#Result? Scenario where that exact thing happens :))) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hiraya-rawr · 2 years

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everywhere, everything – alhaitham

synopsis !! somehow, you find yourself stuck in a broom closet with your academic rival, alhaitham— and oh? is that a mistletoe?

contains !! 2.4k wc , gn reader, enemies to lovers? fluffy drama! dialogue-centric post, some intimacy (obviously)— lots of fluffy love. flustered things, alhaitham can't hold back okay- FOR SOME REASON IM NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS IDK the outline was way longer than I thought, hence the late Christmas post

note !! i joined my first christmas collab event by @dustofthedailylife ! aaaaah and im also practicing scenario events where the setting is restricted (like a broom closet heheh)

11:46 PM, Christmas Eve

You shouldn't have listened to Kaveh. It's his party, in his (shared) house, yet you nodded along when he told you to grab a broom from the closet. It sounded simple enough—

Walking over to the broom closet at the end of the hall, away from the bustling party in the livingroom. Grabbing the handle, pulling it open, almost shrieking when you spotted the actual homeowner standing with the most irked expression on his face, then—

There are hands on your back, shoving you in as the closet door slams, the bang muffled by loud music. Your breath catches in surprise. Your face plants firmly on the forbidden chest. There are clicking noises outside the door handle.

In front of you, Alhaitham scowls and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

"Did- did Kaveh just—" You stutter, still confused from the whirlwind of events that happened within seconds.

"Yes. He did. That bastard, I swear I'll-"

You drown out the insults and threats spewing from his mouth as you turn to look around. The closet is small, very small, the type that shouldn't have people in it in the first place.

The door is firmly on your back and you can feel that Alhaitham's own back is up against the shelves. Next to you stand a broom and mop, taking up the remaining space in the room. It's dark and you could barely tell what's in front of you (this firm thing. . . it is his chest, right?).

"How long have you been here?" You wonder out loud.

"5 wasted minutes. After he knocked over a bowl of chips and told me to get a broom. Honestly, that imbecile–"

"He told me to get a broom for the chips too! What the heck. This was premeditated!"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out."

Your eyes narrow at his comment, glaring at what you suppose was his face.

"If you're so genius, you could have escaped the second he opened up that door."

"Ha, I could have if it weren't for a certain someone getting shoved into me."

"I'm not a wrecking ball, Scribe Haitham." You scoff, shifting to face him better. Of all the people to get pranked with, it just had to be your academic rival —from the day you received second place in the akademiya entrance exams to the day you both proposed the exact same thesis topic— he was always a step ahead and that infuriated you.

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Of course, it wasn’t that he’s a smidge better than you that you hate him; rather, it’s because he acts like he’s so much better than anyone else that you hated him — from staring you down the day you tried to congratulate him on getting first place, to refusing to cooperate together despite having the same thesis topic — you believe your reasons for hating him are quite valid.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!” You greet cheerfully, a hand extended for him to shake. It was the first day commemorating the start of your academic life and you figured you might as well surround yourself with the right crowd.

Yet, he stays frozen, an odd squint in his eyes and you wonder if you should keep your hand out longer.

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading.

To be expected? First place? In Teyvat’s most prestigious academic institution? The one you toiled day and night in, consuming mountain loads of information, just to deserve your rank? Internally, you decided that you didn’t like him and that he’s an arrogant piece of sh– no, good thoughts (Name), you should befriend your schoolmates.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You force a laugh, retrieving your hand, “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

Okay. It’s official. He’s an arrogant piece of shit.

You grit your teeth, smiling, “. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

11:53 PM, Christmas Eve

". . . Stop moving." He tells you.

"What?"

"I said stop moving."

"I'm literally just breathing here, do you want me to stop that too?"

"You're squirming like a worm. Do you want to knock over chemicals off their shelves?”

Oh yeah, this was a broom closet.

"I can't help it when you're taking up all the space!" You huff in his direction, trying to get a clearer view of him with squinted eyes in the dark.

"Unless you want to kiss me, I suggest you stop trying to shove your face into mine as well."

You feel your face heat up, a stutter evident in your voice, "W-what? Why on Teyvat would I ever want that!"

"It's a statement, I never said you wanted it." He scoffs. It was getting warmer in the room, the inescapable warmth of him spreading to you and you wonder if your heartbeat was always this loud. You shuffle uncomfortably, how could he even insinuate that? This arrogant guy!

Maybe it was the small space getting to you, or the tension of being so close to someone you clearly feel contempt for, but you couldn’t stop the next words you say.

“Maybe you’re the one who wants to kiss me! How would I know you didn’t plan this with your roommate?” You jibe back, “Honestly, what kind of homeowner gets trapped in their own broom closet!”

“First of all, we both know -as Kaveh’s mutual friend- that he’s a bastard with his mind in the gutters. This is all his mastermind plan. Secondly, if you want to kiss me that badly, you don't even have to provoke me. by starting a fight.” Before you could even respond to that (or manage to comprehend it), you feel him shuffling back, his muscular torso moving to the whims of his arm as it presses against your own chest.

You unknowingly hold your own breath. Thump, thump, thump– is that his heart or yours?

A sound of a chain, metal clinking, reaches your ears.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He all but hisses back, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, blinding you temporarily.

"—Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." You hear him say and you freeze, quickly glancing up at the bright bulb to see the unmistakable mistletoe hanging next to it. Your jaw drops slightly.

"I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster. Kaveh is dead once you get out of here, you think to yourself.

You hear him scoff, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Alhaitham believes in love. He understands everything about it– from the chemical compositions to the process. He understands the build up of love.

Naturally, it began when he saw your name only second to his first rank. It wasn't anything particularly special, you were a few points below the prodigy and he found it curious how someone managed to keep up with his wits.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!”

He's frozen. He knows he's staring. There's a hand outstretched for him yet he hasn't willed his own to take it. It's only for a second but internally, he recognizes the lapse in his act. Say something, Alhaitham, say it now–

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading. It lays flat on his hand and he rereads the same sentence, conscious of your presence next to him. He tries to rationalize– he finds you attractive, you seem to be his type, and it's natural for a man such as himself to eventually feel such things and react this way. Not even he, as logical as he is, could be an independent variable for love.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You laugh and he finds the sound pleasant but forced as you retrieve your hand. “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

He knows you. He saw your name and looked up the basic credentials already, it's natural as the soon-to-be-top student of your batch.

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

“. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

It seems he didn't make a good first impression; but that's fine, logically, he has no plans to act on his feelings anyway. As the elders would say– studies first before lovers.

5 years ago, Thesis Proposal Day

Logic was harder to act on when love was the opponent –as Alhaitham later realized– because, Archons, were you difficult to get rid of.

He notices you– everywhere. This shouldn't be surprising considering your similar academic strands and ranks, but that was exactly the issue! He was hyperaware of everything you did and what you would next do.

Alhaitham believes in love. He knows of all the ridiculous tropes, unable to escape the concept of it as it floats around even in one of the most highly rational spaces in Teyvat. He had no plans of pursuing love, it isn't something he wanted to fit into his intricate schedule,

Yet, he feels pulled by it.

He sees you in class, the seat next to you empty, and he wants to take it but he doesn't.

He bumps into you in the halls, your hands carrying stacks of research materials, but you could handle yourself as he glances the other way.

You ask him, almost hesitantly, shyly, if he would like to pair up for one of the most important thesis projects in your lives and– he flat out refuses, because -archons forbid- the remnants of his discipline and self-control be lost over sleepless nights with you next to him, working on something you both proposed.

No, he would not have that. It's not a part of his life plan (you aren't part of his life plan).

Yet, as he passes out papers in class, people's hands brushing against his, he can't help but compare yours– your hand, your fingers brushing on his, skin on skin, he feels it in his nerve receptors, electric despite not electrifying– yours is felt so much more than how he felt the others and he can't describe how.

12:00 AM, Christmas Day

And he feels it again now. The hyperawareness of you on him, like the day your fingers brushed– this illogical, subtle, uncontrollable feeling.

It must be love, he tells himself. He understands love and everything about it and it infuriates him.

But the closet is too small, you're much too close, he wants to do something. Then– he remembers. A mistletoe. Kaveh hung a mistletoe in the broom closet. Mentally, he knew this all along, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that a mistletoe existed above him (Above you. Above you and him).

Thump, thump, thump– it's his heart beating. He shuffles to reach a chain, he needs to see it to believe it (that a mistletoe is there) but what good would that do? Is it to simply show you? To see how you'd react? A chance for him to act on these frantic feelings?

Love is illogical, it's breaking the bottle he so carefully closed.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He replies and he hopes he doesn't sound too rushed, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, and it blinds him temporarily, but he feels everything– you being there, your clothes brushing against his and your skin on his, everything and everything–

–and the mistletoe, there.

"Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." He says and time unmistakably slows for him. His heart is steady, as if acting on his feelings were the only way to calm his fight with himself.

You look up at him frantically, "I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster.

He scoffs, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

You freeze as he tests the waters. He understands love, he understands all the tropes, the build-up, the chemicals, but -holy dendro archon- is he taking risks.

"I'm asking if I could kiss you."

"Wha-what!"

"You're repeating your words now. Would you like me to ask again or should I give you time to clear your ears?"

Under the warm light, he sees you visibly gulp. He can't help the way he leans in closer, an arm resting on the door beside your head.

"I don't need to clear my ears! I just- I thought you, well, hated me," You hurriedly reply, looking away from his own gaze. The floor is way more interesting, it seems.

"Hated you? Whoever said that?"

"W-well, you acted as though you did. Always avoiding me, always pulling away–"

"I'm not pulling away now, am I?" As if to prove his point, he leans closer, slipping his fingers under your chin to face him directly, "But it seems like you're the one shying away."

You're sure you stopped breathing at some point.

"To be fair, I was trying to avoid you back then. But not in the way that you think." His thumb brushes over your lower lip, "It was never because I hated you. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Silence lingers in the air at his subtle confession. At the lack of a reply, Alhaitham sighs, "If I'm making you uncomfortable, we can break this door down and yo-"

"I'm not uncomfortable!" You blurt out, "I- I just didn't think you- you felt this way."

"Then may I?"

"May you?" You repeat questioningly.

"Mistletoe." He states and stiffly, he feels the slightest nod of your head on his fingers and–

The door swings open.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOVEBIRDS! How are we doing? Is my dear housemate finally getting some action in his bleak life?"

"KAVEH!!!"

prompt !! "oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us."

ko-fi !! commissions !! best m.list

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d1ana-m0nd · 2 months

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╭─► ❝The Servant: Umbrella Academy's Servant❞

Five Hargreeves × Female! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd)

➢ Description : It's a well known fact that Sir. Reginald Hargreeves adopted 7 children to save the world from it's impending doom. Though, the number of children will change from 7 to 8 once a close friend of his, Rita Rossweisse was on her death bed and requested him to take in her child, who fortunately was born on October 1st 1989.

➢ Word Count : 11,660

➢ Links : Masterlist && Character Profile

➢ Content Warning : In this chapter, triggering content are present: self harm (bitting yourself), panic attack, and gore, skip the triggering parts if necessary. Please read this chapter at your own discretion.

Chapter 5: Number 5

When the boy in school shorts finally woke up, Luther cornered him into spitting out the truth: why he was running around the city like a headless chicken, evading the other numbers, and why he had caused so much destruction ever since he arrived from the future. Five reluctantly admitted to Luther that the end of the world was nearing.

“When's it supposed to happen? This... apocalypse.” Luther asked — the first person in the family who showed concern for the apocalypse.

The young male looked down as he fidgeted with his fingers, “I can't give you the exact hour, but... from what I could gather, we have four days left.”

“Why didn't you say something sooner?”

“It wouldn't have mattered.” Five replied; his tone sounded like he had lost hope.

The way he acted… It concerned you, but you didn't want to butt in. You couldn't help but wonder, were you the one to blame for his state? If you hadn't stopped him or had used your intuition beforehand, you could have helped him avoid the worst-case scenario.

The larger male furrowed his brows and interjected, “Of course it would! We could've banded together and helped you try to stop this thing.”

“For the record, you already tried.” Five corrected his brother, which took Luther by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I found all of you. Your bodies.” The brunette kept his gaze downward. You found this state of his rather unusual. He always had his chin up, and he always looked people in the eye, regardless of the size difference. Right now… he looked so small and meek compared to the front he usually puts up.

“We die?” The dirty blonde was in disbelief, refusing to believe what he just heard.

For a brief moment, Five was taken back to the time he discovered their bodies. The day he never thought he would witness; the way their lifeless bodies were lying on the ground, unmoving, and either hidden underneath the rubble or stabbed by a reinforcing bar. The hazel-eyed boy glanced at you for a brief moment, but you didn't catch his gaze.

“Horribly. You were together, trying to stop whoever it was that ended the world.” He added, not having the strength to look at his brother's devastated expression.

Number One asked, “Wait, how do you know that?”

Five took out a cloth and revealed the glass eyeball to his brother, “This was clutched in your dead hand when I found you. Must've ripped it out of their head right before you went down,” He then passed it over to Spaceboy, silently hoping that he would recognize the glass eyeball.

“Whose head?”

The boy sighed, disappointed but not surprised that this was the result. His brother knew nothing about the eye. “Like I said, I don't know.”

“Well, there's a serial number on the back. Think maybe you could try…” The dirty blonde tried to suggest that, only for Five to interrupt him. “No, that's a dead end. It's just another hunk of glass.” He glances at you, making you flinch at your spot, then looks away immediately, which raises suspicion in Luther's eyes.

Luther then returned the eyeball to Five.

Just in time, the man in black-clad arrived and then slammed the door open to the boiler room. He marched towards where Five sat with an angry expression etched onto his facial features, as bloodlust and rage seeped through his aura.

“Piece of shit! Do you have any idea what you just did?” Number Two shouted, marching right over to his ‘little’ brother.

Spaceboy stands up, alarmed by Diego's hostility. The same could be said about the boy, though he seems calm. You drew your staff and made Diego trip, causing Luther to catch him and then lift him to prevent him from touching a hair on Five's head. It seemed like Diego had no way out, but you decided to keep your staff in hand just in case things got too out of hand.

The Latino grunted as he tried to fight back against the larger man's hold on him, “Let me... Get your ape hands off of me!”

“I can do this as long as it takes you to calm down.”

Reluctantly, the male being held up inhaled deeply, and then exhaled. Once he stopped resisting his brother, he was released from air jail. “Fine.”

“Now, wanna tell us what you're talkin' about?”

Number Two scoffed, “Our brother's been pretty busy since he got back. He was in the middle of that shootout at Griddy's, and then at Gimble Brothers, after the guys in masks attacked the academy, looking for him.” He said whilst jabbing a finger at Five's direction, as though telling him everything was his fault.

“None of which is any of your concern.” The younger male hissed.

In Five's mind, he couldn't help but agree with his brother’s statement. This was precisely why he didn't want to get anyone involved, but seeing as Cha-cha and Hazel plan to get their whole family involved… He had no choice but to work with them.

“It is now,” Diego declared as he panted, "They just killed my friend.”

“As for you, Rossweisse.” The knife-wielding vigilante glared at you, making you gulp, "Why didn't you say anything about Five running amuck the city?”

You were about to say something, but your lips shifted into a straight line. You didn't want to say something out of impulsivity. The last thing you wanted to do was mess up, so you had to think of a reasonable lie…

"Because I told her too.” Five lied on your behalf, "I didn't want you all to get involved.”

You were shocked that he lied on your behalf, though you were internally grateful. However, you were too shocked to process what you just witnessed. You were warned not to interfere with him, yet he was now trying to help you? If that was the case, the world was truly ending.

Everyone went silent due to the ‘younger’ male's words, though they didn't seem to doubt it; they were just shocked over the fact that he stood up for you. Luther then turned to Five and asked, “Who are they, Five?”

“They work for my former employer. A woman called The Handler. She sent them... to stop me. Then, as soon as Diego's friend got in their way, well, fair game.”

The Latino scoffed, “And now they're my fair game. And I'm gonna see to it they pay,” Then he headed out of the boiler room with a huff, bloodlust still seething through his body.

“That would be a mistake, Diego. They've killed people far more dangerous than you.” The younger brunette tried to discourage him.

“Yeah, we'll see about that.” Diego slammed the door closed on the way out.

Luther turned to Five with a confused look, “Former employer? What's this really about, Five? And don't give me any of this ‘It's none of your business’ crap, all right?"

"Well, it's a long story.”

The small brunette paused and looked up at Luther, silently asking him if he wanted to hear the whole thing. The larger male sat down and gestured for his ‘younger’ brother to continue with his story.

The boy started with a sigh and briefly explained what he went through with “The Commission” and what he went through as he worked for them: The Commission ensured the preservation of the time continuum by manipulating events and eliminating threats. The Handler arrived in the future to recruit Five as a hitman for the Commission, though she was unaware that Five was brewing up a plan to return to the past and prevent an impending apocalypse while biding his time.

The two of the numbers remaining in the boiler room listened to Five's story and explanation of the commission. As he spoke, you began to slightly understand why Five was avoiding getting the others involved because they would get involved in his mess. Ultimately, his efforts were in vain due to how the whole academy was now involved.

“Hopefully, Vanya was not roped into this. ” You silently pleaded. Though you kind of doubted it considering how she has stopped coming by the academy, since the intruders barged into their house and her siblings hurt her feelings.

As he explained, you got up and grabbed a glass of water for the boy while Spaceboy gave him some aspirin from Diego's cabinet. Once finished, the loyal duo sat down in their respective seats.

“So... you were a hitman?”

“Yes.”

Luther's eyes widened, “Uh... I mean, you had a code, right? You didn't kill just anybody.”

“No code. We took out anyone who messed with the timeline.” Five answered briefly, his tone was monotone, but you could tell he didn't particularly enjoy the thrill of the job.

“What about innocent people?” The larger man shot back.

“It was the only way I could get back here.”

Luther was appalled by his ‘little’ brother's response. How could he treat death so lightly? “But that's murder.”

The brunette looked away, then let out a ‘tsk’ till he looked Luther in the eye again, irritation laced his gaze. “Jesus, Luther, grow up. We're not kids anymore. There's no such thing as good guys or bad guys. There's just people, goin' about their lives. But when the world ends, all those people die, including our family.”

Everyone in the room went silent. It was true, after all. People are driven by desires - as others would say, selfishness. It's rare to find people who do things out of compassion. This statement can be applied to the individualistic society they lived in; Everyone wanted to stand out in their own way, and it was rare for someone in this day and age to do things out of compassion without something in return. Nowadays, people grow up looking out for themselves just to live their lives.

As the silence reigned, Five sighed and remarked, “Time changes everything.”

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

Klaus just returned from the past. Not only was he more brittle than he already was, but he was bloody, as his clothes were torn up, barely holding onto his body as he had just crawled out of hell. His brain was an orchestra playing an insane melody, making his head pound and his heart weigh heavier. With a heavy heart, he returned to the place he called ‘home', the Umbrella Academy.

Number Four rushed, but instead, he made a slow beeline to the bathroom. He undressed and slowly prepared himself to take a bath. Despite the eeriness of the room, he let himself indulge in the atmosphere; The darkness mirroring the absence of light in his heart. It felt oddly homely to him. It made him reminisce about the nights he'd shared his love, with his beloved Dave in each other’s embrace. He closed his eyes and wept, feeling the overwhelming sorrow and grief of losing his lover wash over him.

Although the brown-haired male was sluggish, he started himself a bath. Once the tub was filled, he sat at the bottom and let the water run. Even though the tub was overflowing with water and bubbles, it was nothing compared to his emotional state.

The seance sighed, then wore a pair of headphones to distract himself, his way of escaping his hell. However, the more he indulged in his escapism, the more the music in his ears was swelling and distorting per second as the sounds of the past were added into the mix, bringing him back to the day he dreaded the most.

Sounds of a helicopter whirring and gunshots overlapping as he shook Dave’s torso. “Dave!”

“Dave!”

“Dave!” In an attempt to keep his lover alive, Klaus kept screaming his lover's name over and over again in anguish and desperation. However, he failed as he slowly felt his significant other's pulse fade.

That was enough to sober Klaus from his immersion. He sat up straight and wiped away the bubbles from his face in an attempt to wake himself up. As he washed away the soap suds, neither his mind nor his heart wouldn’t stop reminding him of his loss. As he scrubbed away the dirt and blood, he couldn’t help but wonder why he had to be the one who survived.

Would Dave be in the same state as he was if he lost Klaus in war?

Would he just pretend not to be in pain and forever hide his true self from the world to protect himself from their judgment?

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

Once Five finished filling in the missing pieces for you and Luther, you three quickly returned to the academy to do what you needed to do. However, as you were about to return to your room to digest the information you had just received from Five, you saw bloodied footprints that led to Klaus' room. Worried for the seance, you headed to his room and lightly knocked on the door that he didn’t bother to close.

“Master Klaus?"

“Oh… thank God, it was just you, Rosey…” A sense of relief washed over him, which was odd coming for him. He was usually the relaxed one, so why was he so tense?

"Is everything-” You hold back your tongue, recalling that Klaus was not fond of opening up. Instead, you chose different words, “- Do you need anything? It seems like you had a rough night."

Number Four chuckles, “Sure. I know Pogo probably told you not to get me any more alcohol, but can you get me some?"

You nod and leave him to his devices as another set of footsteps approaches his doorway. Unbeknownst to you and Klaus, someone else saw the trail of blood leading to his room and followed the trail to the seance's room. The lanky man was scratching his back as he picked up a random shirt and threw it on.

Feeling a familiar sharp gaze on his figure, the curly-haired male muttered, “Oh, boy…” Klaus sighed to himself. He did not want to deal with Five right now, though he knew he would have to face the little guy. He was persistent when it came to something he needed.

The boy in school shorts knocked on the door, “You okay?”

“Hey.” Klaus turned to the small brunette and paused, "Yeah, I just... long night."

“More than one, from the looks of it.” His eyes narrowed, most likely looking for any details that pertain to Klaus’ rough shape.

“Yeah.” The jittery man nodded along as he fixed his appearance.

The boy noticed his jittering and silently took note of it, then pointed at the jiggling accessories that danced along Klaus’ neck as he moved, “Don't remember the dog tags.”

The lanky man grunted and then looked down at his chest, “Yeah, they belonged to a friend.” He tried his best to keep his lips in a straight line, whilst the dog tags jingled again as he reexamined them.

You grabbed some random alcohol from the bar and then headed back to Klaus' room. On the way there, you saw a familiar small brunette male in the hallway; instead of proceeding further, you chose to keep your distance from him and listened in on the two siblings' conversation. The servant leaned against the nearest wall and hid your presence as best as you could.

“How about that new tattoo?” Five gestured to the inked drawing engraved onto his adoptive brother's body.

The taller male stiffened then tried to shrug it off by acting nonchalantly, “You know, I don't totally remember even getting it. Like I said, it was a long night.”

“You did it, didn't you?” Five smiled as he saw that hope was finally within his reach.

Although the younger brunette didn't mean to come off weird, Klaus felt unnerved that someone like Five was smiling. “What are you talkin' about?”

“You know, I can recognize the symptoms, Klaus.”

“Symptoms of what?”

“The jet lag. Full body itch.”

The seance ended up sighing in defeat. He hated how Five practically knew everything and became more of an asshole than he remembered. Weirdly enough, it felt comforting to him that Five never changed; He was still the same person he knew, despite the shit he went through.

“The headache that feels like someone shoved a box of cotton up into your nose and through your brain. You gonna tell me about it?” The younger male smirked as he slowly approached his rarely sober brother. With each step, his eyes glinted with a hint of hope that he could finally prevent the apocalypse.

The lanky male finally gave in, “Your pals, when they broke into the house and they couldn't find you, they took me hostage instead.”

“And in return, you stole their briefcase.” Five added as he paced around the room, tapping his chin as he began mentally laying down a plan.

“Yeah.” The Seance confirmed, his thoughts swirling from recalling the night. He seemed fine but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Even if he wore a smile and carelessly taunted his kidnappers, he was still scared. However, the loss of Dave hurt more than the physical torture he went through. “I thought there was money in it, or I could pawn it, you know, whatever.”

Number Four sighed, "And then I opened it."

“And the next thing you knew, you were... where? Or should I say when?” The Boy turned his head to Klaus, his eyes glinting as he felt that he was nearing what he was looking for, the very thing that would serve as the salvation of mankind, the briefcase.

“What difference does it make?”

“What diff-” Five stopped walking, his shoulder slumped at his brothers. He was caught off guard by his pessimism but he continued anyway. “Okay, how long were you gone?”

The curly-haired male breathed out a breezy yet tired reply, “Almost a year.”

“A year? Do you know what this means?”

“Yeah, I'm ten months older now.”

The younger male quickly interrupted, “No, this isn't any sort of joke, Klaus. Hazel and Cha-Cha will do whatever they can to get the briefcase. Where is it now?” He turned his head and began looking for the briefcase, eager that he finally had something to work with, though it quickly dissipated.

“Gone. I destroyed it. Poof.” He mockingly imitated the explosion with his hand.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“What do you care?”

“What do I care? I needed it, you moron! So I could get back, I could start over-” The smaller brunette angrily rambled, then paused as Number Four began standing up. “Just... Just... Where are you going?”

“Interrogation is over, just... leave.” The Seance said, but he is the one who ended up leaving the room instead of Five.

Number Five was left by himself to ponder about his situation, the mess was unbearably stressful, putting him under a lot of pressure. He ended up sitting on his adoptive brother’s bed as he fidgeted with his fingers or played with his hair to help calm himself down. Comically, the room he - unwarrantedly - chose to settle himself in reflected his mental condition, the same could be said for the whole family, even Rossweisse herself. It was an unspoken mess that everyone became used to and chose to accept, thus causing them to end up the people they are now.

You noticed Klaus leave his bedroom, and you left your hiding spot as you hurriedly ran up to his side with the alcohol in hand, ready to give it to him. The ‘physically’ younger brother noticed your figure ran past him and called out to you, “Oi, Y/N gimme that bottle.”

At first, the servant was caught off guard but nodded, and gave the bottle of alcohol to Five. After doing so, she hurried to Klaus' side to try and make sure he was doing alright, not wanting his - seemingly - deteriorating state to get worse than it already was. Inaudible words were whispered under the young man's breath when he was left alone. The boy then began scribbling down something on the memo pad, and once Five finished, he harshly ripped it.

The curly-haired male headed downstairs with you in tow. The once shell-shocked man began gaining awareness of his surroundings. The whole academy was a mess, he just caught a glimpse of Pogo fixing Grace, whilst the chandelier from the center of the house became a centerpiece for the floor instead.

He stopped his tracks, as he examined the aftermath of what he missed out on. “What happened here?”

“A lot happened while you were gone…” You replied as you anxiously tapped on your arm, “In short, it's those masked people's fault.” The seance nodded along as he observed the damage that was left by the intruders.

“You look like shit.” A fully equipped Diego pointed out as he walked past his brother.

The lanky male mindlessly nodded, used to his siblings' assholery, “Why, thank you.”

“Where are you going, Master Diego?” You quipped, making Diego jump a little since he didn’t notice you were in the same room.

“Can I-?” The Latino cut in before Klaus finished his question. "Nope."

“What?”

“I'm not giving you a ride.”

“Oh, come on, man. You know I can't drive.” Klaus whined and slightly shook his brother’s shoulders in a weak attempt to convince him.

The Kraken tried to dismiss it but, as his stutters took over, “I don't c…”

“Okay, great.” The Seance pats Diego's back while the Latino groans. “I'll just get my things. Two minutes.”

"You're stuck babysitting him this time, aren't you?" The clad in black groaned and threw the ‘younger’ girl a questioning look.

"I wouldn't say I'm babysitting him.” She shook her head, dismissing Diego’s statement, “No one's ordered me to look after Klaus. I'm doing this out of concern, he's been acting odd since he returned.”

Number Two shook his head in acknowledgment, but he didn’t buy it. You have always been the honest type, but ever since a certain old man’s death, you have been acting weird, and not the usual weird that he was used to.

Amidst the discussion of his father’s funeral, you were the only one who was on guard and taking Luther’s words seriously. Albeit, he understands why Luther would pin you as the suspect. He knows you are more likely to kill the old geezer since you were the only number left behind, and the only number who stayed by their father’s side like the loyal dog you were. However, the Latino believed you didn’t kill their old man, but you had to know something about his death at most; Diego believed you didn’t have a motive unless you were ordered to do so. For now, he will keep you within arm's length.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

Throughout the car ride, Klaus was unusually silent, which worried Number Two and Number Zero. He was downing the alcohol he swiped from home, quicker than the drugs he purchased. Diego glanced at his brother to check on him, as he silently gestured for you to talk for Klaus.

“Master Klaus, are you alright?” You tilted her head, hoping for a response, but Klaus took a swig of his drink, refusing to let out a word about his sorrows.

“Wow.” The Latino let out an empty laugh, “This is a first, my brother Klaus is silent. Last time you were this quiet, we were 12; Ran down the stairs wearing Grace's heels, tripped over, and broke your jaw.”

The lanky man kept drinking, which prompted Diego to play dumb as he shot a question. “How long was it wired shut again?”

“Eight weeks.” The servant replied.

Diego wore a pleased smile and nodded along, “Eight glorious weeks of bliss.”

“Hey, just... just drop me off here.” The curly-haired man sat up straight and gestured at a veteran bar that was close by.

His brother glanced at the bar and furrowed his brows. Despite the number of questions that were going through his head, he pulled up causing the car to screech, “You sure you okay, man?”

Unfortunately for Diego, Klaus didn’t reply because he was quick to sigh and exit the car with the drink in hand. You were about to follow him into the bar but, the man clad in black stopped you from taking another step.

“Don’t, they won’t let you in because of your powers.” You silently nodded, understanding your own powers' drawbacks.

The servant anxiously waited for her masters to return; You did your best to keep yourself distracted but, even with every distraction you did. You could not help but let your eyes drift to the veteran bar out of concern. When they came out of the bar with bruises littered across their skin, she wore a relieved smile and let out a grateful sigh. For the duration of the car ride, you did your best to pick up the pieces from Klaus and Diego’s conversation to fill in what you had missed.

“You got a big mouth, you know that?” The Kraken grunted, side-eyeing his brother.

The curly-haired brunette was chuckling to himself, “Oh, wow. What a truly shocking revelation, Diego.”

“Everything's a big joke to you, right?”

The lanky man did his best to quickly take out the drug from its packaging, despite his sluggish state. An angry brother glared at him and yanked the drug from his brother's hands. “Would you stop it? Why are you putting this shit in your body?”

You silently agreed with Diego but didn't express your thoughts about it. Everyone has always known Klaus was the type to use something to escape rather than live life as it is; he can’t bring to help himself, no matter how many times he has been sent to a drug rehabilitation center or arrested for his shenanigans. It became tiresome, but the best they could do was put a house over his roof and not enable him till he decided it was time to stop.

Though, now that you thought about it… was it a good idea to bring alcohol to Klaus earlier? Or did Five see your mistake and decide to take away the bottle to help Klaus?

Begrudgingly, Number Four looked away and blew a raspberry.

“Check this out. Hm?” The Latino proudly showed off his well-built torso, “My body is a temple. All that shit you do, it's just weakness.”

“Oh. Well, weakness feels so good.” The seance took out another drug he was hiding and tried to consume it but, his brother hit the back of his head. “What's goin' on with you? Huh?”

“Don't hit me, asshоlе!”

Diego angrily ruffled his hair, then jabbed a finger in Klaus’ direction, “Don't tell me everything's alright! Because I saw you in there, you were crying like a baby!”

“Because I lost someone!”

You and the man dressed in black were taken aback, seeing this side of Klaus was not a normal occurrence since he usually hid his emotions through escapism. Even at Ben’s funeral, he didn’t grieve as hard as he was right now… He cried, yes, but he didn’t look like the death of his brother impacted him as much as the lover he lost.

“I lost someone. The only…” He paused, then looked away, sorrow glazing his orbs. “The only person I've ever truly loved more than myself.”

“When did Klaus settle down with someone? ” You asked yourself, trying to recall when that happened.

The curly-haired man dug through his pockets and took out another stash he hid, “Cheers.” then swallowed it this time without any interruptions from Diego.

“Well, you're luckier than most. When you lose someone, at least you can... see them whenever you want.”

Number Two adjusted the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of a familiar figure, “That's our man.”

You perked up, followed Diego’s gaze, and saw a familiar man who wore the same suit that caused the fire at the prosthetics building. Klaus glanced at the side mirror out of curiosity as his eyes widened, “Hey, I know that guy…”

“How could you possibly know that-”

“He and a really angry lady tortured me. I barely got out with my life.”

The well-dressed man went into his car and started the engine. Once the hitman began driving away, Diego immediately started the car to tail him. Fueled by his anger in his veins; He did his best to maintain both his wits and his anger, to give Detective Patch’s murderers the taste of their own medicine. Whilst you and Klaus were just there for the ride.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

In Five’s bedroom, fast chalk tapping against the wall could be heard, reminiscent of a teacher jotting down important points against the chalkboard. At the moment, the boy was in his bedroom, busy scribbling down equations and solving them at his own pace. Unknowingly, this led to him vandalizing his whole room. He was standing on his knees on top of his bed whilst he was busy solving his final equation. Delores sat on a nearby chair, sometimes chipping in if needed.

“Oh, I think I’ve got something Delores. It's tenuous, but promising.” The small brunette turned to Delores.

If the mannequin could move, it would have shaken her head and wore a concerned gaze. “No offense dear, but do you think this’ll just… work?”

“It won’t ‘just work’, it has to work. This is the only solution I have that doesn’t involve the others getting endangered.”

“Well, it seems that I have to remind you then.” The mannequin’s vacant look is replaced by a (non-existent) smug expression, “You messed up your time travel, twice, thus resulting in you going too far into the future and messing up your body.” She gestured to Five’s fifteenth-year-old body.

He clicked his tongue and averted his gaze as the color red and embarrassment took over his cheeks. “Numbers have never failed me.”

“They did fail you once, which ended up with you getting this body and little time to stop the apocalypse. You sure you want to mess up - possibly - your second and last chance to fix things?”

This time, the young man was struck with reality once again. Delores was right yet again, and he hated it, this was his last chance and he couldn’t mess up. He wanted to face it head-on, which made him forget he needed time to stop and think, or things could fall apart based on one mistake. Out of instinct, he clicked his tongue with an irritated look thrown in Delores’ direction, making the imaginary woman laugh.

An uninvited guest walked into the room, taking in the mess of numbers and letters all over the room, thus making the bedroom look like scratch paper. “Who you talkin' to? What is all this?”

“It's a probability map.”

“Probability of what?”

“Of whose death could save the world.” Number Five turned to the dirty blond-haired brother and added, “I've narrowed it down to four.”

Luther approached the list of names and gestured to it. “Are you saying one of these four people caused the apocalypse?”

“No, I'm saying that their death might prevent it.”

“Oh.” Spaceboy stared at the equations littering the room with amazement, though it seemed like he was not registering what Five explained. The sound of chalk scratching on walls continued till Luther disrupted it, “I'm not following.”

“Time is fickle, Luther. The slightest alteration in events can lead to massively different outcomes in the time continuum. The butterfly effect. So all I have to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and kill them.” Five explained as the gears in Luther’s head spun. Once he was able to digest the information, his eyebrows shot up as he finally understood what Five meant.

“Oh, yeah... “

The dirty blond-haired man read one of the names and asked loudly, “Milton Greene. So who's he, a terrorist or something?”

“I believe he is a gardener.” In haste, the Five got off the bed and jotted down the names on a copy of Vanya’s autobiography.

Number One whips his attention to Five, “You can't be serious. Wait, this is madness, Five!”

The boy in schoolboy shorts brought out a sniper case under the bed and opened it to reveal a sniper. Catching Luther by surprise, “You... Wh... Where'd you get that?”

“In Dad's room. I think he used it to shoot a rhinoceros.” He took out the sniper from the case and carefully examined the weapon’s build, “It's similar to the model I used at work. Nice shoulder fit and highly reliable.”

“But you can't... This guy Milton is just an innocent man.” The ape hybrid man argued.

The small brunette furrowed his brows, “It's basic math. His death could potentially save the lives of billions. If I did nothing, he'd be dead in four days anyway. The apocalypse won't spare anyone.”

“We don't do this kind of thing.”

“We are not doing anything. I am.” Five corrected.

Which prompted the dirty blond man to be more assertive. “I can't let you go kill innocent people. No matter how many lives you'll save.”

“Well, good luck stopping me.” The boy turned his back and was about to walk away.

“You're not going anywhere.” Luther grabbed Delores and provoked Five more by hanging the top half of the mannequin outside the window. Five’s eyes widened and he immediately swerved as he positioned himself and pointed the sniper at Luther.

“Put… her... down.” He used the tip of his gun to gesture to Luther to place the mannequin down.

“Put the gun down. You're not killing anyone today. I know she's important to you, so don't make me do this.” The large man insisted, gesturing to his brother to lower the weapon down. Though Five scoffed at his words, his actions were betraying him as his hands were trembling from the thought of hurting his brother or losing his ‘lover’.

“It's either her or the gun. You decide.”

Seeing his brother’s silence and hesitation, Number One quickly took the window of opportunity - literally - and threw the mannequin out the window. Five reacted swiftly and teleported to Delores’ side to save her. Meanwhile, Luther ran to the sniper and pointed it downward to avoid shooting anyone by accident.

The young man cradled his imaginary lover in his arms and double-checked if she had gotten hurt. “Phew.”

“I can keep doin' this all day.” Luther looked down at the weapon and then at Five, “I know you're still a good person, Five. Otherwise, you wouldn't have risked everything coming back here to save us all. But you're not on your own anymore.”

The young brunette sighed, then turned to his brother, “There is one way. But it's just impossible.”

“More impossible than what brought you back here?”

Five sighed as he held onto Delores tighter and looked into the matte eyes that looked back into his hazel orbs, a smile - that he was imagining - present on Delores’ face. The conversation he had with his ‘wife’ earlier rang throughout his head as he couldn’t stop second-guessing himself and his choices. He won’t say it out loud, but he was just as lost as the others; he knew what he wanted but he was not sure what he was supposed to do. With every plan he created, he felt like he was straying farther from his goal, and he didn’t want things to get worse or get his family involved, and now that they were.

He couldn’t help but question if this was a fruitless endeavor. But then again, he can’t just stand around and do nothing.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

A short-haired woman in a dark navy suit walked into the motel they just checked into then walked away. As for the man who wore a matching uniform, he stared down at the room in contempt as he irritatedly breathed through his nose.

“Singles instead of doubles. What's next, futons on the floor?” He whined as he lazily placed the donuts that he purchased from Agnes’ donut shop on a nearby round table.

Cha-cha sat on the edge of the TV stand, “What difference does it make? We're only here another night.”

“Well, that's easy for you to say. I've been in every pawn shop all over town, lookin' for our briefcase.” Hazel picked a bed and gently put down his suit jacket on the bedside cabinet then turned on the lamp attached above the bed. “You've been relaxing in the library.”

“Well, at least we know somethin' on the family that can help.” The woman held up Vanya's autobiography that she had borrowed to show to her partner, “It's like a Hargreeves family handbook.”

“Let me tell you, they're a real freakin' mess.”

Meanwhile, the Latino parked outside the inn. You and Klaus watched Diego do his thing. He lowered himself as he attached something at the bottom of the hitmen’s car then connected the device to the object he attached to the car. You weren’t sure what he attached to the car but, you assumed it was a tracking device.

“I’m surprised Diego has a tracking device but can’t purchase his place.” You silently giggle, though you presume he didn’t buy it but swiped it from the academy and brought it along for this mission.

“Number Five can time travel without a briefcase, but not that well. The big oaf lived on the moon for a few years. The little girl you fought with is a 31-year-old but she stopped growing up when she turned 15; while her blood can accelerate the recovery process of injuries. The junkie can conjure the dead, which explains why he knew about the dead Russian yesterday. And the idiot in the mask can curve anything he throws, usually knives.”

Whilst Cha-cha was summarizing the information she gathered from her intel gathering, Hazel found himself zoning out. He walked towards the window to peek in case someone was listening in to their conversation or someone was having a stake out nearby. Fortunately for him, he did discover that someone did tail them, so he can stop listening to Cha-cha ramble. Unfortunately for him, Cha-cha was going to scold him later for not being careful and they would be forced to move to a different motel now.

“Well, he's the one we need to worry about right now.”

“Why?”

The hitman gestured to the window with his head tilting in the same direction, “Cause he's in the parking lot, hiding behind an ice cream truck.”

Hurriedly, the hitwoman hurried to the window to check if her partner was telling the truth. Her brown gaze noticed a green car and a slightly banged-up car. She narrowed her eyes a little to try and figure out if the person sitting in the driver's seat was someone from the academy then, they made eye contact with Diego.

“Bingo.” The one clothed in black smirked when he made eye contact with the ones he was tailing and mentally took note of the room they stayed in. When the well-dressed woman took notice of his smirk, she took the curtains from Hazel’s hold and hastily closed the curtains.

Number Four chimed in before he took a short sip of his alcohol, “You do know that killing these people is not gonna make you feel any better.”

“Yeah, but when it's done…” The Latino turned to his brother, with a small smile as Klaus was chugging his drink, “...I'm gonna sleep like a baby.”

“Sure you will.” The drunk man’s lips curled up a little, his tone doubtful.

“I feel like Diego is just here to look for a punching bag.” You internally commented knowing that neither of your masters asked for you to speak nor for your opinion.

On the temps commission side, they were preparing themselves for their getaway just in case another mess occurred. Cha-cha was double-checking her handgun: if her magazine still had bullets, and if she lubricated her gun well. Whilst Hazel sat on his bed ready to open up the donuts he purchased, someone knocked on the door catching both hitmen’s attention. They both stealthy neared the door while Hazel peeked who was at the door through the window.

“Motel clerk.” The man said in a low volume, not wanting to be overheard by the clerk.

Cha-cha opened the door a little and took the note from the motel clerk then read the note. “It's from Five.”

“How'd he find us?”

“Well, he was us. He knows all the protocols. He says he has the briefcase. He wants to set up a meeting. Come on, we're late already.”

“What about our friends outside?” Hazel gestured to the window, “Last thing we need's a tail. Manila, 1902.”

Cha-cha pointed at the ice bucket, “Let's just go with the ice bucket.”

The hitman let out a reluctant groan. Nonetheless, he grabbed the ice bucket and robotically made his way out of their motel room and went to ‘grab’ more ice then left the room. Diego was intently observing the other hitman then quickly prepared himself before heading out to the motel room the hitmen were staying at.

He eyed you and his brother, “You two stay in the car.”

“What are you talkin' about? This guy tortured me.”

“I have a plan.” The knife wielder asserted and left the car in you and Klaus’ care, as he made his way to the cartoon-masked hitmen’s room.

The lanky man spoke with a drunken smile that did not make you feel reassured, “Rosie, stay here, ‘kay?”

“Master Klaus you should really listen to Master Diego-” You tried to discourage Klaus but got shot down, “I’ll do fine.”

“Master Klaus you said it yourself, they tortured you and you aren’t in the right state of mind. We wouldn’t want you to endanger yourself in another crossfire.”

“I’m fine Y/N, trust me but, you can come along with me if you want to keep me in check?” The servant reluctantly sighed and tagged along with Klaus… again.

Number Four and Number Zero followed the direction Diego went. They saw a familiar physique at the top of the stairs ready to tackle the door down. Well, he was planning on tackling it down, till you and Klaus walked up to him.

“So, what exactly is the plan here, big guy?”

“I told you both to wait in the car.” The Kraken glared at you and Klaus, though it felt like the glare was mostly directed at you since he did expect you to keep Klaus in check.

The curly-haired male drank his alcohol and then pointed out, “Yeah, but you also told me that licking a nine-volt battery would give me pubes.”

Number Two looked mildly amused but the look was quickly wiped off as he donned a serious one then whispered. “We were eight.”

“Sorry, Master Klaus insisted we come along. I didn’t want to leave him in your care while you fight, so I decided to come along.” You said shamefully as you looked at your feet, and pushed your thumbs against the other anxiously.

As expected of the drunk man, he brazenly took a step forward ready to charge forward but you and Diego grabbed onto him before he could do anything brash.

“Uh-uh, uh-uh…” The man dressed in black grabbed his brother’s arm and dragged him back to the bottom of the stairs and pushed him in the direction of the car, as you followed their trail like a lost puppy following its owners.

“What? Come on.”

“For once in your life, I need you to listen to me, okay? Now, go back to the car. If I don't come out in two minutes, that means I'm probably dead.” The Latino placed his calloused hands on Klaus’ shoulders, despite the rough texture of his hands the gesture was gentle and warm. “So... That happens, go get help. Okay?”

The seance let out his breath hesitantly but, weakly shook his head in agreement, as he placed his hand on Diego’s forearm. “Yeah, okay, okay, okay, okay. Okay.”

One last time, Diego patted his brother’s shoulders and then headed upstairs. As for you and Klaus, this time you took the lead and guided him back to the car. The anger that was building up within Diego was nearing its explosive stage. With every step he took he couldn’t help but recall his ex-girlfriend’s smile and seeing her lifeless expression as she laid on the floor. Once he came face to face with the door, he didn’t hold back and took out all his anger on the door, wanting this whole thing to end as swiftly as possible, not caring whether he would die in the process or not.

As his foot made contact with the door, it was surprisingly easy to open. Diego looked around the room that the hitmen checked in and it was empty, the hitwoman was not there. He scanned the room and noticed that neither of their belongings were present, only the sound of horse neighing, the sound of gunfire, and the sound of a crowd screaming on television occupied their room.

Out of nowhere, he heard an engine revving from the outside. The knife wielder lowered his guard a little as he was curious as to the source of the sound, and then he approached the railing. The vehicle that the masked hitmen used ran past the motel and shot up the place. The bullets flew out from different directions hitting everything they came across, one of the stray bullets was in the course to hit Diego, till you showed up and used yourself as a shield.

Adrenaline rushed through your veins as you stood in front of your master, willing to die in his stead. The fear of pain and the fear of death were quickly discarded as the life of the pupils of Umbrella Academy mattered more than yours, that’s what the patriarch of the household reminded you every day, so you would remember your purpose. The bullet went through your shoulder, the crimson liquid trickled down your shoulder blade as the color red bloomed onto your clothes and the searing pain followed.

For a brief moment, the pain was sharp and severe but the pain dulled down as the adrenaline took over you, making the servant dismiss the injury. However, every time you moved you couldn’t prevent your body from wincing as the sensation of the foreign object was poking in your shoulder. While Klaus came in clutch and grabbed his brother and you out of the way. The gunshots eventually died down, allowing the three to relax as you leaned against Diego’s side for support.

“Oh, man. See? You used to think I was an idiot.” Klaus giggled to himself, which prompted a small smile on your face. You were glad he lightened up a little.

Diego rolled his eyes, “I still think you're an idiot.”

The sound of tires screeching alerted Diego to the car speeding up to leave the three Numbers behind. The Latino straightened himself and placed his knives back into their rightful place as he ran down the stairs. “They're getting away!”

“You're welcome by the way!” The lanky man carefully cradled you in his arms and carried you downstairs as fast as he could without hurting your injured side.

The man clad in black groaned as he did his best to run up to the car, “Shit! Get in the car.”

The curly-haired man did his best to catch up but when he saw the flat tire he slowed down. “Oh…” You and Klaus said in unison.

Out of frustration, the Kraken kicked the wheel and groaned in frustration. He began pacing back and forth as he fidgeted with his knife by throwing it in the air and spinning it before repeating the pattern.

“Was this all part of your master plan? Hm?” His drunk brother cheekily asked, even though the look on his face said that he knew what the answer was to his question.

The frustrated male shot him a glare as warmth crept up his cheeks, “Shut up.”

The servant and the seance laughed together as the other man turned his attention to you, “For now, we need to apply first aid on Rosie, okay? She took a bullet for you.”

Diego silently agreed and went to get his first aid kit in his trunk. As he was preparing the required materials, he couldn’t help but question himself for his initial suspicion regarding Number Zero. He always knew you were loyal to the academy, though he didn’t understand if you could do things on your own accord or have to follow orders. Earlier, you protected him even though their father didn’t order you, nor did he tell you to protect him. Don’t get him wrong, he is thankful that you stepped in but, he still didn’t understand what prompted you to do that.

However, if their father had something to do with how you could easily throw away your life, then all he can say is that his ‘father’ deserved his death.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

Spaceboy drove one of their father’s cars into an isolated place. While Five sat in the passenger seat with the ‘time travel machine’ briefcase seated on his lap. Luther stopped the car in the middle of the barren area. It was the perfect meeting place; The location was isolated from society, and there were more electric posts compared to the number of buildings, trees, and civilians. Through this they could avoid getting more people hurt, so Five chose a fairly good spot.

The small brunette looked out the window, an indescribable look that Luther was familiar with, yet something he couldn’t decipher so quickly. Said boy sighed then finally spoke, “You know, I never enjoyed it.”

“What?” The larger male turned to the young man.

“The killing.” Five clarified in a hushed tone, his gaze on the road. “I mean, I was... I was good at my work, and I... I took pride in it. But it never gave me pleasure.” He let out an irritated sigh, “I think it was all those years alone. Solitude can do funny things to the mind.”

“Yeah, well, you were gone for such a long time.” Luther agreed with a slight nod as his fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “I only spent four years on the moon, but that was more than enough. It's the being alone that breaks you.”

In spite of the one-sided rivalry, they put it aside to agree on one thing they shared in common. Isolation drives people insane. Wanting to change the subject, the dirty blond-haired male eyes the fake time machine. “You think they'll buy it?”

The young man shrugged and tried to sit comfortably, “Well, what I do know is that they're desperate. It's like a cop losing his gun. If the Commission finds out, they'll be in deep shit. Oh, not to mention the fact that they'll be stuck here until they get it back.”

“Well, I should hold onto it.” The ape hybrid man suggested to which Five raised an eyebrow, “Hm?”

“In case they make a move on you.”

“Okay, Luther, but be careful. I mean, I've... I've lived a long life, but... you're still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you. Don't waste it.”

Number One wore an expression that was akin to confusion and gratitude. He did appreciate receiving advice from an elder, someone like Five who cared for him… who showed it weirdly. However, his younger brother- er- brother’s appearance does not match the wisdom he withholds. It felt and looked contradicting in his eyes, even his heart and mind did not know how to take in the advice, nor disassociate Five’s appearance from the wisdom he accumulated over the years.

In the distance, a light blue car was approaching the meeting spot. Both Numbers came out of the car and stood by each other’s side. Said car stopped a few feet away from the other car, the familiar masked hitmen came out of the car with their guns, then they slowly approached the middle of the road with Five meeting them there halfway.

The hitman carried a handgun that was pointed at Five though, the boy seemed bothered by something else. Since he merely raised a brow at the guns and gestured to the masks that the two wore. “Are the masks really necessary?”

The duo quickly discarded the masks but Hazel still kept his gun pointed at Five. Then Cha-cha finally spoke, “So, where is it, kid?”

“Wow, that's how you're gonna start.” The small brunette feigned an amused expression, he clicked his tongue then, turned to the car that Luther stood by. “You know, we can get right back in our car and call it a day.”

The well-dressed man lightly pressed his finger on the trigger, an obvious threat that anyone could pick up on. “You won't even make it halfway there.”

“Maybe.” The boy in school shorts gestured to his stronger brother, “But as I'm sure you found out in your previous foray, my brother is not your average giant.”

“He's right. You dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up.”

“By the time you took him out, he'd smash your precious briefcase to a pulp.”

Hazel quipped, “Probably us too, right?”

Discovering that they were at a stalemate, Cha-cha raised a question with a displeased look on her face. “So, how do we help each other?”

“I need you to get in contact with your superior so I can have a chat with her. Face-to-face.”

“About what?” She narrowed her eyes at the boy, suspicious of his proposition.

“Well, I don't believe that's any of your concern.”

The woman was hesitant to trust the ‘traitor’ of the commission but she shrugged it off. “Just don't tell her about the briefcase.”

“Fair enough.” Number Five nodded as he backed away slowly and returned to Luther’s side.

The woman in a bob cut headed to the nearest phone booth and began dialing down their superior’s number, while the larger brunette still had his gun directed at Five as he slowly walked backward and to his partner’s side. From time to time, the dark-skinned woman would look over her shoulder to check if Five or Luther were doing anything dubious.

“What happens now?” Number One asked.

The boy stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Now we wait.”

Only the sound of the wind whistling was heard, till an inaudible chime at the distance could be heard thus catching four people’s attention. Even if they had different goals, they all had the same question, “What the fuck is that? ”; They all kept their eyes on a bright vehicle that was heading in their direction with the music at full blast, it was playing the orchestra tune of ‘Ride of the Valkyries’.

“Is that her?” The dirty blond-haired male asked but, the brunette didn’t have an answer to his brother’s question because he was just as confused as he was.

As the ice cream truck passed by the Boy and Spaceboy, they incidentally caught a glimpse of the culprits: Y/N, Diego, and Klaus. The curly-haired man waved at his brothers as he was carelessly steering the wheel, while Diego and you were holding on for your dear lives. Ironically, the one who looked like he was the most scared - Diego - is the same person who was screaming at Klaus to go faster, and the only sane one - you - was discouraging your masters from becoming more reckless. At this point, Five and Luther were not surprised, just confused at the abrupt appearance.

The short brown-haired boy thought aloud, “What the hell are they doing here?”

Diego shouted as he closed his eyes and held onto his seat, “Go faster!”

“With pleasure!” The seance laughed maniacally as he stomped on the gas pedal resulting in the ice cream truck accelerating.

“I beg of you Master Klaus please don’t!” You pleaded as you finally understood why his driver’s license was taken away.

“It's a setup!” The hitmen began shooting up the ice cream truck and the defenseless numbers, the sound of their bullets echoing as they landed a hit on the truck. Swiftly, Luther used himself as a shield for Five as his brother hid behind him.

The colorful truck hit the assassins, they were supposed to be thrown backward and then rolled on the floor, yet they were frozen in mid-air the truck collided with their torsos but the after-effect never happened. The other stray bullets that were headed to both the ice cream truck and the two numbers were slowing down and then stopped altogether. Confused, Five came out of his hiding spot, whilst you were busy trying to process why everything froze, you tried to shake Klaus and Diego’s sides but neither of them responded. You were about to go outside the ice cream truck and check out what was going on when a new voice spoke up.

“Neat trick, isn't it?” Before Five there stood a tall sophisticated woman with silver hair: She wore a dark coat, sunglasses, and a small hat with a small veil attached to it, while carrying a briefcase in her other hand. With her free hand, she removed her veil and glasses to reveal her devilish expression that neither the sunglasses nor the veil could hide.

You froze up in your spot, your hand withdrawing from the car door. Even though you have never fought with villains by the Umbrella Academy’s side, this woman gave off the same air as the villains that the other Numbers spoke about as children.

“Hello, Five. You look good, all things considered.”

“It's good to see you again.”

You peeked from the car window, trying to hide your presence from both of them. You couldn’t help but be in awe of the small brunette. He stood before the mystery woman with his hands in his pocket, as though she was not a big threat. Though, knowing him, he was probably holding a weapon hidden in his pockets ready to charge at the woman when the opportunity came.

“Feels like we met just yesterday. Course, you were a little bit older then.” She joked then added. “Congratulations on the age regression, by the way. Very clever. Threw us all off the scent.”

The former assassin of the Commission merely rolled his eyes. “Ah, well, I wish I could take credit. I just miscalculated the time dilation projections, and... Well, you know. Here I am.”

“You realize your efforts are futile.” Five’s former superior faux a smile, “So why don't you tell me what you really want?”

The young man said, “I want you to put a stop to it.”

You felt a drop of sweat drip down your forehead as your face shifted into a look of disappointment; you expected more from Five, and that’s why you didn’t think he would resort to this. Though, you suppose you couldn’t blame him since at this point a lot of people were getting involved: the academy, Diego’s ex-girlfriend, and civilians. He probably assumed compromising with the enemy is the best solution for now.

“You realize what you're asking for is next to impossible, even for me. What's meant to be is meant to be. That's our raison d'être.”

The boy pulled out a gun and angled it to Handler’s head, “Yeah? Well, how about survival as a raison? ”

“I'll just be replaced.” The tall woman shrugged, her fake smile not faltering. “I'm but a... small cog in a machine. This fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse... is just that. A fantasy.”

Her heels clicked as she took steps to close in the distance between her and Five “I must say, though, we're all quite impressed with your initiative, your... stick-to-itiveness, really quite… quite something. Which is why we want to offer you a new position back at the Commission, in management.”

“Sorry, what's that now?” He chuckled in disbelief as he lowered his gun a little, obviously intrigued by the proposition.

“Why would they offer a job after his betrayal? ” You asked yourself, your brows furrowed at the mysterious woman.

“Come back to work for us again. You know it's where you belong.”

“Well, it didn't work out too well the last time.”

The silver-haired woman shook her head as she corrected him, “But you wouldn't be in the correction division any longer. I'm talking about... the home office. You'd have the best health and pension, and an end to this ceaseless travel.”

“You're a distinguished professional in-” The Handler looks down at Five’s uniform with a strained smile that was tempted to chuckle, “-schoolboy shorts. We have the technology to reverse the process. If Rossweisse came along with you, her blood could be of use to speed up the reversal process, and I heard she’s a good fighter, yes? She could be of use to the correctional division.”

The servant’s eyes widened as you straightened up a little, you were tempted to speak up and accept the offer so you could finally redeem yourself. But, Five’s words brought you back to reality.

The angry boy replied, venom seething through his words. “I’m the one you are offering the deal to, not her so leave her name out of your mouth.”

You slouched in your hiding spot and averted your gaze to your master. This was confusing… Why didn’t he just accept the offer? This way you could redeem yourself for your past mistakes and he would return to his proper age. It was practically killing two birds with one stone yet, he chose to discard a tempting offer. However, now that you think about it, there is a chance the commission would use that offer to their advantage but, if this was about not getting others involved anymore, it’s kinda pointless now… They need as much help as they can get to arise victorious from this apocalypse.

“I mean, you... you can't be happy like this.” The woman pointed out in a soft tone as she casually pushed the gun down.

Number Five insisted, his grip on the gun tight but the weapon was pointed downwards. “I'm not looking for happy.”

“Master Five please don’t lower your guard! ” You silently cried as you readied your retractable staff ready to intervene. Though, you were hesitating because every time you tried to help or obey an order it seemed like you always messed things up. The thought of not being of any use to the academy but, being the cause of chaos resulted in a tear running down your cheeks then another.

Tears began streaming down your eyes followed by your nose sniffling uncontrollably, you did your best to wipe your tears away with your sleeves. The irrational fear of the Monocle or the other Numbers seeing you like this was at the back of your head, you didn’t want to get caught- No, you can’t get caught. Not right now. The familiar wave of panic washed over you, more irrational thoughts flooding your mind as your rationality and sense of reality slipped. Your breaths came in short, desperate gasps that you struggled to quiet down but, it only grew louder. The feeling of your head pounding and your head spinning overwhelmed your senses that you couldn’t process what was going on anymore in the outside world; The only thing you could think of was that you had to stop, you were a mess. This is not how a servant should be acting, this is not what the patriarch of the household expected from you. Out of desperation, you dug your fingers into your skin to wake you up from your despair, whilst you used your free hand to bite on to muffle your cries.

Whilst you were spiraling in your misery, the high-ranking commission individual and the traitor were busy conversing.

“We're all looking for happy.” The cheeky woman’s smirk widened slightly, noticing that her target was faltering, and then she caressed Five’s cheek. “We can make that happen. We can make you... yourself again.”

The small brunette sighed and gestured to his siblings who were frozen in time, “And what about my family?”

“What about them?”

“I want them to survive.”

The silver-haired woman turned her head to check on Five’s siblings, “All of them?”

“Yes, all of them.” He confirmed with a firm tone.

“Even Y/N Rossweisse?” The woman wore a Cheshire grin as she tilted her head a little as though she was recalling something. “From what I recall in Vanya Hargreeves’ autobiography, she’s deemed like a servant and an outsider of the family. And the book even states you dislike her, you sure you don’t want to use the opportunity to get rid of her?”

The boy clicked his tongue, “Dislike is different from hate.”

“She may not be a Hargreeves but there are people out there who will cry for her. Heck, the others might get mad at me if they find out I abandoned her. ” He internally remarked.

Five may act like he does not care about anyone but, he is observant. He knows how close Diego is with you for your shared fear of needles, how close you were with Vanya because you always followed her around, how you always did your best to stop Klaus from causing any more trouble for himself and others, and probably Allison since she grew a soft spot for children ever since she became a mother.

“Well…” The Handler retrieved her glasses from her coat pocket and equipped them again, “I'll see what I can do.” She brought out her hand to Five, “Do we have a deal?”

“One thing.”

While time was still frozen, the brown-haired boy hurriedly grabbed the gun that Hazel dropped and removed the magazine then threw both of them in different directions. He then turned his attention to the bullet heading towards Luther’s direction then adjusted its course. Once he was satisfied with his work, he finally shook the Handler’s hand. For a brief moment there was a bright light and the sound of electricity zapping, when they disappeared time took its course.

You were so busy trying to calm yourself down that you didn’t notice that everything went back to normal. The orchestra tune of ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ continued its chime and the ice cream truck continued moving forward then, the truck collided with the assassins’ torsos, thus they were thrown a few feet away whilst groaning in pain. The stray bullets that were shot earlier finally penetrated the truck and missed Luther. The colorful truck kept moving till it crashed against the masked men’s car, resulting in Klaus and Diego being thrown back in their seats but, due to your position you were thrown forward consequently your head crashed against the dashboard which led you to pass out.

“Good God, Rosie!” Klaus hurried to your side. He carefully examined your state. You were bleeding, a large gash on your forehead as brittles of glass were lodged onto your skin with remnants of tears still present across your skin.

Panicked, Luther looked around because one of his siblings who had common sense just vanished. “Five?”

“Oh! Ow!” The man dressed in black cried out in pain.

Spaceboy frantically screamed, “Five!”

The dirty blond-haired man kept looking around for Five but, when he saw the hitmen began shakily gathering themselves despite being recently run over and getting hit in the torso. He turned his gaze to his family who were still in the ice cream truck, he noticed that they had not left the vehicle yet. They probably needed a distraction.

Luther shook the briefcase to catch the enemy’s attention, “Come get it!” Then he quickly threw it as far as he could.

The ape-man hybrid ran for the ice cream truck to assist his siblings, while Cha-cha ran for the briefcase and Hazel ran for the discarded gun. Once he arrived, he quickly scooped up your passed-out form in his arms as Klaus aided Diego to the other car. Oddly enough, they managed to assist the injured ones, while they were screaming their lungs at each other as they retreated to the car.

“No!” Hazel got a hold of the gun and tried shooting at them but there was no magazine, “Shit!” he grunted and threw away the gun out of frustration.

“Get in the car,” Luther ordered as he placed the knocked-out H/C maid in Klaus’ arms and Diego hurriedly scooted over to give you and Klaus more space.

The larger male went to the driver’s seat and hastily started the car, as his brother anxiously screamed. “Luther, go! Go! Let's go!”

When Number One finally managed to get the car working, the engines revved its excitement for their escape. When he pressed the gas pedal the tires began screeching and they finally left their perpetrators in the dust. From the back of the car, Klaus flipped off the hitman with two middle fingers, “Woo!”

“Damn it!” The man approached Cha-cha’s side to check on the briefcase but all they saw was random junk in the briefcase. The woman threw the decoy and kicked a random junk as she screamed, “Shit!”

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givehimthemedicine · 7 months

Text

El traded herself for Max in the void: a timeline switch crack concept

I'm not saying "theory" because I'm not 100% serious but hear me out anyway because there is something here, I'm just not sure what. if nothing else I get to inflict an angsty scenario on you

so you know how Two Days Later El's behavior irt Max is just so weird?

after everything that happened, you'd expect El to already be screaming "IS MAX OKAY?" as the van door is sliding open. instead, she doesn't ask about her at all.

even when Dustin says Lucas is at the hospital, El goes "is he hurt?" as if Max isn't crossing her mind at all as a reason for him to be at the hospital.

Will's casual inquiry of "where's Lucas" is weird in of itself. Will was there when El hatched the whole "Protect Max" plot and literally spoke to El while she was in Max's memories/the void. he knew Max being in danger was the whole thing. he definitely would've asked about Max before he asked about Lucas.

then Lucas says how it was a miracle that Max's heart started beating again, and Mike and Will give El this look. the obvious interpretation being that they assume El is somehow responsible but didn't say a word about it. (classic El behavior)

call me crazy, but doesn't it kinda fit to say that Two Days Later El does not have Void El's memories?

the El who arrives in Hawkins is NOT acting AT ALL like someone who watched her best friend die, brought her back, and ended the interaction with her in a dubiously-alive-critically-injured state.

this El is behaving like one who succeeded in rescuing Max and therefore isn't especially worried about her current status. maybe even a version where Lucas never got beaten up, the tape never got broken, the plan worked. who never told the boys she revived Max, because she didn't.

there's just something about El being all dirty and bloody during Max's death scene and then visiting Max two days later still wearing the same outfit except a still-clean version of it. like none of that happened to this El.

there's just something about Dustin's "oh God, you don't know." maybe this El doesn't! she looks lost af.

there's just something about Mike's "we came as soon as we heard." El was there and saw it all, but you just now heard it from Dustin? I know El is tight lipped but you're really saying she got out of the pizza freezer and into a TWO DAY LONG van ride and the conversation never got around to, like... how the mission went?

yet as of the cabin end scene, suddenly Mike and Will both know stuff that only El could've told them. so.. she did talk in the van? but didn't mention the Max stuff? that's even weirder.

let's talk about Vecna's 4th gate

so gates open on the exact spot of Vecna's victims' bodies, right?

here's where the Max gate starts to open in the UD attic, corresponding to exactly where Max is lying dead in the RU attic.

except that absolutely cannot be.

because they showed us what instantly happens if even a small part of the gate crack passes beneath a person. it looks like this:

so if that gate originated exactly under Max's body, Lucas would not have any warning. the only way he would've found out about it is by seeing at least a section of Max's corpse suddenly get vaporized Jason-style. (if not also his own body!)

instead, Lucas has time to see it starting to form and pull Max to safety. which means it couldn't have started forming exactly under Max.

the forming gate that Lucas is looking at as he drags Max away is actually sorta between Max and the spider shrine.

now look where El was sitting.

what if the 4th sacrifice was El, not Max?

we never actually saw the results of whatever El did when she put her hand over Max's heart. the easiest assumption is she just did magic cpr and started Max's heart again. but what if she was doing something to trade places with Max?

"but wtf are you talking about, because El continues being alive for the rest of the episode?"

for this concept I'm borrowing an idea from @heroesbyler that's had me clawing the walls of my cell lately - in case you missed her recent big brain posts, she pointed out some weird discrepancies in actual vs void versions of scenes throughout the show, suggesting that when El visits the void, she could actually be looking into different timelines. I'd definitely submit the Creel attic as another example.

so when I say what if El traded herself for Max, I'm talking Void El and Void Max.

I'm talking something about Max's death, or revival, or the opening of the gates, throwing some kind of trolley dilemma train tracks switch between timelines. idk there are too many details to iron out before I pitch this in seriousness but idk I just. I swear to you Two Days Later El and Void El aren't lining up.

some discrepancies in the real vs void Creel attic (not all. this could be a whole post itself)

void vs UD:

according to the UD shot, the origin point of the death gate is perfectly centered relative to the rug, and, say, a foot away. here's my hasty approximation of where I'd expect it:

this is why I'm not taking the L about how honestly El's location doesn't perfectly align with the UD origin point - because neither does Max's.

void vs RU:

IRL, Lucas is cradling Max across his lap. his legs are more or less parallel to the spider shrine while Max is angled at, very roughly, 45 degrees to it. the bug lamp is centered on it.

in the void version, the bug light is far towards one end of the table. while Lucas and Max's positions feel fairly consistent, their placement relative to the SS is not.

if you follow the lines of the floorboards in the IRL shot, his butt is aligned nearly with the far right edge of the SS. but here, don't they all seem decidedly further towards the left of it?:

as soon as Max dies, things get differenter. now they're further right again, only Lucas and Max's positions are more spoony, pointed the same direction. she's nearly parallel with the SS now. her feet also seem jacked up at more severe angles.

overhead shot also makes that bug light's off-centeredness very clear.

also you notice how we don't see El hearing Max in the void? I mean, she must have, otherwise she wouldn't reply "No, you're not going", but it's just odd how WE don't see that.

I've talked before about how Max says both "I don't want to die" and "I don't want to go," which are two different concepts in ST universe, and that Lucas and El each get to respond to one of them. so why not show us El hearing the one that's hers?

IRL Max is begging for her life, but when we switch to the void, she's abruptly silent and much more still. El only hears Lucas. back to IRL, Max is still more actively struggling and vocalizing a little before she dies. the energy doesn't match super well.

other bits

on the subject of El's "No. You're not going." if you really wanted to, you could interpret that in a "- because I'm going instead" way. I know, she didn't especially say it with that inflection. but it does have me thinking about how incredibly in character it is for El to be willing to trade herself like that.

it made me think of this moment:

yeah we've all demanded to know what was the reason for having Owens assume Max was a boy. but has anyone talked about how El, in her reply to that very line ("no, do not send your men. send me.") does the same thing? Owens just said "people". El assumes they are men.

there's just something about El saying "do not send your men[?], send me" immediately after Owens referring to Max as a him[?]. it gives kind of a "don't take Max, take me" flavor.

there's also something about how Max wasn't supposed to be the 4th sacrifice anyway.

and by this point El has heard the monologue about how all this time, it's all been about getting to her. so she's definitely feeling that Max is dead in the crossfire because of her. you don't think that if she only could, she would take Max's place and face Vecna directly, whatever that entails? whether it's death or some ambiguous awful fate?

can you tell me this kid

wouldn't trade herself for Max?

also just curious that the very first time they played Running Up That Hill, it actually began on a shot of a distraught El walking down her school hallway before it transitioned to Max walking the opposite way down her school hallway. with the song edited to skip straight from the opening to the chorus about swapping places.

don't worry I'm sure there's no way that means anything 👍

finally, El is distraught not to be able to find Max in the void when she goes looking for her. but it's weird because El has located corpses, flayed people, and inanimate objects in the void before. there's no reason she shouldn't be able to locate Max due to her being in a coma/"trapped".

what if it's not Max who's offline? what if El can't see into that timeline anymore because she's dead in it?

#this is crackpot but also there's something here #elmax #<- kinda #givehimthemedicine analysis #mine #and yes there are issues about how an El-gate should form where El was sitting when she revived Max which is a different spot #but if I'm entertaining alternate timelines I can also entertain time backing up a minute

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masterfvck · 6 months

Note

can you write something about sanayeon? (i think its nayeons and sanas ship name but im not sure lmao) need them so bad like i can imagine nayeon being all like "im the top in the relationship" to the public but in private sana bends her over an table and fucks her <333

Yes! It's finally done after my Very long time of no motivation burnout era 💥 I hope it was worth the wait 😭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 (𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧.)

Sanayeon (Sana + Nayeon, TWICE)

Cws: Top Sana obv, Sub Nayeon (also obv), slight begging :o, dirty talk(I tried?!), cunnilingus, fingering.

Lmk if I missed something!

Word count: 1.3k

(NSFW, minors don't interact pleek)

There’s dead silence at the table right now. Not awkward, or full of tension - just comfortable silence as all the TWICE members sat there, on their phones.

“Guys, I’m clearly the top in the relationship, right?” Nayeon very suddenly says, which made at least two of them choke on their drinks. Well, now all the looks were on her.

What a strange thing to say, out of the blue.

That was Nayeon for ya!

“Uhh. No,” Jeongyeon deadpans, which resulted in Nayeon trying to hit her. She was stopped by the others. “Hey! It’s true! You’re not a top-”

“Okay, Jeongyeon. We get it. Nayeon’s a bottom,” joins in Jihyo.

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Not!”

“Are too.”

“Am NOT!!”

“A-”

Chaeyoung cuts them off before any of the two can say any more. “Shut it! She might be, she might not.”

Both Jeongyeon and Nayeon grumble.

“Well, let’s ask Sana. She’s Nayeon’s girlfriend, after all,” Momo stated, and suddenly all eyes were on Sana.

She didn’t really know what to say - not right now, at least - the pressure of all members staring expectantly at her didn’t really help. “... What?”

“Well? Nayeon’s a fucking bottom, ri-” Nayeon groans. “Shut up!” she interjected.

“I mean… Maybe.” Sana holds back a grin and leans in her seat, putting on a nonchalant cover. Only to tease Nayeon - what else? - and it seemed to work.

“Hey!” She whined.

Chuckles were heard from pretty much everyone in the room.

“There’s still a chance, though. I feel like they could both be switches. It’s… none of my business, though. That’s all I have to say,” Tzuyu noted quietly. “The impossible is possible.”

There was a small moment of silence, and Nayeon smirked. “See? Someone agrees.”

“I never said I agreed, Unnie.”

Her smirk instantly faded. “Wha-”

“Heyy, look at the time. I’m hungry. Goodbye everyone!” Dahyun laughs nervously and scurries off before anyone can stop her. Seems like the tension was too much for her to handle second-hand. Chaeyoung decided to go after her, not saying anything else.

Sana looks around at the others. Is this a scenario where everyone just leaves suddenly, and only her and Nayeon are left? No way, that would be too pr-

“Uh.”

So maybe Sana was wrong.

It wasn’t long until Nayeon was bent over the table, squirming and whining underneath Sana. Yeah, the table was probably not the best place to do this, honestly. But she couldn’t resist the urge to just push her over right there and then and show her who’s really the top in this. Nayeon couldn’t resist Sana. Is anyone really surprised?

As Nayeon holds onto the table for dear life, she grinds her hips back against Sana - or Sana’s hand, in this case - and moans quietly.

Sana finds this a bit amusing.

“What happened to this whole I’m the top attitude from barely five minutes ago?” She laughed, curling her fingers at the spot Sana knew would make her arch her back like a cat.

And that was the exact reaction she got, as well. Nayeon cursed under her breath, tilting her head back.

“I didn’t-” she trails off.

“You can’t even finish your sentence properly. You couldn’t top me if you tried, admit it. Just look at how you’re grinding against me for more - you’re so desperate.” Sana’s words really didn’t help Nayeon in any way. If anything, it made her crave for even more now.

Nayeon gulped audibly, feeling her climax approaching slowly as Sana moved her fingers skillfully inside her. It was so good, almost too good. She couldn’t get enough.

And she couldn’t deny Sana, she was right. Nayeon couldn’t top her if she tried. She can barely speak right now.

“Are you close already?” Sana asked. Nayeon knew she shouldn’t have answered, but she nodded and let out soft breaths and moans.

She should have stayed still.

Because, at the words, Sana grinned and took her fingers out, ruining her approaching orgasm.

Fuck.

“N-Noooo…” Nayeon whined, head flopping back onto the table as she groaned.

Sana laughed a little at the sight.

“You’re adorable, really,” she cooed and held her waist, flipping her around. Her arms slowly guided her to sit on the table. Her wetness probably covered the table’s surface, but neither of them cared at this point. They’d just clean it after.

Sana lowered herself, kneeling on the ground and spreading Nayeon’s legs with no resistance coming from the older woman. She was even eager.

She approached her pussy painfully slowly, making Nayeon impatient.

“Please,” she whined. Sana smirked and chuckled a little at the sound. Begging now?

“Please what?” She murmured against the skin of her inner thighs.

“Please me. I-I need you.” And that was all Sana needed to hear.

She pressed a sloppy kiss to her clit first, which made Nayeon shudder and reach to hold her head. She didn’t complain - it felt somehow nice.

The kisses moved down her lips, tongue teasingly sticking out at her entrance, licking stripes up and down. She was practically turning Nayeon into a pile of mush for her. Her mind was so hazy, she felt almost dizzy. Her hand still held Sana’s head tightly and kept it against her as Sana herself held Nayeon’s thighs she loved so much. (Well, to be fair, Sana loves every part of Nayeon a lot.)

Nayeon barely mumbled out small “thank you”s as Sana worked her tongue on her, savoring the taste of her wetness. It was one sloppy mess, but at least it was a tasty sloppy mess.

The feeling of Sana’s tongue hitting her clit made Nayeon shudder even harder every time she did so. She wasn't even just eating her out at this point - she was devouring her like she's been starving for weeks. Her knees would definitely be hurting after this. She didn't care, it was worth it.

Sana’s grip on Nayeon’s thighs tightened a little and she started sucking on her clit eagerly.

“Hhngh- Ah,” Nayeon moaned out loud, feeling her orgasm approaching even more, muscles clenching under Sana’s touch.

With a few more licks and some grinding against Sana’s face, Nayeon came. Hard. She gasped for air, riding her orgasm out as she still held the back of Sana’s head against her.

“Ffuck…” She huffed out and let Sana pull away, breathless and covered in Nayeon's own wetness. She had a usual grin on her face.

She brought her closer, enveloping them into a kiss. Nayeon tasted herself on Sana's lips, but she didn't mind it. In fact, a part of her even enjoyed it.

They pulled away after a bit, just staring at each other for a bit.

“... Did you really think you were the top here?” Sana asked, finally.

“Nah.”

“Knew it,” she laughed out and pecked her lips. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

At dinner, they all sit at that same table.

First, there's some talking. Then Sana and Nayeon walk in together, hand in hand then taking their seats.

Everyone stares at them like they're about to get interrogated by the police.

It feels awkward… and the silence does not help one bit.

“... Guys, you cleaned the table, right?” Momo asked, finally.

There's no denying it, honestly. Sana wasn't even embarrassed one bit.

Nayeon was, though. Her face was flushed a deep red from embarrassment. Almost deeper than earlier when Sana was eating her out on this same table.

“Of course we did. We might be horny, we aren't gross-”

“Sana!” Nayeon nudged the girl’s shoulder.

“What? I'm telling the truth…” Despite the pouty look on her face, Sana chuckled.

Jeongyeon decided to interrupt them.

Probably in the worst (or best) way possible.

“... I knew Nayeon was a bottom-”

“YOO JEONGYEON I SWEA-”

Rest in peace Yoo Jeongyeon. We’ll miss you! (Except Nayeon, maybe.)

#sharpie fics #for once?!#sanayeon #two sharpies #twice #twice smut #sana #nayeon #sana smut #nayeon smut #kpop smut #kpop gg #LET'S GO I WROTE SOMETHING

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mightyflamethrower · 8 months

Text

25 reasons Trump won’t pay a dime to E. Jean Carroll

That eye-popping $83 million judgment will not survive an appeal. A proper settlement would subtract at least $82,972,000.

In 2019, a strange woman named E. Jean Carroll accused Donald Trump of raping her in a changing room of the Bergdorf Goodman department store in Midtown Manhattan. Trump called her crazy, and a jury found him liable for both sexually abusing her and defaming her with the “crazy” talk. Last week, a New York jury decided Carroll deserves $83 million for defamation.

Here are 25 reasons why that’s nuts.

1) Carroll has said rape is “sexy”

She backs up this insane statement with, “Think of the fantasies” (which my wife and I can’t stop saying to each other). For the record, having someone forcibly violate you against your will is the exact opposite of “sexy.”

2) She’s already bragging about shopping sprees

Remember in “Goodfellas” when that idiot shows up at the party with his wife wearing a $20,000 fur coat and De Niro tells him to “bring it back”? When you run a scam, you need to lay low for a while. Carroll, conversely, is making appearances on national television telling Rachel Maddow she’s going to buy her a “penthouse in Paris” as well as fishing gear and a motorcycle for her counsel (could she pick weirder presents?). Her lawyer awkwardly murmured, “Uh, that’s a joke.”

Yeah, this whole thing is a joke.

3) The scenario she described came from her favorite TV show

She is a self-described “Law & Order” fan, and there is an episode wherein a man muscles his way into a changing room at Bergdorf Goodman and sexually molests a woman. This is likely where she got the idea. She’s also a big fan of “The Apprentice.” Would you like to watch your rapist on TV?

4) She didn’t want to press criminal charges

Being on the cover of New York magazine is one thing, but taking your BS story into an actual courtroom is a whole other level of fraud. When Bill de Blasio said he would change the law to make the case admissible, Carroll kept awkwardly repeating, “The experts told me … the time has passed.”

5) They changed the law

The case had no merit because the statute of limitations on civil action had passed. So what happened? The New York State Legislature changed the law. Is there anything that screams “witch hunt” more than that? What are we, Zimbabwe?

6) The man who backed the lawsuit is a major DNC donor

Leftist activist billionaire Reid Hoffman is the money behind this operation. His motive is obviously to bankrupt Trump so he can’t run again. Carroll denied this at first because she’s a liar, but her lawyer was forced to come clean.

7) The whole thing was George Conway’s idea, apparently

Though she denies it, it’s clear this entire plan was concocted by “conservative lawyer” Conway at a radical leftist cocktail party in Manhattan.

8) Carroll’s lawyer is desperate to fix her reputation as a rape-enabler

Roberta Kaplan was supposed to champion victims of sexual assault with her #TimesUp movement, but she used it instead to run cover for perverts such as Andrew Cuomo. She got caught and she got fired. Her comeback included representing Ashley Biden (A Biden lawyer going after Trump? Is anyone surprised?), but this case could permanently rescue her Google results.

9) Carroll’s dress didn’t exist back then

Carroll said the rape happened in the early 1990s. We just learned the particular dress she said she was allegedly wearing did not exist at the time.

10) She cannot remember when the rape happened

We’re not talking about the exact date. She can’t tell us if it was 1993 or 1995.

11) She won’t let anyone test her coat for DNA

Carroll calls the dress her “bad luck dress” and told CNN she will never make a talisman out of it — as though the idea had occurred to anyone. Why did she keep it around? This could be the left’s Monica Lewinsky dress, but she refuses to let anyone analyze it.

12) She doesn’t know if Trump ejaculated

I don’t know if anyone reading this has engaged in sexual intercourse, but evidence of the male orgasm is almost impossible to hide.

13) She is a serial accuser

Despite being a 3.5, she has claimed men have sexually assaulted her at least a half-dozen times. This isn’t proof of Trump’s innocence in and of itself, but it becomes relevant when surrounded by 24 other points.

14) She said it wasn’t sexual

Carroll has said pretty much everything that you could say about this encounter, from “it was not sexual” to “it was the definition of rape.” She said she would not press charges, however, because it would trivialize the experience of illegal aliens who are being “raped around the clock.”

15) She’s not his type

Trump is into elegant Slavs. This woman is like that hysterical chicken lady from “The Kids in the Hall.”

16) The judge and Carroll’s lawyer are pals

We’re told Judge Lewis Kaplan was Roberta Kaplan’s (no relation) mentor back when they both worked at Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison. Roberta Kaplan denies this, but it can’t be denied they worked at the same firm at the same time. That alone is a conflict of interest.

17) Carroll didn’t talk to anyone about the alleged assault, until she did

If a woman is sexually assaulted, she is morally obligated to report it immediately, so the rapist doesn’t do it again. Carroll did not do this. What’s more, she didn’t talk to any of her friends about it. At least not at first. This is peculiar behavior for a blabbermouth.

18) Even if it’s all true, the settlement would be tiny

Carroll alleged that Trump cost her a columnist job at Elle, but the magazine made it clear it ended her contract as an advice columnist based on nothing more than lack of interest. But let’s assume Elle fired her because Trump wrote a mean tweet. A good price for an advice column would be a couple of hundred bucks per piece. That’s $2,000 a year for Elle. Assuming Carroll lives as long as “Dear Abby” columnist Pauline Esther Friedman, who died at 94, that would be a whopping total of $28,000 (Carroll is 80).

So, we’re off by about $82,972,000.

19) She said women “love” being abducted

She told Charlie Rose (remember him?) in 1995 that women love the idea of a caveman knocking them unconscious with a club and then dragging them — by their hair — back to the cave. I’m no feminist, but I’m pretty sure the cerebral contusions from this kind of violence are not a turn-on.

20) She said it wasn’t a big deal

“I’m a mature woman,” she said. “I can handle it.” OK, then why does she need $83 million to recover? That’s four times the amount of money you get when your kid is decapitated.

21) She lives in a Mouse House

Anyone who doubts this lady’s mental state needs to check out her house. She calls it “The Mouse House” because it’s infested with rodents (to whom she has given individual names, such as “Terbrusky”). She has painted the trees blue. She has printed out 27 years of advice column questions and stacked them all over the place. Yes, writers can be weird. But it is impossible to look at her place and not think, “This is nuts.”

22) She is a hoarder

Hoarding is a mental disorder. You can’t sue someone for calling you “crazy” if you have a mental disorder.

23) Her cat is called “Vagina” — seriously

E. Jean Carroll is obsessed with sex and her vagina. She said she lives in the woods because if she lived in the city, she’d have 16 boyfriends. She’s 80, remember?

Her dog “Tits” has blue hair, and her cat is named “Vagina.” The left-wing media thinks this is irrelevant. “Among the stranger complaints made by the former president … was that the jury wasn’t informed about the name of his accuser’s cat: Vagina T. Fireball.” Uh, when the charge is “calling a sane woman crazy,” Vagina T. Fireball matters.

24) She writes notes to herself

Wait, doesn’t everyone do that? Not like this. “The Mouse House” is festooned with bizarre messages. Her microwave says, “Burn Baby Burn.” Her bookshelf says, “Always amused never angry.” And, in a moment of deranged honesty, she taped a note to a lamp that says, “Hold your nerve. Pursue your radical options to the bitter END!”

25) Carroll said she wanted to “rape” Trump

Apparently, she thought having rough sex with him in the changing room would make for a “funny story.” (Wait, I thought she didn’t tell anyone about what happened to her out of fear.) She also suggested she’d do it for $17,000 if he was unable to speak. Sounds awfully rapey, doesn’t it?

Anyone who takes this case seriously and doesn’t see E. Jean Carroll as a complete basket case is a complete basket case.

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crying-fantasies · 7 months

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Loved your Prowl/Constructicons/reader thing you wrote earlier!

I'm especially intrigued by the way you write from Devastator's perspective and about the gestalt psyche as a whole, any headcanons about that? (no pressure!)

Thank you for your kind words!

Well, it's mostly based on what happened in RID and the combiners wars, where, from time to time, you can see mainly the thoughts of the center of the combiner and the thoughts of the very combiner in between, a psyche born from every component, and it was just so cool to me, because in the way it acts and how it talks you know who is inside, of course, it changes between the gestalt's own team.

I remember, back with G1, every component needed to have a personality component, as in their own "me" had to be hard enough to not get lost inside or something like that, and if that didn't happen the combiner would be weak, and sometimes I link that "me" with the idea of "what I want to do" in order to form a combiner.

If there is consensus over at least one thing, a combiner can happen, or you use the Enigma of Combination and create one by force, whatever goes your way, really, but in the second scenario you must see if it can stay together because launching together 3 or more bots can result in all of them going their way without a real objective and simply fall apart.

Defensor, for example, can transform since all the protectobots share a single ideology: "I must protect my people and I must protect the defenseless humans", because we've already seen how this specific combiner treats humans as they were his kids, that comes from Streetwise, maybe a little bit of First Aid is what handles the main idea since Defensor is also know for having medical knowledge to some point, the part were he stops to think before going full rage? That's Hot Spot alright, but that fury when the innocent is in danger's way? That's Blades, the part that tries to calm the wounded? That's Groove, they aren't exactly close to one another, but sharing a similar, if not exact, objective in mind is what makes Defensor, but their differences show in how they can't keep their force shield together for more than a few seconds.

Devastator, it's been said time and time again how the constructicons all share one thing, rage, anger, be it against the autobots or whatever, their rage is what forms the most iconic combiner of all times, but it isn't perfect, in almost every continuity Devastator is an amalgam of different mechs that didn't want anything to do with one another (like, majority of all the decepticon gestalt teams) but by Megatron's order it must happen because it just must, hence you have a strong as fuck combiner, but that's it, there is no great procedure and the constructicons have been burned from this, in the early comics you motive how Mixmaster wasn't as crazy as be ended up for example and Scavenger's anxiety is also more notorious, Bonecrusher is mad all the time like Long Haul and Hook is way more fixated on making everything perfect, they're all mad at something, just look at Scrapper, who wanted to be away fromt them for a moment, and what happened to him, most irregular components merged together must remain together to be sane since now they are tainted with one another and it can cause insanity.

Now, Devastator with Prowl, finally there is no only anger in their shared mind, there is options, thousand upon thousands of options than the whole team has ever seen, than what Devastator even had the processor to even imagine, and Prowl gives him something that he never had before: the idea of freedom, and they all love it because Prowl is a mad, gray freedom that they would die for to be real.

Then we have perfect child, perfect team and perfect combiner: Superion, whose whole gestalt team is in synchrony by force, because it's Superion himself that put his components in mute an goes on his way, using the shared idea of destroying the decepticons of his components to keep going and not falling apart, but this is a bad movement, since there is no center there is no bond, no talk, and Superion struggles to even talk or do something as simple as moving something if it isn't related to eliminate the decepticons.

Now, if we put in something they want, or at least one of the components want, you may catch the interest of the others or the combiner itself, as it happens with Prowl, the constructicons and Devastator, because they share it, and depending from how they take it you have a different result, and since the constructicons are awful and insane Prowl's little human conjunx is also theirs to some degree now, so, somehow in their beaten psyches, Chainbreaker is also theirs.

Devastator hasn't been formed since it's time of great peace (freaking finally) but he'll also go along the lines of "if he is yours then he is mine, since you're a part of me" kind of thing if he sees Chainbreaker, more prepared when all his components know about Prowl's progeny, not like with reader when he was hit with the revelation during the bond, and just for the record, the son of a glitch that asked you out was Bonecrusher.

#reader insert #x reader #tf mtmte #transformers #transformers x reader #transformers idw #transformers x human reader #tf prowl #constructicons #constructiprowl #prowlstator #q&a time

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terrence-silver · 6 months

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Can you please do a scenario where Terrys beloved dies during childbirth and how he copes with his grief. Would he accept and love the baby or reject and blame the baby.

---

Like five hundred other people are to blame.

Surgeons. Doctors. Nurses. Midwives. The medical staff at the emergency room. The poor, unlucky chauffeur who drove the beloved to their usual appointments, for all we know. The measures they took. The measures they didn't take. The amount of dedication they clearly didn't show, in his opinion. It is the ultimate betrayal that'll get so many people hurt. When Terry Silver pays a sum for a service, he expects the service delivered to perfection and according to his instructions; that's how that social contract works because nothing's for free, and if you throw a whole fortune at something, you expect nothing but your vision delivered to you down to the smallest details. The fact that he was failed so catastrophically it resulted in the death of the person he covets and loves the most? Someone stripped away beyond his control to stop it!? When he trusted vetted professionals, the best of the best in their field, to do the job right!? I swear to god, heads will fly. He daydreams about what could've happened if he just kicked down the doors of the delivery room and carried beloved out of there before it was too fucking late. The revenge will be horrifying, though. People will lose jobs. Their licenses to practice medicine. They'll be blacklisted. Sued. They'll find their cars blown up. Their places of residence broken into. Burned down. The hospital they worked in foreclosed, bought out, bulldozed overnight and turned into an empty privately owned lot until not even a single brick remains of the place that killed beloved. For the love of all that's holy, some of the participants involved in the tragedy might even find their own loved ones done in by mysterious circumstances because blood can be only repaid by blood. A life for a life. And since Terry might just think the life of someone he loves is worth infinitely more than just one life, the retaliation can be truly awful and result in some many injured parties and so much damage it is pretty hard to describe just how far he'd go.

Pretty far, I'd reckon.

Murder, carnage and torture type of far.

When the dragon's been woken, it's impossible to get him to slumber again.

But, however far it does go, I doubt he'd ever blame his child; if anything, his possessiveness of them is only kickstarted into some very excessive territories day one seeing as how they're the last thing he has left off from beloved and the one thing that'll outlive him and carry him on, into the future, and so, all the more reason for him to be devoted to his offspring with all the lovesickness a human heart can produce, blaming, perhaps, himself, all the more, behind the narcissistic facade that he is infallible and all powerful. Terry actually feels he's entirely to blame, triggered into a bygone time where his clumsiness resulted in a friend's death, and here he is, decades later, at the very exact same place. He lost control then and he lost control now. Almost like he's back at the very same spot he was in Vietnam and he's still that scared, shivering boy in the cage and he's angry. Desperate. Vulnerable. And oh so feral. And everyone best beware. This is an issue that The Valley might just end up burning down over, engulfing everything far and wide. Man would step on the whole world because he'd feel the world deserves it now more than ever.

This is an extremely deadly mindset to put Terry Silver into.

No telling how violently all of it could culminate in his mourning.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #tw; death #tw; death at childbirth #terry as father #terry silver as a parent #terry silver as a father #dad!terry #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #angst #ptsd

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shinelikethunder · 4 months

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so for the record i fully blame you for the fact that i'm watching supernatural for the first time in 10 years or so, but ALSO one of the things that is fundamentally crunchy and compelling about sam and dean's relationship, imo, is that it's a constant, unceasing power struggle that they are to varying degrees aware of but mostly won't admit to

(sam, particularly, i think most desperately wants to /win/ the power struggle for good while also being the least likely to admit that it's actually happening. dean's investment feels much more situational - he wants sam to go along with his plans in the moment but isn't necessarily that invested in Being The Boss Of Sam Forever, whereas i think one of sam's deepest and most shameful unrealized desires is for dean to submit to him permanently, and the place where i depart from most wincest shippers is that imo what makes that really juicy is that dean doesn't want to do that.)

anyway! some thoughts on a fandom i haven't really interacted with at all since 2011, just for you lmao

yes! tbh it's one of an entire subgenre of ships that hit real good for this exact reason: an equality that comes, not from both of them being wholesomely egalitarian and refusing to ever seek the upper hand on one another, but from them constantly being in a billion little squabbles and wrestling matches both petty and consequential, even as they're earnestly trying to negotiate conflicting needs. and none of it is ever even going to settle into a single fixed pattern, let alone result in a permanent and definitive "winner." they both have their expected roles in this dynamic, and they both constantly shift between chafing against those roles and embracing them and instrumentally leaning into them to get something else they want.

it's so pleasingly crunchy... yet another reason i cannot vibe with whatever's in the water right now that's driving people to stan either the ship or the characters by picking one brother to be The Woobiest Victim Forever. like. that's not just getting carried away with a temptation i otherwise understand, that is actively sucking the fun out! even when it's my favorite little rat in the Blorbo Studies Lab who's the designated woobie, the static designation is less fun than the sharp-elbowed version where they both get to #Transgress against each other.

(i think dean is subby in the sense of getting a HUGE kick out of situations where he can safely hand someone else the reins, and/or stop agonizing and just get an A in being the goodest boy in the world by finding out what will please someone else and doing it. but oh my god, any attempt to extend that dynamic into situations of genuine conflict or threat? yeah no, the exact constellation of responsibility issues (and free will issues, objectification issues, self-worth issues, etc) that make those kinks so potent also mean that if the fun game turns into a real encroachment... best-case scenario, he snaps into Amalgamated Macho Archetype defensive panic and is probably a blustering shithead to reassert control. if he initially goes along with whatever it is, for sam's sake or because lol what are boundaries, that is Much Worse. because it sets up this ticking time bomb, resentment buried underneath compliance, and that is going to very specifically bring his thermonuclear John Winchester Issues into the fray.)

#wincest #supernatural #meta #dean winchester #also i think the prospect of being The Boss of Sam Forever is mostly like. a source of horror to dean?#it's a role he keeps getting voluntold for by all these would-be patriarchs and riggers-up of Situations and he *fucking hates it*#to the point where his situational desire for the upper hand can get *pitted against* the horror of submitting to that fate #the results... are extremely sexy when the show knows what the fuck it's about and feel like narrative badtouch when it doesn't. eye em oh.

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sirthisisa-wendys · 1 year

Note

I’m the one who asked about the flashback for Ran! Just sending it back as you asked :) I’m so excited to see what you came up with, I was racking my brain for something and I couldn’t come up with an exact scenario. I just love the way you write his raw emotions and how much he loves the reader, and is tortured by what happened to her, and them suffering through the aftermath even though Mikey’s gone.

I actually found a plot point I missed when reviewing the old parts of the story! FLASHBACK FLASH BACK (you'll get another "flashback" after this one that rounds them out. I'm taking this concept and running with it.)

Hand Her Over (Part 7 - A FLASHBACK): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: calculating...

tw: flashback, angst, drinking

masterlis

Hand Her Over Megapost

The cap to the wine bottle comes undone with a loud pop. Ran tilts the glass just so, intent on catching every single drop left in the almost empty bottle. He's not sure when he started drinking again, but on nights like these, he doesn't give a shit.

No, he knows when he started drinking again. He remembers the exact moment the bottle reappeared in the fridge. That morning, he found you standing in the front yard, letting the freezing breeze and snow into the foyer.

"Sleepwalking," Ran had said at the time, excusing your behavior as a machination of your nightmares. He wasn't sure how long you'd been out there or how many times you'd done something like this. But it startled the shit out of him so bad he had to drink to ease his nerves.

Ran waits for some semblance of the dulling effect to take over. He needed to forget how you stood there, feet covered in snow, cheeks flushed bright red, and shivering. You'd been so cold and--

Ran's grip on the bottle falters. He watches in slow motion as the bottle crashes to the floor, resulting in shards of glass skittering about the wine-slicked tile. Ran feels his head loll, and he stares at the mess, wondering how he'd pick it up now. His feet are bare, too.

You come ambling toward the kitchen moments later, your eyes taking in the scene with alarm. But you don't say anything. Well, save a soft "ow".

"Shit," Ran bites out, finally reacting to the scene, spurred into action due to your injury.

And that's how things started, isn't it?

He knew Mikey was no good. He knew things had gone too far. He knew... he fucking knew and yet... He hadn't done shit about it until you'd gotten hurt.

"Piece of glass in your foot?" Ran wonders, still stuck to his stance in the middle of it. You nod. Ran picks his way around the mess, narrowly avoiding a shard himself, and scoops you into his arms. His senses are slowly dulling, but he had enough time to get you some help before he crashed.

The trip to the bedroom is short, and Ran sits you on the bed, whispering, "Don't move." You don't, and he pads toward the bathroom where the first aid kit awaits him. As he rifles through the box, memories come back to him of you doing the same thing: patching up his scrapes, putting ice packs on his bruises, disinfecting the scabs and gross knife cuts...

When had he ever done that for you?

Never.

He reappears with tweezers and a few large band aids, placing them on the floor before sitting down. He spots the offender almost instantly, though it's not large. Ran takes the tweezers and gently pulls the shard free without much difficulty. You whimper in pain, but it's momentary. Fingers work at patching your wound up with two band-aids and then Ran pats your leg with as much affection as he can muster.

"All better." The statement is punctuated with a gentle kiss against your ankle, and when he rises, he sees the fat tears that have rolled down your face. You wipe them away just as Ran feels the effects of the wine take hold. Things are a little hazy, but he has just enough strength to put you back in bed comfortably.

"I'm going to pay for this for the rest of my life, aren't I?" he whispers to no one, his mind rolling with scenarios as he stumbles into the recliner nearby.

The world is swimming but Ran grips the edges of the recliner before easing himself into it while gritting his teeth. All of his life he'd been the one to watch as someone else handled the messes, handled the delinquents, handled the repercussions of his own actions. Hell, until he raised his gun and fired six bullets into Mikey's chest, he hadn't handled shit for himself. Not really.

Bonten's undoing came as quickly as Ran had told Mikey to fuck himself, to which Mikey's haunted face replied, "You wife would know something about that, wouldn't she?"

The squeezing in Ran's chest started just as soon as he pulled the trigger, clickclickclickclick-ing until the gun itself was empty, and then some more for good measure. By the time Rindou had found him slumped against the desk beside a very dead Mikey, Ran had fired seven blanks and sixteen shots.

Money had changed hands, faces disappeared, people forgot who they were and where they lived and who Ran was, the news ran only one cycle talking about Mikey's death. The rest had been lost to time. And yet, here he is, sitting and stuck in that same spiral he'd allowed himself to get stuck in.

All for you.

Ran's eyes slide to his prize, your face turned towards him and eyes blinking in the dim light of the bedroom. "Hey," he whispers softly, trying for a gentle smile. "I'm alright. Get some sleep." You continue to stare at him and Ran knows instinctively that he's drunker than he ought to be.

"I'll get off the bottle soon," he murmurs, looking away in shame. "Promise."

You turn over to the other side and sigh but Ran can't bring himself to promise you anything else. He'd already brought so much pain into your life, and here he was, doing it again.

The image of you standing in front yard catches him off guard again. Maybe you were trying to get away from him. You'd walked so far--

Ran looks back over at you and feels the black hole in his chest yawn. It stings. The thought of you trying to escape from him burns like hell and he can't--

Ran stifles a gasp for air.

He can't bear the thought of you trying to leave. You had every right - you really did - to run away and find someone who would make you happy. He wouldn't blame you if you did want a divorce and wanted to leave his name. He killed for you, but that meant nothing in the face of your happiness.

It meant--

Ran's mind slips.

He'd count it all up to his payment for so many years of shit and terror and chaos. Surely--

The black hole opens a little wider and the world tilts.

You would be happy.

Ran grips the chair with both of his arms, hearing Mikey's voice in his ears.

"But you don't really love her, do you?"

I do, he wants to shout back at the ghost, challenging it.

The wine... it's the wine that's addling his mind. He's not normally like this - not so insecure, not so needy, but--

She'd be better off without you.

Ran jolts up and hurries out of the bedroom, running his hands through his hair and feeling the panic rush through his veins. There's only one way, one way to alleviate this.

This crushing guilt, the shame, the damn agony he feels at having to do all of this over and over and over again. Reliving his worst nightmare is like driving a stake through his skull, and he can't fucking take it anymore.

The front door swings wide and Ran bursts through it, his body propelling him to run. The urge rages through him, and his breath comes out in bursts of white air. If he had asthma like Rindou, he'd already be winded, but he's got tears freezing against his cheeks, the wind biting at his skin, and--

Ran comes to a stop at the end of the street.

What the hell is he doing?

He bends over, trying to catch his breath, and sees himself through his neighbor's eyes. Here is Ran Haitani, in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, running in the dead of winter with no shoes on. And he laughs.

Ran laughs and laughs and laughs.

He laughs so hard he has to sit down in the snow and hold his sides like a maniac.

Suddenly, he understands Sanzu. He understands the way he copes with things. He can't run; not now. Not when you're at home, needing protection. Ran ambles back up the driveway, still chuckling to himself out of disappointment more than humor.

He couldn't even outrun his own problems. A shame, he thinks, shutting the front door and latching it. What a shame I've turned out to be.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader

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chrkrose · 6 months

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Hello. I've seen you answer an ask about Lyanna Stark. It's rare to see people point faults in her. Usually, they say Rhaegar is to blame, and Lyanna's age dismiss her actions. Even those who say she was rickless still go back to say anyone who points out her mistakes is misogynistic. What do you think of this say? Should we really not talk about it? Is Elia having negative feelings toward her that taboo and un-adult like? I have mixed feelings. I read many posts that defend her and that as long as you are young/child, you don't get blamed, but the thing is, I feel that it's not the actual reason. I feel that they just want to reject her mistakes and use the age and gender as an excuse to make the opposite person feel like an asshole for pointing out that a young girl carries some responsibility. And in a scenario where she and Rhaegar lived, I feel she would still be with him, and that just feels selfish and inconsiderate toward Elia. Is it really that bad to dislike a young person? Was all she did because of naivety? Because to me, she wasn't naive in that aspect (love doesn't change a man's nature). What do you think of her? I really don't understand how she is liked that much as nothing but victim. Sometimes, it feels forced other times self insert or uncare. I feel it's all to the hype George gives her from being remembered to having a rare flower as her motif to being jon's mother and Arya's aunt and being Rhaegar's love. Or am I being too emotional about what I see as justice? I wish to hear your thoughts.

I do think that Rhaegar bears more responsibility than Lyanna, both because of his age and because the exact circumstances around how she left with him remain unclear. But honestly, I feel far more sympathy for Elia in this entire ordeal. She was a woman of color who suffered greatly because of this situation, and a far more interesting character if you ask me. That matters to me more than what people assume about Lyanna's motivations, especially the idealized "fanon" version.

If Lyanna went willingly, her youth can explain and justify some of her decisions, but I find it unfair to excuse all her choices as a result of her age because fans certainly don't extend the same generous view to Jon (14 years old), Daenerys (13 years old), Sansa (11 years old), Robb (16 years old), Myrcella (10 years old), Arya (11 years old), etc, all of whom struggle with difficult decisions around the same age or even younger. I think it’s disingenuous to absolve her of the weight of what happened when these characters and many more aren't afforded the same grace.

Lyanna fans and Lyanna/Rhaegar shippers face a dilemma. Either she went and stayed willingly even after knowing about what was happening – making her a hypocrite for running off with a married man after her whole discourse about Robert and a pretty selfish horrible person given the brutal murder of her brother and father, never mind the civil war that followed it – OR they must accept Rhaegar held her captive once her initial feelings changed after knowing about her brother and father/ Rhaegar lied to her and never told her the truth about what happened because he knew she would leave his ass. That destroys their idealized image of a loving prince, and destroys the perfect impossible predestined love story they made up about these two. They can't have it both ways, but they sure try.

But this is all beating around the bush. Let's be real here about why Lyanna (and Rhaegar/Lyanna as a couple) have a somewhat significant fandom for the amount of development they have in the actual text. The reasons are: 1) she's white, and 2) she's a blank slate for self-projection. Far more interesting characters and couples (cough Nettles and Daemon cough) exist with similar levels of textual development and don't get nearly the same attention. That speaks volumes. Lyanna and Rhaegar are a blank slate where they can paint whatever they want, as long as they can ignore the more uncomfortable parts and the ramifications of their story.

This bleeds into how Elia is treated by much of the fandom. It boils down to racism. Were the racial dynamics reversed, the fandom response to these women would be fundamentally VERY different. Just look at how Nettles/Daemon are treated compared to Rhaenyra for further proof. What's the difference there in the dynamic? A married prince meets a girl and falls in love with her, abandoning his wife and children for her. You don't see fandom contorting themselves into saying that Rhaenyra deserved it, that she had it coming, rejoicing in her death, gloating about how she went down. And Rhaenyra was actually a terrible person. Elia was nothing but a good woman, who was married off to a prince and paid a brutal price for his lack of care and abandonment, suffering until the end of her life and dying in one of the most horrible ways I've read about in this series. And yet she's demonized. Again. Racism.

The truth is, her fandom project their own desires onto Lyanna. They love the "not like other girls tm" idea of her, they love the pick me girl energy of her story, and she fits the bill for their self-inserts. The misogyny runs deep even among those who considers themselves her fans or shippers of the couple, and they don't even realize it.

My dislike of her is a lot influenced by her fanon version, because the truth is that there isn't enough material for me to actually care about canon Lyanna outside of the tragedy that was her life. Canon wise she might be interesting and maybe a character I would enjoy, but the truth is that there isn't enough there. And if I have to care about characters who have that little textual development, I find other characters such as Elia, Ashara Dayne, Nettles, etc, much more interesting, engaging and worth of my time

#anti lyanna stark #anti rhaegar targaryen #anti rhaegar x lyanna

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jolynesmom · 4 months

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I am sorry if I sound rude but it's tiring seeing the blogger repeating same thing again & again. Whenever we have some problem like if I say something to them " hey I tried everything to enter the void subliminals' - scripting - loa but I can't enter it " and their response be like " you're limiting beliefs- you are not persisting - you are not taking break - void is easy u just need to lay down affirmin - you don't need anything- u are using too much "

I know man those all things If I summon the void community they are facing the same problem but the thing is that we are not limiting beliefs neither we are overconsuming. We not keeping the void on PEDESTAL (what probably the other blog says) and also we are persisting through one method and afterwards being restless with those failure's we are also talking break .

Damm I hate it when someone post their succes story and when we ask what they did ' they be like I did nothing and oh my god I was floating when I close my damm eyes ' just say it dude " I used this this method or this resource"

JUST THE PROBLEM IS HERE THE BLOGGER ARE NOT TRYING TO UNDERSTAND OR THEY REALLY NOT GETTING WHAT WE ARE GOING THROUGH. THE VOID COMMUNITY JUST NEED SOME CLARIFICATION TOWARDS THE PROBLEM NOT THAT SAME MANTRA "ITS EASY . YOU ARE VOID. YOU ARE THE GOD" AND etc etc.

P.s - none of this words are toward you . I really like your blog and they way u motivated people.

hii, thank you I’m glad you like my blog <3

I know where you’re coming from, I’ve experienced this exact same scenario before :((

I know you’re tired of hearing the same things over and over again, but the truth is that there isn’t really anything else to add. entering the void is easy and getting rid of limitations is also easy if you put in the work. also people won’t know what exactly you’re doing ‘wrong’ or what you need to do next because they can’t read your mind or completely understand what your thoughts process consists of

sometimes instead of asking strangers for help you should try to analyze the situation for yourself and try to find a solution, because strangers on the internet may not always be honest with you not to upset you, but you can be honest with yourself. that’s what I did to identify my shortcomings and fix them. so do shadowork and actually put in the effort rather than hoping for a miracle to happen. also meditate - it doesn’t have to be a specific meditation just choose something that relaxes you

the void state is = alternate state of consciousness + intention; you don’t need anything else

I was kinda facing the same thing where I was like ‘why am I not shifting/entering the void? I have a perfect mindset, I persist and don’t put anything on a pedestal’, but after some self reflection I realized I was a control freak and needed everything perfect and if it wasn’t I would just give up when I was close then I was wondering why nothing was working. I had to teach myself to RELAX and LET GO then I entered the void right away. when I would do intricate methods to a T I never got any results, all it took for me was to let go of this need of control. I was half asleep and told myself ‘man I kinda wanna get into the void’, went back to sleep and boom I woke up there

so yeah I suggest doing some self reflection. sending you love 🤍

#void state question #void state #void state advice

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lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Guilty pleasures: Chapter 3

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: cautious with your questions to and about Ellie, Joel snaps at you in private, the conversation culminating with a very surprising twist. But even that can't prevent you from drawing your own conclusions about Ellie.

word count: 4.7k

A/N: TENSION. that's all. this is a birthday gift for @katronautt. Happy birthday, my love, I hope your day is as cool as you ❤️and happy Valentine's Day to you all, my sweet lovebugs!

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

gif: @magnusedom

series masterlist | AO3

JULY

The air had grown thinner in the past month. Everyone could feel the warmth of the season wearing them down to the point where all they sought to do is kick back and enjoy a cold drink.

Despite the low number of raids and sightings of infected, the patrol group remained alert. You didn’t mind, really; starting the night shift when the sun was going down, after having spent most of the day in the sun, it offered you a sensation you hadn’t felt since your childhood back in California. If anything, it made you nostalgic. Even with everything that was going on.

Since news broke out that Tommy singlehandedly took care of a group of raiders in June, the people in Jackson have become more vigilant of their whereabouts and surroundings, but there was also a bizarre concoction of fear and admiration targeted at the man who built an entire town from scratch. Tommy was just as loved as before—people just knew now to never get on his bad side.

The other Miller brother though, that one was the thorn in your back.

Things have gotten more… quiet between the two of you. Which was preferable to the rest of the patrol who were growing tired having to listen to you bicker all the time. But, since that June night when the two of you nearly committed what could’ve only be described as a fatal mistake, Joel simply distanced himself from you. And you followed his lead; you did the exact same thing. It was much better this way. You both relished into the stillness of the environment, neither one of you being on the talkative side, and you only spoke when absolutely necessary.

The interesting thing about that? It grew to be bothersome. It was actually kind of upsetting that all you and Joel did was gaze at each other from afar, eyes darkened by unspoken things that you would’ve rather buried than to ever allow to come to the surface.

And that made you even grumpier and angrier. You failed to understand this kind of reaction to someone who repeatedly called you stubborn and relentless, and it was causing you to lose sleep too, to dwell into the littlest things and put them for observation under a microscope.

You knew why this was happening, of course. It was a no-brainer. But it’s not like it was your fault. Not even his, really. It was a silly little moment of distraction, nothing else. So what if you were caught in the rain and his calloused hands were over your waist, keeping you close, and you were unable to look away from his lips?

It was nothing but a momentary privation of judgment, a mere result of years of solitude and finally coming in contact with human warmth.

But, rather than stewing in your confusion, you chose to mind your business and go about your days as usual. Aside the occasional run-in with the infected, your life in Jackson has been pretty boring throughout the past seven months, as opposed to the unstable and chaotic life you’ve led in the past seven years. You can’t really complain though; it’s been a nice change of pace. It makes you think of your family, how they would’ve fit right in here.

Today, however, upon Annie’s request, you agreed to train some of the kids in town how to handle weapons. It wasn’t the easiest task if you really thought about it. You found it to be a grim scenario, teaching children how to use guns. But the world you’re living in is cruel and unforgiving, and there are worse punishments than death. In retrospect, learning how to defend yourself from a frail age might be a preferable choice than the alternatives.

A bullet flies right by your head, and you duck instantly. You search the fairly small crowd of children to find the culprit, and your eyes land on a brown haired, doe-eyed teenager. You make a face when you remark the guilt on her face.

“Sorry,” she apologizes.

You inch towards her. “Ellie, right?”

“The one and only. I think.”

“So you’re the infamous Ellie.”

She looks you up and down, eyes landing on the holster strapped to your right thigh, then moving back up to your figure.

“Saw you around with Joel,” you explain, unwilling to be misunderstood. You knew that sometimes people found your dry-spoken words to be intimidating, and you didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. Trust was very important, and a must-have in any situation. “He seems fond of you. Which makes me think he’s part human.”

Ellie smiles, and so do you. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“Ah.”

Her eyes drop to your holster again. “Can you teach me how to use that?”

You follow her eyes to the same spot, noticing she’s referring to the special knife you keep in the holster. You then raise your brows at her.

“What for?” you ask rather amused.

Ellie shrugs. “What if I need it?”

“You mean my one-of-a-kind knife that only I possess? Highly doubt it.”

“You said it yourself, it’s not a regular knife. I mean—look at that thing! It’s got that curve thing right there… it’s a nice blade!”

You suppress a chuckle, staring in admiration at her. She’s got spunk, alright. She’s excited and funny and warm, in spite of everything that the world may have thrown at her. You suppose that’s the magic of being a kid. You can still find the light in the darkest of places.

“Not many kids are interested in weapons, you know?” you tell her as you pull her aside. “Take a look around. They don’t wanna do this. But it’s a necessary evil. You, on the other hand… you’re a pretty special kid.”

“So I’ve been told.”

There’s playfulness and sarcasm in her voice, and it makes you like her more. You can definitely see why Joel took a shining to her as well.

Now, you don’t know the full story. You only know the bits and pieces Tommy deemed acceptable to confess to you. All you heard is that Ellie was wanted by the Fireflies and that Joel was supposed to deliver her to them, but changed his mind and saved her from them, killing an entire group of people who stood in his way. There were some pieces of that puzzle you could put together without anyone telling you anything explicitly, but you kept to yourself. You sure as hell wasn’t gonna ask Joel about what happened.

“So? What do we think?” Ellie asks. “Do we have a deal?”

You frown, half amused and half impressed with her boldness.

“It’s not up to me, you know.”

“Sure it is. It’s your knife, isn’t it?”

You huff, staring at her and hoping that she’ll get the message without you actually saying it. Luckily, she does; within the next second, she makes a face to reveal her disappointment.

“Do not say it’s up to Joel,” she nearly whines. “He’s just gonna say no.”

“Okay. Then I can say no.”

“Oh, come on! We’re at a how to use a gun camp filled with kids and you’re gonna deny a kid a little weapon?”

“You still gotta work on your aim with the regular gun. You nearly shot me in the head.”

“Holding a grudge, I see.”

You smile. Unbeknownst to you, Joel is somewhere in the background, your silhouette in close proximity to Ellie’s having caught his attention. He watches carefully, a dozen scenarios invading his mind at that very moment.

“It’s not a grudge,” you reassure her. “I just think that if you can’t handle something as simple as a gun, you won’t be able to handle this knife.”

“A knife is easier than a gun.”

“You think so?”

Ellie nods, and you pull out the knife, twisting it between your fingers. Her eyes go wide with admiration, thirsting for knowledge. Then, as you hand the blade to her, she looks at you utterly stunned.

“Go ahead,” you tell her. “Stab me.”

“Uh… what?”

“You said it’s easier than a gun. Show your work. Try and stab me.”

“I’m not gonna—“

“Try to.”

Indecisive, Ellie holds the knife, weighing it. Then, she moves towards you, swinging the blade as you instructed. You duck, and as she pulls away, she notices a little string of blood coming from her hand.

“Shit,” Ellie says under her breath, noticing her bleeding palm.

You take the knife back from her and sliding it into the holster.

“It’s not a regular knife,” you say. “You were right. Which means that if you don’t know how to hold it properly, you’ll most likely kill yourself before you kill someone else.”

Joel moves closer in the background, reckoning something was wrong. He sees Ellie slouched, staring into her palm, and his pulse starts to race.

“If you’d teach me—“

“You already tried to shoot me today, so I’m gonna stick with no. And as much as you might hate hearing it—or as much as I hate saying it—Joel is technically your guardian. If he says it’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

“So that’s not gonna happen.”

You shrug. “Looks like we’re both stuck on Joel.”

“We?”

Taken aback by your own words, you clear your throat as your eyes drop to her hand, still bleeding in the slightest. You take it in your hands, examining it, but she shyly pulls away, dragging the sleeve of her shirt over it.

“It’s just a cut, it’s not that bad,” you try to reassure her.

But Ellie looks even more hesitant as she gulps, staring into the ground.

“Why are you wearing long sleeve shirts in the middle of summer?” you ask. “Aren’t you warm?”

“I’m good.”

Her tone, like her face, drops, and it only raises more questions for you. Questions you don’t pose. Instead, you put a hand on her back to guide her through the crowd and head to the little stand you and Annie set up for this exact purpose, filled with medicine and bandages. You wrap her palm nice and tight and in the process, her eyes catch the tattoo on your right wrist. She opens her mouth to say something, to ask you questions, but when she glances over your shoulder and sees Joel fast approaching, she goes silent.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks Ellie, and she nods. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Ellie says. “A little scratch.”

His dark glare goes to you, and you can tell he’s angry.

“Why don’t you go back to the group?” you suggest to Ellie.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

The tension between you and Joel must’ve been more obvious than you thought.

“What happened?” Joel asks you instead.

“She wanted to try out my knife, I said no. She insisted she can handle it, and I proved to her she can’t.”

“By cuttin’ her?”

“I didn’t cut her. She scratched herself with the tip. I told her this kind of blade can be dangerous if not held properly.”

“Wrong time to do a show and tell.”

You huff, visibly displeased. “What’s up with Ellie, though? Why is she still wearing long sleeve shirts?”

The question stuns Joel. It’s written all over his face; you swear you detect some fear in his eyes too, but dwelling into that wouldn’t bring you anything good. Maybe just another headache and sleepless night.

“I’m not her father,” Joel retorts coldly. “She can wear whatever she wants.”

“I’m just saying. It’s the middle of summer, it’s hot as all hell. You’d think—“

“I don’t know, okay? What’s with the interrogation?”

You frown at him, raising your hands in surrender. “Pardon me for taking an interest.”

“Others have taken an interest in her before. Didn’t turn out so well.”

“The Fireflies?”

Joel’s face hardens with anger as he moves closer to you. You can even hear his teeth clenched in fury. You haven’t seen him this mad thus far.

“What the hell do you know about that?” he growls.

“I know that the Fireflies are just an excuse for doing fucked up shit of their own,” you reply, hands crossed at your chest. “They’re not so different from FEDRA if you think about it. So I’m guessing that whatever happened that made Ellie wanted by the Fireflies, it had to be a huge deal.”

Joel keeps quiet, munching on his bottom lip as he stares you down. You’re a stranger, basically, and the history between him and Ellie is known only by the two of them, Tommy and Maria. And there’s no way that Tommy would reveal everything to a stranger, even if he valued your skills and even thought of you as Maria’s right hand.

“I don’t want to know what happened,” you tell him. “And I don’t care about it. I was just expressing interest in Ellie. She’s a great kid.”

“She is,” Joel admits rather grudgingly.

“You got nothing to worry about. You and I, we’re just on patrol together. If you wanna ignore me because you got scared or whatever, that’s fine by me, I don’t care.”

Joel’s stares you down with a vicious twinkle in his eyes, as if he’s suggesting you to stop talking before you regret it. But you don’t care; you said the truth and if the truth is bothering him, there’s some food for thought.

“I’m not scared, and least of all of you,” he emphasizes viciously.

You inhale, rolling your eyes. The gesture brings out to the surface even more anger, anger that Joel can barely contain.

“Whatever you say.”

You turn your back to him, to which Joel responds with his fingers curling around your wrist and holding you in place. The touch is unexpected, electric, and the grip itself is far from harsh. On the contrary: it holds a gentleness to it that you wouldn’t have thought such a rugged man is capable of.

“If you’re talkin’ about that night on patrol last month—“he starts, but you instantly cut him off.

“I’m not talking about that. I was just pointing out the facts. You’re the one who brought it up.”

“How the hell are you so—? Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

He lets go of you, rubbing his temples as he impending sensation of a headache takes over. He looks at you, shaking his head in dismay. When he sees a smirk forming in the corner of your mouth, he furiously licks his lips.

“How the hell am I so—what?” you ask, downright curious.

“Quit askin’ about Ellie,” he warns instead.

After Joel storms off, you smile in Ellie’s direction. You notice she doesn’t even roll up her sleeves, and your suspicion lives on. You don’t go around asking anything, though. It’s dangerous to talk about such things out loud, especially when this is merely a hunch at the moment. A very strong hunch based on plenty you’ve seen, but a hunch nonetheless.

You respect Joel’s words though, which again, it baffles you. Normally you wouldn’t care, but minding your business is top priority right now.

Which is why you’re surprised when you find Ellie on your doorstep later that evening. She has the same spark in her eyes as she did when she asked about your knife, which points to curiosity.

“Ellie,” you greet her, doing nothing to conceal your astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

“Well… I was gonna ask you something, if you don’t mind.”

“If it’s female-related, I understand why you wouldn’t ask Joel.”

Ellie chuckles, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t know why everyone thinks I tell Joel everything, or that we got some sort of father-daughter relationship.”

You scoff, hiding the laughter that’s about to come out of your mouth.

“You’re kidding,” you tell her. “That man was ready to shoot me today when he thought I hurt you. I’ve never seen a man so protective over anyone. He cares about you. A lot, based on his reaction.”

“I care about him too, he’s a pretty cool and badass guy, but he’s not my dad.”

“Sure he isn’t. Come on in.”

As Ellie enters your little house, she takes a quick look around, fidgeting with her fingers. You find the habit quite adorable, seeing as how Joel struggled with that too sometimes when he thought no one saw him.

Fuck. Did you just use adorable and Joel in the same sentence?

Fuck no.

“So, what are you doing here? What can I do for you?” you ask.

“I saw your wrist tattoo today. It’s pretty cool.”

You sneak a glance at your left wrist, then you look back at Ellie.

“Thanks,” you say. “You came all the way here to compliment my tattoo?”

“I came here to ask… if you’ve got any other tattoos.”

“Why?”

“I’m… thinking of getting one.”

Let me guess: on your right wrist.

“Where?” you ask instead.

“Not sure yet.”

You notice the hesitation on her part, but you have enough common decency to pretend like you don’t.

“Okay, well,” you start, taking a seat on the couch with Ellie following suit, “I got five tattoos in total. The one on my left wrist, then one on my right thigh, one on my left ankle, one behind my left ear, and one on my lower back.”

“Can I see them?”

You raise your brows at her, and Ellie’s face gets flushed.

“I didn’t mean that to be in a creepy way,” she quips, rather embarrassed. “I know some are private. I meant… for visualization.”

You smile reassuringly at her, and she seems to relax a little.

“Yeah, we’re not that close,” you joke, and that manages to steal a giggle from her side.

“Which one is the biggest?”

“My lower back tattoo.”

“What’s it of?”

“A snake with a half moon.”

“Whoa. Cool!”

The look on her face is quite adorable. You can tell that no matter what life threw at her, Ellie still carried some of that childlike innocence.

“What about the others, what are they of?” Ellie asks.

“I got a flower with leaves on my ankle, butterfly on my thigh, M for my sister Maya behind the ear and the rose on my wrist, which… you’ve already seen.”

You search her face for any reaction, anything that might tell you what she really noticed about your tattoo, but nothing appears. After all, she only caught a glimpse, a fleeting look. She didn’t have time to study the real reason behind the tattoo.

“You said the M is for your sister?” she inquires, and you already got a knot in your throat when you murmur a faint “mhm”. “Where is she?”

“Uh… filed under ‘people I’ve lost’.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

You clear your throat. “What about you, what tattoo do you want after all?”

“I don’t know. Something big enough to cover… scars.”

“Where?”

She falters yet again. “Right arm. I can’t—I can’t show you.”

“That’s okay. I wasn’t gonna ask you to. But I do hope this is helpful.”

“It is, thanks.”

“Why me though?”

She shrugs. “I think you’re pretty badass and I like you.”

To that, you smile. “You’re pretty badass yourself.”

“Does that mean I get another go at the knife?”

You shake your head and reply No before she can even fully finish the sentence.

“What happened to your sister?” Ellie asks.

The air feels constricting as you stare at her, trying to verbalize the answer. Turns out, seven years in the making and the wound still remains fresh.

“That’s a… that’s a story for another time,” you say with a bitter smile.

Ellie knows better than to push when the conversation is clearly sensitive. After all, there are things about Riley that she can’t quite fully disclose, even though, paradoxically, she loved to talk about her.

She rises from the couch, headed for the door when she turns to you and sports a charming smile.

“Thanks,” she tells you, and you nod. “I don’t know why Joel keeps insisting you’re annoying.”

You do nothing to conceal your surprise at the reveal. “Aw, he talks about me? How nice.”

“He complains a little too much to make his case believable.”

“Yeah, well. Tell him I think he’s just as stubborn and thick-headed.”

“Tell him yourself.”

Your eyes shift to the window, noticing his silhouette on the porch. He’s got his hands on his hips, and his face is darkened by anger. You shake your head and huff whilst guiding Ellie to the door.

“Speak of the big, bad wolf,” you greet him.

“Ellie, get outta here,” Joel tells her.

“I was going anyway. Sheesh, such a drama queen, relax.”

Joel waits until Ellie is out of earshot. You both watch her get farther and farther away till eventually, it’s just you and him on the porch, underneath the stars-filled sky.

“May I help you?” you ask.

Joel is like a ticking bomb. And with those words, you just pushed the button.

“What the hell do you want from Ellie?”

“She’s the one who came to me.”

“For what? What do you want with her?”

You’re taken aback by how spurred on Joel is, how protective he’s become of that sixteen year old girl and the lengths he’ll go to in order to keep her safe. It doesn’t intimidate you though; if anything, it makes your hunch turn into something more.

“She came over to ask me about my tattoos,” you carefully enunciate each word. “That’s all we talked about. She was here for ten minutes. I didn’t snap her neck.”

Joel makes a dissatisfied sound. “I told you today to stop askin’ about her.”

“And I didn’t. Get it through your thick head: I have no interest in hurting her. I have no intention of hurting anyone here.”

Jaw clenched and lips pursed, Joel looks at you, some of his anger vanishing.

“She’s just a kid,” he says, guttural. “She’s been through enough.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“She doesn’t need other problems.”

You cross your arms at your chest. “You think I’m a problem?”

“I don’t know. Are you?”

You inhale slowly, painfully aware of how close you are to one another. The thick, dry summer air is boiling in between you, rendering this moment even more asphyxiating.

“What are you so terrified of?” you ask him.

You can tell the question stumps Joel. He frowns, his lips quiver, and he looks at you with genuine confusion.

“What?” he retorts harshly.

“What makes you freeze dead in your tracks when there’s someone else around you?”

Joel’s frown deepens as he tries to determine whether you’re being serious or not.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been in this fuckin’ outbreak for twenty something years.”

“The infected don’t scare you, not anymore,” you continue seemingly mindlessly. “I know, cause that’s me. I see ‘em, I’m ready to shoot them down. Most of the time, anyway.”

You open your mouth as realization sinks in, watching a distressed Joel Miller drink in the sight of you.

“It’s human contact that terrifies you,” you conclude. “You can’t stand having people around you. You’re surprised when they stay.”

“I’m surprised when they don’t wanna kill me.”

“Lemme guess. Sad and tragic past, now you refuse to let anyone in because you’re afraid of the hurt and you can’t do it again. You tell yourself you can’t keep losing people you care about.”

“Just—stop.”

His voice is husky and harsh, filled with painful undertones that make you wonder of the tragedies in his past. You wonder what pieces of him are so far gone that he refuses to let anyone in.

That, in return, is scary to you.

“What’s the fuckin’ point, anyway?” Joel asks as if he’s having an internal monologue. “Some are lucky enough to live another day, others could die tonight. Living is a luxury. And getting’ attached… it’s got no upside to it. We’re gonna lose in the end no matter what.”

“I understand that,” you reply, much to his surprise. “Clickers, infected… those are easy. They have but one purpose: to kill. Humans, on the other hand… they’re tricky. You may never know what’s inside their heads. That’s the terrifying part.”

“You got your degree in psychology or somethin’?”

You stifle a chuckle, resorting to a mere smile. “Or something. What I can’t quite put together though is why you’re afraid of me.”

Joel cocks an eyebrow in your direction, growing more alert and aware of the fact that he is so close to you he could count your eyelashes. He swallows harshly, nearly breathless.

“Afraid of you?” he fights back. “I could pin you to the ground in one second. You ain’t a threat.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You avoid me, you refuse to talk to me directly, but I hear you do talk about me with Ellie, quite a lot… so what gives?”

Joel does not avert his eyes from yours. On the contrary, he stares you down, fighting a losing battle with his own mind. There’s something about your words, so tantalizing and filled with shameless subtexts that cause his head to spin and his breath to come out ragged.

“Pin me down then,” you instigate him. “Pin me against the wall for all I care. You’re not doing it, and you are not going to. Because you’re afraid that you don’t actually find me annoying at all.”

The twitching in Joel’s fingers worsens, his heart racing and his throat completely dry, as opposed to his mouth which is damn near watering.

“Keep talkin’, see what happens,” he mutters.

“I think nothing’s gonna happen. Wanna know why? You talk a big game, but you’re just—“

The warm, intoxicating sensation over your mouth doesn’t register at first; it takes several seconds before you realize that this is, in fact, Joel Miller who’s kissing you.

His lips are tender against yours, but his hands provide a harsh contrast with that as they grab your hips and hold onto them for dear life. His moustache is tickling against your upper lip, his tongue glides against yours and you sigh; you actually sigh right into his mouth, the sound reverberating throughout Joel’s entire body and making him feral. You cup his face, desperately holding onto him, onto anything that might provide some stability because this… this is something wild and needy, and it utterly consumes you.

Joel is practically holding you into his arms as he’s kissing you like a starved man. There’s an omnipresent throbbing in your body, but especially in your belly, and you squirm against him, starting to crave more.

But then, Joel pulls away from you as abruptly as he began this whole shenanigan. Breathless, he stares at you with a hunger you wouldn’t believe if he weren’t right there in front of you.

Lips swollen and reddened, you fight to regulate your breaths. “Did you just—?”

“No.” His answer is rough, quick to deny everything.

“But I—“

“It’s nothing,” he says, licking his lips. “Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

You remain speechless. Truthfully, you’re not sure what could you possibly say right now. You messed around and teased him and now here you are, lips swollen from a kiss that Joel Miller gave you. A wet, needy kiss that opened a floodgate of desires for you.

He mumbles something to you before he leaves. What, you don’t fully comprehend. You’re all alone on the porch on that hot July evening, trying to process the fact that you shared the hungriest, most passionate kiss of your life with someone who did everything to keep you at bay.

Maybe this is why.

And maybe his overprotectiveness over Ellie isn’t that far-fetched either.

After all, protecting a girl who’s immune to a fate worse than death is a big deal.

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