & finessing the fuck out of older men & women for their money. he once walked into a casino with five dollars and walked out with over 12k

♡ finessing people became a huge hobby of his. he’s also very very lowkey done some camboy stuff, but with a mask on because he’s sneaky af ( legit think kat from euphoria ) like, these super lonely old men or even women are just sending him money for being hot? amazing! it was with all this money that he bought himself a luxury car & jump started his model & influencer career. it was also with this money that him & his cousin ditched the crap show that is south kingsboro & moved into a much better apartment up north. with his looks & persona, he gained followers like crazy & posted videos on youtube as well, getting sponsorships & recognition easier than he expected. he honestly makes a shit ton of money off social media & modeling, like, he’s basically living off his looks, personality & the content he post? we love to see it

♡ there is still a part of fiore that has a lot of issues & trauma. honestly mommy & daddy issues af, but he doesn’t talk about this at all. he literally refuses to talk about anything that happened to him before he was eighteen. no one really knows how he came up or where his family is & he keeps it this way, dodging questions about his personal life as much as he can

♡ in a way, he is kind of relieved with everything that happened with his parents because now, he’s completely free to be himself & do whatever the fuck he wants, knowing very well they can’t really touch him anymore. of course, it still left a mark that he’s never going to be able to erase or forget ( both in his heart & on his body too ), but he feels free for once in his life & he’s honestly kind of happier now, but also, low key needs therapy tbh 🥴

♡ relationship wise, he really doesn’t commit to anyone. after practically being forced to leave his now ex boyfriend, he kind of feels like he doesn’t deserve love? it’s really fucked up but he’s genuinely convinced that no one is ever going to really love him or want to be with him so he just avoids any romantic relationship of any kind, usually just hooking up with people & then leaving as soon as it’s over, or just stealing money from them and ghosting. the truth is that he really does want to be loved, accepted & cared for by someone he loves, accepts & cares for as well, but will it ever happen if he continues pushing people away? probably not tbh

♡ he is a fucking drinker & hella pot smoker!! legit give him some alcohol & weed he’s happy. he always has either one on him, or both tbh. he’s secretly a hella good cook too but this is something almost nobody knows really. he can make food or desserts, and he’s also taught himself to make weed edibles which is honestly iconic kvnfjvc even though he keeps this part of himself hidden

♡ he can be really sneaky & deceiving when he has to be, like, he’ll legit have 0 reason to lie but he’ll lie anyways? it’s like a defense mechanism lmfao

♡ very much conceited boy, honestly in love with his looks but it goes deeper than that. he feels like he has nothing to offer besides being hot so he dwells on looking good always, pretty sure he would rather die than wear sweatpants like vjkdfsvnfs literally always looks a1

♡ is actually? secretly blind af ndjvdfnv one of his many secrets tbh. has a vision of 20/50, nearly 20/60, but hasn’t worn glasses since he was seven, pretty much doing everything with contacts. he just thinks glasses look unattractive on him & honestly refuses to let anyone see him with them on. the only person who even knows he has vision as bad as he does is his cousin who is a npc sooo 🤡

♡ this is all that’s coming to mind rn but hmu for plots pretty pls jkfnvjnfv, this is his birthchart for some extra #tea

[pynkhues]

linocut anon here. my fingers are fine, but this was definitely the worst ive accidentally stabbed myself while doing a cut! gonna buy some cut proof gloves today. sucks about the publisher doing that. if you dont mind me asking, whats the novella called? id love to read it.

Follow up to this post.

I’m glad your fingers are okay, anon! Cut proof gloves definitely sound like a good idea! My thumb has sort of half-healed at this point? I took the bandage off yesterday and it’s blistered around the cut, so it’s pretty gross, haha. I....probably should’ve gone to hospital instead of fixing it myself because I am 100% sure it needed stitches, but alas. 

And yes! I’m happy to share! Sorry I didn’t earlier – I wanted to wait until the publisher fixed the spelling of my surname, because I get enough confusion about it already (mostly because people think it’s a joke, haha, RIP me).

It’s called Drift and it’s only about 8k words. In it, a young woman is going through a difficult time, having just been made redundant at her job and hitting a rough patch with her boyfriend who’s overseas on a trip they were supposed to be going on together before she lost her job, but then she discovers that her new housemate can levitate and becomes obsessed with learning how to do it herself at the detriment of everything else in her life. 

It’s basically an extended metaphor for procrastination, haha. 

You can buy it as an ebook for $3 here if you’re interested. I’ve put the first scene behind a cut though in case you want to read that first!

-

So they pour another drink, something sweeter this time, blush pink and syrupy that’ll sit thick on their teeth by morning. Hest grimaces at the taste before leaning over to try and swap it for Annie’s beer. It’s no good though – even dead asleep, Annie’s grip is tight.

“I kind of like it,” the New Girl says, snapping her lips and wiping the dust from the shoulders of the bottle. They’d found it somewhere under Hest’s bed, in a forgotten pile of crusty knickers, ripped off dress tags and sun-bleached receipts. She can’t remember where she got it from, or even when, which probably isn’t the best sign. She hasn’t drunk this sort of thing since high school.  

“I feel like I’m drinking some Alice potion shit, y’know?” New Girl continues. “Like it’s about to go all Wonderland up in here.”

“The potion doesn’t take Alice to Wonderland,” Hest replies, sighing when Annie yawns and rolls over, taking the beer with her and spilling it all over their ugly carpet in the process. “It makes her tiny, and then she almost drowns in her own tears.”

The New Girl seems to consider this, turning the thought over in her thoughtful head. Not that Hest knows if she’s thoughtful. Not yet anyway. She only moved in two days ago, and Hest and Annie’s luck with social-media-tree flatmates hasn’t exactly been great. At least New Girl had paid two weeks in advance and didn’t give off a totally drug fucked vibe.

“Do you watch anime?”

Not totally drug fucked vibe.

Hest squints in New Girl’s general direction.

“What?”

“Anime. Sailor Moon, Pokemon, Dragonball. Those Japanese cartoons.”

At Hest’s look, New Girl continues.

“There’s a subgenre of it, right? It’s called Magical Girl, and it’s like, transformative, you know? It’s school girls who are usually total wet blankets, and have like, nerd friends and they’ll find a wand or an eyelash curler or a magical moon cup, and as soon as they use it, they become this amazing warrior princess, destined to save the universe.”

A car drives past the window, briefly lighting up the room, casting an eerie glow across the two of them, and it almost makes Hest want to snuff the candles. To let all this light swallow her whole right before the darkness does. Or, well. Maybe not. Maybe she’s just trying to play at romantic. Make this dimness a choice, instead of a fact of not being able to pay an electricity bill. Her eyes slip shut. She rubs briefly, furiously, at the bridge of her nose.

“Point?”

It takes New Girl a minute to respond, and it’s enough for Hest to finish her sugar piss champers and pour herself another. Annie’s snoring now, softly, the sound more of a hoarse, humming breath than anything, and Hest has to resist the urge to shove her awake. This whole thing had been Annie’s idea anyway, a night to welcome New Girl into the fold, to try and curb some of the issues they’d had with the last flatmate, who always bitched that Annie and Hest left her out, which, to be fair, they did. Often deliberately.

She was really annoying.

“I don’t know,” New Girl says with a laugh, shrugging. She scrunches up her nose, holds the bottle up. “This kind of feels like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a magic girl thing.”

Hest snorts.

“What?”

“What?”

New Girl squints, mirroring the look Hest had given her not two minutes earlier.

“You made a noise.”

New Girl’s tone is sharp, and it’s enough to surprise Hest. Even after just two days of knowing her, it doesn’t seem like her. New Girl, with her ratty, faded pink bob, and enormous doe eyes and boyish form has seemed sort of effortlessly chill and effortlessly cool and also neurotic and high strung, but in a sort of chill, cool way. Like Kate Winslet in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind had had a baby with Steve Buscemi in Ghost World and it kind of, somehow, ended up looking like every character Zoe Kazan has ever played in a movie.  

“Magic girl thing,” Hest supplies, waving out an aimless hand. “You sound like you walked out of a teenager’s tumblr blog.”

“Saying tumblr blog just shows your age,” New Girl says. “It’s just tumblr.”

“Funny, I thought actually knowing the plot of Alice in Wonderland showed it more.”

New Girl rolls her eyes at that, and at least it’s enough to make Hest laugh.

“Whatever,” New Girl says. “You’re not even that old. Like - - whatever. All I’m saying is, like. Magic, y’know?”

Hest laughs, quip ready on her tongue, only there’s New Girl, sitting, somehow, a foot off the floor, her legs stretched out in the open air, her hair floating, impossibly, around her head.

“Magic,” one of them repeats, Hest isn’t sure who.

[neonnhoney-rec]

Min Yoongi

Here are a few yoongi recs, most of them I've read and love, some are in my TBR. Tbh most of them are smut, but some are fluff and angst mostly angst. I will keep updating this woop woop.

I hope you enjoy tehee!

revenge- @lustfuldevils

fuck boy yoongs

request: yoongi teaches you to give a bj- @kpurereactions

says it on the tin

Theres no need to be nervous around Yoongi, he’ll take care of you and make you feel good no matter what it is you’re doing.

sangria- @minstrivia

a day at the beach has yoongi hornier than he’d like to admit.

missing link- @drquinzelharleen

You catch Yoongi playing with himself before a night out and some part of you wants to join him. That’s crazy though, he’s your best friend… Right?

talk- @httpjeon​

you walk in on yoongi on the phone with a customer

act on it- @dom-joonie

You learn that the cute barista you’ve been crushing on might have an…otherworldly disposition after you accidentally cut yourself.

too sweet- @justoneday-namjoonii

you smell so sweet to them the best they’ve ever had (vampire au)

moving to a university with a few secrets, has you falling for these boys who need your help

too hot to sleep- @gamerguk

“ Umm can’t wait to get rawed in our kitchen when I’m living with the love of my life ” 

can you turn off your phone- @btssavemylifeblr

Yoongi’s alarm clock wakes you up at 6 am on a Sunday and you are not happy about it.  At least, not at first…

grey area- @blushoseoks

and just like that, your fate was sealed - because min yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. but hell if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so. 

and sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.

dancing with the devil- @minnpd​

suga daddy suga

asphodel- @hayjeon

A series of drabbles and moments surrounding Hades, the god of death and Persephone, the goddess of nature

lifeguard yoongi- @gukgalore

who knew making eyes at a hot lifeguard would get you what you really wanted.

yoongi cums in his pants- @hobiorbit

dry humping yoongi till cums in his pants cause its hot

boy .girl- @floralseokjin

Boy. Girl. It’s as simple as that. Girl can’t get a good date—scrap that—girl can’t get a good lay, and boy is willing to help out with that… Friends with benefits seems the perfect solution, except for the fact, it’s not. It never is. Not when boy already has feelings for girl…

Evil- @littlemisskookie

Your life is pretty boring, apart from being the Alpha of your pack. But it gets a bit more exciting when you discover Yoongi wants to spend his heat with none other than you.

Bet i can make you cum without touching your cock- @cyphertrip

says it on the tin

boseong breakfast- @honeymoonjin

it may be misfortune that brings you to min yoongi’s door looking for a place to stay, but luckily holly lodge has a vacancy.

Love is for birds baby- @mininky

You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Hands- @moonlightchildz

hand fetish? is that a thing?

Producer!yoongi- @matchakoo

where yoongi’s song plays over a really serene and domestic smut scene 

Please be naked- @floralseokjin 

ou find it’s easy to become addicted to a distraction…

Lonely hearts club-  @joonbird

 “In this world, currency is not money but life, and those who cannot repay their debts have no choice but to submit for the Separation - a procedure in which the soul and mind are extracted from their bodies, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. Jeon Jungkook is an underground tattoo artist hiding from the outside world. She has been waiting her whole life to be Separated. They were never supposed to meet - let alone fall in love.”

- or -

“Two lonely hearts collide.”

Rose garden dreams- @glossgf

you, a princess not yet betrothed, and your knight, Yoongi, have fallen in love. But what happens when a prince asks for your hand in marriage? What will you and Yoongi do then…?

single parent au- @yukheii​

your daughter is very fond of yoongi

Us, plus two- @deathbyyoongi

You and Yoongi sharing a moment, relishing in the glow of your growing family when your daughter has a nightmare, and Yoongi has to take care of those pesky monsters.

When the power goes out- @inkjam-moon

When a storm causes the electricity to go out, it becomes to dark in the apartment to study, so you and Yoongi have to find another way to pass the time.

Conveniently- @baeseoul

you live above a convenience store with your daughter, owned by a rather attractive yoongi. this is the story of how u and your daughter gained another member to your little family.

Destruction of a muse- @baeseoul

you’re in your last year of uni doing literature and lose your motivation, and it’s not till you meet a talented musician you get your ambition back. a. lot. of. angust.

Long distance-  @miss-noo-na

Yoongi misses the sound of your voice.

Conjecture-  @writingsofmyimagination​

Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Photoshoot tease- @shooting-stars-library

“Min Yoongi is a sexy little shit and he knows it.”

What if-  @blameblamebts

Being in a gang wasn’t a good thing, and it never would be, always looked down upon. But it isn’t what people think it to be. It’s worse. Much worse.

Aawake at night- @softyoongiionly​

You can’t sleep. Luckily, your boyfriend can’t either. 

Clair de lune- @yoonia

You were ready to leave a part of your life to move on to the next, and he is willing to give you a chance to end it glamorously. But at what cost? And will he be a part of the life you are leaving behind or will he be there for the next part of it? 

Reflections- @yoonia

“How could I ever forget about you" parent au

Faded- @yoonia

You were his soulmate, that part he knew well. Until one day he didn’t want you anymore. He couldn’t, when all he could see from you was light and all he felt within himself was darkness. Your love has gone cold as he retreated from you, burying himself deep in the dark. But what happened when Yoongi had to watch you start over with somebody else, when Yoongi let his selfishness gain control on him of you.

Monday- @strwberrytae

It’s that special time a month that brings you great pain yet great joy. Sure, there’s cramps and absolute uncomfort but your little monthly friend makes you insanely horny. Needy and desperate for a release that only your boyfriend can provide, will he cave and give you what you want?

Makeshift chemistry- @jungblue

Fleeting lust was all you’d ever known, nothing serious or long lasting, just a temporary fix to satisfy your needs. That is until you meet Min Yoongi who is determined to put an end to your binge of makeshift relationships.

What you did last summer- @winetae

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function. 

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

Bad boys bring it to you- @yuengi​

tattoo artist yoongi

Fortuna- @readyplayerhobi

300 years ago, half the world’s population died when the experimental Fortuna virus escaped. The remaining male population has been rendered infertile with one loophole that has meant polyamorous relationships have become the norm.

Crescendo- @dreamyjoons

after hours of waiting for the grumpy pianist to leave the stage, you finally have it out with him in a way better than you could have imagined. 

Restraint-  @writingsofmyimagination​

As Jungkook’s best friend recently moved to Seoul, there is one of the boys you have yet to meet. This one has a dark secret and has to use all the restraint he can to control himself around you.

Curious- @honeymoonjin

Taehyung confides in you and your boyfriend Yoongi that he might be bi, and the two of you offer to let him experiment with you to find out. 

Gingham- @ropeseok​

There’s no place like home! At least, that’s how Yoongi felt after a long night of taking the little one trick-or-treating. He can’t wait to take his costume off - however, he seems to insist that you keep yours on.​

Somebody else- @jamaisjoons

yoongi doesn’t want you anymore. but he can’t stand watching you with someone else. post break up au.

Do you love me-  @caribbeanempressblog

Yoongi is bad at feelings

Love well done- @oraclemarie

You are the executive chef of your very own fine dining restaurant. A big company makes you the offer of a lifetime, setting you on a path straight to Min Yoongi-your drunken hook up. 

Pepero day- @kittae

Valentine’s with your best friend, yoongi

The last- @kittae

When the world’s gone to shit and you’ve taught yourself to stay alive while danger lurks around every corner, the last thing you need is another mouth to feed and extra “dead” weight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to leave another human being behind, and it might as well have been your worst decision ever… or was it the best?

Baby’s fist christmas- @hobisbeautifulass​

3 months after you give birth to your first child, you and your husband start putting together the perfect first Christmas for your new family of three.

This is just to say  – @btsiguess

To say it’s unusual to have a soulmate is an understatement, and most people desperately wish to have an elegant name scrawled upon their wrist. In reality though, you’d have to say it causes much more issues than it solves.

I like you – @iq-biased

A surprise visit from a friend leaves Yoongi with a night to remember, and something to say

Small things- @floralseokjin

you and vamp yoongi have an argument

Daddy diaries- @bts-reveries

yoongi started blogging his life on his social medias to prove everyone who thought he couldn’t raise a child alone wrong. but as his daughter’s birthday draws near, what happens when she wishes for a new mom?

Drink me- @njssi​

Your vampire boyfriend refuses to bite you in fear of not being able to stop himself. But you always get what you want.

Rule of thirst- @prolixitae

vampires were just folklore until yoongi became one. now he’s got only two emotions: you and hunger. and tonight, you let him feed off you.

A ticket to the sun- @seokeros​ (ao3)

In a world where a person's life is determined by a piece of paper on a monthly basis, love is practically impossible. But there's always an exception, and with that exception, there comes a price.

Alt: yoongo gets punched in the face by a girl who believes she is cursed, and he stupidly, helplessly, falls in love.

Wildest moments- @joonbird

“Min Yoongi is forbidden territory. And although you both know better, the two of you just can’t seem to stay apart.”

Breakfast in bed- @joonbird

“Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”

Hyung, open the door- @gotmetalkinginmysleep

You’ve been keeping the boys awake with your moaning for months thanks to Yoongi. Tae and Jungkook want to find out why.

The singularity theory- @dovechim

in your last year of undergrad, you find out what a gloryhole is at the expense of your final year thesis. it’s a classic example of a psychology experiment that went way, way wrong. 

You look like you need a drink- @dark-muse-iris

After a bad week with the worst luck imaginable, you happen upon a local dive bar run by an attractive young bartender who livens up your evening.

The married life- @jungnoir

being married is never a bore when your husband is a vampire king + inspired by  “Stop calling me Princess!” “I apologize, my Queen.”.

Taxi- @honeyedhoseok

 ❛  Drinks at a bar + a rainy night + a single taxi to share with the bane of your existence, Min Yoongi = one interesting car ride back to your apartment.  ❜ 

First love- @writing-in-ivory

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi. 

pugna- @jungwoohoos

he showed up at your doorstep one day, covered in cuts and testing your patience. you don’t know why, but you felt compelled to help him. you just don’t realize how deep that runs

Mean yoongi- @jjkpls

Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.

Sour skittles- @softyoongiionly

WELCOME TO GLASSCLAW! The only city where you can get a homecooked meal and a hitman all on the same street! You moved to GlassClaw for a fresh start after a group of raiders invaded your previous compound. Unbeknownst to you, the city has its own collection of riff raff and, at the head of it all is your neighbor Min Yoongi. The mischevious merchant with one hell of a sailor mouth is known for swindling the rich and, serving the poor. The world has become convoluted and chaotic since the apocalypse but, two things were certain: You were so much more than pretty face and, Yoongi was so much more than just a thief.

Life’s little joys-  @littlemeowmeowschimmy

getting pregers with yoongi

Fear and dumplings-  @softyoongiionly

You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Min yoongi, library services- @kpopfanfictrash

When you accept the the offered research position at Bangtan University, you are well aware of your partner’s prestige. The only problem is - so is he.

Behind the stick-  @randombtsprincessa

Your bartender for the night and you take an interest in one another.

Mic drop- @ve1vetyoongi

when underground rapper min yoongi uncovers the dirty secret behind his biggest rival, your brother and hip hop champion kim namjoon’s success, he is determined to take home this year’s mic drop contest trophy no matter who he hurts along the way. you’re behind the camera, content with capturing namjoon’s picture perfect persona from the sidelines but when his hard-faced enemy Gloss, makes you realise you could be more than just the point and shoot, you start to feel your loyalties shifting.

Pinewood and poetry- @spicykoreantatertots

After getting closer to and developing a crush on your friend over the summer, you want nothing more than to cozy up to him as the seasons start to change. That is until your ex-boyfriend, Jung Hoseok, returns from his summer study abroad program. Will Hoseok stand in the way of your budding romance with your mutual friend, Min Yoongi?

His hands- @nahfamily

You hadn’t ever paid much attention to Min Yoongi until a stupid icebreaker at your office. Now, you can’t get him, and his hands, out of your head

Birthday boy- @btssmutgalore

Yoongi wants to give his best friend Jimin the perfect birthday gift… And it just so happens to be you.

Happy valentine’s day- @sweetwritertanya​

You have a very special idea for this Valentine’s Day, focused completely on your boyfriend Yoongi who comes home to an unexpected surprise. 

Happy birthday- @parkmuse

Your boyfriend Jimin has a bit of a surprise for you on your birthday, and he goes by the name of Yoongi.

Arranged-  @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong

Y/N is a struggling student in Seoul: working multiple jobs, living in a broom closet apartment, and often sacrificing her dignity for the sake of her livelihood. What happens when a handsome stranger presents her with an offer she cannot refuse at the moment she needs it most?

This tiny space-  @ubemango

Yoongi was always attractive—your sexy piece of ass, as you like to remind him often—and seeing the tight skin of his back when he undresses further makes the insides of your stomach churn in want: the kind that made you want to fall to your knees, grovel. You love having a kid, but it’s been too long.

The boa constrictor-  @tatertotthethot

You’ve always had a bad habit of drinking copious amounts of water just before going to bed every night, and for some reason, you always seem to forget that it’ll eventually lead to you having to wake up a few hours later with a dire need to pee. 

Dope- @honeymoonjin

The HSD is a branch of the South Korean government tasked with taking down the most infallible criminals in Seoul’s underbelly. Kim Namjoon, or RM, is their next target: the extremely well-spoken and careful leader of a cocaine dealing gang.

Listen closely- @avveh

Unintentionally, you stumble upon something that makes you view your coworker Min Yoongi in a whole new light.

The truth between us- @jimlingss

a book deal should be the most exciting time of your life, but there seems to be a constant and omnipresent damper on your mood in the form of a certain min yoongi, who you would just cut out from your life, if he weren’t your editor. but then, the world shifts beneath your feet, and you begin to wonder if maybe you’ve always been looking at life from the wrong angle. 

Surround me- @minflix

after a very unfair and unjust firing from his bartending job, yoongi just wants to soothe his sadness by spending some quality time with his best friend - who he is very much in love with.

Cockwarming – @gukgalore​

Ngl the thought of cockwarming Yoongi is the only thing keeping me going at this point

Havana- @inkjam-moon​

You’ve spent the last six years following in your parents footsteps all the way to Cuba, trying to make them proud by finishing their research, but when you join forces with a snarky boat owner who knows more than he lets on, will things play out the way you planned them?

The equation of  love- @kookingtae​

When you met Yoongi in a club, you thought it was fate that brought the two of you together. But after you walked into your college math class for the very first time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

Workaholic- @hobiwonder​

Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night. 

Different- @satisfractions​

in which tattooartist!yoongi meets floral!reader because he needs to practice drawing flowers for his job

Salud- @yukheii

ninja yoongi (Naruto au)

Toke temptation-  @strawbxxymilk​

You accidentally confess your feelings to Yoongi during a smoke sesh

Accidents- @jungxk​

dad!yoongi makes me soft and also h*rny

Fists- @badbhye​​

reader’s first time

The early shift-  @hobidreams​

your coworker yoongi is always infuriatingly late. except the one time he’s much too early.

Mixtape- @jungblue​

Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting.

Three squeezes-  @nomnomsik​

Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too. 

Yoongi cums in his pants- @gukgalore​

where u and yoongi are making out and u start grinding on him, and he tells u to stop bc he’s gonna cum his pants. But u don’t and he acc does cum his pants

Kitten- @yminie​

Yoongi’s focus on work has subjected your relationship to having a dry spell, and with a little prompting from your best friend, you tell him exactly what he should do. But you don’t make the rules kitten, and the game you’re choosing to play is a dangerous one.

Wine- @junghelioseok​

he makes staying after-hours absolutely worthwhile. restaurant au

Renatus- @mininky​

(y/n) finds herself in a very unusual situation where her fate seems to be woven with Hades himself, who’s too much of a jerk for her to even admit that sure okay he’s kind of really good looking.​

Cobalt and charcoal- @tayegi​

soulmate au

Touch of silk-  @floralseokjin​ 

In a world where vampires coexist with the living, there are many humans looking for a cheap thrill…you’re ashamed to admit you’re curious too, putting to good use a dating app you find…but Min Yoongi is nothing like you imagined a vampire to be…

[charity-angel]

At the risk of tempting the universe/PTB to throw anything more at me, a brief summary of my weekend (with added background info that I bought my first house 2 months ago):

Saturday morning, arse o’clock: text from my mother saying she is sending my dad over and are there any jobs that need doing?

Yes, quite a few. Chief of which is I want to trace whatever fault means that half1 the spotlights in my kitchen aren’t working.2

Slightly later Saturday, more reasonable time: Dad arrives. Decides that since weather is nice, he's going to repair my back gate. Fair enough - it wasn't on my list, but it will mean I can actually open it whenever I need to rather than wrestling with it.

While helping him: Spot something that annoys me, and I have purchased the means to fix but not got around to actually doing it. The security light comes on no matter what time of day it is. It is currently broad daylight. Decide to amend this. Venture into basement, turn electricity off. Arm self with screwdrivers. Prepare to install switch rather than popping fuse out of wall all the time3.

Bit of swearing later: Fuse panel is off wall, but there is something going on outside. Venture out to find a guy out cold in the street running behind the terrace, with two teenage girls speaking to the 999 operator. As I kneel beside him to try and assess, he starts to come round - enough to say he doesn't want an ambulance. I try to get girls to not relay this to the operator, but they do and it's cancelled. He is CLEARLY still out of it. They hang up, go on their way, and he promptly passes out again.

Remind self of how to put someone into the recovery position. Lament that last time I did this it was a conscious, skinny PGCE student in her early twenties, and this is a grown-ass man who is not surreptitiously helping with the rolling over. I also can't get his hand under his head, so I hold his head up myself instead, while my dad finally decides I've been a while and rings 999 back4.

Takes them a while to get there. I think the call timer is over 20 mins. My back is in spasms, my left leg is going numb and pins & needles-y. The guy has vomited three times (thank fuck I rolled him). Paramedics manage to bring him round a bit - enough to get him to confess he's on methodone.

Ow, fucking ow: Have to go back to doing the electrical work, since the power is off and my dad now needs to charge the drill. Set about attaching the cables to the right bits. Discover that the cabling is too short to reach one of the terminals on the new switch. Fuck. Re-install fuse plate. Turn power back on. Thank whoever is listening that I don't seem to have screwed anything up.

Saturday, 2:45: Lunch. I have frozen bread, and a shit-load of eggs. Scrambled eggs on toast it is.

Maybe 3:15?: Dad sets about re-seating curtain pole in the spare room, with decent rawlplugs so that it will take the weight of the curtain my mum is making for it.

Not long later: That's done with minimal fuss5. Dad muses that could do with putting the rail back on the stairs6.

Couple of minutes later: Persuade him that could actually do with lifting the floor since I'd quite like to be able to see in the kitchen after nightfall, whereas the handrail is a minor inconvenience. We begin.

At this point, it is worth noting that I had tried this myself on Thursday evening only to discover the floor appears to be chipboard rather than floorboards. Also it is worth noting that the carpet was laid and then the skirting boards put down over it.

Half an hour later?: Free enough of the carpet to realise that the bed needs to be moved. And by moved, I mean effectively dismantled.

Another hour?: Bed semi-dismantled and on its side7, room totally rearranged. More skirting boards unscrewed, silicon sealant peeled from the walls, skirtings removed8, carpet screws removed, carpet rolled up as much as possible. We manage to prise one of the bits of chipboard up, only to realise that: a) the original floorboards are still mostly there underneath (although mostly not under this particular bit), and b) the majority of the fucking things have not only been screwed down over the floorboards, but also GLUED. I shit you not. Also that some of the boards extend underneath the plasterboard9 wall

We decide this is a bigger job than us and have to at least put the flooring back down and move things we had moved from there into my room back so I can at least get into bed. We decide not to do anything else as it will only need moving again.

Around 6pm: My poor dad heads home. I discover I have a stray text from my mum about half an hour earlier asking if he's still with me.

Not long later: Run bath. Pour self bowl of tesco's coco pops in lieu of meal I haven't got the spoons to cook.10

Ominous message from mother: She is coming over tomorrow to hang the curtain, and set the spare room right again.

Sunday, about 9am: Ow. Owowowowow. Break out the painkillers. Fuck. Browse AO3 for Rose/Ten fics since I have just binged their season and I have feels, okay?

11:30: Text from mother: she is heading over around 1: do I want anything picking up at the temperance bar since she is going?11

Around 12: Decide should get dressed. Painkillers doing their job. Get clean jeans since she is dragging me out for curtain hoops. I might not drive, but I at least know where I'm going.12

12:15: spot a big, ominous wet patch above my bedroom door that is just about to start dripping. FUCK!

Shove water cup under the impending drip, grab towel and slightly larger container, replace cup. Grab bigger container and head for loft access hatch.

Realise loft access is behind all this shit we moved around in the spare room yesterday. Double fuck. Set about moving it elsewhere so I can get in.

12:30:Ring Dad and ask if he can bring over his big set of stepladders as I suspect I probably could get myself into the attic space13, but would break my neck coming back down. Also I need a torch that is not my phone. He laments that Mum has taken the big car. I call her instead, get her to head home and stock up on essentials (ladders, torch, Dad). I decide to change into yesterday's scruffy jeans since this isn't likely to be a clean job.

About 1-1:15: They arrive, and my dad manoeuvres himself into the attic. This is impressive and just a lot of a dangerous move or two involved. It takes a second person (read: me), which means I have no chance of getting up there myself.

Issue is with the chimney stack and can't actually get a bucket under it. But by the light of my phone14 he can see multiple other issues. Although he does move a slate back into place so I can't see daylight between it and its next-door neighbour. Bless him.

2:15: decide to get some lunch and the curtain hoops. Head into town. Can't park15 Mum decides she isn't hungry, drops us at Costa (it's open, at least) and goes to get the hoops herself.

3-ish: Get back. Sort spare room so it is habitable. Because there is still a drip from my bedroom doorframe, so guess where I'm suddenly sleeping tonight. Hang curtain16.

4-ish: Decide to actually put the handrail back, so we can feel we've at least achieved something useful. This turns out to be a bigger job than anticipated because the fucking plaster keeps falling apart and the rawlplugs won't hold properly. And the ones that will, we don't have screws the right size for. I mean...

5:30-ish: Rail is up. They leave. I run bath as everything is ouch.

7-ish: Can no longer ignore fact that I can hear dripping in the bathroom. Get out while bath is still full to try and work out where the fuck it is coming from. Take side panel off bath17. Not obvious. The outlet pipe has drippy bits all along it. Can't get a container under it. Yay.

Shove microfibre cloth under just to try and contain dripping. Suspect the joint in the pipe where new plumbing has been connected to older is the issue, but seems to be from both bloody ends of the joint piece.

7:45-ish: Drain bath, turn shower on so can wash hair. Little later than anticipated - won't dry properly now18.

tl;dr: I hate my house and everything about it.

1. The half that are on the useful side of the kitchen. You know, where the sink and hob are. The ones that help me do things like cook and wash up after dark.

2. Spotlights embedded into ceilings are clearly one of Crowley's inventions.

3. I am not a qualified electrician, but I have studied electronics at school, been taught on the side by my engineer dad, and I know my limits. Do not do this yourself if you aren't absolutely sure of what you're looking at.

4. Can't do it myself as my battery is dead and, guess what - I've turned the electricity off so I can't charge it. And my landline is cordless, so that needs power too.

5. other than Dad not realising that my ceilings are a little lower than his and going 1 step too high on the ladder. Muppet.

6. I removed this about 2 days after I moved in because of the 4 brackets supposedly securing it to the wall, only 2 actually were. I was more liable to break my neck using it than not. It didn't take me long to realise that while removing it was a 1 woman job, putting it back required more hands. 4 more, as it transpires.

7. Dad manages to hit his head on one of the protruding legs of the bed. I swear...

8. Honestly. They were screwed to the wall and then silicon sealed along the top (and joining edges). The carpet was screwed to the floor under the boards.

9. Drywall, for anyone of an American disposition.

10. Ignore suspicious dripping sound. This turns out to be something of a mistake.

11. Fucking yes, I am almost out of all my cordials. Curse not living near it any more

12. Mostly. One-way systems are a touch tricky when you don't have to obey them. As are bus-only routes.

13. On later reflection, this is incredibly doubtful since I lack the upper body strength to haul myself several feet straight up.

14. Because they brought a curtain and cushions as well as the big stepladder, but not a torch.

15. Also not something I have to think about often.

16. Discover Mum and I have been talking cross-purposes as to which side of the window it is going on. Fortunately this is not a massive issue.

17. Inventory of the under-bath: 2 bags grout, 1 tub of paint, 1 jigsaw piece, 1 part of an old loo roll holder, about 50cm of 1cm diameter dowel, 1 electrical cable that is quite possibly live given that an attempt has been made to insulate it inside a plastic bag. What is not there is the wooden frame that should support the sides of the plastic bath.

18. There are many advantages to the care and maintenance of curly hair. Not being able to blow-dry it is NOT one of them. Not having to, otoh, is.