tubbytarchia · 6 months ago
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hello hello may we have some meangills for the people in the back /nf :,3
your art is very hpdhldhlkgkdgkgdkgd i love it sm youre one of my fav artists-
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You can have this thing I sketched on a bench in the park today before bugs started eating me too much and I begrudgingly left
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emmyrosee · 2 months ago
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Hi! I was wondering if you could do a modern!au sukuna x fem!reader in which they're dating and they're babysitting little yuji for the day, going to the park, grocery store, or whatever, and some old lady thinks yuji is their son and sukuna and reader had yuji as teens so she starts judging, making comments and kinda insulting them for having a kid so young. (but yuji is just sukuna's little brother)
I hope what I said made sens 😅 and feel totally free to ignore my request if you don't want to do it or if you're not taking requests at the moment :)
tw// mean old ladies, insinuations of s3x in teenage years, sukuna talking back, lots of swearing, mentions of death, I wouldn’t normally put warnings but juuuuuuuuuust in case
There’s a scoff that rings out in the air as the last of your footstep passes her. It’s enough to make Sukuna stop on impact. You turn to him, and Yuuji in his stroller looks up to see what the stop is, but Sukuna’s eyes are firm in annoyance, the vein in his forehead pulsing.
“I’m sorry,” he begins, spinning on his heel. “Is there a problem, maam?” His voice dribbles sarcasm, and you feel your heart rate pick up from anxiety.
When you turn to face the old woman, her face is twisted in judgement, wrinkles furrowed deeper than natural as she glares past Sukuna and burrows her sights onto you. A chill shrills down your spine as her cold gaze fixes on you.
“Babies having babies,” she snarls cruelly, and you see Sukuna’s knuckles lighten from the force of gripping the handles. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you couldn’t close your legs, hmm? Reproducing when you shouldn’t be. You ought to be embarrassed.”
You cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but when you look up at sukuna again, his grin is curled devilishly. You sigh, “sukuna, come on-“
“No,” he hisses. “I want to hear what the crypt keeper’s gotta say. One foot in the grave, one on a fucking oil spill and you’re wasting your breath spilling bullshit? You oughta be embarrassed.”
She clutches her chest in offense, “I can’t stand you youths these days, wasting your life on each other, disappointing your parents. Why they’d ever approve of you keeping that sin in the carriage is ridiculous.”
You’re quick to grab Sukuna’s collar and keep him from launching at the lady. He’s not happy about being stopped, he’s practically frothing at the mouth in rage, but at your grip, he stands down.
His mouth however, does not.
“I’m offended people like you even get to breathe my air,” he snarls, and you try to ignore the look the old lady gives you- she looks almost prideful to be getting such a reaction. “That child is not sin, that’s my fucking little brother- and even if it was, if you looked at him and the first thing you thought of was my girlfriend and I smashing, you need to tell your fucking hospice nurse, you pervert.”
“Sukuna-“
“It’s not my fault nor concern that your husband died from an asthma attack your dusty old pussy gave him, but if you ask me, he dodged a fucking bullet because holy fuck if I had to spend my days waiting for you to die first, I’d pull the plug myself.”
“Sukuna!”
“You think you get to sit here and judge my girlfriend, my self, my fucking brother without consequence, you are sadly mistaken. And I sincerely hope that, with the bottom of my soul, that when your decrepit heart finally decides to stop and bless the world by taking your life, no one bats an eye. If this is how you treat strangers with a child, I would love to see how you treat your loved ones. Sit on it and fucking twist, you old bitch.” Then, he flashes her a smile, “have the day you fucking deserve, you twat.”
The woman stares at him, eyes wide and jaw agape. You also, stare at him with wide eyes and an agape jaw, and it isn’t until he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to push the carriage again, that you follow.
“Sukuna,” you say, voice shaky. “Why…?”
“Because no one gets to look at my fucking family in any way other than damn respect,” he growls, fingers digging into your hip from anger. “No one.”
“No, I mean…” you swallow thickly. “Why do people feel the need to be so cruel?”
“The world is cruel,” he says flatly. Then, he sighs and shakes his head, “but I have no issue in putting terrible people in their place. Especially for yuuji. Especially for you.”
You smile softly and lay your hand on his, lacing your fingers with his as they rest on your hip, “we’re lucky to have you then, aren’t we?”
He chuckles, “it’s about time you appreciate it.”
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charliedawn · 1 month ago
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Hello! Just a small Idea or imagine, feel free to ignore if you wish
Anywho, my imagination was: imagine the nurse, right? But she/he/they have an inhumane soul. Like let's say everyone has certain souls but the nurse had a very old one (maybe has the soul of a fallen angel or something sent to Earth to live normally?) that's gone through years and years of rebirths. But WAIT, There's more. Let's say in their past lives, they've been killed by the slashers before. Maybe penny or pennywise ate them in a past life as they were a child, or Michael had killed them as a bystander. I know Penny and Pennywise would probably find out without help due to them being- well, them. But maybe what if the nurse could tap into the past lives and that's how the rest of the slashers found out? Or whatever you want, I just thought it'd be super cool :]
(It actually made me think about a previous request so I decided to keep the concept.)
The old, dusty photo album lay open, the sepia-toned images flickering with memories of a time long past. As the slashers gathered around, curiosity piqued.
Freddy Krueger
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Freddy flipped through the pages of the old photo album, his usual mocking smirk plastered on his face. But as he landed on a particular picture, the smirk faltered, his brow furrowing slightly. His gloved fingers hovered over the photograph of your doppelgänger—a face eerily familiar, one he knew all too well.
"Well, well, well," Freddy muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice low and sinister. "Would ya look at that ?"
He lingered on the image for a moment longer than usual, eyes narrowing. He knew exactly where he’d seen that face before—he’d killed you once. Or rather, killed someone who looked just like you. Memories of a past nightmare flickered in his mind, the thrill of the hunt, the screams, the sweet satisfaction of victory. But now, here you were again, alive, standing beside him, completely unaware of the dark history between you.
Freddy chuckled, a sound that was anything but reassuring. He glanced sideways at you, his tone dripping with teasing malice. "Hey sweetheart, come take a look. Doesn’t this one look an awful lot like you ?"
You moved closer, peering at the picture, oblivious to the tension radiating from Freddy. You smiled lightly, brushing it off. "Yeah, people say that a lot. That’s the founder of St Louis. Charlie Johnson. Guess I’ve got one of those faces."
Freddy's grin returned, but it was strained, like he was trying to keep up his usual bravado. He wasn’t going to tell you the truth—not now. It was too soon, and besides, he wasn’t ready to deal with the implications of it all. He didn’t do remorse—not his style.
Still, something was gnawing at him as he stared at your calm expression. Maybe it was the realization that the person in that photo, the one he had killed, was the reason he was stuck in this place now. The reason he had met the others, the reason behind his strange new life in St. Louis. It wasn’t just a coincidence; it was some twisted cosmic joke, and for once, Freddy wasn’t laughing.
He cleared his throat, shaking off the momentary flicker of guilt—whatever that was. "Yeah, guess you got a face that stands out, huh ?" he said, his voice light but with a trace of something darker beneath.
You tilted your head, noticing how uncharacteristically quiet he was being. Freddy—silent ? That was new. "You okay ?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
Freddy snapped back into his usual cocky demeanor, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Pfft, me ? I’m always okay, doll. Just thinkin' how funny life can be, ya know ?"
You chuckled, not fully understanding what he meant, but letting it go. Freddy leaned back, eyes still flicking between you and the photo, that unsettling smile never quite leaving his face. As you walked away, Freddy stared at the photo one last time, his expression hardening. You frowned as you found it weird that Freddy would suddenly fall silent—him who normally couldn’t stop yapping. You looked up and your eyes widened as you saw the expression of Freddy’s face. You had never seem him do that face before. Ever.
"Nursy…I am sorry." He finally said.
Your eyes widened.
Had he just…? You chuckled nervously.
"For what ? What did you do this time, Freddy ?" You joked and he smiled back. Yeah. That would be the talk for another time.
Michael Myers
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As Michael studied the photo, he clenched his jaw, clearly deep in thought. You noticed the furrow in his brow, the way his eyes darted between the picture and you. It was almost as if he was trying to decipher a puzzle, each piece leading to a darker understanding.
You must have understood his worry.
You took a step closer, sensing his agitation. "Hey, it’s just a picture. It doesn’t mean anything bad will happen this time, right ?"
This time…
You knew. Maybe you had always known. He quickly pulled out his notebook and scribbled furiously, his handwriting neat but hurried. He turned it toward you, the message clear : What if it is a sign ? What if you are in danger ?
You shook your head, trying to reassure him. "Michael, you worry too much. This was a long time ago, okay ? You changed."
He didn’t smile. Instead, he pointed to the picture again, his finger hovering over your doppelgänger's face. He then wrote down: Look at her. Look at the eyes. There’s something wrong. They are staring at me…They know. You were afraid and I killed you. I killed, Y/N.
You followed his gaze, feeling a chill creep down your spine. "I don’t see it. It’s just a face. It’s not like they’re—"
He interrupted you by flipping the notebook back to the last page, where he had written, People die when they’re connected to me.
The weight of his words sank in, and you felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Michael, I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me, okay ?"
He sighed, visibly conflicted. He picked up the pencil again, writing slowly this time. Promise ?
You nodded, your heart racing a bit. "I promise. It won’t happen again. You are changed. I have changed. The old Y/N doesn’t exist anymore."
He looked at you, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. But, also concern. Michael knew that it was only a matter of time before his bloody impulses would come back and then…And then…
He pulled you into a hug.
No. Not this time…Please. Not this time.
Jason Voorhees
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Jason's brow furrowed as he studied the photo, the resemblance was striking and his smile faltered. It was as if the image stirred a long-buried memory, igniting feelings he had tried to suppress. The likeness was a ghost, haunting him with the weight of what he had done. He shook his head, trying to banish the dark thoughts that crept in. He remembered that fateful day—the fear in your eyes as he had pulled you underwater, the struggle for breath as he had mercilessly held you under water until no bubbles could be seen. The guilt clawed at him, a weight he could never fully escape. He stepped closer to you, the intensity of his gaze unwavering.
"Jason ?" you asked softly, searching for the man behind the mask. He remained silent, but in that moment, he resolved to change the narrative of his past. Without warning, he moved towards you, closing the distance with a firm but gentle grip. He enveloped you in an embrace, pulling you against him as if trying to save you—to keep you with him. You could feel the tension in his muscles, but slowly it began to ease as he held you. It was a silent plea, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. His breath was steady, yet beneath it lay an undercurrent of fear—fear of losing you, fear of his own past mistake.
"Jason…" you whispered, resting your head against his chest.
He released you slowly, his eyes still fixed on yours, conveying everything he couldn’t say. The flicker of concern remained, a promise that echoed louder than words ever could. Jason would fight fiercely to protect you, even from the shadows of his own history.
Pennywise and Penny
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Pennywise cackled, his yellowed teeth gleaming under the dim light as his eyes glinted with twisted amusement. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving the photo, where your doppelgänger stared back, frozen in time. "Reincarnation is a funny thing, isn’t it ?" His voice was a blend of mockery and intrigue, as though the very idea delighted him. "I wonder what you tasted like back then," he mused, savoring the thought like a long-lost memory. He didn’t remember all of his victims, but he sometimes had sparks of how they tasted.
By looking at the picture, he could feel the delicious taste of fear your past self. He then wondered if you were to be afraid now, would you come to taste the same ? You tensed at his words. His eyes lingered on you, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t tell if he was remembering or imagining the flavor of your soul, trapped in another body from a past life.
Penny, standing beside him, tilted his head curiously, always fascinated by his older brother’s musings, though never quite grasping the full depth of them. "Do you think they taste the same now ?" Penny asked, his voice light and filled with false innocent curiosity, as if discussing a favorite meal rather than the horrors that lurked beneath that very question. Penny couldn’t possibly comprehend the horror of realising that you had been killed by the Penny Brothers—your own patients—in another life…
Pennywise’s smile widened, sharp and predatory. "Oh, I wouldn’t doubt it," he purred, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to you, inspecting you like a hunter eyeing prey. "The past has a funny way of repeating itself, doesn’t it ?" His voice dropped to a low, taunting whisper. "Maybe we’ve danced this dance before, sugar. Maybe you screamed my name, and I...enjoyed every second of it."
Penny giggled beside him, blissfully unaware of the darker implications of the discovery. He was entertained by the idea, like a child hearing a ghost story for the first time. "If we met before, does that mean we were friends back then too ?" Penny asked with a wide grin, his eyes wide and shining with a kind of uncomfortable naive excitement. You shivered. You hoped you hadn’t been…because that would mean that…even though you used to be friends, they had still eaten you—their instincts had still taken over.
Pennywise shot his brother a sideways glance, the smirk fading for just a second, a flicker of something more sinister passing through his features. "Friends ? Sure, lil’ bro. I am sure we were real close," he drawled, his voice laced with irony as he turned his attention back to you, watching for your reaction.
You felt the weight of his words, the cold, lingering tension in the air. Penny’s innocent question hung between you, but there was no escaping the darker truth that Pennywise reveled in—the possibility that you had crossed paths before, in a different life, and that they had already taken something from you once. And maybe, just maybe, they would do it again.
"Funny how history repeats itself," Pennywise muttered under his breath, his grin growing wider as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his breath. "I guess we’ll just have to see if this time, it ends any differently."
You closed your eyes. How cruel…But you had been expecting it. The fact that the Penny Brothers had decided to spare you didn’t mean squat. They could get hungry at any moment and decide that you weren’t worth the trouble anymore…And that. That did scare you.
Chucky
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Chucky chuckled, the light from the photo album reflecting off his mischievous eyes. His small, plastic fingers traced the outline of your doppelgänger in the picture. "Well, well, well, would you look at that ?" he muttered with a grin that was far too wide for comfort. "Looks like I’ve met you before."
He turned toward you, eyes glinting with something wicked. "You recognize ‘em? Nah, of course you don’t." His voice took on a teasing, almost playful tone, but there was an edge to it that sent a chill down your spine. "Bet you didn’t know I already took care of you once. Guess you’re back for round two, huh ?"
You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your cool despite the strange tension in the room. "What do you mean, Chucky ?"
He snorted, rolling his eyes as if it was obvious. "Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. This ain’t my first rodeo, and it sure as hell ain’t yours either. See that ?" He jabbed a finger at the picture again. "That’s you. Or, well, it was you. Before I did what I do best."
You stared at the photo, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at the back of your mind. It was unsettling how much the person in the picture resembled you, almost like a mirror from a past you couldn’t remember. Chucky’s voice broke your thoughts.
"I didn’t know then, but something tells me we’re not done. Not by a long shot," he said, his voice low and dripping with amusement. He let out a sharp, maniacal laugh, stepping closer. "What do you think ? You wanna do this the easy way, or we gonna have some fun like last time ?"
He was enjoying this far too much, but there was something beneath his bravado—something darker. He wasn’t just messing with you. There was recognition in his eyes, a hint of unease mixed with the usual bravado. He could remember your screams, your fear—and he enjoyed it.
You took a step back, trying to shake off the creeping feeling of dread. "You’re full of it, Chucky. It’s just a picture." You tried to reason.
He smirked, shaking his head. "Maybe. But you do feel it, don’t ya ? That little tingle in your spine ? That’s the past comin’ back to haunt ya, baby. And you and me ? We’ve got unfinished business." He leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "You can feel it. In your bones. You know me."
His laughter filled the room, that familiar, high-pitched cackle echoing in your ears. Even as you tried to brush it off, a tiny voice in the back of your mind wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was truth in his words. Chucky left and your eyes fell back on the picture. You swallowed uneasily before turning around to leave…
Brahms
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Brahms sat in the garden, staring at an old photo album with a deep sense of unease. His hands shook slightly as he flipped through the pages, his breath catching in his throat when he finally saw it—you. Your doppelgänger stared back at him from the photograph, the same gentle eyes, the same smile, just like he remembered. His heart tightened, and a wave of guilt washed over him. You had no idea, did you ? You were unaware that once upon a time you used to be his nanny and that once upon a time…he had killed you. He swallowed hard, gripping the edges of the book. For a long moment, he just sat there, unable to tear his gaze away from the picture. His mind raced with memories, flashes of the past he had tried so desperately to bury. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—not then, not now. But he had, and now here you were, back in his life, completely unaware of the darkness that connected you both.
You entered the garden and noticed him, sitting there with his hands trembling ever so slightly. "Brahms ?" you asked softly, stepping closer. "Is everything alright ?"
He didn’t answer, couldn’t find the words. Instead, he glanced up at you with a look of such sorrow and regret that it made your heart ache. You frowned, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor.
"Brahms ? What’s wrong ?"
Brahms carefully closed the album, hiding the photograph from view. He stood, his tall figure looming over you, but his movements were slow, deliberate. He didn’t look at you, instead lowering his head in shame. For a moment, you thought he might walk away, but then, to your surprise, he gently wrapped his arms around you. His embrace was hesitant, almost as if he was afraid to touch you, but there was a desperation in the way he held you, like he was trying to protect you from something you couldn’t see. He buried his face in your shoulder, the porcelain mask he wore hiding the expression. You froze for a second, taken aback by the sudden affection, but then you relaxed into his embrace, your hands slowly coming up to rest on his back.
"Hey, it’s okay," you whispered, even though you weren’t sure what was wrong with him. "You’re safe, Brahms. I am here."
Brahms tightened his hold, his body trembling slightly. He couldn’t tell you—not now. How could he ? How could he explain that once, in another time, in another life, he had hurt you in ways that could never be forgiven ? He had been a different person then, consumed by fear, anger, and madness. But now ? Now he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again, couldn’t bear the weight of that guilt crushing him.
In his mind, he was reliving that terrible moment—the moment he had wrapped his hand around your neck. The moment he had watched the life drain from your eyes. And now, holding you close, he was trying to save you from that day, from the monster he had been.
"I’m sorry," he whispered, though the words were barely audible, muffled against your shoulder. He repeated it in his head, over and over, the weight of it suffocating him.
You stroked his back gently, not knowing the full extent of his turmoil but feeling the depth of his remorse. "It’s okay, Brahms. Whatever it is, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out together. I promise."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his mask still concealing his face, but you could see it in his eyes—the pain, the regret. He gently shook his head, as if trying to tell you that it wasn’t okay, that it could never be okay. But for now, you didn’t press him. You just stayed there, wrapped in his arms, offering him the quiet comfort he so desperately needed, even if you didn’t fully understand why.
Bo and Vincent:
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Bo stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the old grey wall of the garage, his ever-present smirk fading as he glanced at the photograph Vincent had uncovered. The resemblance was uncanny—you, staring back at him from the past, though dressed in clothes from a different era and fear in your eyes…Bo felt a strange unease bubbling up inside him, a rare crack in his confident facade. He chewed on his lip, looking over at his brother, who was holding the photograph carefully, as if it were fragile, like the truth it carried.
Vincent hadn’t said a word—he never did. But Bo could see it in the way his twin’s fingers trembled slightly, in the way his usually stoic eyes flickered with some deeper, hidden emotion. Vincent felt it too—the weight of recognition, the unsettling realization that they had seen you before, lived through this before.
"Well, ain’t this somethin’," Bo finally drawled, pushing himself off the wall and sauntering over to where Vincent stood. He took the picture from his brother’s hands, studying it closer, though the easy grin didn’t return. "Looks like we got a second shot at this, huh ?"
They failed to hear you enter the garage. "What’s that ?" you asked, stepping closer to see the picture. Bo, always quick to shield you from what he didn’t want you to know, swiftly tucked the photo behind his back with a playful smirk.
"Nothin’ important, darlin’. Just some old memories," he said, his Southern accent dripping with that charming, almost teasing tone he always used when he was trying to hide something. But there was something off in his eyes, something he was trying to hide.
Vincent, on the other hand, stood motionless, his masked face turned toward you, his breathing slow but deliberate. You could feel his eyes on you from behind the wax mask, studying you in a way that made you wonder if he was seeing someone else when he looked at you.
"Can I see it ?" you asked softly, sensing the shift in the room.
Bo hesitated for a second too long, which was unusual for him. Normally, he’d have some smart comment or distraction ready, but now, he just stood there, one hand gripping the photograph tightly behind his back. Vincent’s gaze never left you. Finally, Bo sighed, his easygoing demeanor slipping just a little. "I reckon you can, but it might spook ya a bit." He handed the photograph to you, his eyes watching your face closely as you took it.
You looked down at the old, faded image. The person in the picture—someone from the past, yet they looked exactly like you. Same eyes, same face, as if you were staring at your own reflection in another lifetime.
"Is this…?" you began, but Bo cut you off.
"Yeah, looks like someone you look like someone from way back. Someone who mighta met a nasty end, if I remember right." He chuckled, but there was no real humor in it. "Small world, huh ?"
Vincent, still silent, took a step closer. His hand reached out slowly, and you watched as he gently touched the edge of the photograph in your hands, his fingers lingering there as if he could feel the weight of the past pressing down on him. You looked into his eyes, searching for some answer, but all you found was a deep, aching sorrow.
Bo noticed the exchange and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Don’t pay too much mind to it, a’right ? We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. No need to go diggin’ up old graves."
But Vincent remained close, his presence heavy and filled with unspoken remorse. You could feel it—he wasn’t just looking at the person in the photo. He was looking at you, really looking, as if he were remembering something he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was something deeper, but whatever it was, it made your heart ache.
"Vincent," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s okay. I am not mad at you. It is all in the past."
His head tilted slightly, the ever-present mask obscuring his features, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you protectively. It was rare for Vincent to show affection like this, but in this moment, it felt like he was trying to atone for something, to shield you from a past you couldn’t remember but he could never forget.
Bo watched the two of you for a moment, his expression softening just a little. He may have been rough around the edges, but even he could understand that they had both grown attached to you. Bo sighed again and shook his head.
"Y’all are a couple of saps, you know that ?" he muttered, but there was a fondness in his voice. He turned his back to you both, giving you a moment of privacy. Vincent held you for a little longer, his embrace a silent apology for something you would never fully understand. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. You were here, in the present, and that was all that counted.
You ended up up forcefully pulling Bo into the hug before whispering.
"It’s okay…I forgive you. I forgive you."
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incarnadin3 · 2 months ago
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𝖀𝖕 𝕴𝖓 𝕱𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘 ~ 𝚃𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚛
A/N: Hi guys! First of all, tysm for 60 followers! I never thought I'd get this far, but you guys make me so happy. I haven't posted in a while because I'm facing writer's block, but I wanted to post a teaser to show you guys what the story will be about. If you guys have requests, feel free to send them in! Also, the new exchange student's name will be hidden for now hehehe. Enjoy~
Pairings: Obey Me! Brothers x fem!MC
Summary: When did it all change? When MC showed up in Devildom, it took her 5 months to fully gain the trust of all the brothers. So naturally, when the year was over and Diavolo said the exchange program had been a success, and you could still stay if wanted, you obviously agreed. To continue the program, Diavolo decided to have another human come. The brothers were wary, but you were ecstatic! Another human! One that wasn't a shady sorcerer like Solomon! You had hoped to help the brothers warm up to them, but didn't expect them to leave you for the other human. When did it all go up in flames? You just wanted them to remember you again. You just didn't expect the other human to tell you the only way you'd be remembered was through a dusty picture on the wall after your death, in the basement, hidden away for the rest of the coming centuries. And now, the only thing that stood between you and death was the flames. Flames of the Seven Deadly Sins. And all you could remember was, When did it all go Up In Flames?
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2 years ago
"My name is Lucifer. Welcome to Devildom, MC."
8 months ago
"Thank you for the pacts, you guys."
"No problem, MC. We all would happily lay our lives down for you. We love and trust you a lot, MC."
3 months ago
"What?! Whaddya mean another human?! We don't want another one!"
2 months ago
"My name is Lucifer. Welcome to Devildom."
"Hey cutie! I'm [REDACTED], but you can call me [REDACTED] for short!"
1 month and 3 weeks ago
"I-I don't know MC...I just don't like that girl! She gives me creepy vibes! Can ya believe it?! Me, The Great Mammon, gettin creepy vibes from her!"
"Mammon, she's Lilith's descendant too! You'll warm up to her soon, trust me. Just like you and your brothers did with me. After 5 months...but still...You'll be ok! You're still my first demon and I'm still your human. She won't come in between any of us, trust me."
Are you sure about that, MC?
1 month ago
"Mammon, I'm ready, where are you?!" - Oh, I went gambling with [REDACTED] already, she has better luck than ya!
"Levi! You still down to go to that new pop-up store?" - I-I'm going with [REDACTED], she knows a lot more than you.
"Satan! Can I borrow a book and read with you later?" - Sorry MC, but I don't want you to ruin my books. [REDACTED] takes much better care of my books anyways. And I like reading with her more, sorry!
"Beel? Wanna try some of my cooking?" - No thanks MC, I'm quite full. [REDACTED] made me really delicious food, much better than yours! Maybe another time?
"Asmoooo!! Wanna have another spa da-" - MC, sorry, but can you be quiet? Me and [REDACTED] are having a spa day and you're interrupting us!
"Hey Belphie can I sleep with yo-...Is that my pillow...with her?!" - Go away MC, you're so annoying! [REDACTED] is so much comfier...now please leave. NOW.
3 weeks ago
"Lucifer? I don't like [REDACTED]. Ever since everybody found out she's Lilith's descendant too, everyone has been ignoring me! - MC. stop being insecure and be quiet. [REDACTED] isn't annoying like you, at least.
1 day ago
"[REDACTED]. What the hell are you doing to the brothers?! I swear to god if you-"
"Oh you poor poor MC...you think they care about you? No. They only liked you because they knew you were related to Lilith. But they love me because I am Lilith."
"What?"
"Oh honey, the only way they'll ever remember you is in an old photo hidden in the basement, collecting dust."
"I-...if you hurt them..."
"Oh, who said I'm hurting them?"
"..."
"Speak of this to anyone, and I will kill them. One. By. One."
2 hours ago
"Hello, MC. Us and [REDACTED] are heading to a party at Lord Diavolo's. You're staying behind. You're grades have been horrible recently, and I'd rather you not embarrass us at his castle."
"But-"
"No buts. Goodbye."
1 hour ago
*sniffs* "What's that smell? Smells like something's burning."
"OH MY GOD!"
"Come on Lucifer! Pick u- Hello?! The house is on fi- [REDACTED]? HELLO?! GIVE THE PHONE TO LUCI- HELLO?!"
5 minutes ago
*at Lord Diavolo's castle*
"[REDACTED]? Is everything ok? You had needed my phone?"
"Everything's fine Luci! MC just fucked something up back home. Don't worry, I took care of it."
"Ah, thank you so much. MC is quite a problem these days. I appre-"
"LUCIFER! LUCIFER!"
"L-Lord Diavolo?! Is everything alright?!"
"The hou...HoL is on fire! MC's inside! Everything is up in flames!"
"WHAT?!"
Now
*at the hospital*
"Lucifer...will MC be alright?"
"I...don't know, Mammon, I don't know..."
"Guys chill out it's just a bu-"
"SHUT UP YOU WITCH!"
"Belphegor! Calm down!"
"NO LUCIFER! SHE'S A WITCH! I just found out her real identity in MC's diary!"
"Show me."
"..."
"Guess the secret's out now."
"You're...."
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A/N: Who is she???? Stay tuned to find out!
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runningfrom2am · 2 months ago
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michigan cherry // part seven
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summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.
pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader
wc: 2.9k
masterlists / nav / requests
tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee. also not thoroughly proofread oops
a/n: heyyy y'all little update, i just started school again for the fall and it is already a LOT. i'm surprised i got this out but i'm really glad i did!! i miss them :(
my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)
send me any and all of your thoughts! here!
series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist
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Walking on eggshells around Billy has been a minor yet effective form of torture. You stopped singing for him, and he stopped asking. He still attended your shows, but you can't help but believe it's out of obligation.
It's endlessly confusing. When you first met he had most definitely been hitting on you, unless you were misreading that. You're rethinking every decision you've ever made because he won't talk to you anymore. Well, he does, of course, but it's small talk, mostly. It feels like you constructed a brick wall between you even though it was his fault for reading your stupid notebook in the first place. Every time you thought about it, you spiraled back to anger again.
It doesn't help that you're staring at his back as you lead your horses into a new town, wordlessly having cycled back East this week considering your savings were starting to get close to what you needed. Soon, or maybe even on the way to Michigan, you'd be able to make enough to get your family back.
You force yourself to look away from the way his body sways on the horse, your jaw tightening as you take in your surroundings in a new city. Without discussing it, the two of you cycle a fair distance around the schoolhouse on the edge of town, the old fence falling and tipping over in several places from years of children climbing all over it.
There are children playing outside currently, and you smile despite your foul mood. You missed your family. Those kids, Josie and Harvey and Sarah, and you remember talking about sending them to school once you and Max could finally afford a more permanent place for the five of you to stay. But that day never came.
Billy is lost in his own thoughts, mostly swallowed by the tension in the air that had enveloped you both for over a week now. He just doesn't know what to say, what to do, he wants to apologize but he doesn't want to risk what comes next. As long as you're here, as long as you're still with him, he's willing to suffer the silence.
Silence that's broken when he hears you gasp and shuffle, and as soon as you stumble down from your horse, he's got his gun out ready to stop anyone who's startled you. But you don't seem scared.
You're clambering off the ground from where you fell in your haste to dismount, and sprinting toward the fence of the schoolhouse with your guitar case discarded like it was nothing on the ground behind you.
"Harvey! Harvey!" You call out the boys name as you run to the boy you swore was for all intents and purposes, your little brother, and when he turns his head, you're even more sure it's him.
He hops the fence to meet you and you're crashing into each other, falling on your knees as you catch him.
He smells different, cleaner, and he's dressed in clothes you had never seen, but it's him- and you bury your face in his hair as he clings to you. The last time you held him like this was the night Max was killed.
You don't realize you're crying until you lift your head again, gently grabbing the boy's chin to raise it and get a good look at him. "Oh, honey, what are you doing here? I've been looking for you guys, I never stopped looking, I'm coming to get all of you." You say, brushing your thumb over his round cheeks.
He doesn't answer, and you don't think he can. You just smile, pulling him close again and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I missed you, I missed you so much." You mutter into his skin, rubbing his back and holding him close to you. You'd never let him go.
Looking around at the rest of the kids watching the scene from the other side of the fence, you don't see Josie anywhere.
You hesitate for a moment before asking. "Where's Josie?"
Harvey shakes his head against you. "I don't know." He answers quietly, and your heart breaks more.
You were thrilled to see him, to see he was okay, but realization comes crashing over you and chills your bones in an instant.
They'd been separated. Adopted out, and there's no way of knowing where she is or if she's safe.
"And Sarah?" You ask, attempting to steady your voice.
Another small head shake against you. "They were both still there."
"Okay, okay..." You say, gently stroking his hair. "I'll get 'em, and if they're not there I'll find 'em, okay? And we'll all be together again, I promise. I been savin' up, I'm gonna get all of you back. I swear. It'll be okay."
You hear Billy's footsteps behind you, having just dismounted his horse and grabbed yours in his hurry to catch up. "Hey, doll, maybe we should be goin'." He says, a slight warning in his tone.
You look up past Harvey, seeing what must be a teacher coming out of the schoolhouse likely to scold you for grabbing one of the children. But she didn't know, she didn't understand- he was your brother, essentially your child, your responsibility in every form except for flesh and blood.
Harvey looks as well, before turning back to you and hugging you tighter. "I love you." He mumbles into your shirt, no doubt tearfully.
You kiss the top of his head.
"I'll be back for you. I promise." You whisper before letting him go again.
You couldn't stray far after that. You found somewhere that would let you play locally, and you used the first few shows to ask locals about Harvey as much as you could. You needed to know where he was living and who had taken him from Sarah and Josie, and you had gotten much of the same answers. The little boy, new in Crystal City, had been adopted by a kind older couple on a homestead outside of town. The Booker's were well-loved by everyone, it seemed, pillars of the community who had been around their entire lives. She used to be a teacher, and he once worked at the general store. Still does, sometimes, but they had never had children of their own despite their desire to.
Apparently, it had taken them ages to save up to make the long trip to Michigan- the woman had a cousin who lived just down the street from the orphanage you had been raised. The smallness of the world was both a blessing to you and a curse. A little boy would be a tremendous help around their home now that they were getting older, and they could love him as their own and keep him warm at night.
You knew, in theory, that you should be happy with these reviews. That they were good people, and Harvey was safe with them. But he wasn't with you. He wasn't with Max, or Sarah, or even Josie, and it hurt more than you cared to admit that he wasn't with his real family. The Booker's would never know him the way you did, couldn't sing him to sleep or teach him to write music and play the guitar the way you can.
Your fingers stray on the chord you're running, making a dissonant sound chime in the almost empty bar you were warming up in. You cringe, shaking your head and sighing as you relax your grip on the instrument. There was no use worrying about Harvey and the others now, if you couldn't play worth your salt, you'd never save up enough to get the girls back. You couldn't get him back if you weren't playing your best. Thank god the barkeep was the only one around to hear your mistake. It was minor, but you felt like it could cost you your life. Your show had to be perfect.
Shaking out your hands and cracking your knuckles, you're about to get back to practicing when the front gates of the saloon are shoved open, made louder by the force of the wind. It was a tempest afternoon, and you were starting to worry that despite the revelry your name had developed over the last few months, traveling and performing for anyone who would watch, that tonight you wouldn't make much in tips if it developed into a full-blown storm and no one could even make it to the show.
"We gotta go. Come on." Billy's saying quickly, practically running up to you from the front doors.
"What? What's going on?" You can hear the distress in his voice, making your eyes go wide as you stand up from the stool you had borrowed from the bar to drag up into the cleared area they had made into a stage.
He yanks your guitar from your hands and shoves it into the case, trying his best to be gentle in his haste. "Twister's comin', we gotta get somewhere safer. Find a cellar or somethin'."
"Doesn't the bar have one? I-"
"No, it doesn't, I checked. Come on. Let's get you out of here." Before you can say a thing, not that you'd know what to say, he's grabbing you by the hand and pulling you back out the doors with your guitar case gripped tight in his other hand.
You're holding tight onto your journal as the wind whips your hair into your face and the back behind you in the same second, giving you the chance to look out off the porch of the saloon and out to the west of town beyond the few buildings on the street.
It's like the air is sucked out of your lungs when you see the sky, a twisted yellow and green tint to it that falls over everything and tints the world in an unfamiliar way.
"Come on!" Billy shouts, not giving you time to bask in the sick quiet of it all as he tugs on your hand again, trying to pull you in the direction of the residences up the hill. It was about a mile away, if memory served, but closer than that was where Harvey was staying if you took a left off the main road and down a side path leading straight to the Booker's home.
You follow him, letting him lead you over to the horses you had tied up outside, which were clearly anxious from the storm.
You watch the sky again as Billy makes quick work of untying them both and throwing the flimsy rope on your guitar case over his shoulder, letting the more restless of the two animals take off running. He would find you another horse later, he thinks, as he grabs onto your hips and lifts you quickly into the saddle of the one he kept a grip on.
You snap out of your daze, adjusting quickly and holding on as he climbs up behind you and reaches around you for the reins. He doesn't waste a second, snapping the leather cord and kicking the horse's side to get you moving away from the main strip and up towards the residential area.
"We have to go for Harvey!" You shout over the wind, lifting one arm to cover your mouth and nose from the wind that's keeping you from getting enough air. "Left, up here!" You point at the almost indistinguishable trail, and Billy doesn't ask any questions as he follows your direction.
It takes longer than Billy would have liked for you to reach the house beyond a small forest and nestled in a field, a small cozy cabin drenched in the rain that started to pour. A sign you weren't outrunning this tornado as well as he may have hoped. You hurriedly hop down from the horse and keep your arm over your face as you run for the door, pounding on it hopelessly.
"Harvey! You in there?" You shout, moving quickly on to looking in windows that stutter and shake from the force of the wind when there's no immediate answer, not that you'd be able to hear if there was. "Harvey!"
Then Billy is grabbing your arm again, pulling you off the porch. "This way! They must be in the cellar!"
It made sense, it was smart of him to look for that first, but you couldn't think straight at the moment. You knew tornadoes were common in this area, often deadly in Missouri, but you'd never encountered one before like the one creeping up on the town that you could see in the distance through the field.
The cellar on the Booker's property was entered through a barn near the house, the front door of which was already open from Billy busting it open a moment ago before coming back for you. It's dark, mostly, the light seeping in from the door behind you as Billy pushes you in ahead of himself.
You're so overwhelmed, so scared as you stick as close to Billy as you can, that you don't notice there's someone standing in the open barn until you hear the click of a gun loading over the creaking of the unsteady barn in the wind. The last time you heard that sound, your best friend was shot dead moments later, and the fear that pulsed through your veins felt like a tangible substance- like the liquid felt thicker, heavier; weighting you onto the spot where you stood and holding you there.
"Hey, woah, we didn't mean to startle you, we just-" Billy says, taking a step in front of you and holding you back with one arm, his other hand raised defensively.
"Don't move," The man spits, and you peek over Billy's shoulder, gripping onto the back of his sweater. That must be Elliot Booker. "I know who you are." He continues, and your heart drops.
"O-okay, well, it's, it's nice to meet you, I-" You assume he was talking to you, talking about how you're Harvey's "real" family.
"We got a kid down there, I'm not lettin' you get a step closer. You best be gettin' out of here." As he speaks, he doesn't even spare you a glance. His eyes are locked on Billy.
You're confused, but neither of the men in front of you seem to be. Billy's expression hardens, you can see it in the slight tense of his jaw as he keeps the back of his hand on your waist behind himself, making sure you're still there.
"We need some place to shelter, that storm is comin' in quick. She's a friend of your kid's. If you won't take me, let her in with you." Billy says, nodding back over his shoulder toward you.
You glance back at the door as the wind roars behind you, swinging the door wide open again. Despite everything that was going on or not going on between you and Billy, you weren't going without him. You cared that much, and apparently, he still did too.
"Mister Booker, please, I know this isn't the best way for us to meet, but-" You try to cut in but he isn't having it, loading the rifle and aiming it at you again as you take a step out from behind Billy to the side.
By the time he's done cocking the gun in your direction Billy's own pistol is out as well. You didn't even hear him move, but it was loaded before you could turn your head to look at it.
"If you know who I am, you'll know that shooting her is far from a smart move." He says through gritted teeth, and you can tell he means it based only on that heavy feeling returning and pinning you in place as he corrects himself to stand in front of you again. "You'll be dead before the first hair on her head hits the ground, you hear me?"
Mr. Booker's grip on the rifle remains firm, and he doesn't back down. You don't even know what's going on, you can't even begin to process or try and understand what Billy meant by that besides the obvious.
"If you know who I am..."
You look up at the back of Billy's head and the hat you'd worn a handful of times over the last several months when the sun was a little too bright or too hot on your skin, and where the frayed old rope tied to your guitar case still held it over his shoulder, the rope rubbing red into the skin of his neck. His broad shoulders that you'd dreamt of running your hands over but had only done so when he was helping you up onto the horse he had got for you with a good deal, exchanged for an afternoons work on a ranch somewhere in Texas, and out of nowhere, you don't think you know him.
But you do. You know he lost his family and his best friend like you did, and you know where he went to sleep on nights he couldn't stomach being under the same roof as his mother's awful husband. You know how his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and that he doesn't shave often and he doesn't need to. You know his favourite songs, and you know he can kind of play the guitar and with practice and your help he's getting better. You know he likes to sing too, though he doesn't admit it. You thought you knew he was a good man.
"You're lucky I haven't shot you yet to turn in your body tomorrow." The man responds after what feels like an eternity, and you're hardly sure you can hear anything anymore. "Go."
Billy keeps his eyes and his gun trained on Harvey's new caretaker as he pushes you slowly back toward the door, out into the storm again.
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no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!
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Note
Brahms Heelshire x reader who is just kinda weird, like collects bones and shit. Also hates people (aside from Brahms who they absolutely adore)
OH MY GOD, okay yes totally. Idk if should write this going into spicey in the end or if you want it normal and more fluffy?? Just reply again I'll make sure to do it 🦦
(Also my first request my god I'll remember this 4 ever fr) so I'm doing it again. Let's hope it's not gonna delete 🏃‍♀️. (Update, IT WORKS SO HERE YALL GO, and here you go love since you asked for it ♡)
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I'll be death itself for you.
After driving 7 hours with a heavy ass trailer behind you. You finally arrived at the Mansion you bought. In an online auction..which well is a bit questionable, thr house was cheap for its size. Condition was well not the best but it still cost a lot less than it would've. So after buying it and getting up and about, you're more than relieved when the house turned out to be real. Made of bricks, windows and doors.
"Gosh look at this place.." you exit your packed car and hold the old keys in your right.
"Yes yes I'm coming Luc" Lucifer, you're calico cat, busy scratching on the window. Surely couldn't wait to get out of the car after being stuck in it for hours with you.
Opening the door you take her leash.
"Impatient much?" Slowly making it up the stairs letting Luci smell what she felt necessary. You finally got to the door and she sat by your foot waiting. Unlocking it was a but hard, the lock seemed a bit rusty by now and when the lock finally clicked, you tried to open the door. And my god those doors! They didn't have such a huge size for nothing, they were heavier than expected. So using your whole body weight it finally budged just enough for you two to slip in.
"Pray the electricity works.." trying the first light switch, nothing, the second nothing, the third a quick flicker and then a burst light bulb. "Great" you mumble and finally decide that's a problem for the evening. Walking through the hallway and expecting the rooms with Luci was more than disappointing. Everything was dusty, one room had broken furniture, a sloppily fixed wall (hehehe) and a dead mouse in a trap in the backroom of the kitchen. A life one right next to it stuck in a saver trap. You made a mental note to go out to the woods and let the mouse go.
"Okay" you think before you pick Luci up.
"You're to slow girl, the rooms upstairs are not gonna be around all day."
Walking back into the hallway and then up the stairs, passing open doors and not finding any particularly interesting. The child's room looked so sad..and cold...almost creepy but it also filled you with the want to rebuild it as best as you can. Just because..
You settled for the last room at the end of the hall, it has a bathroom too ans the bed was amazing, so was the dresser and closet. They fit perfectly for you. You let Luci down and she imidiatly found it necessary to leave the room. And just explore again. You were fine with it thou, Luci always made sure to let you know when something was up.
"Mh...maybe I should start by cleaning...everything is old and messy..bed first"
Going to grab the old mattress and covers you imidiatly regret it. The huge cloud of dust hitting you in the face. And not just dust, it smelled horrible. You actually almost gagged while sneezing.
"Jeez need a mask huh?" After grabing a mask and some gloves, just to be sure, you finally get to work. The window were painted shut, so great, all the way downstairs and out the backdoor with the trash you go.
Hours later you finally manage to get the bedroom empty and clean, also the bathroom, which is very important ☝️.
You decided to bring up your own bed stuff mattress, pillows what not. The clothes you owned still stacked in boxes on the floor. You got yours and Luci's food...well after you decided you could carry 6 bags in one go, which cost you a stubbed little toe, a ripped open bag, and a bruised ankle.
So yeah no, one trip, was actually not enough.
You needed more than that but it's fine.
You groan as Luci just watches you gather up her spilled dry food. Luci was a diva, she wouldn't eat anything off the floor. Well this food was gonna end up in a bowl soon after anyways and she'd eat it perfectly fine.
"You hungry Luc?" Grabbing wet food you make sure she eats before heading back out and getting the box with your most precious items, your hammer and some nails.
You carry it all back up to your room and set it down on the little bench at the end of the bed. Looking at all the free wall space imagining which one would be best suited. The last wall on top of the dresser seemed perfect for your collection, you smile as you open up the box, carefully grabbing out the fragile skulls, the picture frames that held pinned bugs, two bats and the smaller bones that were inside a see through glass box. Luci liked to steal them, you'd never see them again.
Putting up all the picture frames and skulls, you were happy with it. Only small parts of the wall were still free which should keep you in check, but you couldn't wait to add more to your collection.
You loved to pin dead butterflies, moths and some spiders. You got some while on long walks, some you raised yourself. They were very important to you. The fact you could let them be in their full glory and beauty even in death was something you loved.
After finishing the wall, and the sun slowly set you decided you needed to find some damn candles. And lucky as you were, there was an entire cabinet full of them, one of the drawers was full of matches.
"Mh so busted light bulbs ain't new here huh?"
You leave the study with a huge box filled with candles and set them up. Putting a few on the tables and shelves that were safe enough to hold candles, and some in the hallway and up the stairs on those mirrored candle holders. Which were pretty rad to you. Watching as Luci scratched at a wall and smelled it, "what's up girl? Don't tell me we got rats or something in the walls?!" You gasp as you walk over to her, pressing your ear to the wall. Nothing, but a faint buzzing of the electricity...well the electricity didn't work but sure did?
"This should do.." finally done with most work you decided to eat dinner. Of course the kitchen didn't really help with that so a sandwich had to do.
Seated in the study room with Luci leaving from the small couch as soon as you arrived to go upstairs with her attitude and ready to use the bathroom.
You decided to just eat, you eyes flickering over the walls and shelves filled with books. Beautiful hard leather bound ones, some definitely seemed to have potential for a lot of money if sold well.
After picking up the one that sat on the small table next to the couch and looking through it you dropped it as you flinched. A loud crash could be heard from upstairs, Luci never broke things. Yes she was a drama queen but she never did.
When she came running down the stairs hurriedly hiding behind the couch you were seated on staring towards the stairs with growling and hissing. You get up carefully, "what's wrong baby?" you ask a bit shaken by now.
She never acted like this not for no reason at least.
Grabbing the pointy letter opener you slowly make you way to the stairs. Great, the too of them was dark, the entire hall was, hell the entire first floor was a creepy pit.
"Oh...mh okay..it's okay you're the only person in this house." Trying to sooth yourself with self talk didn't help as much as you'd hoped only the zippo in your pocket would grant you light up in that black hole.
Walking up the creaky stairs with your 'dagger' pointed and ready to be used, and you zippo lighting the steps extra with the candles that lined the wall. Swallowing hard you call in like a fool, "hello?". Like girl, be for real. You're a horror obsessed freak and don't follow the rules? Wow..
Down the hall you only see the light of your lighter, and your slight reflection in the window, "shit...I'm gonna die and become cat food aren't I?", you huff out before you start walking.
"I'M ARMED AND I'M SCARED TO USE IT!", you yell out. Again, like an idiot. You walk past all the rooms to yours and nothing. Not a person, not a broken piece of whatever broke, nothing...or...wait..
"That's not mine...." you say staring at the stuffed owl and crow that now sat on your dresser, decorating the room just as nicely as your wall.
"Okay ahahah what?!" Feeling a buzz off fright thunder through you when you hear a loud thud in the hallway. Just around the corner of your doorway.
"Mhh great.....hello?? Ghost??" you ask into the silence nothing, so the only valid thing to do was jump into the hallway with a war scream (squeal) Just to find a porcelain doll sitting up against the wall next to you.
"Who are you you little freak?" you knew who this doll was. Brahms Heelshires replacement, you knew reading up about this suspiciously cheap mansion was a good idea. You expected this place had held many deaths but well...this one the last generations of Heelshires passing was probably the saddest of them all.
The poor boy who passed away, so horribly, burned, and the parents who ended up going with a different element, drowning. You huff as you brush your hair out of your eyes (yes you got hair or a wig idc).
Crouching down next to the doll, "hi..um I hope you don't mind my intrusion, but well I own this house now..so maybe we should co-exists..or I'd have to sage your ass...which I don't wanna do you're a kid after all" you say, mostly talking to yourself like a dork.
"I don't know how you managed to bring me those stuffed animals, but uhm..thanks? They're nice? I suppose...or um a warning I suppose.."
Basically jumping out of your shoes when all the lights on the floor suddenly turned on and probably the ones downstairs as well.
"SHIT!.. gosh....pff um..Thank you?"
The rest of the night was rather pleasant, a few thuds here and there and a few of Luci's hissing at the wall and sleep seemed so easy to get.
Little did you know. This house came with more secrets than ghost's and haunted objects.
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gummydummy19 · 1 year ago
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Month one (May): moving into 6B
Summary: You find an ad for your dream apartment and decide to give it a go. Apartment 6B is everything you've ever wanted: high ceilings, an open floorplan, and a 6ft4 grumpy army captain...
Warnings: none, grumpy Sy?
A/N: Im so super duper excited about this!!!! I hope you guys enjoy it and please feel free to leave feedback anytime :) Some of these chapters might be regular fic length while others are gonna be just drabbles. If anyone has a request for this AU please let me know and I'll see what I can do :)) <3
this is part one to my series called: A year in apartment 6B
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The Sunday paper was sprawled across your coffee table. You had a deep wrinkle plastered on your forehead and a red marker between your teeth as you furiously browsed through the apartment listings. You had been at this all morning. And nothing. You were about to give up, but then another listing caught your eye.
'Looking for a roommate/ apartment 2 bed 1 bath.'
The pictures of the place looked cute. It was close to your job and the rent wasn't too bad, so you called the number.
"Hello?' A deep grumpy voice answered the phone
'H-hi!' you chirped, a little taken aback, 'I'm calling for the apartment, the one from the paper? Do you still need a roommate?...'
'I do.' He stated dryly.
'Great! Could I come over and take a look maybe? I'm free this afternoon, Maybe I could stop by at around 3 or something? I don't know if that works for you but maybe I c-'
'Three works.' He interrupted before hanging up the phone.
Jeez, what a dick.
If the apartment hadn't been so perfect you wouldn't even have gone, but as you looked at the pictures again you decided to risk it just for the kitchen island alone.
You knocked on the door a little uncertain. The realization that you were gonna have to share this beautiful place with that asshole from the phone suddenly settled in your gut and you were beginning to question if it was worth it.
When the door opened your mouth actually fell open a little. You were greeted with a tall, broadly-shouldered man. He looked very... masculine? As much as you hated that description, it seemed to be the only accurate one on your mind.
'Hi, come in.' he welcomed you dryly, taking a step aside to let you in.
He was wearing dark-washed jeans and a dusty old shirt. His beard was on the verge of needing a slight trim and he was sporting a buzzcut. He was very handsome actually. Shame that his attitude hadn't gone anywhere.
'Thanks...' you replied as you stepped passed him and immediately laid your eyes on that gorgeous kitchen.
'Wow, this place is even more perfect than the pictures...' you sighed
He gave you a little tour of the place, barely uttering a word at you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking and you didn't like that, but you were too distracted by the apartment.
You got to where your bedroom would be. The room was not too big, but big enough for you. You assumed he had the master bedroom. You also assumed that would not be part of the tour.
The bedroom you were looking at was empty, aside from some boxes filled with junk and an unmade bed with a dodgy-looking mattress. It was clear this room hadn't been occupied before.
'I moved in a couple months ago, just been using it as storage. You can do with it what you want of course,' he explained. 'You got your own stuff?' He looked down at you. You were both standing by the doorframe and since Sy took up most of the space, you were almost squished against him trying to peek in.
For some reason, you felt so intimidated by his stare. You slithered by him and walked around the room a little, not that there was a lot more to see, but you simply couldn't handle standing so close to him anymore.
'Yeah Yeah I do, my friend's dad works for a moving company, I can ask him if he can take the bed when he brings my stuff up?' You suggested, earning a slight nod and what you took as an agreeing grumble.
'So you'll take it then?' he questioned
'Uh yeah, yes, sir? If you let me?' Christ, why did he make you so damn nervous? And why did you just call him sir?!
You swear you saw something close to amusement flash through his eyes.
'Right.' He responded, 'There is something else I wanted to fill you in on.'
You walked back to the door and followed him as he made his way back to the kitchen.
'I'm leaving for a six-month tour soon, so I won't be home much.'
tour?
'You in a band or something?' you half joked
'I'm in the army.'
Idiot. Absolute fucking idiot.
'Right...sorry' You wished the floor would swallow you whole. 'So when do you leave?
'in 9 days.'
'Oh wow, that is soon.'
"Don't worry about the rent, I'll continue to pay half. I didn't wanna lose this place but It seemed kinda dumb to pay full rent on a place I won't be living in for six months", he explained
Sy turned around and rummaged through a kitchen drawer.
'Feel free to make yourself at home just water the plants and don't touch my stuff.' He said as he turned around and handed you your key.
'Yes, sir.'
Really? Again with this?
A couple days later, you moved in. Living with Sy wasn't much different from living alone. The two of you had dinner together a few times. Well 'together' meaning 'sitting on the same couch and not talking'.
Sy would have some sports game on as he took big bites from his mac and cheese while you took considerably smaller bites from yours and read a romance novel cheesier than your pasta.
You were mostly at work during the day and when you came home you'd go straight to your room to finish unboxing your stuff. Ironic actually, how you were busy unpacking while Sy was busy doing the opposite.
'Is that all?' you asked, staring at his bag. 'Are you sure you have everything? You're going for 6 months right?'
Sy gave you an unamused look.
'It's an army tour, not a girl scout camp.'
'I'll have you know I never took more than one pink trolly to girl scout camp.' You stated proudly, earning another barely amused look from the big grump.
'I guess I'll see you in six months then.' You said, not really knowing how to act. You stared at Sy in his army uniform. He looked good. Strong. Masculin.
Ugh, that word again.
You needed to stop drooling over him. You still hadn't even really figured out if you even liked him. Well, parts of you certainly liked him...
ENOUGH, BRAIN. STOP.
You felt the urge to hug him but opted against it.
'Please don't burn the place down.' He said as he opened the front door
'I'll try.' you grinned.
Sy gave you another one of his unamused looks, which you were starting to think were secretly very amused looks. He picked up his back and opened the door.
'Hey Sy?' you halted him 'Be uh...be careful and stuff.'
For the first time since you met him two weeks ago, you saw his lips curl up a tiny bit.
It was quite unsettling.
'I don't wanna get stuck here paying rent alone.' You added
''Alright, princess, sure thing.'
and with that, he left, leaving you there in your new apartment, silent, alone, and a little...aroused?
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A/N: EEEEPPP THATS IT YOU GUYS THE TONE IS SET. I HAVE SOOO MUCH PLANNED FOR THESE TWO YOU HAVE NO IDEA LMAO!! Please feel free to leave some feedback, likes and reblogs are always much appreciated <3
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mysticwolfshadows · 5 months ago
Text
Taken - Zutara - Part 28
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Despite their hopes, they discover Jeong Jeong's camp deserted. There's a few scorch marks, as if there had been a fight between firebenders. Zhao must have found that camp after all, but there are no bodies, and he hadn't been the type to take unnecessary prisoners. Jeong Jeong also wasn't the type to let himself be taken alive, so there were sure to be survivors somewhere.
They stop by the abbey where they had seen Bato, but their uncle had already moved on. Their next stop is the harbor town, where Sokka had worked for the fisherman. The old man was the only familiar face they saw on the way to Goa Ling.
They stopped a few other places, like Hei Bei's forest, but they were stopped outside an Earth Kingdom fortress. The man in charge introduced himself as General Fong.
"We heard the Avatar was in the area," he said, eyeing Aang with an almost predatory gaze. "Perhaps we can assist in some way. A bed for a few nights, supplies, training."
Sokka was definitely interested in sleeping in a real bed. Aang knew how important fresh supplies would be. But Katara didn't trust the way the man was practically leering at Aang.
"I'm afraid we have to move on," Katara said, keeping her hands tucked into the sleeves of her threadbare Water Tribe clothes. "We'd be grateful for supplies, though. We're just on a tight schedule and can't stay."
The general finally tore his gaze away from Aang, studying her and Sokka. "Yes. The Avatars companions. The Water Tribe siblings.. And you..." His eyes moved to Zuko, eyeing him up and down. He had traded his dirty white stealth clothes for dusty gray-brown Earth Kingdom clothes. "I haven't heard of the third. But you look familiar..."
Zuko, before Sokka or Aang could say something stupid, was quick to answer. "My name is Lee. My uncle and I ran a trading ship that brought goods from the Southern Water Tribe to the Earth Kingdom. We spent a lot of time in Gao Ling."
The general looked at him with suspicion, clearly trying to put a few dots together. Katara, also quick to act, elbowed her brother when he opened his mouth, and she took over.
"Lee has been a close friend with us. For years. When we ran into him a few weeks ago, he was more than happy to join us." She turned to smile at Zuko, turned away from the general so she could shoot Sokka and Aang a look. When she turned back she tried to look as calm as possible. "We really do need to keep going. So if you could give us some supplies, dried fruits and nuts, maybe a few bags of rice, then we'll be on our way."
The general tries to offer a few more times, to get Aang alone, but Katara makes sure Aang is never alone. They load up with grains, a few veggies that will last a couple days, and enough rice to get them to Goa Ling and back. They'd even put in a pair of dao swords in at 'Lees' request.
"Why did we need to leave?" Aang asked, when there were off again. "He's an Earth Kingdom general. Shouldn't we take help when we can?"
"I didn't like the way he looked at you," Katara said, frowning. "I can't quite explain it, but... It unnerved me."
"My father and grandfather," Zuko muttered.
Katara blinked, turning to look at the firebender. He had his head ducked down, slowly sharpening his swords. She could barely see his face, his growing bangs hanging over his eyes, but she could see the way his mouth was pinched. An uncomfortable feeling rolled in her gut, but Zuko already had Sokka and Aang's attention.
"What do you mean?" Aang asked, clearly confused.
Zuko glanced up. "General Fong was looking at you the way my father and grandfather looked at Katara. Like you were a tool or weapon he could use."
Sokka was glowering at Zuko, and Aang whipped around to stare at Katara.
"You've met the Fire Lord? In person? I know the Fire Nation hurt you, but..."
Zuko blinked. "You... You never told him my grandfather kidnapped you?"
"Kidnapped?!"
Katara grit her teeth. "No, Zuko. I didn't. It was a long time ago and-"
"Long time ago?! But, you're only fourteen! How old where you when-"
"Eight," Sokka cut in, voice so low it was practically a growl. "She was eight when she was taken. She only came back about three years ago."
Aang slumped, his eyes wide. "Only eight... Thats younger than me when... And you... That's..." He turned to Zuko. "You're monsters."
Even Sokka's eyes widened, Zuko flinching back away from the airbender. Katara stood in the saddle, looming over the boy.
"Apologize," she snapped, making Aang flinch now. "Zuko is not his father, and he's not Azulon. He's the one that made sure I got home, and is a trusted ally of the Southern Water Tribe."
The young monk was trembling, turning to look at Zuko. "I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
Satisfied, Katara sat back down next to Zuko, stuffing her hands into her sleeves. They rode in silence for a while, Katara glaring out into the horizon. Zuko just slowly slid the sharpener along the edge of the blade.
"He's not wrong," he eventually said, voice soft. "My father and grandfather are monsters. Evil and vile. My father has to be removed, sooner rather than later."
"Before the end of summer," Katara said. "That's our deadline."
Zuko blinked at her. "What's at the end of summer?"
She winced. "A comet..."
"You don't mean..." His face was pale. "Sozin's Comet? But even the Fire Nation doesn't know when its next pass is. Last I heard, scholars thought it would be at least another year. Are you sure?"
"Avatar Roku gave Aang a vision," she said grimly. "He was adamant that the comet was going to be back this year, this summer. We don't have an exact day, though."
"Then we better hurry to Gao Ling," Zuko said, shifting to his knees to look over the edge of the saddle. He peered down, frowning as he tried to gauge where exactly they were. "It might take some time to find the Earth Rumble, and we..." He paused, then cursed. "Shit! Is that-?"
And then, a tornado came out of nowhere, hurling them off Appa, and leaving Katara in a free fall.
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adiluv-moved · 2 years ago
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♡ JOHN DOE + PROMPTS 12 / 32. ˚⊹꒷
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﹕₊˚ʚ🍫ɞ・[word count] total ─ 1632; prompt 12 ─ 972; prompt 32 ─ 660.
﹕₊˚ʚ🖤ɞ・[warnings] yandere character [technically, no yandere behavior demonstrated], not edited/proofread.
﹕₊˚ʚ🍷ɞ・[adi moment] second part of the event! these prompts were requested by @/arthurswine, and were the ones that i accidentally got all mixed up. i can’t remember if the valley has an airport or not [i tried to look for info but just didn’t find it], and i just assumed it did - please only quote me on that if i’m right - but i hope you enjoy! ꒰ㅅ´ ˘ `꒱
this is a part of my 200 follower / valentine's day event! you can view the event post here!
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♡ prompt 12 / long distance. ˚⊹꒷
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Your day is relatively average when your cell phone starts to ring. It’s completely unexpected, too, with you lounging at the gas station’s counter (another slow day, it seems) when your ringtone breaks through the dull humming of the refrigerators. You're shocked to find that the contact displayed on the screen doesn’t belong to Doe, but is instead one for a friend that you were close with outside of the Valley. There’s a soft smile on your face as you tap the accept button and raise the device to your air, but the subtly sweet mood is broken when you hear their panicked voice.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・It’s somewhat difficult to understand what they’re saying, considering how fast their talking and the deeply worried tone in their voice, though you’re able to understand enough for you to decide that you’ll have to temporarily leave the Valley. So, that night, you find yourself sitting cross-legged on the living room floor with your dusty suitcase as you pack in any essential belongings, with Doe watching over the scene with a look of confusion plastered onto his face. Doe would try his best to stay calm while you explain the situation, with his worries being (mostly) dissipated when you emphasize that you’ll only be out of the Valley for a week or two - max. Even if he’s still a bit sad when he realizes that you’ll be gone for Valentine’s Day, he’ll support you wholeheartedly and even try to help you pack.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Sure, it sucks that the plans you two had made are essentially canceled, but there was plenty of time to do something together once you get back. He won’t try and force you to stay, nor would he want you to stay out of your own will (he understands that you have a life outside of him), though you can most certainly expect a lot of clinginess and melting at the airport. He might even try to sneak past security and follow you to the plane so he can have just a bit of extra time with you before you’re gone, though all of his attempts would be much too obvious to succeed. Instead, he just ends up desperately leaning over the barriers and waving like he’d never see you again - a sight that brings red to your cheeks and a slight chuckle to emerge from your throat.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Luckily, the flight itself ends up being mostly uneventful, with the plane only having a small turbulence on the way to your old home. You end up passing out for most of the trip, and you’re greeted by loads upon loads of text messages from Doe when you finally disembark and check your phone. It doesn’t help that his texting style is very broken up and erratic, either, with each sentence being split into at least two or three separate texts. Your friend, who was waiting for you at the airport, is incredibly concerned to see them, and you end up explaining all of the things that happened within the Valley. They start staring at you like you’re crazy before you even finish. A quick facetime with Doe does end up confirming everything, though, and you take the opportunity to introduce him to your friend. It takes some time for them to warm up to each other, but they’re at least acquaintances by the time you hang up.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Oh, and all of those text messages from Doe? They aren’t a one time thing. He’ll text and call you as though it’s his last day on Earth, as if it’s the only chance that he’ll ever have to talk to you for the rest of his days. While it’s incredibly endearing at first, considering the genuine happiness that’s apparent in his tone when you answer his phone calls or respond to his texts, it does start to become a bit too overbearing - more so with the differences in time and the fact that Doe doesn’t have human needs in the same way that you do. You end up having to explain the concepts of different time zones to him, as well as the fact that it’s too overwhelming to be texted every second of the day, both of which being concepts that take some time for him to grasp. Once he understands, however, he’ll do his best to lay off of you a bit, something that you appreciate. He’ll also do his best to take care of the apartment while you're gone (which he does surprisingly well at, considering his messier disposition), and you show him some outside movies and scenery.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・You do something similar of Valentine’s Day itself, taking him all around your old home and showing him all of the different places that you had used to visit. You show him your favorite café, your favorite park, even the old place that you had used to live, all while telling him about the differences between life in and outside of the Valley. His eyes are practically glued to the screen as you walk around, with him musing about how ‘strange’ your world was as he looks on at the different scenes. The decorations sitting in all of the storefronts can’t help but catch his interest, either, and you pick him out a few things to bring home as gifts. Doe also gets you some things for the holiday, all of which ranging from somewhat normal to things that look… Well, bizarre would be an understatement. (His grip on the phone is incredibly shaky due to how excited he is, so it might just be that.) You both end the day by watching some movies and shows until you pass out, and Doe is quick to join once he notices your soft breathing. Maybe not the Valentine’s Day that you were expecting, but it wasn’t all that bad.
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♡ prompt 32 / dancing. ˚⊹꒷
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Even though it would be absolutely hilarious for Doe to somehow magically be a good (or, let’s be honest - even decent) dancer, there is no way you could ever even convince me to consider the idea of him not having two left feet. (That statement is metaphorical, but there’s definitely a chance that one of his previous false bodies did actually have two left feet.) Even so, I do also believe that Doe would be incredibly interested in the idea of dancing with you. I mean, it’s romantic, it’s cliché, he’s probably seen it tons of times in rom-coms - of course he’d be interested in doing it with you! And on Valentine’s Day, no less? It would be a dream come true for him!
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・That’s exactly the reason that he practically jumps into your arms the moment that the suggestion leaves your mouth, staring at you with a lovestruck expression and pupils so wide that you can’t even see his trademark yellow sclera. Considering all of the long and honestly underpaid shifts that you’re working at the gas station, the two of you would probably just end up falling over, although it wouldn’t do anything to hinder him in the slightest. Instead, he’d just end up springing back up to his feet and pulling you back up as well, asking what kind of music you’d want to dance to.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Depending on your own personal experiences with dancing, you might find the situation to be a learning situation for the both of you. And, sure, Doe is much more obvious with his confusion about the entire topic, but it’s much easier to excuse him constantly stepping on your feet when you remember that his body isn’t his real one. Besides, he doesn’t say anything when you step on his feet, although you do your best to ignore the fact that it’s not out of politeness and instead out of the fact that he can’t exactly feel it.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・When it comes to his music taste, Doe would genuinely just be fine going along with your preferences. (He’s mostly just happy to have the opportunity to even dance with somebody in the first place, especially somebody that he loves, like you!) Of course, he would indulge you if you really wanted to know. I personally imagine that Doe would prefer softer, almost jazz like songs - ones that sound like they’re from the 1900s. (It’s hard to describe the genre, but think about Frank Sinatra like songs.) I like to think that it would fit, especially when you consider the eldritch-like abilities that he has, and the connection that those kinds of vintage-like songs have to the eldritch genre as a whole.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Truthfully, the worst thing that I could imagine happening (besides the accidental toe stepping) is you bumping your hip into the side of your table a couple of times. Really, dancing with Doe would be a pretty peaceful situation, and you just can’t help but be glad to not worry about something insane happening, moreso when you start to consider just how much manages to happen to you on a day-by-day basis. To be frank, such a peaceful situation was exactly what you needed.
╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・And luckily, there’s nothing crazy that comes along to ruin your time with him, and you’re totally free to savor the time you two spend dancing around the living room of your barely big enough apartment. Such a totally peaceful situation is incredibly rare to come by within the Valley, and although your time there has managed to get you accustomed to some of the daily weirdness, it’s hard not to notice the extra tension that’s released from your shoulders. You’ve managed to work out some of the bigger mess-ups by the time you’re ready to call in quits, and you and Doe end the dance session by watching TV and leaning into each other. Truthfully, you might just ask him to dance with you some other time.
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rat-typewriter · 2 years ago
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Yay!!! Someone's writing for Arven!!! Could you please write something, either Headcanons or a fanfic your choice, about Arven with a librarian s/o who helps him find information on Herba Mystica and the titan pokemon. So lots of study dates in the school library where she works that slowly turn into actual dates 👀
As someone working at a library rn, this one is pretty self indulgent lol but I hope you don't mind! Thanks so much, I hope you have a great day!! (I also lowkey wonder if you remember me since I've left asks here before...)
Omg omg hello fellow librarian!! I used to work in a library! Tysm for your request sunshine, and i hope you enjoy!! This is a little rushed so im sorry about that :,,)
Perfect to me - Arven x Student Librarian!Reader
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Warnings: None
Proofread: like,,,, some of it is
Summary: Mabosstiff is doing a lot better - you're the first person Arven wants to tell
You tried to turn up your music for the seventh time - forgetting it was already at full volume. Your phone buzzed angrily, a notification popping up - trying to warn you of the damage you were doing to your ears. 
You were more-or-less all alone in the library; anyone who had come in this late was frantically studying at the desks, so you were free to shelve books and dance awkwardly. 
You skimmed the spines of the books and hummed quietly to yourself. The song reminded you of Arven - it felt like sunshine and long, green grasses with a warm breeze. You smiled at the thought of him; even his name gave you butterflies - you couldn’t quite believe you'd been dating three months. 
You first met when he was always asking for obscure books and journal articles - and without having to do too much detective-work you figured out that he was searching for the titan's herbs. You mentioned it one night - after a few weeks of him coming in almost every day - and he let you meet Mabostiff. You'd never seen such a sick Pokémon, but you found yourself with a certain respect for the somewhat-harsh boy who sat in front of you, stroking its nose gently. After then, you always stayed past the end of your shifts - scouring the shelves for any clues to help Arven and Mabostiff.
You found the section you were looking for and slid a book from your trolley onto the shelf. Straightening up, you were about to reach for the next book - but, through the shelf, you came face-to-face with Arven.
You leapt out of your skin, ripping your headphones out in the process.
Arven grinned and laughed; wide-eyed you scolded him.
"Oh my god, Arven." You said, as you rounded the shelf - moving to face him. "How long have you been there?"
"Not too long." He smiled - his smile was so contagious you found yourself struggling to maintain your annoyed expression.
"Well, don't scare me like that!" You replied, trying to suppress your giggle. Being around Arven made you go stupid (in the best way possible, of course). It was addictive - hell, he was addictive - you never failed to have fun, even when poring over fifty year-old books and digging through the dusty archives.
"Okay, okay - I'm sorry." He replied - not looking even the least bit sorry. 
"You should be." You said, folding your arms with mock disappointment. "Libraries are no places for fun."
"Of course, it won't happen again Miss L/N." He said - his tone's solemness matching your own.
For a moment you stared at each other seriously - before you both erupted into giggles. 
Yeah, you thought to yourself, I really like him.
Before you'd even caught your breath again, he grabbed your hand and tugged it.
"C'mon, there's something you gotta see." 
Had Arven been any other boy - you probably would have assumed that they were about to take you down some dark corridor and axe-murder you. But when you looked at him and he softly smiled back at you - you trusted him completely.
He led you out of the library and down the stairs - to one of the fire exit doors in a back corridor.
He held it open for you and you stepped outside into the dark car park. The cold March air ruffled your hair and you shivered; you heard Arven close the door and then stand beside you. In the dim light of the flickery fire-exit sign you could only just make out his features. He stood close to you - his arm brushing your own - but he didn’t seem to mind; neither did you. 
He grinned and pulled a Poké ball out of his pocket.
He didn’t mean?
“Arven?” you said, excitement rising in your voice. “He’s better?”
He grabbed your hand and nodded frantically, somehow smiling even wider than before. He tossed the ball, freeing Mabosstiff - who, for the first time whilst you’d known him, stood in front of you. Arven, who was still smiling wildly (and seemed unable to speak) looked between the two of you, his eyes suddenly full of tears
 You laughed, dropping to your knees and putting your hand out for the Pokémon to sniff. Mabostiff nosed your fingers and let out a low ruff.
"Hey, buddy." You said, quietly - finding yourself fighting back tears as well. "Good to see you up and about,"
Mabostiff nuzzled against your leg and you giggled - wiping your eyes. Arven, who was looking just as teary-eyed as you, crouched down, levelling with you and Mabosstiff.
"I can't believe you did it," You whispered, stroking the Pokémon's ears.
"Me neither." Arven said. The closeness of his voice surprised you a little. You turned to face him, finding that his face was only a few centimetres from your own. Fireworks were going off inside your brain as you stared at his dark eyes. 
He's gorgeous, you thought. I've never noticed how pretty he is. 
Your words caught in your throat and you found yourself unable to form a sensible reply. He held your gaze; his mouth slightly agape.
"Hey," You whispered, giggling slightly.
"Hi," He laughed back.
His smile was radiant, even in the darkness. You were so close you could practically feel the heat from his body. He glanced at your lips, so quickly you were almost convinced it didn't happen - but it was there.
He spoke slowly. "Can I, uh, ask you something?" 
You glanced at his lips.
"Sure,"
"Would you mind if - uh - could I-" He stammered, his growing more red by the second.
You laughed quietly and he did too - easing your nerves a bit. 
You met his big, dark eyes and knew you were too far gone. So, with only a moment's hesitation, you leant in.
Your heart felt as though it was going to rattle out of your chest, but the feeling of his lips against your own left you floating. His hand moved to your face and you steadied yourself against his knee.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god-
After a moment, you pulled apart - bumping noses as both laughed breathily. 
"Wow," You whispered.
"Yeah." He laughed.
You leant back, moving from your crouched position to sit on the concrete instead - your head slightly spinning. Mabosstiff looked between you, letting out a low ruff. Arven grinned, ruffling the fur on its head.
"Were you watching us?" He said, narrowing his eyes at the Pokémon. "Cheeky." 
You laughed and Arven turned to look at you. Your heart skipped a beat and your mind was empty.
He likes me. 
"So," You turned away, looking out into the darkness. "You like me?"
"Well, yeah." 
You turned back to face him, his expression barely visible in the dim light, but you could still see the redness that suddenly appeared.
"Well, uh - I mean, why wouldn't I like you?"
You snorted. "I could name a few reasons."
For a moment he was quiet, staring at you - clearly thinking hard.
"Nope." He said.
"What?"
"I can't name any."
You laughed and he nudged your shoulder.
"You're perfect to me."
You could feel the blood rushing into your face as you leaned into his side - tucking your head beneath his chin. You both sat quietly until Mabosstiff flopped down across both of your laps - Arven letting out an oof as it did so.
"You're heavy, buddy." He said to the dog. "Not a puppy anymore, eh?"
"They grow up so fast." You said, wiping a fake tear.
Arven mock-sniffled. "My baby is all grown up!" 
Suddenly, you blurted out his name. "Arven?"
He turned to you. "Yeah?"
"You're perfect to me too."
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kiatheinsomniac · 2 years ago
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Hello, it's me again 💀
Can I have something NSFW with Thranduil x Human!Reader + “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”?
Thank you!
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notes: fucking Thranduil in his BOTFA armour? Hell yeah
pairing: Thranduil x Reader
word count: 3.1k
warnings: nsfw, quickie, vaginal fingering, against-the-wall sex, oral (male receiving)
☾ ⋆゚  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM
Does it make you nervous when I stare?
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Each time you took your sights from the townsfolk, you would find bright blue eyes on you and it was nerve-wracking to say the least. They were the eyes of the Elvenking who had emerged from his woodland realm with his army to reclaim some jewels, so Bard had told you. You thought of his cause as ridiculous but he would also aid Lake Town in claiming their rightful share of the mountain’s wealth that Smaug had stolen from Bard’s ancestor - such wealth would be essential for the town’s people to rebuild their lives after the terror of dragonfire and the losses that it ensued. 
You found yourself unable to hold his gaze for even a second, face flushing at being stared at by someone as powerful as he was beautiful. You would trip over your words in a flustered state for a few moments before regaining your composure and telling yourself that you would not look upon the Elvenking again. You were wrong each time, of course, and continued to find his eyes on you as you instructed the townsfolk in simple defences from each of four diagonals. 
Bard had requested that you teach some of the people how to fight in order to try and better prepare them for the war that could not be avoided. Your late father had been a mercenary, teaching you how to use a longsword and a bow – you made your money off selling the pelts of animals that you hunted. Hunts, as of late, had rarely been without the occasional orc scout and so your swordsmanship skills had become more refined in recent months. 
When you were permitted a break, you spent it in the armoury, looking for some decent armour. You refused to stay in Dale and hide with the elderly, children and other women. You knew that, in your place, some young boy who was yet to be considered a man would have to fight and the fishermen of Lake Town lacked in number when it came to people with your fighting skills. You were far from being like the warriors of old legends but you could defend yourself and you would not see a defenceless boy be made to take your place. 
You browsed around what remained in the armoury, all of the protective gear old, most in poor condition, and all of it designed for men which would do very poorly to fit you. You had to settle for some chainmail, good against sword-slashes but not heavy weapons and a helmet that must have been made for a young man for it to fit you as it did. 
You set the helmet down on a dusty table as you pulled out a chair, not bothered by the cobwebs after all you had been through in the last few days. You rested your head in your hands and let out a long sigh, thinking about what lay ahead. You ran a hand through your hair, pushing back the strands that had escaped your braid and now fell about your face, looking up to where one of the two armoury doors stood open, finding a tall silhouette blocking a lot of the light. 
You froze at seeing those strikingly blue eyes again. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him and you rose to your feet, back straightened and head lowered in respect of his status.
“King Thranduil,” You began, “is there anything I can assist you with?” 
“Only in satisfying me.” Your eyes widened and a blush flooded to your cheeks as your head snapped up to meet his eyes. You most certainly wouldn’t be opposed but this was very sudden and you were sure there were elven women who were far more beautiful than you within his realm. Was he merely so impatient in his lust that he had decided to take his pick from the mortal women while camping in the ruins of Dale? The corner of his mouth pulled up in a smirk at your reaction, “My curiosity, that is.” Your body seemed to relax. 
“What is it that you wish to know?” You willed the blush to drain from your cheeks but his look of amusement at seeing so clearly where your mind had gone assured that the blush remained in place. 
“I would like to know where a young mortal woman learned how to fight. I understand that women, children and the elderly are not expected to fight in war so why is it that you wield a sword better than most of the men around you?” So that is why he had been staring: he considered you an outlier to his understanding of how the mortal world worked in war. 
“My father was a mercenary. I suppose having only one daughter made him protective of me and so he taught me the basics of swordsmanship, knowing he would not always be around to defend me. I make my living off selling pelts and meat from bigger game but orcs have increased in number in these lands as of late so I suppose it’s given me the opportunity to refine my fighting skills.” You explained simply his eyes raked over your body, making you pull at your fingers nervously, some of the joints cracking. Was he so set on casting such subtle innuendos?
“And I would be right to assume that you intend to fight too?” Oh, He had been taking in the chainmail that you wore. Of course. His eyes flickered between your eyes and hands as you fumbled for an answer at realising your thinking had been wrong. 
“I do. In my place, they would select a boy who has seen far too few winters. I won’t see a child take my place merely because I am a woman.” He took a step forwards and you took a step back unconsciously, eyes darting to meet his and finding yourself unable to hold his intense gaze. 
“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” His voice seemed to come out even richer with the question, like a purr and you swallowed hard, pulling at your fingers even harder. 
“I…” Well, lying would be fruitless, you reasoned, “You have a certain… superiority about you. It’s quite intimidating, in all honesty.” You stole a quick glance to his face, finding him looking very smug. 
“Is that the only reason?” You let the silence hang in the air for a moment. 
“And, frankly, because you are very beautiful.” You regretted the words the moment they left your mouth. 
“‘Beautiful’?” He highlighted and you couldn’t stop yourself from fumbling over your next words. 
“Beautiful. Yes. I think that ‘beautiful’ has a… delicate elegance that I think ‘handsome’ does not quite possess. That’s not to say that I see you as delicate, far from it. It’s much more swan-like in appearance and mannerism, I suppose and… I’m going to stop talking now. I should stop.” Your cheeks were alight with a blush and you turned around to distract yourself by tucking the dusty chair back under the table. There was a low laugh from Thranduil behind you and you scrunched your eyes shut, scolding yourself for being so flustered by him. 
“Then perhaps I should confide that I find you beautiful also.” Your eyes instantly snapped open and you looked over your shoulder to try and decipher whether or not he was teasing you. “Though, not like a swan, I must admit. You are much more… serpentine in your movements.” He was making similar comparisons to try and make you feel better, how sweet. Your breath caught in your throat when, as you slowly turned back to face him, his fingers came beneath your chin, tilting your head up and assuring that it was very difficult for you to escape his intense stare, “Are you certain that there are no elves in your ancestry?” A part of you was both stung and flattered by the question: he was no doubt complimenting your beauty in asking such a thing, though it was also rather reflective of the arrogance of elves that you had heard rumours of. 
“As far as I am aware, no, though I cannot trace it back very far.” Too many words, too many details. Again. You could have kicked yourself for your awkwardness. However, it only seemed to amuse him, seeing how you couldn’t quite stand still, the blush stamped upon your face. 
“It’s quite endearing.” You hummed in confusion, a request for him to elaborate, “How easily flustered you are.” Your lips parted a little in shock at his bluntness and you tried to look away, only to have his fingers grip your chin more firmly, a silent order to meet those sparkling eyes of his. His head turned back to the doors for a moment. “Are they expecting you back shortly?” 
“N-not for a little while yet.” You stammered, wondering where he was going with this line of questioning. 
“Perhaps we could pass the time together?” His voice quietened, leaning in to whisper in your ear: “I did not miss how you reacted to the thought of satisfying me.” His nose brushed against your hair, inhaling the scent of you, “We could satisfy each other.” You swallowed hard, almost finding it hard to believe that the Elvenking of all people wanted to sleep with you. You nodded your head minutely before you remembered how to use your voice. 
“Yes…” Your voice was barely a whisper. He tilted his head to the side, drawing back a little to give you a look that told you to speak up. “Yes, please.” Your words were louder this time. His hand came up to cup your face and his lips pressed to yours. You almost felt embarrassed for the hummed moan that you let out at the first contact – it had been a while since you had been touched at all and it made your legs feel weak. 
Your hands came up to cup either side of his jaw, fingers just slightly dipping into his hair and wishing that you had the courage to tug on it but it seemed so important to his appearance and you worried that he would take offence if you tried. His other hand curled around your hip, pushing you backwards until your lower back hit the table. 
Your breathing had grown much quicker by the time he was reaching under your thighs to hoist you onto the table, pulling you to the edge and pushing your legs apart to stand between them. His tongue licked into your mouth and your hands fell from his face to his chest, fingertips curling around the neckline of his armour, needing something to ground yourself with amongst his dizzying kisses. When his lips landed on your jaw, you let your head fall back, biting your kiss-swollen lips to stifle moans when his lips found a particularly soft spot on your neck and sucked down on the supple skin. His hands landed on your waist, a series of clinking sounds filling the air as they ran across the curves of your body under the chainmail. 
“Get this off.” His voice was quiet and yet no less commanding and you reached down to pull it over your head while he unstrapped the weapons at his waist, setting them down in a pile on the table alongside your borrowed armour. His eyes roved over the rest of the room for a moment before landing on a more secluded corner behind a rack that had once been full of spears and you gasped when you were suddenly in his arms again, the sound being swallowed up by yet another kiss while you wrapped your legs around his waist. Your back met the wall and he carefully set you on your feet, feeling his hands tugging at the ties of your trousers. You reached into the fabric of his robes to do the same, dipping your hand into the strained clothing to stroke his hardened cock and he let out a low groan against your ear as his hands pushed your trousers down your thighs. 
You almost lost your balance in your hurry to toe off your boots, Thranduil steadying you with his arms on either side of your body and an amused smile upon his lips. You were more careful with stepping out of the lower half of your clothing and you gasped when his fingers dipped into your wet slit. 
“So wet already?” He hummed, lips against your neck. 
“I’m certain that with a lifespan like yours, I wouldn’t be the first to tell you how much of a brilliant kisser you are.” There was a low laugh against the skin of your neck, the vibrations almost tickling you and all the air rushed from your lungs when he slowly dipped two fingers into your cunt. 
“Perhaps you also would not be the first to compliment my other skills.” You could only whimper in reply as his fingers curled up to stroke against your more sensitive spot, dragging against it each time he withdrew his fingers and pushed them back into your waiting heat. Deeming you wet enough to take him, he wiped his fingers clean of your wetness on your inner thigh and picked you up once more, trapping you between the wall and his body. You longed to see what he looked like beneath the clothes and armour and could only hope that you would one day have another opportunity to do so. 
His cock pressed against your entrance as he slowly breached your walls, making you stretch to accommodate him. You buried your face in his neck to muffle a whine, beginning to feel just how long it had been for you since your series of flings with the blacksmith’s second son. 
“Am I hurting you?” His voice was tender against your ear and you shook your head. 
“It’s just been a while, please don’t stop. Please.” The light begging seemed to have a strong effect on him as he was quickly giving you shallow thrusts, allowing you time to adjust before fully sheathing himself in you. The size of him made you feel utterly full and your arms wrapped around his neck as he bounced you up and down on his cock. His lips crashed onto yours when the volume of your moans began to slip out of your control, swallowing your sounds of pleasure. By the time he broke the kiss, you were panting for breath. 
“Touch yourself.” His words came out rushed and you unclasped your fingers from the robes at the back of his neck to reach down with one hand and rub against your clit, spreading your fingers apart and then dipping down further to feel either side of his cock as it entered and left you. He groaned at the light feel of your fingers which then retreated to do as he had asked of you. The added pleasure only pushed you to the verge of orgasm even faster, wet walls tightening around him and feeling your legs tremble, held up by his strong hands. 
You did not realise that you had tangled your fingers tightly into his hair until he let out a moan and his hips faltered against your before he upped his ante. You crashed your lips against his in a messy kiss in an attempt to muffle your moans as you could only pray that no one would hear the obscene noises of your slick cunt taking him in so greedily, nor the sounds of your skin meeting with the way your clothes had been half-discarded. 
He caged you against the wall even firmer and feeling his body pressed so tightly to yours, paired with how his lips met your neck once more, sent you tumbling over the edge into your orgasm. Your hand tugged on his hair and you buried your face in his shoulder as your body convulsed, feeling him continue to fuck you through your orgasm until it grew uncomfortably intense. 
“Down… put me… down…” You managed to gasp out and he let out a long groan that almost ended in a whine. He did not disobey your wishes, however, and slipped out from you, settling you to your feet and you did not hesitate to fall to your knees. Your hand reached up to stroke his cock, slick with your wetness, before taking him in your mouth as far as you could manage, swallowing around him and pressing against the underside of his cock with your tongue, hollowing your cheeks once you began bobbing your head. 
His breath came out in a shuddered sigh as he wrapped your braid around his hand, tugging on it and lightly thrusting his hips against your face. You could feel him throb in your mouth and at the first taste of his seed, you took all of him down your throat as he finished, revelling in the quiet noises that he made as he did. His forearm rested against the wall above your head, towering over you as he panted for breath while you swallowed all that he had to give. You removed him from your mouth, giving one last teasing lick to the tip of his cock before falling to the side a little, your legs beside you instead of under you. 
You closed your eyes contently as he pushed some hair back from your face and then stood upright to fix up his clothes. 
“They will be expecting you back soon.” He spoke and you hummed, nodding your head before leaning it back against the wall.
“I just need a moment to catch my breath.” You mumbled, cracking an eyes open to see Thranduil bending down to turn your trousers the right way for you and set your boots neatly beside one another. He dipped down even lower to bring his fingers under your chin, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips. 
“I hope this will not be the last time we cross paths, fair little mortal.” With that said, he went over to collect his weapons, reattaching the belts and he left the armoury as he had entered: a perfectly put-together epitome of elegance. Your eyes widened for a moment as it dawned on you that you had just fucked a King and would need to recover quickly to avoid suspicion when you returned to your task.
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criminalmindsgonewrong · 2 years ago
Text
good intentions, bad execution
part 1/? of my hotchniss future au series
on the hottest day of the year, the last thing emily and aaron want to be doing is picking the kids up early from camp because someone is misbehaving.
rating: suitable for viewers of all ages. warnings: none. wordcount: 4k
read on ao3 read on ff.net
"Aaron, please just try to stay calm."
"I am calm, Emily." Aaron countered, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Beside him, his wife turned to look at him, seeing the tension in his jaw and the anger on his brow.
"Yeah," She said, sarcastically, trying not to smile, "You seem calm."
"I'm just-" He started off loud, but paused, to check himself, hands flexing on the wheel. She watched him reign himself in. When he spoke again, he was calm, measured. "I'm just frustrated."
"I'm frustrated, too," She said, taking off her cap and tugging her ponytail out of it's holder, raking it back into place and rewrapping the scrunchie around it. "Driving six hours across the country on the hottest day of the year is not exactly what I had in mind for today."
She slouched down into her seat, lifting her feet to rest them on the dash, practically folding herself in half. Her elbow rested, hand hanging out of the open window, the wind passing through her fingers as she flexed them. She braced her hand against the drag. The road ahead of them was long, dusty, and empty.
"Oh, yeah?" There was a smile on Aaron's face; she could hear it, even if she wasn't looking at him. "And what did you have in mind?"
Emily turned her head, eyes smiling up at him from beneath the sports cap she wore. His eyes were on the road, but they flit to her, to her bare legs, to the short shorts she'd put on the counteract the heat.
"Not that," She replied, with a laugh. "I'm trying to stay cool today, Agent Hotchner. And that is anything but."
His anger had somewhat retreated, she could tell by the smile that settled on his face. He took one hand from the steering wheel and reached to her side, taking her hand in his and resting it on her leg. Emily laced their fingers together and lay her free hand over his. 
***
"Weren't we only here two weeks ago?" Aaron put his hands on his hips as the car door swung shut, slamming closed. Emily stepped out of the car, squinting up at the cabin they had pulled up beside and tugged the cap off of her head. She tugged out her hair tie, shaking dark curls out around her face, and threw the cap back into the car, where it landed on her seat. Then she pushed the car door closed behind her.
In the distance, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of camp; children screaming, music playing, splashes as they swam, dove and fished in the lake. Emily had never been to camp. Most of the time, it was because they were off living in Europe somewhere, because of Elizabeth's postings. The few times she asked, the few times they were in the US for a summer vacation, Elizabeth unashamedly turned her nose up at the request, telling Emily that camp was not the sort of place for a young lady of her standing. Whatever that meant. To Emily, it just meant another summer being alone and lonely, and miserably floating around the pool by herself. She would have loved to make some friends at camp.
That was why, when Ava came to her and asked if she could go to camp, what felt like forever ago, now, Emily was quick to say yes. Jack had never been to camp, had never been interested. Ava, however, had watched 'The Parent Trap' a hundred times by the time she was five years old, and had become obsessed with the notion of camp. Hotch had his reservations, and, when she really considered it, so did Emily. Their job didn't leave much room for trust in the public, but Ava begged and begged and, after a lot of research, Emily found a camp she liked the look of, in an area with an incredibly low crime rate. Livvy had followed a few years later and this year was Alex's first. They would never be completely comfortable, letting the kids be hours away from them, but it was part and parcel of being parents, learning to let them go. Emily figured it was better for them to do it this way, slowly, bit by bit as they grew, instead of all at once when they turned eighteen and suddenly disappeared off to college, returning home only for the holidays.
"Try not to look too scary, okay, honey?" Emily said, looking up at Aaron as he rounded the car to join her. The sunglasses on his face, coupled with the straight line of his mouth, as he frowned at the admin cabin, painted a very stern picture; one Emily was all too familiar with, one he sported constantly at work.
"She doesn't get nice dad today, Emily. I just drove six hours in 90 degree heat when we could have been at home," He turned his head towards her, and she knew he was looking her over, "Enjoying our day off."
They started up the stairs and, at the top, Aaron held the door open for his wife, who stepped into the cabin ahead of him. Unlike in the city, out here, there was no relief from the heat indoors. Only a small, portable fan stood on the desk, behind which sat a bored looking teenager. She started as she saw Aaron and Emily enter; even in their casual clothing, the air of authority never left them. The girl sat up straight, turning on them with a suddenly bright smile.
"Welcome to Camp! How can I help?"
"Hi," Emily smiled at her, slightly sheepish as she explained why they were here, "We're Olivia Hotchner's parents, we were asked to come down today to pick her up and for a meeting."
The teen looked like that was out of her jurisdiction. She glanced across the desk, shifted around a few pieces of paper as though she would find the answers she was looking for there, then looked up at Emily, to Aaron, and back again. "I'll just go and get the Camp Director." She said, finally. Emily nodded, pressing her lips together in an awkward smile.
"Sure, thank you."
She turned back to Aaron as the girl disappeared out of the door they'd come in through. Sliding her hands into the back pockets of her shorts, she leaned back on her heels against the desk.
"I wonder what she did," Emily couldn't hide the smirk that came to her lips. Aaron shook his head.
"Honestly, Emily. You can't be surprised by her behaviour when you practically encourage it." His voice was stern, he sounded annoyed, but Emily knew there was fondness there, that he wouldn't change her or their daughter, no matter how much of a handful Livvy might be.
"I don't encourage misbehaviour!" She insisted, "Do I teach my daughters to be assertive? Yes. Do I teach them to express themselves? I hope so."
"Last year when Olivia told Mrs Bertrum to 'eff' off?" Aaron raised his eyebrows, challenging.
"I punished her for that." Emily pointed a finger at him.
"No, I punished her for that. You high-fived her behind my back."
Emily gaped at him, unaware that he had seen the high-five she and Livvy had shared, as they walked out of the meeting with the Elementary School headmistress. "In my defense, you weren't supposed to see that. And in Livvy's defense, Mrs Betrum told her she couldn't have a baby if she married another girl."
"Mrs Betrum meant biologically."
"Livvy is ten!" Emily insisted. Aaron threw his hands up in defeat, but they were both smirking.
The door swung open, and a small woman with white hair and a warm smile walked in. She immediately held her hand out to Aaron, then to Emily, and shook both, firmly.
"Mr and Mrs Hotchner. I'm Camp Director Agatha Landon" Emily and Aaron, always thrown when people addressed them this way, rather than agent, exchanged a glance, but said nothing, a small smile passing between them. "I'm sorry you've had to come all the way out to camp. The circumstances aren't ideal, please come through to the office and have a seat."
"Ms Landon, what did Olivia do?" Hotch asked, as they took their seats in the office.
"Well," The woman pondered over her phrasing, her brow furrowing as she sought the words, "It's less of what Livvy did, and more of the repercussions that followed."
Another glance passed between the parents. Emily didn't like the sound of that, and sat closer to the edge of her seat, leaning her elbow on the corner of the desk.
"Olivia has been...telling stories."
"Telling stories?" Aaron repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Scary stories?"
"You might say that, yes." Ms Landon was still frowning. She glanced between them, and Emily saw curiosity there, saw her take in their appearances. She in her daisy dukes and red tank top, hair tugged up into a pony, curls bouncing, grazing her neck. Aaron in his cargo shorts and tshirt. Even as they aged, they were both keeping in good shape, muscles evident beneath their summer tans. They didn't look their ages, that much was certain. But, as Ms Landon looked at them, Emiyl felt she knew what she was looking for.
"Oh, god, what has she been telling people?" Emily ran a hand over her face, ready for what came next.
"Well, I believe the first story was that you," She nodded in Emily's direction, "Were...stabbed with, I believe it was a chair leg?" She paused, cleared her throat, and turned to Aaron. "She told her cabin that you were tortured and stabbed eight times."
"Nine times." Emily corrected, automatically. Then closed her eyes, regretting her words.
Aaron inhaled, deeply.
"We work for the FBI." Emily felt the need to clarify, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. Aaron glanced at her, she saw him in the corner of her eye. "I have no idea how Livvy knows those things but...we work for the FBI. That's...that's what that is." She trailed off, limply.
"You said there were repercussions from these stories?" Aaron pushed.
"Ah, yes, well it seems that, once Livvy began telling these stories about you, the other campers were...well, very interested. They seem to be under the impression that you are," She glanced between the two of them, cleared her throat again, "Spies." Emily had to purse her lips to keep from smiling. Aaron couldn't look at her. "And asked Livvy to teach them some of your fighting skills, which she apparently claimed to know very well."
"Oh, no," Emily breathed.
"We've had two broken arms and a broken nose, so far." Ms Landon was shaking her head now. "I'm sorry, but we have to send Livvy home. Ava and Alex, too."
Emily and Aaron just looked at each other, completely bemused.
***
Livvy at least had the decency to look ashamed, when she was led to the car by her camp counsellor. She stared down at her feet, fiddling with a loose thread on her backpack, her other hand wrapped around the handle of her suitcase. They always came back from camp a little disheveled, a little dirty, and, honestly, it suited Livvy. Her curls never wanted to stay in the braids Emily put it into, anyway, and now fought to get out of the ones that Emily assumed Ava had attempted for her. A smattering of freckles had appeared across her nose, and beneath her brown eyes, and her skin had been summer kissed, with a warm, healthy glow. Aaron was loading Ava's case into the trunk, and so it was Emily that Livvy saw first. Her eyes, identical to her mother's, flitted from the floor, up to Emily, and back again. She turned her head away, trying to look defiant, but Emily could read the shame in her daughter's stance.
"Come on, you," She said, softly, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Thanks." She said, to the counsellor. "Livvy, don't you want to say bye?"
"Bye." Olivia's voice was low, barely audible. She kicked at the rocks beneath her feet.
"Mom!" A shout came from behind them and Emily turned just in time to catch her son as he barrelled into her. She lifted him, hugging him as tightly as he hugged her, and didn't let go until he did, first. She closed her eyes, and couldn't deny the wave of relief she felt, having him safely in her arms again. Of course, she missed the girls just as much, but letting Alex, her baby, go away to camp for the first time ever this year, had been more difficult than even she had anticipated.
"Hey, baby," She brushed his dark hair, floppy like his dad's, back from his head, eyes roving over his face, checking for any changes that had occurred in the two short weeks he had been away from her.
"I'm so glad it's hometime." Alex, at seven years old, really was still a baby. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder, and Emily smiled, turning back to the car. Livvy, standing nearby, was smiling a little too, but it fell from her face as soon as Emily looked at her, that expression of shame falling right back into place. Emily narrowed her eyes a little, curious.
"Come on, you two." She led her youngest two children to the car, where she could hear their older sister's voice slightly raised.
"I just don't see why I have to leave because she's a terror." Ava was saying, and Emily could hear that tone that had crept in over the last few months; the one that told her Ava's teenage years weren't going to be fun for anybody.
"Camp rules." Was all that Aaron said, as he took Livvy's suitcase from her. He didn't admonish her, but he barely looked at her, and Emily saw the pain in her daughter's eyes, Livvy's eyebrows furrowing as she stood for a moment longer beside her father. Aaron, though, simply turned to take hold of Alex's case, loading it in beside the others. Defeated, Olivia climbed into the back of the car, slamming the door shut behind her with a thunk.
"I don't know who she thinks she is, slamming the door like that," Ava said, arms folded tight across her chest, "She's got no right to have an attitude, right now."
"Ava," Emily addressed her daughter, sternly, "We have a six hour drive back to the city. I don't want it spent arguing. It's too long and too hot for that."
Ava didn't look ready to cooperate, but a firm glance from her father, coupled with a raised eyebrow from her mother had her rolling brown eyes back in her head. "Fine."
"Here," Aaron reached into his pocket, pulling out Ava's cellphone. She had been forced to leave it at home while at camp, and her eyes lit up when she saw it, all anger, all upset forgotten.
Alex fell asleep right away. Emily would have put it down to exhaustion from the hot day and the camp activities if Livvy hadn't looked at him, smiled a little and said, "He hasn't slept properly in two weeks."
In the front, her parents exchanged a glance. Aaron's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror. Alex, asleep in the middle seat, had his head resting on Ava's shoulder. Ava refused to look at any of them, staring at her phonescreen. She would be fine, he knew; this year, she had complained so much about having to go to camp in the first place, because she wanted to spend time with her home friends. Twelve year olds were fickle; Ava would be perfectly fine.
Livvy had a small, satisfied smile on her face as she looked at her sleeping brother. Hotch saw her shoulders lift slowly, as she inhaled deeply, as though in relief. When she turned away from Alex, and caught his eyes in the mirror, the smile dropped from her face and he saw her swallow, hard. Too hard. Ah.
"How about we stop for pancakes for dinner?" He said, addressing the whole car. Alex, usually his most excited audience member, was sleeping. Ava ignored him completely, which wasn't unusual these days. Livvy gave a little shrug.
"Sure," She said, with a tiny smile. He returned it, in the mirror, and she relaxed a little.
"Sounds good, baby," Emily reached across for Aaron's hand. He let her take it, linking their fingers, resting their hands on the center console. She leaned her head back against her headrest. Their day off, which they had been looking forward to, childless and alone and not working for the first time all summer, had been hot and long, and not at all what they had planned, but they had their babies back, and Aaron could see the difference in Emily, as tension seeped from her. He felt the same.
***
They drove for another hour before they found somewhere to eat. It was a little diner at the side of the road, and it boasted The Best Pancakes On The Continent so, obviously, Emily said, they had to test that claim. She doubted very much that it would be true, claimed that the best pancakes on the continent were the ones Aaron made on a Sunday morning. Livvy, growing more relaxed the further they got from camp, readily agreed. Even Ava smiled at that.
Emily woke Alex, gently squeezing his knee, and he reluctantly opened his eyes, scowling at her, sleepily, as he rubbed his eyes and made a noise of complaint. She smiled, fondly, at the familiar response. "Come on, little man, dinner time." He tried to protest, but Ava climbed out of the car, and Emily reached inside to pull Alex out of his booster seat. He quickly perked up when she told him he could have blueberry pancakes with syrup, his favourite, for dinner.
Livvy climbed out the other side of the car, stumbling over her own feet as she turned to close the door.
"Hold on a minute, young lady," Aaron told her, as she made to follow her mother and siblings into the restaurant.
Holding Alex's hand, Emily glanced back at them. Spying Aaron, hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, leaning against the trunk and motioning for Livvy to come stand beside him, she smiled a little. Aaron would swear blind that Livvy was a carbon copy of her mother, but Emily saw more of him in their middle child than she did in either of the other two.
"So," Aaron started, but Livvy sighed.
"Please don't profile me." She said, and he couldn't help but smile a little.
"Your mother and I don't profile you." He told her, "There's a difference between profiling a criminal and knowing your own daughter."
"I'm like a criminal." Livvy said, sadly, once again preoccupied with her shoes. Hotch frowned.
"How do you figure that?" He asked, nudging her shoulder gently.
"I broke the rules." Her voice was muffled, distorted, as she stared down at the floor. "I was bad."
"You did break some rules," Aaron agreed. "You know who else has broken the rules a few times?"
Livvy looked up at him, curious, and shook her head. Her two braids, curls springing loose, lumpy and uneven around her ears, swung back and forth.
Aaron lowered his voice to just above a whisper, "Mommy."
A smile lifted one side of Olivia's mouth, in a smile that was so like Emily's that, even ten years later, it still took him by susprise. "What about you?"
"Me?" He feigned shock, shaking his head, "No, never. Not even once. But mommy? Boy, she's caused a lot of trouble breaking rules at work over the years."
"Why doesn't she get fired?" Livvy asked, tilting her head to the side in genuine confusion.
"Well, because whenever your mommy breaks the rules, usually it's for a really, really good reason. Usually it's to help somebody." He raised his eyebrows, watching Livvy's face, to see if the penny would drop, if she got the hint of what he was saying. She did. Her eyes dropped back to the floor, and she crossed her arms across her chest. When she did that, it was much easier to see the resemblance between her and Ava. "Alex wasn't having fun at camp, huh?"
She shook her head again. "No."
"He's still really little." Hotch looked up, towards the restaurant. He couldn't see through the windows from here, but he knew Emily and the other children would be seated by now, waiting for them to order food. "Mommy and I sometimes forget how little he is. I think because of you, Livvy. When you were seven, you didn't seem little at all. You didn't need to be carried, or want to hold our hands. Alex still gets scared of things like falling and scraping his knee. You've never been afraid of things like that. When we asked if you wanted to go to camp, you were more excited than you had been about anything before." He paused, giving her a moment to ponder over his words. "I think Alex was excited, too. Especially because you were so excited that he would be going with you."
Hotch remembered the morning, in their kitchen. Livvy asked if Alex was big enough to go to camp yet.
"I was only seven when I went for the first time!" She had said. Emily standing at the counter, with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, had looked to Aaron, who sat at the dining table, the paper spread in front of him. Alex had bounced up on his knees, almost falling out of his chair with excitement. They could hardly say no; he remained excited in the weeks leading up to camp. Though both of his parents had their reservations, it wouldn't have been fair to tell him no.
"I thought he was big enough." Livvy said, almost defensively.
"Hey, I'm not blaming you, kiddo," Aaron said, crouching down in front of his daughter, who was still staring intently at the rocks on the floor. "I'm telling you...Mommy and I know that these rules you broke? You broke them for a good reason. Alex really wanted to come home, didn't he?"
Meeting his eyes, her own swimming with tears, Livvy nodded. "But now Ava hates me." She said, tears spilling over onto her cheeks in huge globs.
"Oh, honey," Aaron pulled her into a hug, Livvy starting to sob onto his shoulder. "Ava doesn't care about camp. She's your big sister; she's always going to look for a reason to fight with you. It's what big sisters do. You'll be fine, tomorrow. I promise."
"Okay." She mumbled into his shoulder, holding tight to him. Aaron could feel the relief in the way she hugged him, and he felt guilty for earlier, when he had ignored her at camp.
"You're a good big sister, Livvy." He told her, gently, stroking her hair, "Alex is lucky to have you."
Pride had replaced his anger. Livvy's methods were unconventional, but she was Emily's daughter; what did he expect? Just like Emily, Olivia got results. And, just like Emily, her first thought was never for herself, but for her family. She had gotten herself into trouble, gotten herself kicked out of camp, endured her parents disapproval, for her little brother. Aaron smiled into her hair, glad and grateful that, unlike Ava, Livvy wasn't yet too old to hug her dad.
"Can I have pancakes now?" Aaron laughed as Livvy pulled out of his arms, running the back of her sleeve across her snotty nose.
"Don't do that," He told her, gently, for the millionth time in her lifetime. As usual, she ignored him. He held out a hand to her, and together they made their way across the parking lot, towards the diner.
"Hey, Livvy?"
"Yeah?"
"How did you know those stories about mommy and daddy?"
"I read Uncle Dave's new book."
"I see."
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Is Uncle Dave in trouble?"
"Yes, sweetheart. Yes, he is."
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jiaoqiu-s-bitch · 3 years ago
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If it’s not to much, can you do a scenario with Akaza where his s/o is the one who killed Rengoku and gets scolded by Muzak; then Akaza comforts them afterwards?
Oh hell yeah I liked this idea a lot!! Thank you for sending it in anon😌
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Akaza‘s s/o getting scolded by Muzan (sfw)
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Akaza was furious. Every fiber of his body wanted to jump in front of you to shield you from the man’s wrath that was now punishing you for failing the mission that had originally been his. But that exact man was both of your master, and Akaza knew damn well you would have even worse of a hell to pay if he interfered with Muzan’s punishment now.
"I humbly apologize, Muzan-sama. I got carried away and failed to fulfill your request. I can assure you this kind of error will never occur again", you spoke calmly through the blood quelling from your lips and the excruciating pain pulsating throughout your whole body, inevitably causing you to quiver.
It wasn’t that Muzan intended on letting Akaza go without punishment, on the contrary, that’s exactly why he was letting out his frustrations on you. Nothing would hurt the Upper Moon demon more than seeing his beloved suffer and not being able to do anything about it, and Muzan knew.
He could hear the desperate thoughts of yearning to protect you, shield you from any harm, almost unintelligible from the way they were racing and overlapping one another. Akaza might have defied his master had he taken his torture any further, but before that could happen, the two of you were dismissed by a more than discontent Muzan and swiftly disappeared into the dark of the night.
Barely seconds later, your body had already recovered from the internal injuries that your master had inflicted on you in his rage. Disregarding that fact, Akaza had scooped you up into his arms, insistent on carrying you. You let him do as he pleased, knowing very well that he needed this right now, even more than you did. He needed to feel you close to him, feel like he could protect you, like he could take care of you.
He was quiet, his glowing eyes trained on the dark path in front of him, barely even taking in his surroundings as he was absentmindedly dancing through the trees looming all around you. His strong hands were latched onto you in a firm yet gentle grip, making sure to keep you secured in place until you would arrive at your destination.
Only once he had reached your shared hideout, he carefully let you down and placed your small figure on the soft yet dusty cushions of an old sofa all the way in the back, slowly laying down next to you.
You were ashamed for your behavior, the guilt of his mission‘s failure almost suffocating you under its weight. You wondered.. was he mad at you?
In the dark of the hideout, his sharp gaze was trying to capture yours, which in turn was avoiding his at all costs. When his seeking eyes failed to meet yours, he finally spoke up as he was grasping your chin to make you look up at him, his voice soft and smooth as silk, contrary to your expectations.
"I am so, so endlessly sorry my love. I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I couldn’t protect y-" "Akaza", you interrupted him, "It was my choice. I lost sight of the actual objective and therefore ruined your mission. If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I am sorry", you spoke through gritted teeth, your voice bitter, laced with the pain of knowing you were the one who had made him feel this way. You didn’t want him to claim responsibility, because it simply wasn’t his. You had fucked up, plain and simple.
"I think you’re forgetting that it was my mission, dear. I should have completed it, but I had become just as sidetracked as you. But no matter what, I cannot bear seeing you get hurt. Ever." His fists started clenching, causing his entire body to tense up. Instinctively, your hand reached out to trace up his arm, eventually settling on his cheek.
"Neither can I, fool. But we are demons, pain is part of our daily, or more like nightly, life. Look at me, the injuries are long healed up. It was nothing. And Muzan will have calmed down soon too. So please please don’t beat yourself up over this. I am here, with you. And I am safe, as are you. That’s more than enough, no?"
He sighed in resignation as you pulled him down by the neck to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He reciprocated the kiss on instinct, not being able to resist you in any way. He let out a chuckle.
"Just look at how weak you make me, woman. Pathetic." "Ha, someone’s pouty." You licked up his cheek playfully, causing him to flip the two of you around in one swift movement, moving so he was on top of you and pinning you down with his weight alone. "Hmm you wanna try that again, princess?", he whispered before gently nibbling on the soft flesh of your neck.
"Oh, anytime my darling."
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shig-a-shig-ah · 4 years ago
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LAYING CLAIM
» pairing: dabi x fem!reader
» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.
» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove​ for beta-reading!
» wc: 5.3k
» ao3 mirror
Like my work? Support me on Ko-fi or request a commission.
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The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.
And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.
That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.
But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.
If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.
And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.
You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.
It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.
After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.
That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.
Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.
That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.
But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.
"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.
But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.
That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.
You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.
"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."
It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.
When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.
You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.
"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"
The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.
You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.
It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.
"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.
You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.
"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.
You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.
When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.
"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"
Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.
Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.
"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."
The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.
Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.
"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.
Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."
That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.
It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.
Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.
He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.
"Just...go slow, okay?"
"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.
Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.
The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.
You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."
He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."
You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.
"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."
You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.
"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"
You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.
"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."
The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.
"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.
It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?
Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.
"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.
"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."
You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.
Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.
He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.
You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.
"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.
"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."
And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.
You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.
"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.
He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.
"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.
"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.
The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.
"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.
"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.
"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"
"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.
"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."
"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."
"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"
He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.
You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."
The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.
"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"
"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.
You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.
No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.
"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.
Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.
You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.
"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.
Dabi can't wait to do it again.
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titan-fodder · 4 years ago
Text
Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)
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Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.
Not dead; just waking up.
Rating: E (explicit)
Word Count: ~19.5K
Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink
A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema​ and @whats-her-quirk​ for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks​ for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax​ who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from. 
Enjoy~
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GLOSSARY
Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*
Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*
Tephra -  pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.
VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*
*definitions taken from USGS website
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4  Y E A R S  B E F O R E 
Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones. 
You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.
“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…
“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?” 
Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”
“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes. 
Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews. 
“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists. 
“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”
They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes. 
“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt. 
“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”
“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”
“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”
“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further. 
“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…” 
You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes. 
Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into. 
The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin. 
Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.
The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes. 
“Great. The boy scout’s here.” 
“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”
“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”
“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”
“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.
Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”
“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”
“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.” 
You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife. 
He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish. 
“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.
He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”
“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off. 
“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer. 
“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”
“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”
“And?”
Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.
“Mobs, what is it?” 
You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it. 
“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”
“And, in the others?” 
He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”
Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him. 
At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye. 
And then, it stops. 
“Why did it…”
“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you. 
The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…
The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago. 
“Was that…” 
Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.
"Supereruption."
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3  Y E A R S  B E F O R E
Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart. 
Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”
You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field. 
“I don’t see anything,” you say.
The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused. 
“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”
“Then why aren’t they here?”
Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers. 
“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”
“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him. 
Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.” 
A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves. 
Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them. 
“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you. 
His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”
It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.
Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance. 
You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma. 
The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle. 
It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place. 
As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in. 
It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid. 
It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore. 
Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule. 
One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then… 
"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you. 
"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."
You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."
"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."
"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.
Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation. 
And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic. 
"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper. 
"Not really. Survive, I guess." 
You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand. 
"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."
"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."
Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."
A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could. 
Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days). 
They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections. 
When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them. 
Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.
You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it. 
You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person. 
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2  Y E A R S  B E F O R E
The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.
“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.
“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”
At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.
He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”
Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”
“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.
“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.
“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).
“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.
Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”
“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.
Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.
“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”
Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”
Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”
“Small,” Nile scoffs.
Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.
“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”
The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.
“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.
“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”
Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.
“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”
“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.
“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.
Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.
“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.
“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”
“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.
“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.
“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”
Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.
“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”
“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"
“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.
“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.
“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”
“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”
“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”
In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”
Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.
“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”
“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”
“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”
Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.
“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”
“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”
“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”
All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.
Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”
Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.
“Lunchtime soon, right?”
“Yeah, in a bit—”
“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”
None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.
Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.
“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.
You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”
He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.
Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.
Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.
But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.
Trail Closed
Road Closed
Danger: Keep Out
It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.
Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.
That’s what it took.
You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).
Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.
Not dead; just waking up.
“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.
“Exhausted.”
He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.
“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”
“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.
“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.
“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”
This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.
“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”
And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.
Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.
“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.
Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.
“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.
“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.
“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”
“Explosions. Falling rocks.”
 “Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”
Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.
“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”
“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.
You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.
“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.
The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…
“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.
Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.
“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.
Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.
It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.
And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.
Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?
You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:
Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?
You can’t imagine anything does.
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1  Y E A R  B E F O R E
The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium. 
"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."
A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility. 
"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."
As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder. 
You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing. 
Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd. 
"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to. 
You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes. 
"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"
"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself. 
Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."
"Embarrassing, is what it is." 
It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow. 
As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run. 
It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy. 
With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong. 
Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?" 
Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."
"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."
"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."
"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."
He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain. 
The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite. 
"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend. 
Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."
Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth. 
"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb. 
Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself. 
The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings. 
You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?" 
Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd. 
"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?" 
You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows. 
"Stop."
"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!" 
"You're thinking things, though."
"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."
You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over. 
"Hange!" 
"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."
"How dare you. I am nothing like—"
"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?" 
You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis. 
"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."
"How do you know he wants to come back?" 
You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."
*
It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached. 
Not the way you are here.
Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated. 
It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects. 
You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts. 
"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him. 
The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply. 
It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time. 
"You think this would be ready in a year?"
Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years." 
You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in. 
Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."
You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?" 
"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."
"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."
"So are you."
His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science. 
To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong. 
"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?" 
"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?" 
Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare. 
You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.
A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long. 
It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames. 
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6  M O N T H S  B E F O R E 
Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up. 
The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting. 
The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night. 
Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike. 
The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.
"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."
"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can." 
"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."
Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect. 
"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."
"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."
"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."
Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park. 
You're found out before it can come to fruition, however. 
The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild. 
He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently. 
You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves. 
Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor. 
It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over. 
When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight. 
The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information. 
"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face. 
"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?" 
"Yes," Erwin answers first. 
Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."
The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage. 
Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves. 
You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias. 
As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough. 
"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin. 
The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales. 
"Levi..."
"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?" 
Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach. 
"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"
"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."
It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage. 
This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret. 
But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.
Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights. 
"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”
You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick. 
"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back. 
"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"
"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"
"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline. 
It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.
“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”
“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too. 
“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”
“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”
“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”
“We—”
“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”
Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?
Quite possibly. 
You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.
But, that is not the case. 
Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”
Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter. 
Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”
He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been. 
Soon, it’ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction. 
That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.
The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.
“Two for Washington D.C.”
“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”
Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”
Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”
“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”
He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”
“Yeah.”
One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him. 
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S I X  W E E K S  B E F O R E
Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow. 
The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.
And, the owners have definitely prepared. 
Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind. 
You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel. 
His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry. 
"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement. 
You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."
"Tch." 
"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."
You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."
She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you. 
It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain. 
You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you. 
"How long did you work together?"
"Like, four years, give or take a few months."
"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."
"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."
"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."
Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud. 
You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall. 
"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead. 
You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans. 
Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—
You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you. 
"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"
“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers. 
Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him. 
"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts. 
Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."
"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."
*
A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along. 
Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer. 
Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing. 
It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.
Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place. 
Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen. 
What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses. 
Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption. 
“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”
In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears. 
“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”
“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.
Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”
They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.
Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here. 
But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride. 
You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense. 
The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”
Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off. 
Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.
“Hey,” you start.
Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.
“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”
“But, you miss the park,” he says.
You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”
He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest. 
Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”
“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly. 
“What?”
You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”
There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”
“Guess they don’t know us very well.”
A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.
You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…
“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”
He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious? 
Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife. 
You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses. 
“Maybe so…” 
Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance. 
He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you. 
Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.
Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.
You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises. 
“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right. 
“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”
“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.
“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”
Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”
You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him. 
Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him. 
“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips. 
Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless. 
“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?” 
Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.
Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.
“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake. 
You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.
He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking. 
His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.
Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock. 
Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.
Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.
“Oh, fu—”
Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit. 
“Mike—Mike—”
He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips. 
He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs. 
The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you. 
You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss. 
“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his. 
Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”
He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot. 
“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”
Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”
“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots. 
“Holy…”
He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god. 
That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length. 
The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him. 
You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally. 
He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit. 
“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face. 
You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”
“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”
You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.
Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.
“Where do you want me?”
“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.
Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles. 
Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”
Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes. 
“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”
He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch. 
“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist. 
He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?” 
“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”
“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”
Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time. 
Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.
You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.
Except maybe a supereruption, of course. 
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E - D A Y 
It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes. 
“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”
And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence. 
“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement. 
As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”
You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.
The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up. 
“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”
The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening. 
You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.
The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map. 
Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”
“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.
“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”
You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.
Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.
You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself. 
He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand. 
There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.
Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.
“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.
“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”
“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”
“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”
“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”
You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun. 
It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered. 
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1  M O N T H  A F T E R
Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out. 
Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising. 
News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike. 
And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing. 
They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm. 
Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last. 
You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.
And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw. 
That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.
You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month. 
“Need something, baby?”
You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm,” you nod. 
“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”
You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head. 
It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.
But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”
He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see. 
“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”
Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”
Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!” 
Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”
“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”
He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”
You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”
And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor. 
Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further. 
It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it. 
You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.
He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips. 
Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth. 
“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement. 
Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria. 
“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.
Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”
Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?” 
Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking. 
Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”
Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”
“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”
A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.
“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”
Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely. 
“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.
Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”
You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”
“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes. 
Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”
He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock. 
He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.
It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same. 
The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”
“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”
You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”
He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal. 
“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”
“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”
Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”
Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child. 
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4  Y E A R S  A F T E R
Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights. 
“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter. 
“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”
The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”
Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you. 
“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.
You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.
It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.
The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close. 
Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”
Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding. 
“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”
Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?” 
Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.
Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face. 
Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”
It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”
Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”
“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”
“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”
“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask. 
“Well, you have shit taste, too.”
“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.
“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”
“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference. 
All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that… 
Is what remains of Yellowstone.
“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.
Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”
Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin. 
You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”
“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”
“Right.”
After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal. 
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Cheryl//she is my everything
Request: Hey can you do where the reader is a serpent and is dating Cheryl and Cheryl's friends likes the reader she brings Cheryl in since they're having a serpents Toni tells the reader what is Cheryl doing here so swangs and jughead makes jokes about Cheryl and she's tells them that she's dating her and they're not happy Toni makes her choose is it her or us she chooses Cheryl so she and Cheryl leaves but jughead tells If you walk out of the door your kicked out of the serpents she walks back she takes off her jacket she tells them "you guys were my family" but she's my everything. And leaves the serpents In shock thank you so much
hey! trigger warning: toxic/mean friends. it pained me to write my babies so mean, but it was kind of fun to do. apart from that, enjoy! 
Cheryl squeezes your hand gently, her cold fingers jolting you into motion as you realize you haven’t moved from your position beside your bike. 
She offers you a nervous smile and you mirror it, the two of you having a silent conversation in the dark parking lot of the Wyrm. The neon sign flickers unevenly, almost as if it’s trying to warn you, but you shake it off. Instead replacing your anxious smile with an excited one in an attempt to ignore the doubts creeping into your head. 
Cheryl seems to pick up on your sudden excitement and you watch her visibly relax. Her faux fur covered shoulders fall and a giggle that sets your heart on fire passes her lips. 
“They’re gonna love you!” You capture them in a sweet kiss, the taste of cherry leaving it’s mark on you and you cup her cheek in order to deepen it. “I know it.” You add once you pull away, but her eyes remain closed and her lips stay parted for a few seconds longer, still lost in the feeling of your slightly chapped lips against her painted ones. 
In the low light, she looks like an angel, and you feel lucky to just be in her presence. 
“You’re staring.” She says, slightly embarrassed and you blink at her. 
“Sor-Sorry.” You stutter and look at the dusty ground in order to give you a few moments to recover. When you look at her again, she’s the one that’s staring and the two of you look at each other shyly when she tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Ready?” 
She looks between you and the Wyrm, before taking a deep breath and nodding slowly. 
The door opens with a creak and you poke your head around it before opening it fully. You smile at the warm atmosphere, the smell of beer and leather welcoming you home despite it making the air a little stale. 
You say hi to a few of the older serpents and Cheryl follows your lead, putting on her politest smile and awkwardest wave. At most, you get a grunt in reply, but it’s more than you usually get so Toni must have given them half price drinks as long as they promise leave the bar clear so she can have her friends with her while she’s working. 
Okay, deep breath. The first part is over, you’ve both made it through the door in one piece, maybe this won’t be as bad as you feared. 
Ever since Cheryl officially introduced you to her friends, well what she calls the sad breakfast club, but in reality they are actually her friends, you’ve been waiting to introduce her to your own. 
However, you soon realised that it may not be as easy as ‘hi, this is cheryl! you’ve probably seen her around. oh you have! great! she’s my girlfriend, now what are we doing?’ 
As much as you wished it would be. 
Cheryl and the rest of the serpents have had a...complicated relationship, that you’re all still feeling the effects from. But you’ve been hyping Cheryl up to them for the past few months and they are your best friends after-all, so if you’re happy, they should be happy. Right?
Wrong. 
“Hi!” You greet your friends, maybe a little too enthusiastically, however the only person that seems to notice is Toni, who stops drying the glass in her hand to make you your usual. 
However the amused smile on her face is quickly replaced with a snarl once she sees the red head sat on the stool beside you, smiling anxiously back at her. 
“What’s she doing here?” She asks through gritted teeth and slams the glass down. 
Your eyes widen at her and Cheryl jumps a little in fear. The sudden loud noise causes Sweet Pea, Fangs and Jughead to stop their conversation and the three of them turn to look at Toni and then you, their eyebrows furrow in confusion until they notice Cheryl making their expressions harden. 
“Oh God.” Fangs groans and downs the rest of his drink. Toni grabs him another and he mumbles a small thank you, but nobody looks away from Cheryl. Instead the four of them eye her suspiciously causing you to roll your eyes at them. 
“She’s probably here to accuse us of being criminals, drunks or addicts.” Jughead mumbles and your eyes narrow at the dark haired boy. 
“Maybe she should look a little closer to home then.” Sweet Pea adds and Cheryl shrinks in her seat. 
“What the fu-” Your chest feels tight as their words rattle around in your head, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Cheryl is feeling. 
“Come on, facist barbie, what do you want?” Toni cuts you off and they all look at her expectantly. 
Her lips part and you notice the bottom one wobble as she fights to keep her composure. She knew this would be hard, the things she’s said and done have been cruel and she knows how lucky she is that you saw through all of that, forgave her and now make her feel more loved that she imagined was possible. 
Your heart aches and anger bubbles in your chest. You knew your friends could be mean, but you never thought they could be cruel. 
“We’re dating.” You deadpan, trying to keep your expression as unfazed as possible. They don’t deserve your hurt, and stupidly, part of you thinks that they’ll apologize and welcome her with open arms and a free drink for the inconvenience. 
Now they look offended, betrayed even.
Sweet Pea scoffs and spins around so he’s staring straight at the bar. Fangs copies his movements and the two of them take a long sip from their drinks before shaking their heads. 
Jughead’s eyebrows furrow as he looks between the two of you, but before he can say anything, Toni jumps in, her words laced with venom that sting as soon as they leave her lips. 
“Really Y/n? After everything she did to us? She tormented us, accused us of all sorts and was just plain evil and you still decide to date her? Out of all the northsiders you could have had and you choose her?” She spits. 
Cheryl stands, the wooden stool squeaking against the floor and causing all of you to look at her. She wipes her tears and grabs her bag, quickly mumbling a few apologies before walking away. 
She catches the shoulder of an older serpent and adds another apology to her long list before stopping at the door and staring at you with pleading eyes. It’s only now that you feel the eyes of every serpent, young and old burning into your skin, but you’re not bothered by them. 
You stand, just as quick as Cheryl had moments ago, but a hand gripping your arms stops you from moving and a small gasp leaves your lips when they squeeze, forcing you to look at the person attached to it. 
“Choose. Us or her?” Toni says lowly and your eyes widen. 
“You can’t be serious.” You scoff and pull your arm free, making your way towards Cheryl who offers you a watery smile. 
“If you leave, you’re out for good.” Jughead says and your shoulders sag while you shake your head in disappointment 
Cheryl squeezes your hand and shakes her head quickly. She knows how much the serpents mean to you, and she doesn’t want to be the reason you have to leave. She’d never want you to choose between her or them, but you’ve already made your decision. You did a long time ago. 
You look at her with a reassuring smile before turning around and walking to where Jughead is stood, now surrounded by the rest of the people you once called friends. 
You shrug your jacket off, the leather feeling heavier than usual and shove it into his chest. 
“You guys may have been my family, but she is my everything.” You say, your voice low and full of anger before letting go and spinning on your heel. 
Jughead scrambles to catch it while the rest of the serpents stare at you in shock as you leave hand in hand with Cheryl. 
“You didn’t have to do that you know.” She says, worried that you’re going to regret it. But how could you ever regret anything to do with her? 
“I know.” You reply. “I wanted to...because I want you.” 
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