#was forced to stay home for the next two weeks it was so boring

[mrpenguinpants]

Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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Caught

Pairings: Stepsis! Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of age gap (Legal), Getting caught??, Oral (W Receiving), Strap-on usage (R Receiving), Bondage (Nat being tied), Overstimulation (R Receiving), whatever it would be called bc Nat was forced to watch while being tied up 😭

Word count: 1.4k

Authors Note: All tho I haven’t reached 900 followers yet I wanna go on and put this out, enjoy!! 😭

The days of summer break were coming to an end, it was close to time for you to return back to your college dorm after spending the last few weeks with your family. You came home unexpectedly one day to surprise your mom and step father. To your surprise your step sister, Wanda, had the exact idea.

Wanda and you never got along, probably considering you never had much time to connect before she was off to college later followed by you. Wanda wasn't much older than you, but the age gap was enough to cause conflict when she came around while you still stayed with your parents.

During the few years you were both in high school, her friend Natasha and her would torment you during that time. You always figured it was normal rivalry, but Wanda held a much deeper secret. Even after high school Natasha stayed super close with Wanda, the two would always be together. Including those visits Wanda made.

Natasha always had a softer side for you. She often pitied you during Wanda's torments, asking the girl to be gentler on you which Wanda would combat with a teasing manner.

"Hey." Called out by Nat's soft tone as she crept into your room. "Oh hey Nat, why aren't you with Wanda?" She leaned against the back of your door once she closed it, "She's asleep, and I'm bored."

You sat upright, patting the space next to you inviting the older woman to come sit with you on your bed. After a comfortable silence Nat spoke out, "How's college been treating you? I missed you last summer, isn't this your second year?" You nod, "Yea, and it's been fine. Nothing interesting but you know."

Nat and you spend a good while talking with each other, really enjoying each other's company then her mannerisms change. "You've really grown a lot, since you've graduated you know. Two years isn't much but, you're really pretty." Nat's words cause a blush to creep on your cheeks, you hope the soft light of your lamp doesn't amplify it.

"It's rude to ignore compliments sweetheart." She says with a smug little smile, letting out a giggle which you return. She scoots closer to you and before you know it her lips are on yours.

The two of you share a heated moment, your lips passionately latching onto one another. Natasha's hands roam along your body, groping at your curves and pulling your body closer to hers. What you hadn't noticed was during your intimate moment with Nat, Wanda had snuck in.

"Ahem." She said loud enough to finally catch your attention. "What is going on here?" She said in a condescending tone. Natasha tried to quickly shut down what Wanda had just witnessed but she paid no mind to her friend's pleas.

"Y/n, wanna tell me why my best friend is here swapping spit with you?" You were confused about her tone, you'd assumed she'd sound more mad if she was. She almost sounded like she enjoyed it.

"We were just caught up in the moment, it's late, we're tired and we were having a conversation and we just.. kissed." Wanda chuckled, as if she was enjoying this. You and Natasha had been sharing worried looks during this whole very weird interaction.

"Oh you two are so pretty when you lie!" Wanda strutted over to the bed, the short skimpy shorts she wore made you feel hot. "Oh what will I do with you two." She paused. "I know, Nat come here." Natasha stood and made her way to Wanda. To your shared surprise she let her to the chair that sat in the corner of your room, and tied the woman's hands together.

"Wanda, what are you doing?" The older woman asked. "You'll see, be patient." Wanda made her way back to where you sat, "Now I want you to be my good girl and do exactly as I say, got it?" Your head shook in an eager nod of approval. "So desperate."

Her lips pressed against yours, her tongue slipped past your lips quickly and danced along with yours. Wanda's pretty moans filled your ears, along with Natasha's whines as she desperately wanted to be with the two of you.

"I want you to eat me out, if you make me cum to my satisfaction I'll reward you. Mkay?" You nod, "That won't do, I need your words baby." Wanda reprimanded. "Y-yes ma'am." Wanda chuckled, "I like that, now get on your knees."

You instantly dropped to your knees, Wanda made a show of her stripping out of her arousal soaked shorts which she tossed onto Natasha's lap. You made no waste of time by diving straight into pleasing Wanda.

Her hands tugged on your hair, and pushed your face closer to her core. Your tongue worked like magic on her clit like your life depended on it, like it was what you were made to do. "Fuck baby! You're being such a good girl, making me feel so good.. oh god!"

Natasha continued to squirm in her seat, itching to be able to touch you. "Please Wanda, untie my hands." Though for poor Natasha, Wanda was only able to focus on the assault your tongue was causing on her. Loud moans and praises slip past her lips, pushing you into a state where you only want to be there to please her.

"Fuck pretty girl, I'm gonna cum! Can you make me cum? Please be a good girl and make me cum." Before you knew it Wanda was cuming, her hand tightly gripping your hair tugging slightly.

"Did I do good?" You asked hesitantly, "So good baby, get on the bed." You did as she said and watched her rummage around your room, until she came across the strap you had stored away. You were unsure of how she knew where you had that stored, but you didn't question her fearing you may end up in Natasha's place.

"I want you to ride me, ride me till I have to take control." She demanded. Your already soaked pussy from your session with Nat didn't require any effort from Wanda, so she quickly got your settling down on her strap.

Your hands propped themselves on her chest, trying your best to hold yourself up. "Go on, move your hips baby." With her request you began to bounce on the woman's strap, taking a moment to adjust. Soon enough you had a steady pace, as so did the subtle movements of Wanda's hips.

Her hands ran across your body, groping at your tits. "Fuck you're so perfect, I can't believe I've waited this long." She groaned out, eyes scanning all up and down your body.

"P-please I can't keep myself up anymore." You whined as you struggled to keep your arms from going limp. "Keep going pretty girl, you're doing so good." Wanda praised, but she knew she'd have to take over soon. Your hip movement became sloppy, even Nat grew worried.

Wanda eventually took over and flipped you to your stomach, propping up your knees for easier access. She slipped her strap back into you, thrusting the silicone toy into you at a brutal pace. Your whines filled the air, the only noise you were even able to get out.

"Fuck baby, you look so pretty like this. All fucked out over me, so ruined because of me." Wanda teased, as her hand came firmly down on your ass also eliciting a whine from you.

Natasha's empathetic side came out for you in the moment, watching as Wanda used your body. "Wanda be gentle!" Which Wanda dismissed, as her pace quickened. "Fuck you're so hot, you can't even think about anything but me. Did I fuck Nat out of your mind, hm?" Wanda said clearly to get a reaction out of Nat.

"Wans.. 'm gon- cum." Your barely eligible words made the older girl laugh, "Beg pretty girl, beg me to cum." More whines came from you before you mustered up the ability to make out a coherent sentence. "Wands, please! L-let me cum, 'm gonna cum I can't hold it pl-please."

"Go on, cum pretty girl." With her demand you did, and you came hard. “Good girl, you did so good.” Wanda placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, slowly removing the strap from you as to not hurt you. She scooped you up and readjusted your body under the covers, then placed a soft kiss on your tired face.

“Wanda please undo me.” Natasha finally said, breaking the silence. Wanda laughed, “Who said I was done with you?”

MASTERLIST

[adoregojo]

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

[finnsbubblegum]

You Fell First But He Fell Harder (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, sweet joel, domestic joel, rom-com

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Summary: Grocery shopping with Joel and Sarah went wrong as you came across his ex-wife.

Words count: 1k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 4 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm beyond happy that many of you liked it so I hope you enjoy the next parts. Stay tuned and love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

You and Joel’s playing house was getting real. From three dinners a week to five dinners a week to seven dinners a week. Every night you spent with Joel and Sarah. You even ran errands for him and Sarah like buying diapers, baby stuff and groceries. But today, he offered to go grocery shopping with you. 

“Got the list?” Joel asked as he put Sarah to sit on the shopping cart.

“Let’s get the baby stuff first. We need baby food, diapers..” You read the list written on the piece of paper in your hand.

“Okay.” Joel pushed the shopping cart beside you.

“This one?” Joel grabbed a baby diaper from the cabinet.

“Yep, that one.” You nodded and Joel put it in the shopping cart. 

*Sarah babbled*

“You’re bored, huh?” You caressed her head.

“Apples or bananas?” You showed two different baby food to Sarah. 

“Bananas.” Joel answered while he was looking at some stuff at the cabinet.

“I’m not asking you. I’m asking Sarah.” You scoffed.

“Oh..She gets to choose her food?” Joel looked at you and raised his eyebrows.

“Freedom of speech.” You smirked.

“You’re funny.” Joel scoffed and shook his head.

Sarah babbled and her hand moved to the banana flavored baby food. 

“Bananas it is.” You put the baby food inside the shopping cart.

“I think she has your taste.” You bumped Joel’s arm.

“That’s my girl.” Joel kissed his baby daughter’s head.

“Okay, let’s get some veggies! Choo Choo!” You pushed the shopping cart a bit fast and Sarah giggled.

Joel followed you from behind and laughed at your actions. For a moment, he wished you were the one whom he married and had a baby with. He was blessed to have you and see you making his baby happy. He smiled and imagined it. Until he saw Sarah’s mom, he put a frown on his face and sighed. You looked at him as he stopped.

“What is it?” You put your hand on his shoulder.

“It’s her.” 

You looked in front of you and saw someone approaching the three of you. It was a woman and a man. The woman looked familiar.

“Hi, Joel.” The woman waved her hand awkwardly.

“Hi.” Joel answered coldly.

“Hi, babygirl.” She walked to get closer to Sarah.

Joel dragged back the shopping cart protectively so she couldn’t go closer. 

“Joel, I’m sorry.” She apologized.

“I see you’re happy now.” He looked at the man beside her.

She sighed. You just stayed quiet. This wasn’t your business to meddle in.

“I guess you’re happy too.” She looked at you. 

“Did you get the papers I sent you?” The woman asked Joel. 

Joel scoffed. You saw him clenched his fist holding the shopping cart. So you put your hand on top of his and stroked his hand with your thumb while your other hand rested on his shoulder. 

“Let’s go, honey.” You stroked his shoulder.

“I guess I’ll see you in court.” Joel said goodbye to Sarah’s mom.

“See you in court, Joel.” They parted ways.

Then, the three of you went home. Joel was quiet the whole way home and you didn’t ask him a thing. You understood they were talking about divorce papers. And you knew it made him angry. 

“Thank you for today.” He thanked you while parking his car in the driveway.

“Anytime. We had a pact, remember?” You smiled.

“I guess it works? We’re even now.” He forced a smile and frowned again.

Joel moved the groceries from the car to his house and you carried Sarah inside. Before you walked out the door to go home, you remembered Sarah hadn’t pooped yet. It had been 45 minutes since her last feed and you remembered this baby massage thing you read.

“I forgot something.” You stopped half way.

“What?” Joel closed the door.

“Sarah hasn’t pooped.” You walked back to her room.

“That’s a problem?” Joel asked.

“Yeah. I learned about this baby massage to help them fart. Can I try?” You asked Joel for permission.

“Of course. You’re the master.” He let you.

You laid Sarah on the bed and let her get a comfortable position. Before you started, you took a deep breath in and out. You started with a slow and gentle massage of her tummy, you could feel it was full of gas. You massaged her little tummy again up and down with a gentle press.

*baby farted*

“Oh! Good girl!” You praised her as you giggled.

Joel's eyes widened. He was amazed at you. He wondered how you knew about this trick. You were not even her mom but you did a lot of research. Joel adored you. 

After a few rubs on the tummy, you pumped her legs back and forth and she let out a cute fart again and again. The last one was loud but really cute. 

*baby farted*

“That was a good one, baby.” You laughed.

Joel tried not to laugh but he couldn’t hold it. He finally burst into laughter as he heard his baby farted a big one. He laughed so hard holding his stomach. His jaw probably hurt from laughing too hard.

“You laughed.” You were relieved looking at Joel finally getting his happy face back.

“I’m proud of you, sweet girl. You just made your daddy laugh.” You snuggled your face to her tummy and shook your head.

“I’ve been thinking of ways to get your smile back. Mission accomplished.” You crossed your arms to your chest and put on a proud face.

"You-" Joel wanted to say something but he stopped.

“Thank you.” Joel smiled and looked at you. 

His heart beat faster and he felt butterflies when he heard you said that. You didn’t only care about his daughter but you also cared about him. He suddenly saw sparkles around you and he blinked again to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. You were always beautiful in his eyes. But tonight, you were even more beautiful. He realized he just fell in love with the woman in front of him. His neighbor. You. Yes, Joel Miller was falling in love with you.

To be continued...

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @param8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr

[scremogirl]

★♑︎☆彡𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎✪𝐍!☆♏︎★

Haikyuu boys when they have a crush on you (Ushijima, Kyotani, Iwazumi, Aone, Bokuto)

Bokuto

There was probably a handful of ways Bokuto could have first noticed you. A; been friends before he even realized his feelings. B; been one of the managers on the volleyball team. Or, C; being a classmate mate of his, a deskmate maybe.

Regardless of how he meets you, he knows you're the one for him. Always greets you with his signature smile and a giant hug.

He always asks you to come to his games and practices; regardless if you are the manager or not. He wants to make you feel included, sharing the thing he loves the most with you. Or just wants to show off and see your face when he lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow.

Would show up at your house randomly when you didn't come to school. You didn't answer his texts or calls so he figured something must be wrong. Your parents love him so much that they just let him in.

“Hey, hey, hey! I was wondering why you weren't at school today. Your mom told me you were sick so I brought over some soup and snacks to make you feel better!” you sit up from your bed in absolute bewilderment. You look and feel like shit and here he is telling you how bored he was today without you.

“Oh!” he suddenly gasps, perking up. He walks over to his backpack and pulls out a folder. It's the Trig notes from today, his handwriting is big and sloppy, but it’s the thought that counts.

He hands it to you with his chest puffed out in pride, Man…he really does look like an owl. Cute.

When he's made bad plays and gets into one of his moods, Akashi will call you over. Complaining about how he won’t talk to anyone and just sits under the bleachers hunched over. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he turns around. When he sees you he instantly becomes better, asking *begging* you to stay. That you're his good luck charm and is surely to make all his spikes if you are here to cheer him on.

Will also *beg* ask you to wear his number to games. Will look into the crowd, locking eyes with you followed by a big thumbs up.

Aone

It was a busy day this evening; seeing as it was a couple weeks before Christmas. Meaning, that the trains were packed and full of people. You missed the bus you would usually take on your way home. It was getting dark out and you wouldn’t dare wait for the next bus to show.

You dashed your way to the nearby train station panting and out of breath. You made it just in time to catch one too. Hoping on you see that every place was full. Except for one.

Not wanting to miss the opportunity you scooted your way through the crowd and sat down. It was silent besides the usual businessmen making calls and children playing games on their parents' phones. After a while, you felt eyes on you. Craning your neck up to an almost uncomfortable degree you lock eyes with someone. He was wearing your school uniform. Oh, you know him! He was the middle blocker for your school's volleyball team.

You shot him a sweet smile and a tiny wave. His eyes widened and a blush crept on his pale face. It looked as if he was about to wave back but just then the bell signaling your stop rang. Ever since then, he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

Would leave candies and heartfelt notes on your desk and in your locker

Would try to catch a glimpse of you on his way to the train station, sitting at your bus stop.

Futakuchi notices all of his friend’s strange behavior and forces him to come to talk to you. And that's how you two became friends.

Didn't talk much but was always such a great listener, remembering the smallest things about you. Such as the classes you were struggling in; offering to tutor you and give notes. Keeping rubber bands on his writs just in case (sorry if you have short hair/ are bald 😅). Would even skip practice to walk you to the bus, always wanting to make sure you're safe.

I LOVE HIM SM; people need to write for him more 🙄

Iwaizumi

Very straight forward with his affections towards you.

It’ll take him a while to come to terms with the way he feels about you but when he does he’s not trying to hide it.

The rest of his friends would tease him about it but he’ll just brush it off because there’s no reason for him to be embarrassed about the way he feels.

Like Aone, he will walk you home everyday no matter how late it is or what he has to do. Will buy you all the snacks you want from the vending machine. Will make sure you're doing your best physically and mentally. Would force you to drink water and eat a balanced meal when he notices any signs of fatigue or famine.

Will convince you to go on morning runs with him before school. This one you're not so sure about but after all he does for you, you thought you could thug it out.

“Come on (Y/n), you can do this just a little ways to go,” he says, jogging backwards to try and stay at the same pace as you. At this point you're huffing and puffing for air bent over. He lays you on your back before going ahead of you. He looks back at you with a smirk and this mischievous glint in his eyes before speaking.

“If you finish this run maybe I’ll treat you to more than just breakfast,” throwing a cheeky wink behind his shoulder before jogging off again. You’ve never ran that fast in your life. Maybe if you're a little slick wit it, you can convince him to carry you back home.

Kyotani

A little rough around the edges to say the least.

Surprisingly, unlike his upper upperclassmen, he actually realizes his feelings pretty quickly. Noting the *not so* subtle changes in his behavior when he’s around you compared to everyone else.

He’s never been intune with his emotions, so it’ll take a while for him to make a move.

In my opinion I don’t think he’s the “mean to you because he likes you” type; he’ll most likely just avoid you if he doesn’t know you like that or just keep his feelings to himself if you’re already his friend.

Another anonymous secret admirer. Would leave food, water bottles, keychains, stuffed toys, and things he knows you like laying around for you to find.

Will try and discretely spend time with you. Wouldn’t outright say he wants to and will get all blushy and confrontational if you tease him about it.

“Hey,” you here a deep voice call out to you, already knowing who it is, you turn around with a big smile.

“Hey, Kenny! what’s up?” He makes eye contact with you for what seems like a split second before turning away with pink dusting his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I-uh… there’s… there’s this new movie coming out next Saturday. You said you hadn’t been to the theaters in a while… so, I bought tickets,” he explains, pulling out two tickets from his back pocket, still not looking at you.He shoves one in your direction before talking again.

You just stare at him with wide eyes and slightly parted mouth. He turns around after not getting an answer but as he opens his mouth to say something you fly into his arms.

“Thank you, Ken, really,”

“Ye-yea, don’t mention it”

Would treat you to ramen after you’ve done really well on a test. You have a go to spot, a little mom and pop shop. He’s been going there ever since he was little, so it means a lot to him and is a big sign of his love for you bringing you there. The owners always ask when you two would get together.

You’d just laugh it off while he blushes and stutters about how you guys are just friends. Though the owners can see the disappointment in his eyes at his own words.

Loves having late night convos with you, either at a park or on the phone. Just like how intimate it feels.

Seriously cares about you and tries to tone down his “mad dog” persona. Is aware of how abrasive he can be and doesn’t wanna scare you off. All in all, he embraces the state of vulnerability he can be in with you.

Ushijima

I absolutely hate when people paint him out to be some sort of blunt, unemotional, proper guy.

He’s not dumb. He knows the signs when someone has a crush. Sure he can be a little blunt in the way he expresses his emotions but that’s just because he feels there’s no reason to lie about how he feels. He’s not a robot.

Wouldn’t just come up to you and say he had a crush on you. He knows that’ll throw you a little off guard; he wants to make sure you like him too.

Not much of a talker, but knows how to make conversation. Would purposely start one because he knows you’ll end up getting off topic and start ranting. He loves the sound of your voice and the passion in your face when you talk.

Another one who invites you to games and practices. Would try to convince *demand* you to become the manager of his team.

“But, I don’t know anything about it besides the things you’ve told me,” you try to explain yourself with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter. Coach and I will give you a run down of everything if you need it. I wouldn’t mind explaining it to you,” he seems so confident in the fact that you’ll say yes. Tilting his head up a little higher, broad shoulders shifting back slightly, standing tall.

“Are you sure? I just don’t wanna be a burden to you or the rest of the team if I can’t get up to speed-,”

“You could never be,” he cuts you off

“Everyone wants you there… I want you there. So please, consider it”.

GUESS WHOS THE NEW MANGER!🤪

A little worried that a relationship would cut into his time with volleyball. His indifference would cause him to be distant for a while, which leads to you thinking he led you on. The more you think about it though, you know Ushijima isn’t the type to do that so he either lost feelings, or something’s wrong. You know it’s the latter but you can’t help overthinking it.

Would come up to you with a rose one day before you left school. Looks you in your eyes before apologizing about how he’s been acting. All he wants is you to reassure him that his career path won’t get in the way of you two.

Hope y’all enjoyed; let me know if you wanna part two but with different characters or in a different fandom (make sure to look at my ML). Bye guys!

-Love, Sos❤️

[hxltic]

Hello! I have a request!

Could you do something where Kenma isn't really giving the female reader any attention because he's busy streaming so the reader sneaks under his desk where the viewer's can't see her and she pleasures him until he eventually cums down her throat?

:) I un-ironically love writing bjs

The shared house was silent anytime after 5 o’clock. Kuroo had just left— his afternoon business management classes calling him in, and Bokuto’s practice overcrowded his schedule to the point where he went twice a day with some gym sessions in between. That leaves you alone with Kenma in your 4 bedroom home off campus that was supposedly his father’s apology gift.

The bills are mainly kept satisfied with Kenma’s profit as his streaming allows you all to live as you do. Of course, there was a sense of independency by your own jobs regardless. There has probably been twice where everyone was in the living room at once, but it’s like there’s a tacit agreement each of you have your own goals.

You can’t be mad at the man for being busy when his job supports his friends and himself.

Kenma has been your friend, now boyfriend, for the longest out of all of them, next in line being Kuroo. Kenma took computer engineering and coding related classes, despite having already perfected building PC’s just out of pure experience. The work is hard. You’ve seen it.

You’ve witnessed him stress first hand about a single error in a strenuous, long line of codes—and you ask him why he doesn’t stop doing it if it bothers him to the extent it does. His determination has grown for activities he enjoys over the years; 12 year old him would have quit.

Kenma’s way to deal with stress is isolation. The entire day he’s been crammed in his room, and with being the only other person in the house majority of the time, you bring it upon yourself to feed him. He gets focused and forgets to eat.

The reminder has you clicking your Ipad off from whatever distraction show you had playing. It was so boring most of the days, Netflix couldn’t even fulfill you. You toss the covers off yourself, then bounce downstairs into the kitchen.

It was so quiet that your feet patting against the floor filled the air. To cure the ennui you felt, you’d take the time to have fun with this culinary experience.

By the time there was fluffy white flour messily coating the kitchen and dishes stacked like game cards in the sink, your dish was plated for two. Maybe you’d keep him some company?

Careful not to fall up the stairs, you prod at his door in attempt to knock with one hand. Somehow you turn the knob successfully.

The fan cuts through the air, every click of Kenma’s pen accompanied with a glance to the paper beside him. He won’t even look up at the waitress bearing goods.

“Hi Ken,” you grab his attention but his slim eyes only dart up at the smell of cuisine. “Have you eaten?”

You know the answer. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, so when he shakes his head the usual strands that follow aren’t there. You place the plate on his desk, next to the two cans of some energy drink and a diet Dr. Pepper.

“Thank you,” he speaks softly. There was a hint of edge to the sound, like he hadn’t used his voice all day.

“Mhmm.”

You turn on your heels to his bed, then sit criss cross as it squeaks and dips. “Do you mind if I just stay in here? It gets lonely in the house.”

To be honest, you forget he’s there sometimes.

“I’m kinda busy,” he replies. He loves you, and your presence, but he just knows he won’t be able to focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

The pout you flaunt deepens, “You’ve been stuck in here for almost a week now! Come out; I miss you Ken.”

He refrains himself from turning to look at you because he knows when he weighs his options, you’ll always come out on top. The chances of you getting picked multiply with your pout.

“Soon, I just need to finish this.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t even have a valid response for that, so he forces the spoon into his mouth. You’re actually a great cook, but since you all eat so much takeout, nobody’s at the dinner table at the same time to enjoy it.

You huff and negotiate to just sit in silence, as long as you’re in his presence. As long as you know he’s there.

This only lasts about fifteen minutes before you’re whining for him again. You completely understand the heavy load of schoolwork, and that it has to get done, but he genuinely has been at it for so long it cannot be healthy.

“I’m done,” he announces coincidentally, his soft fingers coming up to brush a tendril of hair back as he gathers his things on the desk into a neat pile.

Your head perks up like a puppy at attention. He arises from his chair after closing the laptop, pulling his rubber band from the hair connected at his nape as he steps towards you laying on his bed. You giggle in expectancy when he smiles gingerly at you, reaches his arms forward around your feet to plant his hands on the duvet, then crawls up your body. The hair tie wraps around his wrist to join all the other colorful bracelets and bands.

He makes you swoon by just giving you attention.

His hands grew into proportion as he aged, so now they were relatively large. Large enough to connect at your hips as he kisses his way up.

Stomach, chest, then an abundance on your chin and around your face, just for his thumb and index finger to hold your cheeks in position for his softer, slower kiss right on your lips.

You wrap your arms around him like he’d just disintegrate any second. You can feel his body slump, leaving you with most of his weight to carry and his head withdrawing from the kiss to between your breasts. With one hand massaging the round muscle, Kenma was in his element.

Black with barely-there blonde crowds your vision. His soft skin felt warm as you two lay intertwined in the still house, and if you were to fall asleep it would greatly help that Kenma never keeps the big light on. He moans in satisfactory below you.

You lift your hand to rest over his face, the bigger part of your thumb gliding gently over his cheek.

“I love you,” he mutters.

“I love you too Ken.”

After a while of Kenma following your heartbeat and breathing, you would’ve guessed he was asleep. He clarifies he isn’t when he groans lowly.

“I have to get up.”

The words rest tensely in the air, and maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him, he’ll lay there and forget about it.

He attempts to raise himself from you, politely grabbing your hand and locking your fingers when he comes to a hover above. His pink lips come to the corner of yours as you blink open your eyes.

Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to be with you, here, resting—but he hasn’t streamed in a solid week because of school. You were completely his priority though, so he would make sure to give you equal attention as his stream.

He finds the little willpower to come off you and the bed. He was genuinely hoping you’d stay there and sleep peacefully, that way he’ll come back to join you and it will feel like he never left.

He flips a blanket over your body before he strolls to his setup usually beaming with bright lights. He takes a seat, making sure to turn the brightness down of everything, refraining from playing music, and ultimately deciding not to turn on any light not connected to his PC anyway.

As much as you hate that he’s not cuddled up next to you right now, you love the fact that he’s a steamer overall because he looks so damn hot doing it. Especially the way his muscles on his forearm flex as he quickly types or plays. His hair that’s usually up is down, because he isn’t wearing his mic.

Or like the way every now and then he’ll pop a piece of gum in his mouth and manspread in his gaming chair to shoot a quick message or check his feed. Or like the way he’s so attent, making call-outs, or whenever he gets angry his brows furrow the slightest bit and his face displays whatever he’s actually thinking. You find it hilarious when his eyes roll.

At some point, he hears you come up behind him into view, and his head relaxes into your two hands sliding up his neck to his jaw. You crouch into the screen and the chat immediately multiples. It’s too quick to read them all. Knowing his viewers, Kenma takes the responsibility of closing it with the click of a button, so fast that it seems he never even did it.

“Cracked, 130,” he calls.

You stood there for a moment to watch him play. He and his team beat the level, game, you don’t know, but he releases his focus from the screen and mindlessly cracks his knuckles.

A donation comes in that’s read aloud. Kenma tenses, but you’re excited to hear it.

“jump1nnit donates $70. ‘girl to girl, is it big?’”

Kenma’s head drops back in your hands, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. Where were his mods?

All you were thinking about was how much Kenma was actually earning. 70 dollars in a single donation? How many of these does he get a day? How much more do people pay that’s over 70 when you aren’t here?

You shake these questions away. You knew he was famous. This was not new information; his fans see you sometimes in the background, and they adore you. It’s why your instagram has so many followers and people saying outrageous things in your comments. Ken begs you not to check them.

You find it amusing honestly. God knows what he’s being sent despite his DM’s or what they’re saying in his chats. You know there’s girls all over the world after him, but he doesn’t entertain them, so you don’t either. You trust him completely.

Brought back to reality, you look down at Kenma.

He starts, “Are you-“

To rile up the scene, you nod at the monitor with a mischievous smirk on your face. You bend and kiss his forehead.

“Can I sit right here?” You ask quickly, already pulling up his desk stool because he has no reason to say no. He takes your momentary absence to mute the computer.

“Yeah. yeah, Definitely.”

The blonde’s tone is a little off, but you chalk it up to what just happened. He was just surprised you’d actually respond. He ignores them so he doesn’t get demonetized.

So you sit next to him on your phone playing games, or watching him, or laying on his shoulder. It made it a little difficult for him to play with the last one, but he doesn’t mind. He places a kiss to your forehead, matching earlier actions, and the way you two looked at each other after will definitely reel in some fan edits.

You return to gaming on your phone until you drop it. It tumbles down and under the PC, into the jungle of wires below.

At least with everything included in the setup, that’s what you expect to see, but they’re all neatly accounted for. The seat moves back against the carpet to accommodate for your body, the space you’ve created to retrieve the device. The problem is, you and Kenma occupy this space. You won’t fit.

Kenma heard your phone drop, so he had an idea why you’re down there. He even chuckled a little. Once you pick up the phone, you use his thigh as leverage to turn yourself around, causing him to flinch, and immediately an idea pops into your head.

You could stay down here.

You press the heart of your palm into him once more, the same reaction procreating ideas like a lightbulb.

His voice from above makes another callout.

The lightness of your fingertips glide across his thigh and up to his waist, slipping past the barrier of the thin shirt he’s wearing. Kenma is not ticklish, but his abdomen turns concave to your touch.

By now he has concluded what is happening, or going to happen, and just the thought has him hardening in front of you. Of course it’s something he’s thought about. He hasn’t asked because it feels unnatural—like you would only do it because he suggested it.

His poker face remains stone cold, but the rest gives him away. With every touch you only got closer. You trail your whole hand up the shirt, running this one along the dips of his pale skin, while the other goes back and forth along his thigh. Inwards, then back out. Your phone was long forgotten.

You run the length of your fingers over his center sneakily before meeting both hands in the middle and fiddling with his waistband. He shivers, but continues to play.

He hadn’t been purposely edging himself, and he definitely knows that you would help him whenever he asked, but with all the schoolwork piled on top of him, it never crossed his mind. It was now though, and sensitivity was at its highest.

“No, why would you do that; that’s stupid,” Kenma replies to what you assume is a donation. The technological voice isn’t there anymore for you to hear.

The tips of your nails dive past every ounce of clothing settled at his hips.

He shifts in his seat, whether to allow you to pull the band down just enough or to calm his nerves, you don’t know, but the opportunity was right in front of your face. Literally.

You don’t even do anything but hold his length before you start the up and down motions. It’s enough to turn him on more, having him grow in your hand. You can’t imagine the faces he’s making while his viewers’ minds were already polluted.

“Keep going, push,” he exclaims. Voice still soft, but with some sense of urgency.

He was not speaking to you, but you listen anyway, and do as he says. Maybe you could play a game: see how long it takes before he realizes you’re taking orders.

With this, you stroke him a little faster, then run your fleshy thumb over his tip. It began dripping, a single bud threatening to fall. After swiping it away, you disperse what little you could, then wrap your plush lips around his head.

He wasn’t expecting it right after your slow pace.

“Ugh, fuck- third party.”

The groan he emitted was covered quickly by a call, as if that’s what “frustrated” him.

You pop off as quickly as you came, spread your saliva, and now slide your enclosed hand down his cock steadily. Silky smooth, it took no energy to glide along him. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his thigh through the cotton.

“Down, he’s under and one shot.”

You jerk him off as his breathing barely picks up, occasionally coming down to wet him some more, but you see a significant difference when your hand consistently twists just the tip. You’d swirl your tongue around the reddening, most sensitive part of him before dropping even farther to take his balls in your mouth.

You tug and pull harmlessly.

“Hmm...”

Despite what was going on, the streamer was clever with how he hid it.

He asks, “Hey, what do y’all want to hear?”

The viewers were astonished they were being asked; Kenma has previously told them he likes his music and would play whatever he felt like hearing. He did a stream for song recommendations and half of it was him hating on their music and the other half was his viewers attempting to find songs he would like.

Regardless, he unmuted the sound on his computer and turned on the playlist, only slightly louder than usual.

You took this opportunity to actually wrap your lips around his cock, not having to worry about the sounds. You start on the slower side but it didn’t take long to get comfortable. Whatever you couldn’t fit, you jerked off.

His abdomen showcased whatever his face wouldn’t, stuttering every now and then with his hips correcting their position. You brought the wet hand to his balls once more, and attempted to fit all of him down your throat. There was a deep sigh above you.

You closed your eyes and went again, trying to go deeper. You didn’t gag, but your throat made sounds that was enough implication of what was going on. That’s okay though. Some random band one of his mods recommended was playing.

Once more, you tried to go deeper, actually sputtering this time, but once you got past the uncomfortableness of it all, you could go the same depth over and over. You did, breathing through your nose. He could hear your throat, but chat couldn’t. If they could, they would be saying something.

“Oh shit, oh shit, he’s on me,” he huffs, “I’m gonna twist around to cover.”

You remove yourself, partially to breathe, and take two hands to twist on top of each other in opposite directions. His belly button caves in with some more muscles, pure evidence of his pleasure.

This was the second he knew what you were doing. What game you were playing.

If you wanted to play, he could too.

“Where is she?” he reads chat calmly. “I think she’s downstairs eating.”

Was it calm enough—you’re not sure, because he was fidgeting excessively in the leaning chair.

The double entendre has you giggling silently. With a deep breath, you’re back down on him again. It’s not long until you sputter.

“Do you want me to tell her to come back up?” You hear him spit out quickly.

You do as he says, but not without the price of your fingers doubling speed at his head.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Hold on.”

With quickness, he mutes and turns his camera off.

He was sweating and physically overwhelmed. Pushing back on his heels, his chair rolls from under the table with you following, finally in his sight. He could already imagine how you looked.

Red lips. Glowing face. Glossy eyes, smiling and happy. You were ethereal. Your hands are working him, but now with his cock down your throat too? Oh my god.

He held a soft touch at your cheek and caressed your face with his thumb. Picking up speed, you smile.

The other hand of his would do the same, brushing a loose stand of hair behind your ear. Faster.

“Just like that,” he breathes.

“Mhmm?” you deepthroat him.

His head drops back involuntarily. His mouth does the same. The heavy breaths that he was holding from the stream let loose.

One last look at your flushed features and-

He groans heavily, adam’s apple bobbing and cock tightening. Skin usually pale but red with desire, he stills.

You close your eyes. It was so fulfilling with your throat stretched and his hands on either side of your plush face.

Warmth seeps past your tongue and down the cavern. It causes you to choke but Kenma definitely doesn’t mind. His sounds flow into your ears, plus some faint praise as he soon begins to release from his high.

You couldn’t taste anything as you slowly raise yourself from him, leaving his cock glistening with saliva and pink, but the taste just barely started to form once it caught your tongue on the way down. You swallow anyway—it wasn’t bad.

You use the back of your hand to wipe your eyes and breathe freely. You lay your cheek on the driest part of his pants, even though you’ll have to get up. You just aren’t ready to see the red wilts on your knees.

“You are amazing,” Kenma catches his breath. He looks back down with his eyes glossed over and tired, but he still runs his finger over your wet lip. You softly kiss it.

. .

“Are you getting back on?” You climb into his fluffy bed, throwing the covers back.

Kenma shakes his head and follows after you in a fresh new set. He grabs the covers and returns them over you both, pushing his hair back and holding you close.

©️ hxltic

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE (CH 2) | Michael x Reader

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

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

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

WARNING: graphic depiction of deaths, animal violence

PREV || NEXT

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

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

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

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

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

But progress was progress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded once and you smirked.

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

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

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

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

Hopefully, you thought to yourself. Hopefully he will.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael was eerily still. Just staring at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No point in hiding it anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael didn't budge.

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

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

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

It was the best you could do, really…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which wasn't hard, after everything that happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[samfkiszka]

Paper Bag: Chapter Three

Vampire!Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Hunger Hurts, and I want him so bad, oh, it kills...

★・・・・・・★

Forced to move back to your father's hometown the summer before your first year at college, you had resided yourself to the fact that the next few months were going to suck.

But that was before you were reacquainted with Danny next door. And before you got a brand new job at a dusty old bookstore run by an eccentric old woman. And before Jake walked into said bookstore, poised to turn your entire world upside down.

Warnings (for this chapter): SMUT!! 18+ ONLY! Oral (female receiving), fingering, Jake being a slut, you know how it is. Cursing. Cheesy writing. Allusions to him biting you (it doesn’t actually happen though). Seriously NSFW, MINORS DNI.

Word count: 5,782

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Masterlist

taglist form if you're interested <3

★・・・・・・★

Several days had passed with no word from Jake or Danny. Danny had stayed true to his word. He wasn’t going to protect you anymore. He stopped walking you to and from work everyday, and despite your anger towards him you missed your nightly chats. You also missed the safety you had felt walking beside him as the sun began to set. Besides that, work grew boring without Jake’s usual visit. How you had managed to fuck everything up in one night was truly beyond you. In less than twenty-four hours you had pushed away the only two people that even remotely cared about you in town. It didn’t matter what Jake was now; it was clear to you that he too had no interest in seeing you anymore. 

You turned even more irritable as days without word from Jake, or Danny, went by. Even Mrs. Palmer noticed their absences from the bookstore. Most likely because she noticed your sour mood. And much like your mood, the weather grew increasingly worse as the days passed. You spent more than one night wringing out damp clothes after making it back home and combing through tangled, soaked hair. 

You fell into a routine. Wake up. Go to work alone. Work a boring shift. Walk home in the rain, alone. Wake up. Go to work alone. Work a boring shift. Walk home, soaked by a torrential downpour, alone. No Danny. No Jake. And it continued like this for much longer than you wanted it to. 

Even your father noticed Danny’s absence, although he seemed moderately pleased that he wouldn’t have to deal with the overly cheery intruder. He didn’t mention Jake, but you were sure he was simply glad to not have to discuss boys any longer. 

Two weeks went by before he finally came back into the store. It took you by surprise– he didn’t quite look like himself. His eyes sported deep purple blooms underneath them, he cheeks seemed more sunken than usual, and his skin was nearly an entire shade paler— if that was possible. Despite all this, he still looked entirely too beautiful for your liking. The anger you had been harboring over his disappearance faded momentarily. Much like your inability to be afraid of him, it seemed to be just as difficult to be angry at him. And it was nice to see him again. It was as if he had never left, as if that night had happened only yesterday. 

But you had to keep up a front. There was no way you’d let him get away with this now. 

You kept your attention on the book you had been reading to pass the time, trying your hardest to ignore the feeling of his eyes bearing down onto you. His boots clicked against the linoleum floors as he slowly made his way to the front desk.

“I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. It’s unfair of me to disappear without warning like that. Please forgive me.” 

You glance up at him, taking in his disheveled appearance. He looked truly sorry, and the begging tone in his voice only pushed you closer to forgiving him. It’s not like you could stay mad at him for very long. 

“Say something. Please,” he begged. 

“Can you at least tell me where you went?” 

He glanced down, wincing. That was enough of an answer for you. Above anything, you were tired of people refusing to give you answers.

“But, I know you know. At least a little bit of the truth. Will… will you let me explain? Please?” He rushed out. 

You nod, wondering if somehow your bullshit theories from before were true. As the week had passed you had realized how absolutely laughable Jake being a vampire was. A rash moment of very idiotic thinking. That’s what you chalked it up to. A bout of temporary insanity that Danny fed into out of jealousy. What he had to be jealous of, you had no clue. But Jake’s words from the last time you had seen him seemed to ring true. 

Jake stood in the corner, eyes towards the floor as you quickly closed up and bid Mrs. Palmer a swift goodbye. 

He followed behind you quietly as you locked up the store and turned to face him, hands on your hips in an attempt to seem more stern than you really were. 

“Speak.” 

“Where do you want me to start?” He looked utterly defeated as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“What are you?” You asked, as if it was that simple.  

“You know what I am.” 

You scoff, “No. You’re not getting away with this dancing around the subject stuff. Tell me everything.” 

“I’m-” he hesitated, staring at the pavement as he fought the urge to be vague, “I’m a vampire.” 

“Do you- do you eat… people?” You cringe as you ask, feeling even stupider with each passing moment. 

“No. My brother’s and I… only animals,” he clarified. 

“How old are you?” 

“Twenty.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Sixty-eight. I’m really not that old-” 

“How?” 

He glanced around nervously at the darkening sky, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards his car– you hadn’t noticed that you were standing right next to where he had parked on the side of the street. 

“Let’s talk about this in here.” 

You nod, sliding into the warm leather seats with a huff. He started driving the opposite direction from your house, but as long as you were getting much needed answers you didn’t mind where he took you. 

“I was… a promising musician,” he chuckled as he began, “I know it sounds stupid, but I was young. I wanted to do something, to be someone. All I was interested in was music. My parents, they wanted me to go off to school. I had dreams, and they had their own, but once they realized how serious I was they supported me. I played in shitty, sketchy dive bars… with my brothers actually. We wanted to be as big as The Beatles, bigger even. Sam played the bass, Josh sang, and I played the guitar. We rotated a few drummers, but never really found our fit. It felt right, being on stage. I mean, I was scared shitless. Half the time I played with my back facing the crowd because I was so terrified,” He chuckled, a wistful looking glazeing over his features.

“I fell in with a bad crowd, I guess. I didn’t notice how different they were from other bands I had met. I didn’t pay attention to the fact that every instinct in my body screamed at me to get away from them. One night, Josh and I got into a huge fight. He found out I was planning on going to Nashville without them. It was selfish, stupid of me to even think about leaving. I was… I wanted to make it. Like, really make it. And this band I had met, they told me this was where I needed to go. So, Josh stormed off, taking Sammy with him. I decided to get wasted. To drown my sorrows, I guess. Ended up in a dark alley behind the bar, nearly bleeding out. Josh told  my family I had gone to Nashville. They had no idea. Who would? 

“I woke up alone. The other band, the one who had changed me, they were gone. I had no idea what I was. All I knew is it felt like there was a monster inside of me. I knew I couldn’t go home, not like that. So, I watched from a distance. I watched my mother and father mourn me, under the assumption that I ran away. I watch my brothers go on without me, harboring some resentment towards me for leaving. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted nothing more than to go to them, to tell them I never would have actually left them. I loved them– I still do. 

“Josh and I were twins. We were… close. He was my best friend. I suppose he still is. Despite being perpetually older than me, he’ll always be my twin. I couldn’t live without him. I wasn’t really living, per se, but it would never be a life without him. I was lonely and bored. It was a moment of weakness, and I’ll regret it forever. But, I turned him. I couldn’t bear the thought of outliving him. I never knew life without him. He never blamed me. He’s always been too forgiving for his own good. 

“And Sam, my baby brother. I never wanted to turn him. Josh and I wanted to protect him. To allow him to live his life as a human, the life he always planned. Despite losing both of us, he seemed to be happy. Lonely, but happy. He thought Josh ran away to find me. He would have eventually, at least. But Sam… he wasn’t miserable like I had been without Josh. I believed he was capable of making it on his own. But… our parents died just a year after I turned Josh, leaving Sam completely alone. We couldn’t watch him live like that, live thinking we had just left him to suffer alone. Not when we could do something. He stopped playing music. He never ended up studying science the way he planned. It seemed like he was giving up. We gave him a second chance at life. I turned to him too. Josh couldn’t do it.” 

“We knew immediately how hard it was going to be to keep Sam in control. Newborn Vampires are tricky. It’s hard– denying your primal instincts. It was easier with Josh. And when I woke up… well, I hated myself so badly I refused to give in to any sort of pleasure. In addition to this, I now had the added burden of reading everyone else's thoughts.” 

“What?” 

“Oh,” he chuckled again, tearing his eyes from the road to glance at you quickly, “yeah. That part. That’s the part they don’t tell you. Sometimes when people are changed their abilities from when they were human become… amplified. I’ve always been very good at reading people, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he explained. 

It all began to make sense. How he was able to answer questions you hadn't asked, how he was always one step ahead of you, how he knew things about you that you had never told him before. You shuddered at the thought of him reading every thought you’ve ever had about him… especially the more sinful ones. The smirk that blessed his perfect lips was not lost on you. 

All you could do was laugh. Hysterically. Hard enough that you had to grip the dashboard to stabilize yourself. Tears pushed past your eyes as you struggled to breathe. You didn’t miss the occasional look of worry Jake passed you while you attempted to calm down. 

“What about your brothers?” You asked in between gasps of air. “Do- do they have powers like you?” 

“They can’t read minds, although I’m sure Josh wishes he could. Sam is very good at controlling emotions. He always had a very good sense of feeling what other people felt. And Josh… Well, Josh can see the future to an extent. On top of the other stuff. When he came to it was a lot easier to control him– he was assaulted by visions of the future. He knew he would have the willpower to avoid killing anyone.” 

“Okay,” you huff, “Read minds. Control emotions. See the future. Other stuff.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m drawn to you in a way I’ve never been drawn to any other human. Or any vampire for that matter.” He slides the car into park. You had been so attuned to his storytelling that you hadn’t noticed him circle around the entire town, finally making it back to your house. “I have developed a sense of self control throughout the years. I don’t find the idea of killing other people appealing, no matter what Danny or anyone else believes. Sure, it’d be safer for you to run from me. You deserve someone who will grow and change with you. Someone who’s heart races at the sight of you. But… I told you before. I can’t stay away from you. If you told me to leave, if you wanted me to go away right now, I would.” 

You remain silent, searching your brain for the right words to say.

“Are you scared?” He asked, worry lacing his voice.

“I’m not scared of you. I never have been. I really like you Jake. I know physically you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, but even when I thought you were human I felt… well I’m sure you know how I felt.” 

“I actually… Well, I really don’t have the best grasp of your thoughts. I can read them, but they’re muddled. I have to focus. It’s like you can actually push me out. No one else has been able to do that. Sometimes I catch you off guard, and I get really clear glimpses. Other times, I just catch the feeling.” 

Your racing heart steadied at this admission. So, he hadn’t really heard the worst of it. 

“Do you at least feel enlightened now?” He asked. 

“I guess. My entire world view has been turned upside down, but sure, enlightened.” 

“Any more questions?” 

“Why didn’t you kiss me the other night?” 

Whatever he had expected you to ask, it wasn’t that. He stammered for a moment, stumbling over his words. 

“I wanted to, God, I’ve never wanted someone more than I want you. But, I’m… scared,” his voice cracked and he felt so utterly human in that moment, “I’ve never been so close to anyone, not like this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You lean across the center console, inching your face closer to his. 

“You do realize how stupid you are? I may be able to resist hurting you from a distance, but when you’re this close-” 

“Just kiss me Jake. I trust you. Please.” Now it was your turn to sound desperate. 

His hand gently cupped your cheek, the cool marble feeling comforting the burning blush that painted your face. 

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to touch you like this. From the moment I met you, all I could think about was this.” 

“Then do it.” 

He slowly pulled you close to him, his lips brushing yours slightly. 

“Our first kiss isn’t going to be in my car,” He whispered, just low enough so that you could barely hear him. He pulled back, a shit eating grin spread across his face. 

You groan, opening your own door and stomping out of the car, ignoring his taunting calls until he quickly caught up to you. He pulled you into his body, his arms enveloping you smoothly. 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t kiss you tonight.” 

Rain was starting to drizzle down, as it had every night before. It picked up just as soon as it started, falling down heavily around the two of you. A drop rolled down his perfect nose, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him to kiss you, to hold you like this forever, to- 

His lips crashed against yours, his wet hair sticking to your face. You grasped at his soaked shirt, ignoring the disgusting, wet, squelching noise it made. The whimper that sounded from him was much more interesting anyway. His body pressed against yours, your clothes sticking together as you moved against him. Your mouth parted slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. Warmth spread across your chest, your heart pounding fervently against his still one. The woodsy scent of whatever cologne he always wore made you dizzy. All of him made you dizzy. You could tell from the sheer desperation in the way he kissed you that he wanted this– no, he needed this– more than you did. Your head was swimming as he pulled back, allowing you to gulp down quick, sharp breaths. 

“Holy fuck,” was all you could manage to get out as his golden eyes bore into yours. 

“I want to see you again. I’m not going to leave you like that anymore. I can’t,” somehow you were able to make out his lilting whisper against the downpour. 

You may have hated the rain before, but fuck were you thankful for it now. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

You nod, unable to speak. You hoped the ear splitting grin that breaking your face was enough for him. He leads you to your door, pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead before leaving, his car peeling out towards the flooding streets. 

Your fingers brushed over your lips, the ghost of your kiss still lingering as you watched him leave. You ignore the painful feeling of being watched, pretending like you don’t see Danny’s curtains pull closed in a flash out of the corner of your eye. The rain didn’t matter. Danny didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered right now. His scent, his taste, the feel of his body crashing against yours— that’s what mattered. That’s all you could think about as you all but float into your room. You welcome the warm shower, the dry clothes you had laid out even before leaving the house that morning, the comfort of your bed. It felt right. It felt more than right, it felt perfect. 

There wasn’t even a drop of worry about the next day. 

You didn’t dream last night— at least you can’t remember what you dreamed of when you woke up. All you could recall was the beautiful sense of calm you felt. It may have been the first good night of sleep you had since moving to town. For once the anxiety about Danny, the worries about Jake, they were gone. Nothing seemed to matter as much anymore. Nothing but your intense need to see Jake again, the pulling urge to feel his lips against yours once more. 

Your father was out of the house once more for a work related emergency, at least that’s what the note he stuck on the fridge said. His absence was welcome. You didn’t need him questioning you about Jake anymore, at least not right now. Not until you had wrapped your own head around it. Besides, you had enough to deal with today. 

It was too much to spend another day agonizing over what clothes Jake was going to see you in; you felt that if he had already seen the deepest parts of your mind then it really didn’t matter if he saw you in a much loved t-shirt. You weren’t even sure when he would arrive. All he had given you last night was the quick promise that he’d be here. Oddly enough, the strange pulling feeling you had whenever he was around grew increasingly stronger when a sharp knock at your door tore you away from the breakfast you had been shoveling down. 

You struggled with the door once again, cursing it as you swung it open to reveal the man who had been consuming your every waking moment since he stepped into your life. He looked significantly better than last night, the dark circles under his eye fading to a paler pink. His lips quirked up in a coy smile as he took you in, swinging an arm around you and pulling you in for a swooping hug. 

“Sorry, I know I didn’t tell you a time. I just missed you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck. This didn’t seem like the same man that had been so keen on staying away from you. 

“It was only a little while,” you laugh. 

“Maybe for you. I don’t sleep.” 

He pulls back, grinning as he watches you walk back through the doorway.

“Do you need to be invited in or is that another myth?” 

“A myth. I just like staring at you.” 

You feel heat rush towards your cheeks as you turn around quickly to avoid his gaze. He followed suit, easily shutting the door you so often fought with. 

“So what’s on the docket today?” He asked, leaning against your fridge as you hurried to clean up breakfast. 

“I was going to ask you the same.” 

“I was hoping I could question you the same way you questioned me yesterday,” he propositioned.

“Ask me what?”  You were utterly taken about. What could you have to tell him that was nearly as interesting as what he told you the night before?  On top of the new knowledge that he could read your mind– no matter how muddled– what could he possibly want to know? 

“It’s hard not being able to get a clear read. There are plenty of things I need to know. Your deepest, darkest secrets for instance. Like… What’s your favorite color?” 

You mumble out the same color you had always considered your favorite– although now you were sure your favorite color was the same rich amber as his eyes. 

“Favorite movie?” 

“The Princess Bride.” 

He grinned widely, settling into one of the worn seats adjacent yours, “Of course. I knew you had good taste. Favorite food?” 

“I’m not sure. It changes from day to day.” 

“Hm,” he tilted his head while he thought, “what’s the best birthday present you’ve ever gotten?” 

This one stumped you. You had never really been one to celebrate yourself, birthday or not. 

“You’ve never had a birthday party?” Jake seemed genuinely astonished as he poked and prodded through your thoughts. 

“I guess not. I don’t really like the attention. My dad would just give me money and tell me to buy whatever I wanted. Not all of us have nearly seventy attempts to get it right.” You shrug. 

This seemed to really bother him. More than it should, at least that’s what you thought. 

“When is your birthday?” 

You gave him the date, scowling as you said it. “Seriously, how many questions do you have?” 

“Only a couple more. Favorite book?” 

You prattled off a list of favorites, not being able to pick only one. His features softened as he took you in, commenting once again that you had good taste. 

“What about music? What are you into?” 

You had been waiting for this one, so you straightened up expectantly as soon as he asked. “Classic rock. Old stuff. Well… not old to you. Hendrix, John Lee Hooker, Zeppelin. The Beatles. Queen,” you listed, taking a breath as you continued, “Janis Joplin, Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd-” 

“Okay,” he cut you off, “I guess you have great music taste too.” 

“I try. Shoot me your next question rockstar, I’m ready.” You stared him down, a daring smile on your face. 

“I only have one more.” He leaned closer, the woodsy scent that accompanied him invading your senses. He was so suffocating you couldn’t even respond. You knew he noticed your racing heart, the quickening of your breath. What more could he have to ask?

 “Can I kiss you again?” 

It was his turn to catch you by surprise. Still, you nod curtly, biting your lip nervously as he got even closer. His fingers traced your jawline softly before his hand reached up to cup the back of your head, gently coaxing you forward. His lips met yours in a much softer manner than they had the night before, slowly working in time with the beat of your heart. Your hands slowly snaked their way into his hair, tangling up his otherwise perfect brown locks. You tugged involuntarily, feeling entirely lost in the movements of his lips. It was like you forgot how to breathe, forgot everything around you except for him. His lips were just as cold as the rest of his body, just as cold as the night before, and yet you didn’t mind. He pulled you impossibly closer, so much so that you were nearly sitting on top of him, squished together in the shoddy wooden chair. It felt like hours passed like this, and the increasing discomfort of your current position meant nothing as his hands explored your body, dropping lower and lower. A familiar fire sparked in your belly, the same feeling you felt when you watched his fingers flick through pages of old books. 

He pulled back, and you whined at the sudden loss of contact. 

“Not close enough,” he groaned. 

“Upstairs?” you manage to pant out. 

He pulls you into him, moving up the creaky stairs at speeds you never thought you'd be able to move. The door to your room swung open with a crack, and you didn’t even have time to worry about the splintered wood before he threw you on the bed. You stared up at him through heavily lidded eyes, taking him in his entirety. 

“Need you, so fucking bad,” he mumbled as he was on top of you again, pressing wet kisses into the side of your neck, “You have no idea how long I’ve thought of this.” 

Words didn’t matter. All you could do was focus on getting a full breath in. In his presence, when he was like this, everything felt ten times more difficult than normal.

“I could bite you, right now. No one would even know. You’ve made it impossibly easy for me,” he continued teasingly, staring at the exposed side of your neck. 

Your heart skipped a beat, maybe even several. But not out of fear– no, you found yourself wanting him to. To give in, to bite you, to do it. Some disgusting, depraved part of you wanted to satisfy him in ways you would never be able to. 

“God, you’re filthy. I don’t need to read your thoughts to know what you're thinking about.” 

You didn’t need words. He had enough for the both of you. 

“Take this off,” he commanded, tugging at the bottom of your shirt. You obliged, but you weren’t going to expose yourself even more without some form of recompensation. 

“You too.” It felt childish, the way you begged him. Nevertheless, he gave you what you wanted, discarding his shirt quickly. You reached down to fumble with his belt buckle, but he swatted your hand away with a tsk. 

“Not today, angel.” 

You sulked at his refusal, but he barely gave you a second to dwell on it. He leaned in once more, pressing a chaste kiss on your swollen lips with a grin. 

“Don’t pout. This is for you,” he chastised, pushing you down gently until you were laying on your propped up pillows. His hand ran along the edge of your shorts, pulling at them slightly. “May I?” He whispered, and all you could do was nod. He frowned at your refusal to speak before starting again, “Need to hear you say it.” 

“Please-” you were surprised to hear your voice sounding cracked and dry, but you kept going, “Touch me, Jake. Anything. Need you so bad.” 

At any other moment you would have been ashamed at how pathetically desperate you sounded. But Jake looked at you with so much adoration that you could not find yourself to care. 

“Of course, angel. How can I say no to you?” 

The coolness of his skin sent shivers up your spine as he pulled your shorts down at an agonizingly slow pace. You wanted to rush him, to plead him to go faster, but the look in his eyes told you to bite your tongue. 

“All this for me?” He smirked when he saw that you had completely soaked through your underwear. He seemed genuinely shocked for a moment. How could a man who had access to your mind, no matter how muddled, doubt your feelings for him? 

“Only for you. You drive me insane, Jake,” you whispered, suddenly embarrassed at being this physically exposed to him. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you, but you still blushed at his words. 

His hand ghosted over your clothed clit, the temperature difference making you feel dizzy. He continued his tantalizing pace, barely touching you where you needed him most as he leaned down to pepper your face and neck with kisses. 

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped in between his movements. 

“You-” was all that you could manage. But it was no longer enough for him. You could tell from the gentle frown that ghosted over his features that he wanted more from you. “Your mouth, your hands, anything,” you pleaded. 

He worked his way down your body, pressing open mouth kisses over your chest. You sucked in a breath of shock when he suddenly brought his mouth to your exposed nipple. This was such a stark difference from the man who was wary of even kissing you the night before. Your hands flew to his hair again, tugging so roughly that he whimpered into your skin. You knew you couldn’t cause him pain, but the sensation must be nice enough without it. 

He continued his assault on your skin down your stomach, and you admired the soft pink blooms he left in his wake. They were sure to turn purple later, but you didn’t care. They were proof that this was real, that he was real. 

He reached the band of your underwear, staring at you for quick confirmation before tearing them off of you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathed out, staring at you so intensely that you wanted to shy away. But you couldn’t– he was holding your legs so tightly that you were sure there would be fingerprint shaped bruises painting your thighs later. You know he didn’t mean to be so rough. He already looked at you like you were made of glass. He was so lost in his own lust that he forgot just how breakable you were. 

He pressed more kisses into your thigh, losing his early composure and tormenting pace in his excitement. Your hips lifted up slightly to meet his face, begging for any sort of friction as he got just close enough to give you what you wanted so badly. 

Please. Please. Anything. Please. Jake, please. You chanted like a prayer in your mind, hoping that he got the drift. 

Without warning he pressed a kiss to your clit, and all you could do was gasp his name. His eyes never left yours, staring up at you lovingly as he began to lap at you like a man starved. He seemed to melt against the heat of your cunt, becoming more frenzied as you whimpered nothing but his name. 

He was all encompassing. He was all you could think about. 

“Jesus, fuck, that feels so good.” You tugged at his hair as he continued, pressing his face even deeper against you.

He whined at your praise, and the vibration nearly overwhelmed you. 

“Holy fuck, Jake,” you coaxed him on, squeezing your thighs around his head so tightly you worried for his safety for a moment– before remembering you had nothing to worry about. 

One of his hands relinquished its grip on your thigh as he slid two fingers down to your entrance. You felt dizzy at the thought of him inside of you, and suddenly it was all you wanted. As if your thoughts were clearer than ever, he slowly pushed his way in without an ounce of begging from you. He started slowly, the added pressure from his tongue on your clit making you feel intoxicated. It wasn’t long before you were seeing nothing but stars. You squeezed your eyes shut, no longer able to keep them open, despite how badly you wished to keep looking at Jake. 

The fire in your stomach had spread all over your body at this point. You could tell you were close. Jake must have been able to as well– of course he could. He once again knew what you needed without you having to ask. He sped his movements up, maintaining his rhythmic pace. The wet noises he was making, paired with your near constant string of praise, were almost musical together. It was almost too overwhelming. His movements were nearly animalistic as he acted like you were the last meal he would ever eat. 

Time seemed to slow as you reached your peak, screaming his name so loudly you were sure everyone in a ten mile radius heard you. You felt like you had left your body– it took a second for your vision to come back, and for the ringing in your ears to fade. 

He pulled back after a moment, panting. You could tell that he enjoyed putting on a show– you knew he had no need to breathe. His face was covered in a mixture of… well you and his own spit. He brought his fingers to his mouth, making yet another show of cleaning them off. His eyes were dark as he pulled them out with a lewd pop, grinning almost drunkenly at the way you stared at him.

You lay there gulping in sweet air, Jake-scented air, like you would never breathe again. He flopped down unceremoniously next to you, crossing his hands over his chest triumphantly. 

“How-“

“You know, I did know how to… have fun before I was turned.” 

“I thought… I thought you were scared of getting too close.” you huffed, struggling to breathe right. 

“A lot can change in a night.” 

Whatever that meant. 

“At least I get to taste you this way,” he joked, earning a slap on the chest from you. Again, not that you couldn’t hurt him. 

You felt like you were never going to fall back into your body. He made you feel disgustingly stupid, intoxicated by nothing but him. Unfortunately, much like always, he didn’t give you time to adjust before he popped up with a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Complication. I have to go. I’ll see you later. Maybe you can meet my brothers,” he promised, pressing his lips to your forehead before rushing to open your window. 

“How are you going to get home?” You asked, vaguely remembering his lack of a car from earlier. 

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about that,” he mumbled, nodding towards the door. You didn’t wonder what he meant for long when the front door opened with a groan, tearing you away from him. You glanced back for a moment, and he was gone. The only sign that he had ever even been here was the ache that spread through your entire body. 

No matter how much he gave you, he always left you wanting more. 

★・・・・・・★

tags: @spark-my-nature @edgingthedarkness @emojakekiszka @slut4lando @ascendingtothestarsasone @writingcold @notsostrangerthing (some of the tags didn’t work. if you want to be added, please feel free to inbox me if the form isn’t working)

[r0ttenhearts]

Friends?

Scaramouche x Best friend! Reader

angst, no comfort, insults

a bright, summer afternoon. the blazing heat outside of the cooled windows as the cicadas hummed in the unforgiving warm air. but there you were, sitting on scaramouches bed next to him, tapping away at your handheld game as you talked to him. you two had been friends since the start of the previous school year. your sweet smiles and kind gestures moved him, or you hoped they did, as he spoke with you the most in class until it turned to after school study sessions, and eventually just hanging out at each others homes when school was over.

as cruel as scaramouche could be, you found yourself falling for him. the rare smiles he’d give you, or his kind words that were few and far between. it meant more to you than you expected. you figured you were cracking through his tough shell, as he didn’t seem to mind spending time together over the break. or so you thought.

“haypasia is back in town. i thought i’d go see her so i don’t think you can come over for awhile.”

oh right. haypasia. the very bane of your existence. it seemed like every time she was around, scara would leave you to be forgotten. a second thought. sure she knew scara for longer, but did she really know him like you did? no, of course she didn’t, because she was never around. but you were. scaramouche would complain to you about her obsessive antics, how annoying she was and how bothersome she could be, only for him to defend her if you got upset with him about spending too much time together.

“oh.. when will you go see her?” you ask quietly, your voice cracking as you feel that oh so familiar lump in your throat. scaramouche glances at you from above his screen, scoffing and a look of disbelief on his face. “seriously y/n? you’re still so upset about her? what’s your deal?”

you shake your head as you put down your game. your hair covering your face as you don’t face him. you can’t. if you do you’ll break, and you know it. “i just.. i wish you wouldn’t go away for days at a time when she’s around.. you’re my best friend you know? and it hurts to realize that you pick someone over me, someone that doesn’t even stay.” you confess, your hands starting to shake as you can feel his eyes bore into your shaking form.

you can hear him scoff beside you as he sits up, “best friends? we’re friends. actually, we’re hardly even friends because i barely even like you.

you dont shut the fuck up you never do.

you make up lies in your head cause you think i like you but you delusional-ly believe i wouldn’t ever talk to other people and god forbid it be a girl.

oh and you're gonna switch it around saying the reverse about how id care when we all know damn well you could get beat in an alleyway and the most you'd get out of me is a "sorry to hear that.”

he gives you the meanest glare as you stand up from his bed as he shoves you against his bedroom door. fat tears roll down your cheeks as he grips your chin, forcing you to look into his dulled, purple eyes.

“no, tell me im wrong. tell me i dont know what im talking about. god youre so fucking stupid.”

he spits as he lets go of your chin, opening the door as you stumble out. he slams his door shut as you stand there in tears. you loved him? you loved him after he told you how he doesn’t care for you? how pathetic could you be. how could you care so deeply for someone that wouldn’t ever look at you, not even in a friendly way?

with his words ringing through your head, you gather your belongings as you leave his home. your game left forgotten on his bed, wishing to never return or face him again.

————————-

a/n: based on a very real argument with my best friend. a little self indulgent but this was a comfort post. thanks for reading!

part II:

[froggibus]

Drunk! Reader x Obey Me

Includes: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor

Genre: fluff mostly

CW: drinking, alcohol, vomiting/nausea, bed sharing, hurt/comfort, soft! brothers, drunk! reader

here are obey me hcs that absolutely no one asked for lol...getting back to writing this week so will probably make my way through the rest of my requests. hope everyone had a great halloween/samhain! enjoy <3

––––

Lucifer 

you’re at a dinner party at Diavolo’s castle 

and the boys are all caught up in their own conversations

meanwhile, you and Solomon hit the snack table

and he pulls out his secret stash of human alcohol 

the two of you mix it with your drinks and go back to the table 

you keep drinking from his stash 

and next thing you know you’re so drunk that you’re all warm and dizzy and giggling at stupid stuff 

mammon gives you a weird look across the table but doesn’t say anything 

no one says anything until you get up to go to the bathroom and fall 

luckily Lucifer is magically there to catch you

daddy is not impressed 

“how did you even get drunk??”

looks everywhere for the culprit 

gives up and decides he needs to take you home 

man literally THROWS you over his shoulder 

tucks you in and is surprisingly soft 

“luc can you stay with me” “*sigh* move over”

Mammon 

is probably the one that got you drunk tbh

you’re at a dance and he’s bored so the two of you go to get drinks

“I bet i can out drink you” = big mistake

mammon can easily outdrink you under the table so you’re FUCKED

Lucifer comes and ruins your fun tho saying the two of you are forbidden from drinking 

which just means you’ve gotta be more lowkey 

you’re drunk way before mammon tho

you start hanging off his arm and pouting for his attention

he realizes he’s fucked if lucifer finds out

takes you to the bathroom to splash water on your face and hopes you sober up

instead you start throwing up :(

he holds your hair even if he’s kinda disgusted 

decides it’s probably a good time to take you home 

holds your hand so you don’t fall

when lucifer asks where you’re going he just shrugs 

“y/n has food poisoning”

Levi 

you, mammon, asmo and beel had just gotten back from a party

all of them are super wasted so you manage to sneak out of their group before they realize 

and you’re free to wander the house of lamentation 

of course your drunk mind has only one person on your mind: Leviathan 

which is how you end up stumbling through his door during the witching hour

he’s playing games with his headphones on so he doesn’t even notice you flop into his bathtub 

only notices when he gets up to go pee

“y-y/n??? OMG are you okay???”

man thinks you’re dead at first 

you give him a weak thumbs up before getting up and practically pouncing on him

he’s super flustered by the sudden contact 

“you smell like alcohol”

doesn’t really know what to do??

tries to get you to go to your room 

but you’re a little gremlin and you don’t wanna go 

“okk if you insist i can go see mammon—“

you’re not even done your sentence before he’s catching you by the arm and dragging you back to his bathtub 

“oh no you don’t!”

insists you stay because he doesn’t want his normie brothers taking advantage of you 

cheeks are BURNING the whole time tho

Satan

Levi wants to try human alcohol like in his anime 

so you obviously oblige 

except the otaku has no concept of what a human alcohol tolerance is

and gets you way too drunk during a drinking game 

you hide out in his room until everyone is sleeping 

and try to make it to yours

of course you accidentally enter the wrong one

satan doesn’t even look up from his book 

“y/n what are you doing”

“w—wrong room” you slur 

he realizes you’re not in your right mind 

he’s quite the detective yk 

he makes you sit on his bed and examines you 

like full on reflex test 

and when you laugh at him and he smells the alcohol on your breath he feels like such an idiot 

“oh you’re drunk”

“yup”

he forces you to drink water and go to sleep

but you keep getting out of bed so he has no choice but to stay with you and make sure you don’t leave the house 

just to take care of you

no other reason…

Asmo 

also got you drunk 

took you to one of his parties and lost track of you for no less than five minutes 

but you come back absolutely wasted 

he thinks it’s funny 

until you start flirting with everyone who crosses your path 

that’s when he decides to shut it down 

starts trying to take you home but you whine about having fun 

he has to promise you a day out together 

when you get home he’s already preparing for the hangover he knows you’re gonna have 

puts water, Tylenol etc on your nightstand 

and gets a bucket 

you start flirting with him and trying to get him to fuck you 

he is NOT having it tho

he’d rather do you when you’re in your right mind and can remember it yk

he wants to go get his beauty sleep but then he worries that you’re gonna choke on your vomit 

so obviously he has to stay with you the whole night 

Beel

he takes you to a pub because he wants to try human alcohol 

he’s heard it’s really good 

you agree to have one drink

but the man keeps ordering round after round

and you’re not gonna let him drink it all

he’d DIE

so you have no choice but to be a good friend and drink with him 

beel is absolutely not affected by it though

you get really drunk really fast

he feels REALLY bad 

but also knows he’s gonna be in big trouble if anyone finds out 

has to carry you home because you can’t even walk normally 

all the while you’re feeling up his muscles and cooing about how big and strong he is

he’s trying SO HARD to not become a blushing mess 

doesn’t really know what to do to help you but eating always helps him 

so he lets you have some of his snacks and gives you water 

eventually you fall asleep on him in his room 

and he doesn’t want to wake you up so he just accepts it 

Belphie 

Simeon and Solomon think it would be funny to get you drunk at a dinner party

so they start to give you drinks 

which you gladly accept 

the brothers aren’t really paying attention to you

except for mammon who doesn’t really care and asmo who thinks it’s super funny 

belphie and levi are both at home 

so when Simeon and Solomon realize you’re way too drunk they decide to take you back

mostly to avoid the wrath of Lucifer 

they leave you at the door and you find your own way into the house 

deciding you need water to sober up, you go to grab a cup and accidentally break it

Levi doesn’t hear cause headphones 

but Belphie is trying to sleep and most definitely hears

he tries to ignore it but then he hears you crying and knows he can’t 

comes to the kitchen to find you crying over the broken cup

is SUPER annoyed 

“y/n why are you crying over a fucking cup”

“i didn’t mean to break it!”

realizes you’re drunk immediately and helps you clean up

tries to go his separate way but realizes he’s the only responsible one home 

so he puts it on himself to take care of you  and brings you to his room with him

“just lay right there and don’t move ok?”

“and don’t even THINK about puking on me or my bed”

the two of you end up falling asleep pretty quickly, Belphie wrapping his arms around you 

masterlist

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hii, just want to say your work is incredible. I’m particularly in love with this one: https://www.tumblr.com/spoilmesweetieforficssake/720596884449869824/hiii-i-have-to-say-that-i-love-your-work-i-was

Can you make a part 2? I’d love to see Mel with the baby!

I can indeed make part 2 (although this is technically part 3? Part two was here) This has actually been a long time coming, but seeing your lovely message prompted me to push this one out (terrible pun intended).

Sorry this has taken so long (and that I've been a bit MIA) but life, injury and feeling sucky rather got in the way.

Anyway, enough boring real life. I hope you enjoy!

*~*

“Ava, you know how when I went on leave I was gonna have to call you one day and say I need you to arrange cover for Melissa?  Well, today is that day.”

“It’s happening?”

You hold the phone away from your ear at her shriek.  “Yeah,” you breathe, taking a deep breath.  “It’s happening.”

*

One call down, your next call is to Barb.

“Hey, Barb,” you say, trying to sound as light and airy as you can.  “How’s things?”

If Barb hears your sharp intake of breath as another contraction hits she’s tactful enough not to mention it.

“Could you do me a huge favour?  I need you to go and be with Melissa.  There’s something I need to tell her.”

You can practically hear the smile in her voice as she replies.  “Can you give me a few minutes to get to her?”

You try to breathe your way through the contraction, the guidance your midwife had given you and all you’d read all but forgotten in the moment.  “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Do you want me to stay on the phone with you while I find her?  Or would you prefer I not hear you curse your way through this contraction?”

*

Melissa answers her phone on the first ring.  You had promised not to call unless it was important.  You knew from how quickfire her responses to your messages, however, that her phone was always to hand.  Barb may have also let slip that since you had gone on maternity leave the device barely left her hand while she was apart from you.

“Hey.  Hi.  What’s wrong?  Are you okay?”

You can’t help but smile at the quickfire questions.  At the care in her voice.  “Mel, I need you to come home.  It’s time.”

“It’s time?” she repeats, and you can hear her voice waver.  “It’s happening?  It’s really happening?”

You grip the edge of the work surface as another contraction hits with one hand, holding the phone away from your mouth with the other so Melissa can’t hear the change in your breathing as you push down the urge to scream.  “Feels that way!” you manage, letting out a long, slow breath as the moment passes.  “Barb is going to drive so you can stay on the phone.”

The red head looks up to see the kindergarten teacher in the doorway to her classroom. 

“Ready to be a mom?”

*

Melissa was out the car before Barb even had the chance to stop, barrelling out into the driveway and bursting into the house. 

You yelped at the sound of the front door bursting open, even though you’d stayed on the phone with Melissa as she fretted in the passenger seat while her friend drove.  The red head comes to a halt in in front of you, her eyes darting over your face. 

Grabbing her hands as another contraction hits, you try your best to breathe through it. 

“How long in between, sweetheart?” asks Barb with a gentle hand on your back. 

Letting out a long, slow breath, you open your eyes and force a smile at Melissa, who looks terrified as she stands before you.  “Five or six minutes,” you manage. 

“Okay,” breathes the Kindergarten teacher.  “Do you have a bag packed?”

You nod.  “Mel’s had one packed in both cards for weeks.”

“Well you weren’t packing one!” shouts the red head. 

You smile at the outburst.  “And she’s taken them out and washed and repacked them every week,” you add.  You’d told her it was entirely unnecessary, but she’d done it anyway, always making sure to keep a sweater of hers at the top of the bags for you. 

“Wait, every five or six minutes?” asks Melissa, your words finally registering.  “How long has this been happening?”

Ducking your head, you admit you’d felt a but of movement that morning.  “I didn’t want to call and panic you until I knew it was time?”

“You’ve been here all day dealing with this and you didn’t say anything?” hisses Melissa, glaring at you. 

Barb reached over to cover Melissa hand with her own where she gripped you tightly.  “And she’s been dealing with it very well.  Now, are we ready to go?”

Just as she had driven Melissa from the school, it’s Barb who drives you both to the hospital.  The red head sits with you in the back.  You grip her hands, trying not to squeeze too tightly as your contractions continue, seemingly increasing in severity.  You try your best to keep your reactions to a minimum so as not to panic Melissa, earning you a look of sympathy from Barb in the rearview mirror.

At the hospital the red head rushes off to grab a wheelchair.  You can walk, but you don’t make any moves to stop her.  Barb takes your hand as she sees another contraction coming, and with the red head out of earshot you allow yourself a muted scream.  Unfortunately, however, Melissa was quicker than you anticipated and hears the end of it.

“What happened?” she asks, her eyes flitting over your face. 

“Contractions hurt like a bitch,” Barb informs her. 

*

There’s a little bit of confusion when you turn up on the maternity ward, the staff struggling to figure out the dynamic between the three of you.  When the midwife who was at your last check-up appears, however, she’s quick to make a beeline for you. 

“Ah, the three musketeers!” she grins.  “It’s time then?”

You offer her the best smile you can as you grit your teeth through another contraction.

“Contractions are around five minutes apart” offers Barb.

“Time indeed!” chuckles the midwife.  “Come on then, let’s find you a room and introduce this little one to the world.”

Barb offers you a squeeze to your shoulder.  “You’ll do great,” she smiles, before turning to Melissa.  “And so will you.”

The red head is nervous as she’s ever been, worried for you and for the little life that’s about to entirely change hers.  She offers Barb a nod before following you as you’re wheeled into a side room. 

“Now, why don’t we get you a chair?”

“What?  Surely she gets a bed?” asks Melissa.  You were about to have a baby, surely a bed was the least they could give you? 

The midwife chuckles.  “I meant you.”

The red head’s cheeks flush a darker shade than her hair and she’s about to give a snarky reply when you reach for her hand.  She helps you up out of your wheelchair and onto the bed. 

“Last offer on that chair,” smirks the midwife, earning her a glare from the red head.  “Hey, it’s just a suggestion, because if you hit the deck you’re gonna be down there a while.  I’m gonna have my hands full here.”

You don’t have time to be amused before another contraction hits, causing you to grip Melissa’s hand tightly.  She leans into you, leaning her head against yours as you try to breathe through it. 

“You got this,” she says quietly.  “You’re doing so well.”

The small word of praise bring tears to your eyes, screwed tightly shut as they are. 

Melissa looks up at the midwife.  “She’s totally got this, but surely she gets drugs too?”

*

Barb looked up as the midwife approached.  Though technically not family, she was part of your Abbott family and had been allowed to wait in the family room. 

“Thought you might like to know there’s a new addition to the musketeers,” smiles the midwife. 

“Is everyone okay?”  She’d spent her time in the family room praying for you, the baby and for Melissa.  The red head had been as terrified as she’d ever seen her, not even trying to hide it.

“Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Following the midwife, Barb was led to your room.  She stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, smiling at the sight before her.  You were reclining in the bed, a warm, gentle smile on your lips as you looked over to where Melissa cradled a precious bundle in her arms.  The red head, meanwhile, looked down at the child in her arms with so much love, her fingers gentle as she adjusted the tiny hat on the baby’s head. 

“She’s a she,” whispered Melissa as she caught sight of her friend hovering in the doorway, tears sparkling in her eyes.  The sex of the baby was something they had all been aware of, but somehow it was a fresh new miracle to see the tiny baby in the flesh, all pink skin and perfect features. 

Barb smiled at her friend, looking to you for permission before entering the room and moving to look over her friend’s shoulder at the delicately wrapped bundle.  “She’s perfect.”  She looks over at you, a wide smile on her lips.  “You did good.”

You continue to look lovingly at the red head holding your daughter, the whole scene better than any dream you could have come up with.  “Yeah, I did.”

*

“How’s everyone doing?”

You look up at the midwife’s words.  “Still struggling to believe this is all actually real.”

“Oh it’s real,” chuckles the woman.  “Just wait till the diapers and night feeds.  Then it’ll feel all too real.  Now I know it’s early, but technically it is visiting time.  If you’re up to it there’s a few people here who I think might like to meet this little lady?”

*

You hope you’ve not forever turned into someone who cries at everything and nothing, but no one seems to mind as tears gather in your eyes as the rest of your little Abbott family files in through the door, each bearing thoughtful little gifts.  Even Ava had been tactful, bringing a bottle of alcohol free bubbly to celebrate the occasion.

Not unexpectedly, everyone was desperate to hold your daughter.  You weren’t sure if it was the drugs or just sheer pride, but you were happy to let them, excited at their excitement over seeing your baby. 

Melissa, however, was rather more reserved.  She wasn’t keen to be handing over the precious little being in her arms over to just anyone.  A hand on her thigh where she sat in the chair by your bed, however, and a slightly raised eyebrow has her rolling her eyes and finally allowing someone else to hold the baby.

You watch with a fond smile as she follows your daughter as she is passed between the members of your little family, reminding each of them to be gentle and showing them how to hold her just right, the same way the nurse had shown her only hours before.  Everyone takes it in the nature it’s intended, even Barb, who accepts the red head’s instructions as though she hasn’t raised two of her own.  There’s also the not so gentle threat that if they drop her she’ll wheel them to the morgue herself that is so Melissa it makes your heart clench. 

*

As nice as it was to see everyone, you’re glad when Barb finally steps into teacher mode and rounds them all up and says it’s time to go.  They all make sure to make a final fuss of your daughter before leaving.

And then it’s just you, Melissa and your daughter.  Not just your Abbott family, but the little family you’ve built.  The woman you love and the unexpected baby you were terrified of having only months before.  That same baby who is sleeping soundly in your arms after her first successful feed. 

The red head is curled next to you on the small hospital bed, both of you just about fitting, her arm curled beneath yours where you cradle the little life you’ve brought into the world.

“You know,” you smile, looking up at her.  “I didn’t think I could love you more, but today, when I got to see Mama Bear Schemmenti?  It made me realise not just how lucky I am to have you, but how lucky she is to have you.”

She smiles back at you, tears glittering in her eyes.  “When you called me today to say it was time…I’ve never been so scared.  Before we left the school, Barb asked if I was ready to be a mom.  I don’t think I’d realised before, but…”

You worry for a moment at the hesitation.

“I mean…is that…would you let…can I?”

You tilt your head, just managing to reach her lips and press a gentle kiss there.  “Melissa, there is no ‘letting’ you do anything.  To me, she’s ours.  I know we didn’t exactly do this the conventional way, but like you said before, it’s not perfect, but it’s real.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that,” she smiles softly.  “Feels pretty perfect to me.”

[fxchild]

The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter nine: Make you stay.

--------------------------------

Miles pov

I think it's been one- no. Two weeks, since Y/n had that.. encounter? It's not like we had sex or anything but I definitely didn't expect to make out on her bed until Flora came banging on her door complaining about a nightmare, while Y/n forced me to hide under her damn bed on the cold floor for half an hour while she made sure Flora went to sleep and didn't bother us again. I was kinda glad we got interrupted if I'm being honest. Even though Y/n pounced on me like a lion to a gazelle, she seemed pretty nervous whenever I kissed her too hard or if I touched her leg. Believe it or not things have been even more awkward than before when we were constantly nipping at each other and now I'm starting to miss the fighting more than the dry tension in the room.

Anyways, I've got about fourteen days to make things less awkward and for her to stay with us for the summer. I heard her talking on the phone a few days back, thinking about taking up a different job in California. Her teacher recommended it or some shit, get into a better college. She's not going to Harvard I know that for sure.

Something that's been pissing me off is that Quint has been messing with her head so now she sleeps with the door off and the lamp lights on. I asked him to lay off but it's not doing much. I've been trying to sneak in to make sure he's not fucking with her in her sleep or anything. She's only sixteen like me after all, he shouldn't be messing with kids our age, especially the ones I want to stay.

Uhm, another thing is that I've been out of it for a day or two. Like my throat is pretty dry and I've had a wicked headache. I swear to god if I wake up tomorrow with a cold I'm gonna be pissed.

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

Your pov

It's been about two weeks since Miles and I had that half-assed hookup. Ever since then it's been so awkward. We can't even speak to each other now for more than two sentences before getting freaked out and forgetting what we were talking about. I mean, it's easier to focus on Flora and her work, but at the same time it's boring without being able to pick a fight with Miles. I miss our back and forth bickering because at least it kept us talking and occupied. I have fifteen days before I go back home for the summer, I really wanted to stay but I've gotten more job offerings in new places and I want to go out and explore. Plus, spending the summer in some creepy ass house, with a boy who can't even be in the same room as me for five minutes doesn't seem like the ideal summer. I feel bad for leaving Flora, and I guess Miles because they are all alone with Ms. Grose, who is lucky if she can live another four years. But I need to put myself first, that's what's important. I just wish Miles would talk to me before I leave, because even though we snap at each other, he's been growing on me. I'm not saying I like his stuck up asshole personality but I see how he is with Flora and I sometimes wish he could be able to open up to me like that.

This morning I woke up to the sound of projectile vomiting. I figured it was coming from Flora's room since she ate a lot of chocolate last night. I ran to her room to check on her to find her still asleep in her bed. Then I realized that the puking and groaning was coming from Miles room. I debated on leaving him there to take care of himself since he thinks he's grown and can take care of himself but then I remembered the time I was drunk. The way he drove me home at 2am and stayed outside my door all night in case I felt sick again. I walked into his room and knocked on his closed bathroom door.

"Miles, it's just me. I'm gonna come in okay?" I say as I hear him groan and spit into the toilet. I open the door to see his face almost glued to the toilet bowl, gasping and throwing up. I sit next to him and rub his back, grabbing a few sheets of toilet paper so he can wipe his mouth when he's done. "Get it all out, that's it.." I whisper to him as he continues to gag.

When he finishes he grabs the toilet paper from my hand and wipes his mouth, flushing the toilet. I let him sit on the floor with his back pressed against the wall for a moment as I grab a washcloth, drenching it in cold water. I put it on the back of his neck as he tries to stand up. He walks over to me where I'm putting toothpaste on his toothbrush and handing it to him.

"Make sure to brush your tongue too." I put the cap back on his toothpaste. "I'm gonna get you a new shirt, there's a little bit of puke on it." I point to the spot on his shirt. I walk out of his room and open his closet, looking for an old shirt in the piles on the floor. Miles walks back into the room and curls up on his mattress with his washcloth in his hands. I didn't even realize he came back into the room until he spoke up and groaned.

"Jesus it's fucking freezing in here.." I turned around to see him shirtless, breathing heavily and laying down. I grab a random green shirt and walk over to his mattress.

"No Miles, sit up you have to let your stomach settle for a bit." I prop his pillows against the wall and help him sit up a bit. I let him put his new shirt on and pulled the covers up to his waist. I felt his forehead and winced at his temperature. "Miles, you're really hot." I sighed and bit my bottom lip trying to think of how to take care of him.

He let out a chuckle and wrapped a hand over his stomach. "I'm hot? Thanks.." I frown at him since this isn't something to be joking about. "Not funny." I say with pursed lips and put the washcloth on his forehead.

"I'm gonna go to the store to get you some medicine. Flora used it the last time she was sick. Do you want me to pick you up something?" I put my hands on my hips and waited for his response.

He sat there for a second to think, "Am I even allowed to eat anything? Like I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to eat when you're sick." He tilted his head, squinting his eyes.

"You're allowed to eat Miles but only if you feel up for it. I can pick you up some grits, or popsicles? Do you sound up for that when you get your appetite back?" I rub the back of my neck, giving him a sympathetic look.

"I'm not hungry..I-I don't care okay? I'll be fine by tomorrow." He shakes his head and waves his hand in the air.

"Okay, well I'm still going to the store because I'm not putting up with your whining later. I'll be back in an hour okay?" I shrug and ruffle his hair lightly before trying to smack my hands away.

I brush my teeth, grab my keys and put on some slippers. I head out to the car to start for the store.

--------------------------------

Miles pov

She couldn't have taken any fucking longer to get back from the store could she? I'm sitting in my bed, trying my best for an hour to hold my stomach until she comes back but it's getting too painful. I ran to the bathroom throwing up nothing but stomach acid. I was panting and almost crying from the pain, it felt like my stomach was twisting. Y/n hears me gagging and rushes into the bathroom to rub my back and hold back my hair. When I'm done, there's tears in my eyes from the pain and she gives me this stupid sad look like she feels sorry for me or some dumb shit. I sit on my bathroom counter as she hands me my toothbrush again. She opens up a small can of Gingerale and puts it on my nightstand.

"You don't have to drink it now, but if your stomach feels funny again try some. It works trust me." She smiles and feels my forehead again to see if my fever had gone down a little. I sit there under the covers with my head against the wall as Y/n sits at the end of my mattress reading a book.

"What's that?" I say weakly, motioning to the book. I catch her attention and she smiles. "A book?" She giggles trying to be funny or something.

"Yeah, no shit." I chuckle and she gives me an unamused look. So apparently I'm not allowed to be funny anymore I guess. "What's it about?"

"It's about a prince trying to find his princess through a dream. It's really cute." She gets up to sit next to me on the mattress, showing me the blurb.

"Oh.. fantasy?" I mutter out as a question.

"Yeah, I like fantasy. You don't?" She tilts her head to look at me, tabbing her book before closing it. I shrug, "I mean, it's not bad but I just can't ever get into it."

"Well maybe that's because you haven't read a good one." She smirks, and for a second I feel like we aren't talking about books. I shook my head and stayed silent for a few minutes.

"You know, I usually get sick in the summer." I give her a side glance. I lied, I never get sick. This was the first time in probably a year and a half I've gotten sick. "I mean, who's gonna get me a cold washcloth and rub my back when I'm throwing up?" I smirk at her slightly.

"Ms. Grose?" She jokes and I roll my eyes.

"Be serious Y/n. She's so old I think she's gonna kick the bucket any day now. And when she does that, who's gonna help me take care of Flora? I don't have any parents you know." I sit up more and turn to face her, putting my hands in my lap.

She sighs and turns to face me. "Who said I was leaving?" She gives me a confused look.

"Y/n I heard you on the phone. I mean California seems nice, but is that what you really want?" I give her a dead eyed look and raise a brow.

She studies my face letting out a deep breath, "Miles, you don't even like having me around. We fight all the time, why do you want me around?" She shakes her head and leans back a little bit.

"Come on, Flora will miss you. She'll be upset that you aren't coming back. I mean she really loves you, fuck, she wants you to be her mother! She needs you, Y/n- I-I need you okay? I can't even take care of myself while I'm sick and you expect me to take care of myself, a whole property and a little girl? I mean, jesus, what do I have to do to make you stay?" I spurt out quickly, motioning my hands everywhere with dramatic tones.

She smiles for a moment and grabs my hand, "You just did." She gives me a sincere look, like we finally came to an agreement. I let out a relieved sigh I didn't even know I was holding and she giggled. "Why do we fight so much? Everything would be so much easier if we just listened to each other, you know?" She asks even though she sounds like she already knows her own reason.

"I think you know why I do it.." I look at my red candles I caught her staring at one day in particular when she first came into my room.

She looked at the candles then back at my eyes. "Because you don't know how to treat people?" She barely whispered out. She looked into my eyes for a moment before speaking once more. "I only pick fights with you cause I think you're kinda cute." She admits, leaning back again.

I raise a brow, "You think I'm cute?" I chuckle and she let's go of my hand, she's trying to bite back a smile.

"Yeah, you're cute. So what?" She smirks and we stare at each other. I think we were both waiting for one of us to do something, anything. But no one moved or spoke. After a moment of my silence she got up and put the covers back over my waist. "You should get some rest, it's not good to stay up when you're delirious." She gave me a dejected look and turned off my lamp.

"I'm not delirious." I grab her wrist gently and assure her.

"You're sick, Miles." She gives me a stern tone, and eyes me down to let go of her wrist.

"I know what I'm saying, Y/n." I gulp and give her the smallest smile I could muster and let go of her wrist, laying back into the pillows. She slides a hand on my forehead and it goes into my curls. She kissed my forehead and walked to the door.

"Get some sleep, call me if you need anything okay?" She gave me a sad smile and walked out of the room.

Now she was just confusing me because did she just reject me without either of us talking about dating? I don't think I asked her out but I think I wanted to. I want to I really do, but how the hell am I supposed to do that when she can't take me seriously? I better get over this damn sickness soon.

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

Hi hi! It's fxchild back again with another chapter! Sorry if this is bad I had to rewrite it THREE times because it kept god damn deleting. This took me 2 hours and 15 minutes to write (I timed it yes) so hopefully you enjoyed it. Plsplspls if you did not see my other post to put some requests in because this will be one of the last chapters until Mr. Fairchild finishes his story. I literally do not care what you ask me to write as long as it's not acc insane. If my requests don't work PLEASE dm me I will answer because no one texts me like ever ! Anyways, I love you guys so so much 💕 thank you for continuing to motivate me to write.

-fxchild

[infinitegalahad]

AMERICAN PROMETHEUS AND HIS ATHENA - CHAPTER 2

Pairing: J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Indentifying! Reader Summary: You and Robert fall into a routine of your Friday Physics meetings with the never skipped dinner after. But as the tension grows stronger, the meetings suddenly cease to be about Physics with a newfound realization; and sudden change Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: N/A Notes: GOD, HE LOOKS SO HOT THERE!!! Anyways! Not even twenty-four hours later. I know, I'm very unwell and couldn't help myself. Thank you so much for all the love and support so much! The next part should be coming out very soon. And let me say, it may or may not get spicy *insert evil cackling*. I am also working on a new and refined masterlist! It'll be linked here, along with a taglist if you are interested.

Masterlist | Taglist

The image of you and Robert formed, and your Friday afternoon meetings with him soon became a little routine between the two of you. However, this barrier created a bond and broke through the force of physics into something else. 

You would always arrive ten minutes before, and Robert certainly noticed this. He enrolled you in watering his flowers outside, which you had no issue doing. Robert insisted on paying you ten dollars, which you felt guilty for taking. Every Friday, when you walk down Shasta Road, the flowers are more giant in bloom, full and radiant in their muted colors. Robert had even put a tiny vase of pomegranate flowers on his desk. In one of your meetings, he confessed that he didn’t know such a plant was growing in his garden. You told him now he had pomegranates to make with his meals. After each session, Robert gave you a pomegranate to go home with. Like him, they were hard to resist. 

The first hour of your meeting would be about physics, but the length of an hour began to shorten down to thirty minutes, forty-five minutes sometimes. You could sense that Robert wanted to get out of Physics much as you on your late Friday afternoons together. 

And then Robert would ask that same old question of wanting to stay for dinner. He’d preface it with the meal he was making, which was starting to fall into the pattern of recipes you recommended. 

And without fail, you would always say yes, lacking hesitation. 

In the first set of meetings, Robert would cook. He’d ask you to go into his living room to turn on one of the records. You’d ask what record, and he answered with any since he would like what you would put on. In the third week of meetings, Robert stopped directing you to his record player, as you soon could locate the record in the middle of his bookshelf. 

Simeusolty putting on a Prokofiev’s Cinderella Record, Summer Fairy began to play low. The intricate and angular melodies to powerful and dramatic orchestration played as you ran your fingers across the bookshelf, observing the elective collection of books Robert had collected. Running your fingers against the thin pages, you looked down at his coach. Two pillows were propped up, and you could see his coffee table in the light. A copy of Sentimental Education rested beside the ashtray of many burnt-out cigarette buds. Robert was in the same chapter as you were. 

Most of the time, you would get bored sitting at the island table as Robert smoked, cut, and cooked. All you would do is drink his Martinis, which you hated before but now loved.  Without asking, you simply started to help Robert with the cooking. Robert never protested against this. 

As the two of you cooked, your conversations ranged in topic and vulnerability. 

Robert asked about your family life and hobbies. You told him you had family in New York City but spent a lot of time hiking in Europe or the Southeastern United States being outdoors. Your mother was much older than your father, but it was never an issue. You were the youngest of three much older siblings, two of whom were your step-siblings. You were into reading and art outside the classroom but absolutely loved the outdoors. Some things you didn't even share with Hatomi, you ended up sharing with Robert. 

Robert also shared parts of his life; in each part, you two learned that you were somewhat similar, as Robert would say, “kindred souls” who have found each other. Robert was also from New York City, but like you, wanted to escape the East and came out West for a change and its natural beauty. He also enjoyed the outdoors, a found horseback rider. In his youth, he was an avid rock collector and even told you that when he applied for a club, they asked him to come to be a keynote speaker. It fits his character. 

One night, as you cut vegetables and Robert sauteed the chicken, he blatantly asked if you have a boyfriend. 

You turn to him, and instead of being flustered and embarrassed, you deadpan and say no, before asking if he has a wife. 

“Had,” Robert corrected. 

Robert had been married to a woman named Kitty, whom Robert said was similar, yet harsher than you. They had divorced three years back, and two had two children together who were three years apart, Peter and Toni. Kitty had moved out to Pittsburgh with their two children but would visit with them every month. Robert did not seem sad by the divorce, saying they still cared for each other but no longer loved one another. 

The two of you remained silent until dinner was ready that night. 

Your meetings further continued with no issue after that conversation.

 It was like any other Friday night meeting. You closed your Physics notebook as Robert got up to prepare dinner, which would be chicken with pomegranate seeds, asparagus, and mashed potatoes which you taught him to cook. You got up and snuck beside Robert, taking pomegranate seeds and putting them in between your lips. 

He looked over and smiled, shaking his head. He mumbled something under his breath in which you missed. 

“Robert, you must stop asking if I will stay for dinner,” You casually teased, bringing another seed to your lips. You moved the bubbly and wet seed around your lips, adding a glossy red color to the center of your lips, “Especially when you know the answer.” 

Your playful words hung in the air, accompanied by a faint smile that danced at the corners of your mouth. The atmosphere was light, and the tension between you and Robert was more of an enjoyable banter than anything serious. The act of painting your lips with the seed was oddly captivating, a unique blend of sensuality and playfulness that added to the moment.

On the other hand, Robert appeared slightly flustered but still managed a sheepish grin. "Well then, why do you always stay, y/n?”

You chuckled softly, savoring the gentle rhythm of your exchange. "Maybe it's your irresistible cooking that keeps me coming back, or perhaps it's the charm and wit of the company."

In mock astonishment, Robert feigned a dramatic sigh, his hand on his chest. "Ah, so you're saying it's not my dashing good looks that have you hooked?"

You playfully rolled your eyes, a mock expression of disbelief on your face. "Oh yes, Robert, your dashing good looks are definitely a bonus. But it's the entire package that keeps me intrigued."

The two of you shared a lighthearted laugh, the energy between you bubbling with a mix of familiarity and affection. Clearly, this banter was a delightful ritual you both enjoyed, a way to express your fondness for each other without saying it outright.

Robert leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "I might have to keep asking about dinner just to hear your flattering reasons."

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in your eye. "Well, if that's your plan, then I'll just have to keep giving you reasons, won't I?"

The playful challenge hung in the air, the unspoken understanding between you both weaving a tapestry of shared moments and shared jokes. As the evening continued, the seed on your lips became a symbol of this unique connection, a touch of color that spoke volumes about the newfound chemistry you shared with Robert.

After finishing dinner and cleanup, Robert invited you to his living space. From what you have seen in his house, the living room was by far the biggest. The room smelt like oakwood with its Mahogany shelves of aged books and artifacts from Europe. Prokofiev’s Cinderella plays slowly as Robert and you rest on the couch, only a few inches apart. 

In a quiet moment that exudes an air of undeniable allure, Robert reaches into his pants pocket to fetch another box of cigarettes. His fingers move with a graceful confidence, effortlessly withdrawing a sleek pack of cigarettes. The soft glow of ambient light plays upon his lean features, enhancing the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle smirk that graces his lips.

As he taps the pack against the palm of his hand, a sense of anticipation seems to envelop the surroundings. The action is as deliberate as it is captivating, every movement purposeful and measured. With a smooth and calculated gesture, he slides a cigarette from its sanctuary within the pack, drawing attention to the meticulous attention to detail that defines his every action.

Bringing the slender cylinder to his lips, his eyes remain fixed on the horizon, an enigmatic gaze that hints at depths of both experience and mystery. His fingers deftly produce a matchbox, which, when opened, reveals a single matchstick ready for ignition. The flame is brought to life with a flick of his thumb, illuminating his features momentarily and casting an enchanting glint in his eyes.

The first inhalation is a languid dance between his lips and the cigarette, an intimate connection that only accentuates his innate allure. A plume of smoke curls gracefully from his lips, an ethereal veil that frames his visage like a work of art. The atmosphere seems to pulse with his intoxicating energy as if drawn into the magnetic pull of this captivating moment.

As he exhales, the tendrils of smoke disperse into the air, a testament to his ability to command the space around him and the elements that entwine with his presence. The remaining smoke dances and swirls in the air, mimicking the invisible threads of attraction that weave between observer and observed.

You watch the smoke dance across the dark room in its dark and light hues. Robert sees you in admiration of the smoke (and him, but that’s a secret you keep to yourself) and pulls a stick out, holding it out in front of you. There’s no need to respond verbally; you let him put the cigarette between your lips. 

Robert’s fingers, capable and elegant, hold the cigarette with a reverence that speaks of his attentiveness to the details that matter. The slender cylinder is presented not as a mere object but as a gesture of connection, a bridge between the worlds of conversation and quiet contemplation.

He raises the matchbox, its lid flipping open with a soft whisper of anticipation ember at the tip of the match glows with an ephemeral beauty, casting a warm radiance that highlights the contours of his hands and the contours of your cheek.

Drawing the match to the cigarette, the flame bends obediently to his command, transferring its life to the waiting tobacco. As the cigarette ignites, its end glowing with an ember-like intensity, Robert's eyes meet yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shared moment.

Robert brings the cigarette to your lips with a tender elegance, his fingers barely grazing your cheek in a caress that sets the heart aflutter. The touch is fleeting but leaves a lingering impression, a sensation of connection that transcends the physical realm. The smoke dances gracefully from the lit end, curling into the atmosphere like a wisp of shared conversation.

The gesture encapsulates more than a simple offering; it encapsulates his genuine nature and ability to infuse even the most ordinary moments with a touch of extraordinary intimacy. In this ephemeral exchange, the barley touch of Robert’s fingers against your cheek lingers like an echo, a reminder of the subtle and beautiful connections forged through the simplest gestures.

You fall back and take a drag into the cigarette, exhaling the smoke. It was your first time with a cigarette, so you inhaled too much smoke and coughed slightly. 

Robert looks back at you, and like a sly predator watching its prey, he too leans back. You can feel the weight of the pillow sink back. Your mouth nearly drops the cigarette as you look over, goosebumps now appearing over your legs. Shifting in your position, you don’t move farther away. Oppenheimer’s another atom bond, in which you feel connected, despite your differences. 

Hearing your mother’s and older sister's voice ridiculing dating a man who could be one of your brother’s ages, you take another drag and exhale smoke as the nicotine soothes your anxiety. 

“I understand now why people smoke.”

You can feel Oppenheimer’s intense stare, not that it bothers you at all. 

 There’s a small silence for a few minutes. The two of you bask in the setting sun, watching the smoke play against the hues of the sun. You swear you feel your eyes get heavy, both from the buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine of the cigarette. 

The couch feels lighter as you feel Robert get up and walk over to the bookcase. Admiration mingles with a sense of awe as you watch your professor navigate the rows of tomes. His movements are measured and deliberate as he selects a book that promises to unfurl a tapestry of thoughts and ideas. The act itself is a testament to his insatiable thirst for knowledge, a quality that you have deemed extremely handsome to the tall and slender man. 

He walks in front of you and flips through the pages, putting the book down in your lap. 

You put your cigarette in the ashtray and hold the book to examine it, “Les Fleurs Del Mal.” 

“One of my recommendations to you,” Robert responded as he sat back on the couch. The room suddenly got hotter as he felt closer than he did before, “It’s scattered poetry. You can skim, but I don’t recommend it unless you want to enjoy it.”

Your speculation proved to be true when Robert pointed to a page in the book, feeling his thigh scrap against yours. Butterflies danced in your stomach as your cheeks got that burning sensation again. 

“These are some of my favorites,” Robert pointed, his finger gracing the page, “That I want you to read.” 

Halting your breath, you look at him, and he’s looking right at you. More like right into you. Robert's eyes are like an ocean; they're truly the bluest you have seen. They hold a depth that draws you in, in which you find yourself lost, embraced by an intimate connection that speaks volumes without a single word.

“Read?” You almost stutter, “to myself?”

“Outloud, dear.” Robert’s smooth voice politely commands. 

Suddenly, your limbs feel both hot and weak. Robert leans in closer, taking another drag of his cigarette. His gaze does not once leave you. 

You put one hand on the page and the other on the soft pillow as your fingers soften the material. Clearing your throat, you look at the first poem and take in a deep breath to contain a noise of ecstasy and pleasure. 

I know your heart, which overflows With outworn loves long cast aside, Still like a furnace flames and glows, And you within your breast enclose A damned soul's unbending pride;

But till your dreams without release

Reflect the leaping flames of hell;

Till in a nightmare without cease

You dream of poison to bring peace, And love cold steel and powder well;

And tremble at each opened door, And feel for every man distrust, And shudder at the striking hour - Till then you have not felt the power Of Irresistible Disgust.

My queen, my slave, whose love is fear, When you awaken shuddering, Until that awful hour be here,

You cannot say at midnight drear :

"I am your equal, O my King!"

Robert only responds by turning the page to the following poem, A Carcass. In the corner of your eye, his hand rests on the couch, only an inch away from yours. Before looking back at the page, you uncurl your fist, lying all of your finger against the couch, less than an inch away from Robert’s. 

Recall to mind the sight we saw, my soul,

That soft, sweet summer day:

Upon a bed of flints a carrion foul,

Just as we turn'd the way,

Its legs erected, wanton-like, in air,

Burning and sweating pest,

In unconcern'd and cynic sort laid bare

To view its noisome breast.

The sun lit up the rottenness with gold, To bake it well inclined,

And give great Nature back a hundredfold

All she together join'd.

The sky regarded as the carcass proud

Oped flower-like to the day;

So strong the odour, on the grass you vow'd You thought to faint away.

Robert’s index finger is now hooking onto your smaller pinkie. You relax your hand as his hand covers yours, his touch gentle and alluring. You don’t know much you’ll be able to read in a controlled state. Robert turns to the next poem as his hand covers yours, his thumb stroking the top of your hand. 

“My personal favorite,” He murmurs—Love’s Lighting. 

Gulping, you proceed to read, slowly breaking down. 

Last night as I lay awake in bed A flash of you came into my head And into my heart, and straightway fled.

It passed from the chamber suddenly,

Leaving no trace to know it by

But a tightened breast and a wet, glad eye.

Like a moonray soft it came and went,

Which glimmers through where the cloud-wrack's

rent,

Hovers a moment and then is spent;

Or a bee against a window-pane,

Which taps but once and never again, Some autumn day, before the rain.

For one brief moment I felt it stealing Along the verge of thought and feeling

As though some great vague thing revealing,

As though for that moment sad and sweet

My soul was out in the infinite, And Life and Death were as one to it.

You close the book and look at Robert, catching his eyes before looking at your intertwined hands. His hand covers yours, his fingers laced within yours. He gently squeezes your hand, propelling you to move closer to him, which you do. 

“Your eyes,” You murmur as Robert brings you closer to him, your faces an inch apart, “There blue. But there’s something in them. There’s a spark, an explosion. There’s a burning desire, surrounded by the never-ending sea.” 

Robert is just as enchanted as you are. He brings his free hand to your cheek, stroking your smooth skin like you are a fragile China doll. 

“If there is a god, he spent more time on you,” Robert confessed, moving to the back of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

“Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen. Can you let me kiss you?” 

Your hand moves to Robert’s cheek, and he leans into your touch. 

"If there is a god, he spent more time on you," Robert confessed, his voice a warm breath against your skin as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your hair, entangling and losing himself within the silkiness.

"Y/n, you are among the most beautiful creatures I have seen," he murmured, his gaze locked onto your lips with a mixture of desire and reverence. His thumb brushed your lower lip in a gentle, teasing caress. "Can you let me kiss you?"

Your heart fluttered in response, your chest rising and falling with each anticipatory breath. Your fingers moved to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble against your palm as you leaned in, your lips drawing closer to his. The world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the soft, charged atmosphere between you.

His lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It had been your first, so you let him overtake as you enjoyed. It was a dance of sensations, a slow exploration of desire and affection. The touch was gentle, as if he was savoring every moment, every nuance of the connection that formed between your lips. His mouth moved against yours with delicate precision, a symphony of longing and intimacy that left you breathless.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the possessiveness in the way he held you, his fingers threading through your hair, anchoring you closer. His hand, which held yours found the small of your back, a reassuring pressure that drew you impossibly nearer. 

Time lost meaning as your lips moved together, a rhythm that spoke of shared longing and a connection beyond the physical. It was a kiss that whispered promises of intimacy and trust, an unspoken understanding that bound you together in that stolen moment of tenderness and desire.

As Robert kissed and held you, you loved the sensation of being adored. The romance between you, too, however, was forbidden. He was thirty, and you were a teenager, albeit legal, but recently, a little girl. But you couldn’t resist, and he couldn’t control his desire. After all, Life and Death were as one to it. 

[idunnoficsorsumthing]

Four times they were oblivious,and the fifth....

Bobby Nash x reader

Warnings: There is some smut so 18+ readers only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

1

The two of you were sitting on the couch, you looked at your watch and your shift was about to end in a couple of minutes.Luckily, after twelve hours of endless mind numbing calls. Patiently watching your watch hoping that no emergency came in the last ten minutes. “You’re going to jinx it if you keep looking.” he said, you growl. He takes your hand in his, mostly because he liked it, but also to keep you from looking at your watch. “I’m hungry,” you tell him. The plan was to go out for drinks after the shift with the others. Right now it was almost eleven and your bed sounded a lot more appealing. “No wait, I'm tired.” you said, a couple of seconds passed, he was about to say something which you interrupted. “No, I'm hungry.” He laughed at you. “Well, when you make up your mind let me know.” he said, he leaned his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. 

You sat there with his heavy head resting on your shoulder for a couple of minutes. When Chimney came walking. You quickly drop Bobby’s hand causing him to open his eyes, and move his head from your shoulder. “Is Y/n telling that story again?” Chimney said: “It is extremely boring, sweetie.” You glare at him. Bobby laughed. “No- no, it is just getting late. “ he said, Chimney sits down on the empty part of the couch. “Who is up for drinks?” he said, pointing with his finger at both of you. “All I want is food.” you answered. You lay your head back on the couch cushions. “I’m sure the bar has something edible.” Chimney said, you look at Bobby with pleading eyes. “Come on guys." Chim said, your groan. “I’m in. What about you old man?” You ask. You see him hesitate, Surely he wanted to just go home and roll into bed. “Okay” He answered.

2

The two of you had your first fight. It wasn’t your intention to start an argument with him. It felt like you had no choice last Friday. The argument seemed stupid—it arose because he didn't give you space after a bad call, and it bothered you since you were constantly together, at work and at home. In that moment, you just couldn't face him, and it escalated into a fight. You told him you didn't want to see him, and he respected your wishes. It hadn’t happened in months that you hadn’t seen him more than one day. Throughout the weekend, you realized that your stubbornness and pride would push him away, and yet you could not get over yourself.

Now it was Wednesday, two shifts down this week while the two of you barely talked to one another. He was cutting up some vegetables, you were standing beside him helping him stir the pan in the kitchen while the others were sitting at the dinner table. Firehouse family dinners, it was a rule that if Bobby was in the kitchen that everyone else stayed out. Though it became more common to see you assisting in the kitchen. “Don’t you need space?” He asked, his tone lacking gentleness. “I’m sorry, okay.” You tell him. The sound of the knife chopping intensified, becoming more forceful.“Bobby, it was just a little too much.” you whispered. hoping others hadn't noticed the argument. He took the cutting board and unloaded the vegetables into a pan right next to you. Standing close to you, he continued stirring. His breath brushed against your neck as he asked, "Is this too close?" His spare hand gently slid onto your hip. "You know what I mean. When we get home, I just want to be with my boyfriend, not my captain," you whispered. He nodded in understanding, replying in a low tone, "I know, sweetheart."

Suddenly, Buck looked up and asked, "What are you two whispering about?" You glanced at Bobby for a moment before he replied, "Nascar." You couldn't help but frown, knowing that the others didn't care much for the topic, and nobody wanted to know more.

3

It was way too early in the morning for one of these calls. Especially after last night where you barely slept, and only stayed out, had drinks with the crew. The heat of today left you wanting to go to a pool, and sip margaritas with your best friend. You were on shift though, and the Californian sun heated your skin. The crew stepped inside of the retirement home, and followed the daughter to his room. She explained what was wrong with her father, at least as far as she could tell. 

“LAFD, sir, can you let us in?” Bobby said, knocking on the door. Chimney wasted no time entering the room from the window, and examining the mystery rash. The crew is standing in the room with his children as Chimney exposes the man’s genitals which are infected and infested with a flesh eating bacteria.You and Buck exchanged glances and tried to suppress a giggle, but Bobby's stern look reminded you that it was not the time for humor

The crew assisted the old man onto a stretcher, and you and Bobby walked out of the building together.  Urging  99% of the population at this home to go to the hospital for STD tests wasn’t on this month’s bucket list. Playfully you asked “Are you also going to be a manwhore when I finally ditch you in one of these?” He looked at you for a moment and replied and replied with a wink. “Well, you would be ditching me in my prime time.” You stopped on the last step, creating less of a height difference. “Robert Wade Nash” You playfully exclaimed. He was laughing. He looked around to see if no one was looking and quickly popped a kiss on your lips. “Don’t worry you’ll annoy me to death before I even reach a place like this.” he said, he knew it would upset you again, and raced towards the others. You shake your head, but the grin on your face says something else. 

"What was that about?" Hen asked when you got into the truck. Trying to play it cool, you responded with a shrug, pretending not to know what you had yelled earlier.

4

Today was a day that would be described by the word that no firefighters or paramedic dared to even think. It was so quiet that after all the gear was prepped, the firetrucks cleaned and polished there was still no call coming in. A miracle in LA. It took you some convincing for Bobby to have sex in the firetruck. Your argument being that if Buck had christened the firetruck so should the captain. “How did I let you talk me into this?” he questioned, you were carefully bouncing on his lap, his strong hands on your waist to guide you, sending shivers down your spine.

You held onto him tightly, slightly tugged on his short hair, allowing soft moans to escape your mouth. He kissed your neck passionately, leaving marks that would make you mad at him later when it was impossible to hide.  “Like you haven’t thought about it before.” You tell him, a laugh erupted from the back of his throat.  “You got me there.” he said, you were about to say something when he stopped moving, causing you to pout in frustration. You wanted to open your mouth and say something. The voices of your colleagues outside the truck weren’t fading. They were ruining a perfectly perfect moment.

You rolled your eyes, waiting for the others to just leave. Bobby seemed to be struggling more than you. His grip on your hips tightened, a warning for you to sit still. The tension between you grew, and you couldn’t help but to tease him a little. With a playful smirk, you rolled your hips, earning a glare from him as he bit his lip to suppress a moan. The voices outside continued. Why the hell wouldn’t they just leave? The frustration and anticipation were building inside both of you, and you couldn’t deny the thrill of getting caught didn’t make it even more hot.

It was saved by the bell moment as the alarm went off, and you quickly got off him to get decent again. He chuckled as he was zipping up his pants quickly. “I’m making you pay for that at home, honey.” he said, as he got out of the fire truck to make sure everyone was getting in. 

5

It was finally the weekend, and you were grateful for the break after working the night shift and long hours from Tuesday to Saturday. 

Sunday morning, you lay in bed with Bobby, his arm wrapped around your stomach as he hid his face in the pillow. Normally, he was the early riser, making coffee or going for a run before you woke up. Glancing at the clock that read 21:12, you realized you were running late for Chimney's birthday party, which was in less than half an hour. You nudged Bobby awake. “Dude we’re late. Maddie is going to kill us.” You said, cursing  your concern about being tardy while rushing to the bathroom to shower

You stood under the shower, when Bobby hazy from his sleep entered. “I used to never be late.” He said: “You’re a bad influence.” and yet he took off his pajamas and got in the shower with you. “We don’t have time” you tell him, while he lathers soap on your body. “I’m just trying to be efficient.” he told you with a teasing tone. ‘being efficient’ turned into making out, while ‘helping’ each other with washing. Suddenly there was a loud sound as the door to the bathroom opened. In response to the loud sound you let out a yelp, the shower had a glass screen and exposed your naked bodies to the intruders. Both Eddie and Buck were standing in your bathroom. “WHAT THE HELL?” Eddie exclaimed loudly. Buck slapped his hand in front of Eddie’s eyes. You try to cover up by holding your arms over your chest. Bobby shuts off the water, and quickly opens the glass cabin to grab the towels. Eddie pushes away Buck’s hand. “I didn’t know things were still tight, old man” Buck said, you glare at him. You were happy the towel covered your whole body, while Bobby’s was covering his lower half. “Why are you here?” you ask. All they knew was that this was Bobby’s apartment. That over the course of a couple of months almost all your stuff was here… Was a different story. “We wanted Bobby to be our DD.” Eddie said, Bobby stepped out of the shower cabin.”We can discuss that later. Can you please leave my bathroom?” He said, pointing to the guys at the door. He closed the door after them. You hid your face in your hands due to embarrassment. “It’s fine, they were supposed to find out eventually.” he said cool toned. He started to get dressed. “Not like this!” you said freaking out. Now you knew the whole ride to Chimney’s birthday party was filled with questions by those two idiots.

[abbyslev]

hi guys I WROTE THIS REALLY QUICK it’s been really hectic and like jjk’s been hitting really close to home and i just wanted to share this. sorry for any hearts broken (mine). i got my little drink next to me so prepare for more drunk angst lolzies:)))) been needing a real strong father figure in my life and it’s hard rn smfh

warnings: very very sad angst do not read if you’re fatherless bc it will send you into a spiral (me actually rn) i csnt think if anything else ok ily bye enjoy

Nanami had a quiet life. One where he went to his everyday office job, worked 9-5, went by the bakery and went home.

It was his quiet life up until Gojo left you on his front door step, leaving him with nothing but you and your backpack. Nanami was very angry, not with you of course. How could he ever be mad at a clueless kid?

“How old are you?” He sipped his coffee, peeking at you from the top of the rim.

“You can take me back to where i came from.” Was all you replied with.

So you were troubled. “I’m not going to do that. I spoke with Gojo, sounds like you were in a bad clan. Its not safe for you to go there, but i heard you don’t want to be like them.” “I don’t want to kill.” You mumbled. He felt that. He felt it so deeply, he didn’t want to see his friends dead on Shoko’s table, but that’s the reality.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up. “I’m 17.” You pushed at your food. “Why don’t you try some?” Nanami softly said. Gojo warned you he was a little strict and rough around the edges, but he had been nothing but nice to you. You ate slow bites, taking a sip of water here and there. He could tell you were tense. “I’m Nanami Kento. I guess you’re gonna stay with me for a while.”

-

“I landed that blow!” You high fived Nanami, running around in circles.

“A little too hard, don’t ya think?” Yuuji scratched his head. “That’s why i told you to keep focused, Itadori.” Nanami shook his head. “I just won me some good dinner, Itadori.” You fixed your skirt, smile beaming. “By almost killing me?” You help him up, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Yup! I won me some good soup tonight.”

Nanami studied you closely. After days and days of talking, he figured out what you could do. Your technique was too good to go to waste, but he didn’t want to force you into something you didn’t want. So he joined back with you. He promised that as long as you were in there, he’d be by your side.

He never expected such a shy person like you to create so many friendships with everyone around you, especially Itadori. With your technique and his, you two were unstoppable. Nanami felt like a proud dad at that moment.

-

“Open it, open it!” You shove the box in his hands.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, smile growing by the second. It was christmas morning, and you had woken up Nanami way to early. You didn’t even sleep from the excitement. He lifted the top off the box, revealing a beach shirt. It was nice, thin fabric. A designer button up. “Thank you, this is beautiful.” He was a little confused as to why you got him a summer shirt in the middle of winter.

You slide an envelope from under your blanket. “This one too.” You grin widely. “What’s this?” Nanami’s brows furrowed. “Open it.” Your eyes are filled with excitement, glossed over. He opened the envelope in a swift move, eyes slowly reading the thick paper.

He looked up slowly, his usual bored look now gone. Replaced with joy and disbelief. “These are…tickets to Malaysia…” He broke into a smile. “Surprise!” You gave him a grin. For the first time since Nanami had met you, he pulled you into a hug. You felt his muscles grow tighter with every second, you could hear his heart beat with excitement.

“Everything’s all settled already. I got us two weeks off, hotel booked and reservations for fun things.” You whispered, patting his back. “Thank you.”

-

“In here!” You take Itadori’s hand, pulling him into the station.

You had lost Nanami, and you had been trying to find him. You can’t lose him, especially not in Shibuya. You two turned the corner before meeting some stairs. You could hear grunts and see blood splashing everywhere. You two ran down the steps, bumping into Itadori as he came to a halt. What you saw was just like your nightmare. Everything you wished never happened was happening and you couldn’t move.

Nanami’s body was half burned, worn out. His eyes looked tired, body beaten and bruised. His weapon was covered in blood, along with dead curses all around him. Mahito stood behind him, hand on his back.

“Nanami…” Itadori’s voice broke.

“Itadori…” Nanami turned around completely.

He gave you a half smile, meeting your eyes. You covered your mouth, Itadori’s grip around you arm becoming tighter. “You’ve got it from here.” He looked at Itadori before looking back down towards you. He felt so bad, having you see him all like this. You looked tired, sad, beaten, bruised, and scared. Never in his years has he seen you scared.

“I’ll see you in Malaysia, my sweet child.”

His body grew before exploding. One moment he was there, and now nothing but bloody body parts were flying everywhere. You stare at the empty spot, a deafening scream growing in your chest. You couldn’t get anything out, so you stood there, eyes full of tears, waiting for someone to kill you too. Waiting for someone to wake you up, someone to move you. Waiting for Nanami.

He woke you up. Every morning. He would come by your dorm if you misses morning classes. He ate breakfast with you in his office. He would rarely join you and the other students. He’d mentor you for hours and take you to get your favorite Udon noodles if you did good. Even if you didn’t, he’d still treat you. You had your childhood ripped away from you, and like he said, “It is not a sin to be a child.”

He really meant it. He meant every word he had ever said to you. He loved you like you were apart of him.

“We have to go.”

“But…Nanami…” You said as you pointed to the empty space.

[sissytobitch10seconds]

As It Was

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: Lila's in too much emotional distress to be any good on this mission, so Five has gone to the next best person. Who else would he take with him on a mission where he could get stranded than the man that has always kept him grounded in reality? Thankfully this time Viktor doesn't have much to loose. Warnings: Isolation, mentions of stomach-related illnesses, injuries, medical malpractice, and trans characters being forced to de-transition due to lack of healthcare Word Count: 8,088 Ship(s): Five Hargreeves/Viktor Hargreeves

Archive link!

A/N: I don't care if you didn't like Season 4. I did, I loved a lot of it and think that the people who didn't like it are being too loud and making fandom not fun anymore. If you didn't like it, you're still welcome to read this fic but I do. not. want. to. hear. about. it. I will block you. This is simply a fiktor reimagining of the Subway plotline because I have done a lot of fiktor reimaginings for other events in this show. That being said, I hope that you can enjoy this! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

When Five approached Lila with the proposition, her initial reaction was to immediately agree to go with him. She knew that the world was ending, it was something that always happened when all the Hargreeves were back together. She had been partially to blame for causing it the second time, when Viktor had been kidnapped and then blown up the FBI building in a torture-and-LSD infused rage. She had pushed for it in the first timeline too, by coaching certain people to make mistakes when it came to correcting the timeline. An event that big being mishandled would have gotten her mother a promotion, and she was taught her entire life that was a good thing. She knew that with the Hargreeves, there was an apocalypse to be solved. She had been itching for one since the twins were born and she was doomed to another two agonizing years o the kids being so little that they needed her at the home all the time. She wanted to have a crisis to solve, she wanted it so badly that she could feel it in her teeth.

She also knew that she couldn’t handle it. Not only had she aged what felt like an entire lifetime in the half a decade that they had spent in the new universe, but she’d given birth to three kids. She still had the mind of a trained assassin that would be able to deduce what was going on in a scene within minutes of arriving and talking to a couple of people, but she wasn’t sure that her body would be able to keep up with that big of a fight. She also knew that her children were depending on her and she wanted to be the mother that she’d never actually gotten to experience. The twins had toddler gymnastics and Grace had ballet, like they did every single week since they were two years younger. Grace had told her that she loved spending time with her mom after they had dropped the twins off and it was just the two of them in the car, and the thought of letting her daughter down like that ate her from the inside out.

“I have to get back to my family,” Lila said.

“I thought that I was part of your family,” Five huffed, a bit indignantly.

“Why do you want to save the world so badly this time, anyway? When the end of everything was staring you in the face and we had been offered a way to fix it all you kept spouting on and on about how another version of you had told you not to save the world,” Lila retorted. It was so much easier to bring it back to Five and his issues instead of admitting that even though she was bored out of her mind being a housewife, she wouldn’t trade being a mother for a single thing in the entire world or any timeline.

“I finally know what it’s like to live a life! The rest of you got the chance to do that when you were dumped into the sixties, well, not you specifically,” he waved his hand at her dismissively. He ran a hand through his long hair, which she sincerely hoped that he was going to get cut again when he was finished snooping around in the Keepers meetings that she was infiltrating to keep herself busy. “Look, I jumped forward to an apocalyptic wasteland when I was thirteen. I had to make my own way for the next forty-five years, which meant that every moment was spent working to keep myself alive instead of having the normal human experiences. Then I spent a grueling month fighting to stop apocalypses, or let them happen in the case of the Kugelblitz. I never got the chance to know what it was like to be an adult growing up in the world or a human interacting with and meeting new humans without being a member of an Academy. I just got a taste of that these last few years and I want to experience that longer. So I need your help.”

“Why my help specifically?” she asked, raising a brow at him. While it was true that she had kind of forced him down into the time-travel railway before, but that was before she had been reminded of the things that she had to do today. She also remembered the whole ordeal that he had gone through when it came to time traveling without the Commission and briefcase backing him up. She couldn't get lost for any amount of time, not when it might cause her children to start forgetting what type of perfume she used or the way that she laughed. That was what had happened to her with her own parents, she knee the pain that someone went through when they had to face that.

“Because you know how to do missions with exceedingly high levels of efficiency. We may never have worked together, but I did see your name on the leaderboard for most missions done in a day. You were just underneath me,” Five replied.

“Is that a compliment?” Lila asked, waggling her eyebrows at him. She turned around just in time to see Diego and Luther start arguing about something they likely agreed on. She watched the way that Diego’s hands made chopping motions in the air and then how he cupped the head of the stuffed reindeer that he had under his arm. He loved their children so much, he never let them see a sour face despite how much he hated the dead-end, abusive job that he had taken so that he could support them. She loved that man, even if they needed a second apart from each other so that they could figure out the whole mess that their marriage had become.

“It’s the closest thing that you’re going to get from me. That and the admission that you appear to make Diego actually happy,” Five said as he turned in the same direction that she had.

She looked back to him and then stared at her husband. She was a bit worried that she was going to be too intense with that look and accidentally turn on the laser-eyes that she apparently had. She really needed to figure out why she was doing that and how to control it. The last thing she wanted to happen was to cut a person in half when she didn’t want to. “Do you think so?”

Five tilted his head from side to side as he contemplated what he was going to say next. “Well, you don’t really make him happy any longer.”

Lila felt that burning shame in her belly grow even stronger than it had before. She felt it creep up her cheeks and neck so that they were flushed bright red as she put her hands on her hips. “What is that supposed to mean, you little creep?”

“It means that I can see the bullshit he’s putting up with and how miserable he is. You were frustrated with your extended family and the domestic life that was forced upon you, so you decided to have ‘book club’. He doesn’t have anything like that. He goes to work at a job that he hates, that doesn’t respect him and that’s incredibly repetitive. He then comes home to a wife that doesn’t give a shit about him to take care of three kids under the age of ten to give you a break since you did mothering all day and have to get out of the house,” Five replied.

“So?” she asked as she folded her arms over her chest. She could see where he was going with this and she understood what he meant, but she wanted to push him further so that she could deny it a little bit longer. It was so much easier to pretend that she and Diego were absolutely fine that to face the reality that their marriage was falling apart.

“So, he’s bored and boxed into a life that he never wanted. Did you know that he and Viktor had a punk band before Dad sent him to Europe to go to music school? He ditched it and the band broke up because he loved missions so much. The change from being respected, to some extent, and able to help people to only ever being loved by his children has to be difficult,” Five commented. “Perhaps you should have talked to Diego about the high-adrenaline enrichment that you were doing for yourself before you decided that he wasn’t worth it.”

“I love Diego too!” Lila scoffed indignantly. Her husband was the light of her life, he had drawn out a part of her that she had never known existed and then stood steadily by her side as it flourished and flowered.

“You don’t show it. Telling him that you want to take a break because all he does is complain instead of listening to those complaints and assuring him that you don’t hate the way that his body is changing or helping him to fulfill his own needs is not love,” Five informed her.

She knew that she was right, those words struck through her faster than the bullets her mother had pumped into her body when she had turned into more trouble that she was worth. Still, it hurt just as much and she quickly became defensive of her actions. “What would you know about marriage and love?”

Five’s eyes sparked with a kind of fire that she had never seen before. He leaned forward as he spoke to her with a seething hatred. “More than you ever will, Lila. Now I’m going to go find someone else to help me stop this goddamn apocalypse while you reconcile with the husband you allegedly love.”

---

As Five turned on his heel and walked away from Lila, his heart ached. He saw himself in her more than he would ever admit and yet after all this time, she was still so hostile towards him. They both knew isolation, him through the apocalypse and her through being the only child to grow up at the Commission Headquarters. They both knew what it was to work as an assassin that had to choose the life of a couple of the lives of the many. They knew each other inside and out, and yet that similarity had only served to drive them further and further away from each other as time went on.

Five had let himself drift away from his family again. He had romanticized them in his head when he had been fighting so hard to get back to them and out of the Commission. He had forgotten how awful it was to be around Luther and Diego when all they were doing was bickering with each other, how moral-detonating Klaus’ most recent relapse for them could be, the sickening way that Allison thought she was better than all of them even though she no longer had a superpower that allowed her to get whatever she wanted simply by asking for it. Viktor was the only person that was the exact person he remembered in his mind, likely because they had spent the most amount of time together.

Over the last five years in the new universe, he had seen some changes in his brother. Viktor’s body had changed, with his voice deepening and his muscle redistributing itself with the changes in his hormonal balances. His face was more angular and beginning to grow the shadow of a beard as well, especially since they had been working too hard for either of them to find a moment where they could step aside and shave. He had changed quite a lot as a person, too. He was still sweet, caring, and shy as he had been when they were children. However, the amount of shyness that came out of him had been crumbled down into a tenth of what it had been when Five was still living with the rest of the Umbrellas. He was able to stick up for himself against their father, and was quick to defend himself when someone said something unfair.

Five liked the new version of his brother, enough so that it was reigniting feelings that he thought he had long since put away. He had Delores when he was in the apocalypse, but he also had Viktor’s voice ringing through his head in the form of the book that he carried around with him as a reminder about why he had to go home. Those things had kept him alive, and then he had been allowed to find meaning and purpose on his own. Those things were being threatened right now, and that scared the absolute shit out of him.

He hadn’t been that scared in a long time, not since he was a child that barely knew anything outside of missions and the two walls of his home. He knew that he had to do something about it, so he spotted Viktor standing near Allison and Luther and then immediately rushed towards him. He placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder to get his attention and then jerked his head in another direction to show what he wanted.

Viktor peeled away from the siblings that he had since grown closer to, walking a few feet away with Five. “What’s going on, are you okay?” Viktor asked.

“Not really, but I’m surprised that you were able to tell that,” Five huffed. He bit the insides of his cheeks as he realized just how sour and bitter it sounded while coming out of his mouth. He had meant to be saying something that would subtly manipulate Viktor into coming with him because he was the only other person in all of the universes and timelines that Five could imagine going on a dangerous trip with. If he hadn’t gotten antsy all those years ago and blurted it out during breakfast only to have to make a point for his thirteen-year-old pride, he would have taken Viktor with him the first time too.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Viktor asked, reeling back with an indignant expression on his face. Five didn’t fault him, what he had said was objectively rude.

“You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with Allison since this entire endeavor went down. I’m just surprised that you were able to notice a change in my behavior due to that,” he replied as he tried to get the topic back to where he had wanted it to be originally. “I’m glad that you noticed, Viktor, I really am.”

“I’ve been spending a lot of time with Allison because I think that she feels guilty for the way that she treated me in the other timeline. She’s been hanging around me like a bad smell and I’m kind of okay with it. It’s nice to be the person that has to do no work in the relationship, you know?” Viktor shrugged.

As Five looked at him, he saw the twelve-year-old that had sat beside him one day after a mission, bawling his eyes out. He had baked a cake with their mother that day as a special surprise for them, a desperate plea for his family to pay any attention to him so that he didn’t have to be so alone. When the siblings had found out that he was the one that had done the baking, they had all eaten a lot slower and more cautiously, like they were expecting him to somehow have poisoned them. Of course it would be more appealing to Viktor for his siblings to reach out to him when it had been the other way around for his entire life. It was simply another piece of the confidence that he had gained post-medication and coming out.

“I’m glad that she’s the one reaching out. What she did to you was borderline feral and not okay on several levels. I wouldn’t give her as much slack if I didn’t know how hard it was to be a person out of time when you belong to a minority,” Five said. “That being said, I would like to ask you to do just that with me.”

“What do you mean?” Viktor immediately responded. His head snapped towards Five and his dark eyes bore into the other man’s mind, as if trying to read his thoughts from a simple glance. 

It was a startling thing that Five had asked, he knew that for certain. It was frightening enough to be a queer woman back in the sixties, but it was another thing entirely to be a transgender man in any other time (and sometimes including) their own present. “I want to fix the apocalypse. I want to go back and stop the one thing that got us all into this mess so that we can come out the other side alright,” he said.

“Do we even know what’s causing the end of the world this time? Other than Ben and Jennifer, I mean,” Viktor said. The whole explanation that they had gotten from Abigail and Reginald concerning the end of the world had made very little sense to them this time around. Five was sure that they would end up figuring it out, but it wasn’t much to go off of for what he was asking.

“I was thinking that if we go back in time and either reset the universe, if we can find that place again, or stop Ben and Jennifer from touching each other in the van, then we can figure out how to stop The Cleanse from coming,” Five said. 

“I don’t know, Five, it sounds kind of weak. The last time that we went back in time it also didn’t end well,” Viktor shuffled awkwardly. “Are you sure that this is worth all the hassle?”

“Like I just explained to Lila, I want to fight for this life I have. It’s not everything that I had dreamed it was going to be, but it’s still something. I want to be able to have the chance to grow up in a world with other people, where I can have a job to sustain myself instead of having to dig through cans of exploded food and prey that my next meal doesn’t give me botulism,” Five said. He hadn’t realized how desperate he was for all of those things until they were spilling from him with no stop in sight. By the time that he had finished, his chest was having and his mind felt feral.

Viktor reached out and placed his hands on Five’s shoulders, enough to snap his brain out of the haze of memories that were pouring back in. It was so hard to be sick on his own, to be vomiting and not knowing if he was going to be able to find clean water in time to replace the water he had lost, or aching from an infection and hoping against all hope that the penicillin he had made himself would cure him. He had so much terror inside of him, for so long, that it was addicting to live in a world where he could finally be calm and sheltered from the horrors.

“Five, I don’t know if this is going to work. I don’t want you messing around with time and us getting sent somewhere worse. Dad has an idea for how we can get Jennifer and Ben back to him. Maybe Abigail will come up with an idea to extract the durango and shoot it into space or something,” Viktor said.

“What if we could save Ben in another timeline? Stop him from dying?” Five asked. It was kind of stupid, but he had seen the way that their choices butterflied into the future for their family. Clearly, Ben and Jennifer were linked. Viktor had informed him of the memories that Allison and Luther had recovered from that last meeting. If their father had killed Ben before he had even touched Jennifer, then there was a chance that something more was going on that the old man was leading them to believe.

“Wha-what?” Viktor asked. “I thought that Dad just killed him because he was an asshole.”

“Dad was a total dickhead, but that was because he had no regard for other people’s emotions and thoughts outside of his plan. He used our feelings to manipulate us, which was why he brainwashed our siblings on what happened on that mission. He wouldn’t have killed one of us when he needed seven to reset the universe. Even if he knew about Lila or the Sparrows or Phoenixes or whatever, there was very little chance that he would have been able to get them,” Five explained.

He could see the cogs whirring in Viktor’s head as he considered the proposition that Five was laying out for him. The three of them had bee thick as thieves, the people at the end of Reginald’s ranking and the ones that were most prone to studying. Five was certain that after he left, Ben had picked up the slack and chosen to continue to stick by Viktor’s side until Klaus became the one that needed deliberate and constant saving.

Viktor’s lips pursed as he sunk his hands down into his pocket. He turned out towards the fake little town that Reginald had made to hide Jennifer. They had thought that returning there may have helped them find some more clues, but it seemed as though the rest of the agents that they hadn’t managed to kill had come and cleaned everything up in their wake. The town was nothing but peeling paint signs and boarded up windows, waiting for the next purpose that the owner would happen to bestow upon it.

“Okay. Let’s do it,” Viktor nodded. He spoke with his hands despite the fact that they were in his pockets, which was one of the cutest things that Five had ever seen in his entire life. “Ben saved me, when we were in Dallas. He was able to come into my mind and get me to remember my memories so that my powers stopped freaking out and trying to kill everything that they saw as a threat. I think that he deserves a chance to live too, it’s the least that I can do to repay him.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say that you were in love with him,” Five joked. It hurt to think about, that the person he had longed after for years, so much that his heart hurt with the effort of it all, had fallen in love with the friend that he had cherished second most in the entire world. He knew that he had left Viktor and Ben behind, but part of him had always hoped that there was a chance Viktor would wait for him. He knew that was stupid, no one would be able to love their thirteen-year-old bodied adopted brother. Still, the idea hit him in the back of the head like a sledgehammer every time it popped back into his mind.

“There was a time where we kind of were. I mean, I’m pretty sure that there’s no a duo in the entire family that hasn’t been tried out once or twice. Well, maybe Luther and anyone who isn’t Allison,” Viktor shrugged. “The only person that he kissed other than her before you came back was Klaus and that was supposed to be for ‘practice,’ but I think that Klaus was just pitting us all against each other to see who was best.”

“Man, this family is so fucking weird,” Five shook his head. He took a deep breath and then rolled his shoulders before he stuck his hand out to his brother. “Are you ready for this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Viktor replied. He grasped Five’s hand as tightly as he could, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepared for the feeling of the teleportation. Five’s body was made to be dragged through time and space, he had never had to deal with the spins that way that Lila and Allison had. He also didn’t get nauseous or dizzy when he jumped unless someone had done something that caused him to correct while mid-jump. He knew that Viktor didn’t have the same protections on his body, which was why he was bracing himself so hard.

Five reached deep down into his body, to where the marigold was now nestled within his heart. He took a deep breath as he summoned it up so that it was pooling around them in purple energy. They appeared in the subway a moment later, the marigold settling back down where it belonged inside of him.

Viktor dropped his hand and began to look around the same way that Five had when he first appeared. The subway station looked exactly as it had the last several times that he had visited. The tile was white on the floors and the walls, the ceiling was concrete except for the pipes and electrical wires that lined it, fueling the hanging fluorescent lights and vending machines that dotted the terminal. The entire place was clean, despite the lack of people or perhaps because of it. None of the signs were in English or any other language that Five had seen during his time traveling the earth, but they fit the theme of the place well.

“Woah… Do you think that this is the same kind of thing that the Commission was made out of?” Viktor asked. He started forward, toward the massive map that wrapped around one of the wall pillars in the middle of the room.

“What do you mean?” Five asked as he walked after his brother. He had picked Viktor for a reason and this was exactly that, Viktor was already picking up on things that he had dismissed or not even considered. A second set of eyes were better than none, which was another reason that he had decided not to go it alone like he had many times before.

“Well, you kept saying that the Commission was a place out of time and that was how they managed to preserve the timeline,” Viktor said. “If this place can travel between multiple timelines and points in time, then it has to be something like the Commission. Did time move when you were here? Like for the rest of us.”

“No, it didn’t,” Five replied. He felt his brows furrow as his mind began to whirl with thoughts. “I never got the chance to ask the other version of myself why he had created the Commission or how. It’s something drilled into you from the minute that you start working there, that some things just don’t make sense and never will. I suppose that there was a chance that the other version of myself found a way to enhance his powers so much that he created a pocket of the timeline that was removed from it. Maybe he just saved up enough of his power that he was able to travel here. There were doors that we weren’t allowed to access in the main building where all the briefcases and the safe room were kept, it’s likely that there was an entrance to a place like this or this very subway system.”

Viktor began to run the tip of his finger over one of the lines as his eyes followed it. Someone else may have quickly gotten lost, but Viktor was a musician. His mind had been trained to follow a single line of notes even if the piece that he was reading was covered in other information. It was exciting for Five to watch him trail around the board until he tapped a circle and turned to his brother, “What is this?”

“I believe that those are the stations. If you look over here, there’s a sign pointing to this one in the same language as all of the street signs,” Five said as he tapped the glass on the other side of the pillar from Viktor. 

“Do you know how to read that language?” Viktor asked.

“I do not, but I was able to fine this,” he peaked around so that they were on the same side as he brandished the directional pamphlet like it was the mos important thing that had ever existed in any of the timelines.

Viktor took it from his hands and then opened it so that his eyes could scan over the layouts and the rails. “Wow, I never realized how often the timelines intersected with each other,” he commented.

“I suppose that they have to, since every minor decision that the catalyst for this grouping makes splits it into two or more,” Five shrugged. He stepped behind Viktor so that their bodies were almost entirely pressed together.

Somehow that felt more natural than anything he had done in a good long while, so he let himself remain there despite the fluttering anxiety in his stomach. Viktor leaned back into him with as minute movements as he could manage while they tried to decipher the timeline that they could arrive in.

“I think that we need to take this as carefully as we can. We shouldn’t go to any of the other timelines unless we absolutely have to. I don’t want to fuck anything else up, and I’m pretty good at that,” Viktor commented as he flipped the pamphlet over to look at the other side.

“I don’t think that us simply being in another timeline is going to cause issues,” Five shrugged.

“Five,” Viktor replied, giving him a disbelieving and disappointed look.

“What?” Five asked, raising a brow at him. The urge to kiss his cheek overwhelmed him all at once. He almost took a half step back to resist it, but he didn’t know if it would actually work or if raising his foot from where it was planted would send him forward and directly into Viktor’s perfect arms.

“You should know better than anyone that messing with one thing can cause the rest of the timeline tumbling down around it,” he replied. He placed his hands on his hips and looked cross, making a pretty good imitation of what Grace, their robot nanny not their niece, had looked like when she was reprimanding them for breaking something.

“Since when have you become the expert on time travel and apocalypses? Last I checked, I was the only one in this subway station that has actually worked for the Commission,” Five said as he glanced around. If he had brought Lila then she wouldn’t have fought him on this idea so much, but he knew that Viktor was the better option. Out of all their siblings, he was the one that could fight the longest and the hardest while keeping Five grounded properly.

“I’ve started enough end of times to know their insides and outsides,” Viktor joked with a lopsided smile.

Five felt like his breath had been stolen from his lungs and he just nodded his head mutely. “What do you think we should do, then?”

“I think that we should try to work out how this map works, get a good idea of where each of the subways might go, and then try that out,” Viktor said. A studious look overcame his face as he leaned closer to the map so that he could keep track of each of the tiny glowing lines that spanned the surface of the map.

---

Year 1

Time travel had always been taught to them as something that was unattainable. None of them had been allowed to read any sci-fi books that contained the subject, and now Viktor understood why. It was fine and good for people that could never attain that ability to dream about what it might be like and the adventures that could occur, but it was dangerous in the hands of someone that could actually do that.

Despite all the studying that they had done and the pamphlet that they carried around with them, they had still gotten lost. The subways had a mind of their own and they traveled where they wished, not where the voice over the subway or the signs said that they were going. They kept track of the stations that they ended up at, but Viktor still refused to have them go above ground.

They began to make food out of the subway rats so that they could sustain themselves without hunger gnawing at their guts. Viktor was able to get them oranges and chips and candy out of the vending machines when they landed in a station that had enough quality food for them to actually get. It wasn’t the life that he had wanted to lead after all his fighting to make something soft for himself, but he had his best friend with him so it was alright.

They changed in minute ways, for the most part. There was no way that Viktor was going to be able to get the testosterone that he had been taking while they were traveling. Time felt basically meaningless, but he knew that they had been down there for quite some time when he saw that his body was changing its muscle and fat deposit back to what it had been when he could barely even look at his own body. His face and abs softened, his hips widened again. He hated the way he looked but he was glad it was only Five with him, so that they could share complaints about shaggy hair and grimy bodies. Viktor had gotten top surgery during the time that they had spent without their powers in the new universe and so he didn’t notice the beginning of his cycle returning until he woke up with his shorts entirely drenched in blood.

It was the first time that he had let Five upstairs, out of the subway and into the world longer than just to check to see if it was the right one. 

Year 2

Viktor had no idea how things had lasted as long as they did. They began to go up onto the surface for longer stretches of time, to begin to make sure that every single option was crossed off. They would explore the town until they happened across either an alternate version of themselves or an entirely different version of the Academy compared to what they were used to.

Some of the timelines had been very different to the ones that they were used to, which meant that they tried to correct by moving back to one of the timelines that was closer to what they believed was the timeline that they had come from. They still had the pamphlet that they had arrived with, but at this point all the lines and characters didn’t make any more sense than they had when they had first arrived.

They carried backpacks with them now, supplies that they had gotten from the surface when they had ventured up there for the second longest time since they had first arrived. They went up to get things for their survival now, like bottled water and more food than the rats and vending machine food that they had been subsisting off of for the year previous.

As they chugged down another one of the seemingly infinite tunnels, Viktor felt his body sagging and soon found his head resting on Five’s shoulder. It felt just as natural as it had back when they were children and caused the tension and nerves in his shoulders to relax entirely. He let his hand drop down in between them and then felt another palm meet his own. He tilted his head up just enough to see the serene expression that had taken over Five’s face. Was this what it would have been like if Five had taken him with the first time that he had time traveled?

Year 3

It was bound to happen eventually, but when one of them finally got sick it was the most terrifying thing that had happened in a long time. They had been camped out at the edge of the surface of a timeline that they hadn’t explored that much when Five woke up with a sweaty body and a blotchy red face. Viktor had seen that happen enough when they were children to know that Five had picked something up.

Viktor strayed out into the timeline to find that it was one where something had happened, not one where they were waiting for that thing to happen. All of the people seemed to have just gotten up and left the town that they had lived in, leaving behind literally everything that wasn’t attached to them. The cash was all still in the till, the electricity and water worked as well as it could when the maintenance team for the city had gone as well. Viktor was able to pick up medicine and supplies from the local hospital before he returned to the house that he and Five were staying at.

It was a nice enough place, even if it was extremely disconcerting that there was literally no one around them. He enjoyed the silence, finally able to shake the rattling of the subway cars moving around them or next to them out of his head. He kept Five’s fever down by dosing him with a fever reducer and soaking his neck and feet in cold water whenever his temperature got a little too high.

By the time it was over, Viktor felt like he had seen a piece of Five that was the closest to his soul that he was ever going to get. They had their backpacks loaded with the supplies that they would need for the next stretch of journey that they took as they tried to find their original timeline.

Year 4

Injuries had become commonplace, but that didn’t mean that Viktor liked what was happening very much. He had his hands down on the ground, gripping the wall behind him so that he didn’t reach out and attack Five for simply trying to help. His boots were off his feet and next to him on the ground, which was the only thing that he was able to look at and yet still reminded him of the thing he was trying to put out of his mind in the first place. Five had a pair of pliers carefully gripped in his fingers, his eyes hardened by the seriousness of the situation and how dedicated he was to the task at hand.

“Ow! That fucking hurts, you asshole,” he growled. He let go of the pillar with one hand and then covered his mouth with his sleeve. Despite how grimy and gross he was from the stretch of nasty subway stations that they had traveled through, he let the fabric fall into his mouth and bit down onto it as hard as he could.

“Well I told you to be careful when you were walking through that glass and you chose not to listen to me,” Five replied, his voice distant and unsteady because of how dedicated he was to the task at hand.

“Not all of us can just pop over it, Five, I had to get there somehow,” Viktor replied. His own voice was tense with the pain and discomfort as he felt the shard of glass being pulled out of the bottom of his foot. Once it was finally over, when he heard the tinkling sound of it hitting the subway floor, he slumped down onto the ground and groaned. “Next time one of us gets hurt, I think that we should just try and find a doctor.”

“Or we could just not get hurt,” Five offered as he began to wrap up the wound with the antiseptic that they had stolen two timelines ago. He laughed when he saw the unamused look that Viktor gave him.

Year 5

Sleeping had never felt like it was something that they had to risk while they were traveling. It was something that came naturally to them, despite the strange place that they had found themselves in. They were only ever in trouble when they went up to the surface because the gates leading down into the subway never let anyone down. They had encountered a handful of people that had chased them to the subway but hadn’t been able to follow after them, or had landed in their own version of the terminal. It was impossible to know for sure, but they did know that they were safe with each other.

The worst that they had ever faced when they were down in the subway and trying to sleep was a surprise train showing up, or the rats that skittered everywhere. They always woke when the rats arrived to make sure that they didn’t get bitten, when Five had during their second year it had almost turned gangrenous, and so that they they could hunt the animals. They were abel to get a decent amount of food from the surface, but nothing enough to fill their bellies with enough energy that they could continue on steadily.

Viktor liked the way that they were sleeping with each other, it felt like it had when they were children. Five had used to pop into Viktor’s room and then cuddle under the fluffy comforter and thick quilts that Grace had placed over their beds. When they had gotten caught like that and Viktor lost the privilege of sleeping with his door shut, they had begun to do it a little differently.

Five would teleport down to Viktor’s room and then bring him upstairs before someone could even notice that he was absent from his bed. They would set up some of the thick quilts down on the ground and then lay next to each other underneath the sheets and comforter, cuddled together for warmth on the floor of their drafty house. That’s what it felt like they were doing now, with several woolen blankets underneath them to support their aging bodies and Five’s arms wrapped around Viktor’s waist to keep them both warm.

Nothing felt more natural than loving Five and taking care of him, he was sure that nothing ever would again.

Year 6

“I’m tired,” Viktor sighed as he let his head hit the pillar behind him. “I’m not sure that I want to do this anymore.”

“What do you mean by that?” Five asked. He gently set down the stick that he had been using to move around the rat that they were eating for dinner that night. “The rats may not be very palatable after all this time, but they taste better than hunger.”

“They taste like hunger,” Viktor said. The two of them smiled at each other, laughing silently in their eyes at the inside joke. “You don’t have to worry about me offing myself, I would never leave you here alone. At least, not if I could help it.”

“I don’t like to think about you dying,” Five shook his head. “You gave me enough of a scare when you slipped underneath the train car while we were trying to get dinner three months ago.”

Viktor sighed again, “I still don’t know how you manage to keep track of time while we’re down here. I thought I was going to be able to feel the differences in the timelines based on the amount of marigold there, but we’re too close to the rest of them. When we’re on the main track like this,” he pulled out the pamphlet and then pointed towards the massive jumbled line of color in the middle. He took another deep breath, “When we’re here it’s all so loud. I feel like they’re rattling around in my chest and they’ve been doing it for so long that I can’t hear any difference.”

Five was quiet for a while before he asked, “Do you remember where we went when I was sick? The timeline where everyone had vanished but there was no destruction or havoc?”

“Of course I do. You being that sick was one of the scariest things to happen while we were down here,” Viktor replied with a nod.

“I think that we should go back there. We should try to backtrack as far out of the main set of timelines as we can, to give you a break. I want to have one too, but I can’t imagine how loud all this has to be for you to deal with,” Five said. He was speaking pragmatically, but his tone was still softer than it usually was.

“Why are you so concerned about me?” Viktor asked, folding the pamphlet back up and setting it down next to them.

“You know why,” Five mumbled.

“I think that I would prefer to hear you say it out loud,” Viktor said. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and he knew that this time it was from anticipation and excitement instead of another panic attack that was trying to murder him before the surface did.

Five turned to him properly, dropping the stick down to the ground. He brought his soot-coated hand up to Viktor’s face and brushed his thumb over the other man’s cheekbone. Slowly, they both leaned closer together until their lips had touched. Their mouths moved in perfect synchronicity, open and closed, back and forth. It was the most love and care that either of them had ever received in their entire lives and it was exactly the thing that had kept them alive all this time.

Year 7

“Viktor?” Five called through the greenhouse that they had made into their home. 

They had stayed there longer than the couple of days that they had promised each other. It didn’t feel wrong anymore, not when they had suffered through so much to get there. They made things out of the items that they scavenged from the subway and the houses around them. Viktor had been able to get new clothing, jeans and a comfortable t-shirt that had a band he had never heard of it on the front. Five was in a Henley and a pair of slacks, something that he said made him very happy. They had matching golden bands that they had taken from a jewelry shop across time too, the one that had the alarm going off even to that day despite the fact that there was no owner and no cops to come and investigate.

“Yes, love?” he asked as he set the watering can down. He didn’t have a lot of things to do in the new place since there were no other people, but he had picked up the violin and gardening. The music helped the plants grow, or at least that was his theory since everything was so much more lush and green since he had arrived.

“I found something that I think may be of interest to you,” he replied as he pulled a notebook out of the back of his pocket. “This is what I was using to keep track of the timelines that we crossed while we were searching for the one that might have brought us back to the original.

“I don’t think that one exists, but this could help us get back to our siblings. We wouldn’t have to be alone anymore,” Viktor beamed.

“Are you feeling up for it?” Five asked. The worry that creased his brow was cute, so Viktor stepped off the stool he had been on to reach the strawberries in the back and then kissed the lines away. He was met with another pair of lips on his, which filled his heart with so much love that he felt like it might burst.

“I am. I want to go back to where we belong, with people and answers and our siblings,” Viktor smiled.

“Hopefully they haven’t managed to fuck anything up in the time that we’ve been gone. However long that is for them,” Five said. He caught another kiss before the two of them delved into conversation about what they would need to take with them when they began the second part of their two-person odyssey.